The Tower: Part 4: Yule
Post #32: In which healthy connection and needed disconnection ...
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CHAPTER 11
VASILISA
As Vasilisa wove her way through the dark forest, her footsteps noisy in the hard snow, she saw a light in her tiny cabin’s window and knew she had a visitor.
Feeling unbearably restless and exhausted at the same time, she’d flung herself out of the cabin four hours earlier to seek distraction, if not comfort, in the winter woods. She had no fixed goal in mind, but allowed her feet to wander where they would. Baba Yaga’s house on chicken legs stood in its accustomed clearing, the shades pulled partway down over the windows like half-closed eyelids and smoke coming from the chimney. She gave the house a wide berth and followed an animal trail, noting deer tracks and the delicate tracery of rodent paws and bird tracks near thickets.
She longed to take some kind of action. After the initiation into Motherhood, the White Stag’s sacrifice and Eurydice, Heks and Rumpelstiltskin’s departure for Yggdrasil, she waited for her own role to become clear. She looked for a guide, a companion, a journey or a task, something useful to do countering the dreadful feeling of unraveling everywhere. She was Vasilisa the Wise, initiated into Motherhood by Baba Yaga herself, yet she stayed here, in this remote birch wood, unable to be of use to anyone she loved or the world she called home.
The Rusalka, distant now rather than coolly friendly, had withdrawn into the plunge pool, taking their mermaid forms for the winter. Vasilisa wasn’t sure if the pool still functioned as a portal and the Rusalka, after the Samhain ritual, made it clear outsiders were no longer welcome in the bathhouse. Sofia and Morfran treated one another with wariness, Sofiya torn between her mate and her people and Morfran unwilling to cause further tension.
Baba Yaga brooded in her house on chicken legs, uncommunicative and seldom seen, but the weight of her presence was felt throughout the woods.
Vasilisa longed to leave, but where would she go? Where was she needed? What could she offer in such troubled and frightening times? What was the point of the Samhain initiation when she had no mate, no children, no wider community and her only nearby family was her nephew Morfran?
The short days were silver, grey and white, the forest animals intent on surviving the cold and finding food. Even the chickadees were businesslike rather than cheerful. Vasilisa paced, took care of the fire, cut and stacked wood and spent hours walking aimlessly through the forest, furious with herself for waiting, half forming plans only to discard them, and wondering what was happening outside this quiet winter wood. How were things at Yggdrasil and Rowan Tree? What was Odin doing? What was happening with Marceau and the merfolk?
Seeing evidence of occupation in the cabin now, hope flared. Perhaps the visitor brought news, or some kind of call to action. She quickened her pace and opened the door eagerly.
Sofia and Morfran sat on a wolfskin before the stove. Vasilisa smelled rabbit stew. In a rush of gratitude, taking no time to edit, she said, “Sofiya, I’m so glad to see you! I’ve missed you.”
Sofiya smiled, her round golden eyes warm. Morfran gave Vasilisa a hug before dishing the stew.
They ate together in easy silence, mopping up the stew with rye bread Vasilisa had made the day before. Vasilisa stacked the bowls and cups in the kitchen for washing and rejoined the other two by the stove, looking expectantly from face to face. Morfran looked relaxed and happy, and her heart lifted. They hadn’t brought bad news, then.
“My sisters and I have talked,” said Sofiya, “and Morfran and I. We seek a way forward, the right way, the way to healing the Yrtym.”
“I don’t think about anything else,” said Vasilisa frankly. “I don’t know how to choose a way forward without understanding what’s going wrong, so I feel paralyzed. I’m afraid to make anything worse, and I don’t know how to make it better.”
“Exactly so,” Sofiya agreed. “In times like this, my sisters and I dance small.” She rose gracefully from her place on the floor, closed her eyes, and swayed back and forth as though dancing. She raised her arms and they became sweeping wings, white feathered, changing into arms again as she lowered them.
“Dancing small -- do you mean dancing with yourself?”
“I mean returning to self long enough to remember who self is, what it wants, what it needs, what it feels, what it knows. If life is too confusing, our dance is too big. We slow down, take the dance back to the center of ourselves.”
“Have you done that?”
“I have. We have. My love for Morfran is true. We do not seek to limit or control one another or anyone else. To be without our connection is to be impoverished. I do not believe our relationship has a negative effect on anything healthy and good. If that’s so, it follows friendship between Rusalka and human is not negative but positive. We learn from each other. We dance together. We cooperate. The people of Rowan Tree came together to help Eurydice ensure our way home. We are not enemies.”
Vasilisa found herself struggling with tears. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the Rusalka’s companionship. Her concern had been for Morfran, clearly distressed by the distance between himself and Sofiya.
“I’m glad,” she managed to say.
“You do not wish to distance yourself from us?”
“No.”
“Then It’s time I told you more about the Rusalka. It’s rare for one of us to take a permanent mate, as I have Morfran.”
Vasilisa could well imagine most men were not equipped to deal with the Rusalka’s shifting forms, let alone their secretive nature, magic and wisdom. In addition, any man who took a Rusalka in essence gained Baba Yaga as mother-in-law.
“As you know, we are fertility spirits. We come into the birch forest in the spring and fertilize the Green World with the water we live in during the winter. You also know all life depends on a balance between male and female. As females, we cannot provide fertility on our own. Each of us breed in our season with a male animal of the shape we shift into. In my case, until Morfran, I took an owl as a mate every season.
You’ve learned the White Stag, Cerunmos, was sacred consort to Artemis. He could take a man’s shape, and he represented wild male energy, as Artemis represents wild female energy. In our human forms, we too joined with the Sacred Consort each spring, as well as our animal mates, to ensure fertility for the next cycle.”
“What will happen now the White Stag is gone?”
“We’re not sure, but we think another Sacred Consort will appear. Mother Baba will not explain, but she isn’t concerned. It is our intention to find, as usual, an animal mate, but we don’t know if that will be enough to keep ourselves, the forest, the rye and the poppies healthy and thriving.”
“I see.” Vasilisa waited for more, but Sofiya remained silent.
“Sofiya, is the plunge pool still working as a portal?”
“That’s the second thing I wanted to talk with you about. The plunge pool worked imperfectly until the Samhain initiation, after which we Rusalka retreated to it for the winter. Since Samhain, we have not been able to use it to visit the sea, Rowan Tree or anywhere else. Many levels of this birch forest, the bathhouse and the pool exist, as Morfran knows, but we are no longer able to smoothly access all of them, or perhaps any of them. The portal is a confusing place and it’s not easy to tell exactly where one is when using it.”
“Do you know how to fix it?” asked Vasilisa.
“We thought it might have broken down because of the different people using it,” Sofia replied. “We thought perhaps it was only for our use, and the portal’s magic and power weakened when humans or others used it. We considered too that the presence of males caused problems, though both Odin and Morfran used the bathhouse over extended periods of time with no obvious ill effects on the portal.”
Sofiya paused and looked from Morfran to Vasilisa.
“We believe we were wrong to distance ourselves from you and restrict your access to the bathhouse. For weeks we’ve been the only ones to use it, and the portal remains firmly sealed. My sisters and I have not been at peace. I’ve grieved for Morfran, and others have missed him as well. Our isolation has only fed our fear and uncertainty. We have not danced together since before Samhain, and every one of us felt the loss of dancing with you when we kept away at Samhain and only played so others might dance. Even that we grudged, and would not have done if Baba Yaga hadn’t insisted. On behalf of all of us, I’ve come to apologize to you both and ask for your help.”
“I’ll do anything I can,” said Vasilisa at once. “You were only trying to protect yourselves and your way of life. I might have done the same, Sofiya.”
Sofiya inclined her head wordlessly. “You are kind, Vasilisa the Wise.”
Embarrassed, Vasilisa said, “What do you want us to do?”
“I want you to come back to the bathhouse and use it and the plunge pool freely. It occurs to us perhaps the final breakdown occurred because we restricted the portal to only ourselves. Perhaps the key is not in controlling it, but in sharing it. Perhaps the portal is not ours at all, but a thing of magic belonging to the forest, the sea, Rowan Tree, and the other places with which it connects. If that’s true, adding the energy of two half-humans, one of them male, may help. We hope so. We don’t know to what extent Yrtym supports the portal, but it appears to be the scaffold upon which all life depends, and life is varied and dynamic, not isolated and mechanical.”
“I’ll be glad to use the bathhouse again,” said Vasilisa. “I’ve missed it. It doesn’t seem like much to do, though.”
“Imbolc approaches,” said Sofiya, “the beginning of the season of fertility, the return of the wild maiden. If the Sacred Consort arises in time for this cycle, he will reveal himself by then. Sexual energy is powerful, and the creation of life a sacred affirmation. We hope the mingling of the Rusalka, wild creatures and the two of you will work against disconnection and breakdown and perhaps heal the portal enough for some limited use so others may come through and lend their energy to it as well.”
RAPUNZEL
Rapunzel ached for Clarissa. Overnight, she’d gone from a young woman with starry silver eyes and blooming cheeks to a hesitant, rather gauche girl with shadows under her eyes. Something had happened between her and Seren, something a long way from the sensual intimacy she knew Clarissa had been picturing.
Rapunzel concealed her concern and her fury with Seren. She longed to throw him out of the tower, but she knew such an act would only drive Clarissa further into his arms. She knew the natural outcome of Clarissa’s infatuation and Seren’s vanity would be a physical relationship and saw no point in trying to avoid it. If Clarissa’s first experience must happen with such an immature, egotistical brat, better it happen where Rapunzel could provide support and answer questions, at least.
But Clarissa neither sought support nor asked questions. She came and went as usual, a youthful blend of helpfulness and carelessness, but with a new and palpable air of shame, or perhaps guilt. Rapunzel noticed she was increasingly attentive to Seren, hanging on his every word, anticipating his every wish, constantly attentive to his comfort and convenience. He reveled in her attention and Rapunzel thought him more puffed up and obnoxious every day. He clearly considered Clarissa’s attentions no more than his due, and repaid her constant care with an occasional casual caress, as though, Rapunzel fumed, Clarissa was a pet dog.
Rapunzel decided the only way out was through. Clarissa, though inexperienced, was no fool, and whatever Seren’s glamor, it would eventually wear off. He was at his worst when the spotlight was off him, and Rapunzel began to consider how she might manipulate him into a position where Clarissa had ample opportunity to observe how selfish and arrogant he was.
Ash provided the answer.
Rapunzel had heard the story of the “miracle,” as Clarissa put it, at Yggdrasil, when Seren wove together music and words to allow Verdani to spin Yrtym itself and thus create new beginnings. Skuld rose from her sick bed and began to work again, and, according to Seren’s account, all was again healed and whole. Clarissa did not tell the story as Seren had told it to her, apologetically explaining to Rapunzel he preferred nobody else told his stories. “Naturally, he doesn’t want an inferior teller or musician to use his material,” she had explained earnestly to Rapunzel, “but I don’t think he’d mind if I told you the broad outlines.”
A few days after that, Ash and Beatrice arrived. Rapunzel woke to find they’d come in the window she left slightly ajar and Ash was roosting in a dim corner. She set out water and left him to sleep. When she went up to light the lighthouse that evening, the little bat was awake and stretching his leathery wings.
They talked long into the night. Ash and Beatrice told Rapunzel every detail of the scene they’d witnessed in the makeshift tent around Yggdrasil’s trunks, Ash imitating each participant with gusto as Beatrice described the event.
As Rapunzel had suspected, Seren had mightily magnified his own part while diminishing and belittling everyone else, and it appeared Odin himself had taken pains to keep the young musician’s ego in check.
“Seren came back here,” she said, “but he tells rather a different story of a “miracle” he performed.”
“I’ll bet he does,” said Ash, and arranged his face in a prideful smirk while strumming an invisible lyre. He wrapped himself in one of his wings for a cloak and took a few sweeping steps, strutting and bowing with his nose in the air as though he were a prince of inconceivable elegance and importance.
Beatrice giggled.
“Clarissa believes every word he says,” said Rapunzel ruefully, “and she’s more unhappy and under his spell every day. I’ve been trying to think of a way to get them both into a community of some kind so Clarissa can see him through the eyes of others.”
“Send him to Rowan Tree,” said Ash. “Eurydice and Heks are both there, and I don’t think either of them was too impressed with Seren.”
“On what pretext?”
“Their portal is broken down, too,” said Beatrice. “They are trying to come up with some kind of a group connection that might open it, since connection appears to be a key to healing the portals, if not the Yrtym. Suggest to Seren he go perform another “miracle” at Rowan Tree!”
“I don’t think Clarissa can be that far away from water for so long,” said Rapunzel. “They’d travel overland, and I don’t trust Seren to take care of her.”
“If Seren decides to go, Clarissa will figure out a way to follow him,” said Beatrice. “Girls that age believe in romance. I was seduced in my youth by a handsome young beetle with blue-black wings, and I followed him to quite the wrong kind of tree. The bark made me sick, but I was prepared to spend the rest of my life in adoration mixed with indigestion if only I could chew bark alongside him.”
“What happened?” asked Ash, fascinated by this glimpse into the private life of bark beetles.
“A woodpecker ate him, right in front of me,” said Beatrice. “For quite some time I nurtured my broken heart, but I recovered.”
“I wish something would eat Seren,” muttered Rapunzel.
“All sugar and air and no substance,” remarked Ash, “like a caddisfly.”
“I mustn’t tell him too much,” mused Rapunzel. “If he knows Heks and Eurydice are there, he might not go. On the other hand, he keeps saying how bored and isolated he is here. He might not be able to resist the chance to show off in front of a handful of backwoods peasants! And Clarissa has met Heks and Ginger, so they wouldn’t all be strangers.”
“Kill two moths with one swoop,” advised Ash. “Tell Seren and Clarissa about the broken portal at Rowan Tree. Make it sound like a desperate emergency. Do you think he’ll worry about whether Clarissa can come or not?”
“Not for a minute. She’ll be frantic to go with him. He won’t make any effort to help her do so.”
“Good. Stay neutral. Don’t encourage or discourage. Emphasize the portals and shake your head over their breakdown. I’ll bet you a Luna moth Clarissa will find a way to join him. If she can’t, nothing is lost. They’ll be separated. She may suffer for a time, but it sounds like she’s suffering now, and at least she’d be out in the world having adventures with other people in other places.”
“Travel is very enlarging,” put in Beatrice. “I met all kinds of people on that foreign tree.”
“The fact is we’re going to Rowan Tree too,” said Ash. ‘We have more to tell you.”
“Tell, then,” said Rapunzel.
“After the Norns resumed their work, the portal under Yggdrasil opened. Rumpelstiltskin decided to go through it in to Dvorgdom. For years he’s lived aboveground and cared for young women. I suppose you know about the Dvorgs and Dwarves, and Pandora and the Dvorg Jasper?”
Rapunzel nodded.
“Well, anyway, I told Rumpelstiltskin about the tension between the Dvorgs and Dwarves, and what the fire salamanders said, and the passage in the cellar between Dvorgdom and the lighthouse …”
“Wait,” said Rapunzel. “You know Rumpelstiltskin? And what did the fire salamanders say? You haven’t told me this part, either.”
“Oh. Sorry. I get mixed up about who I’ve told what. Or maybe I should say what I’ve told to who.”
“Whom,” said Beatrice primly.
“Whom. Certainly I know Rumpelstiltskin. The Dvorgs and bats have always lived together, you know. So, this is what I told him …”
“As I was saying,” he wound up, “Rumpelstiltskin decided to return to the Dvorgs and see for himself what’s going on. When the portal opened, it seemed like an invitation, and he took it. He and Heks and I talked—”
“Wait, you know Heks, too?”
“I do,” said Ash. “She’s powerful, that one.”
“We decided,” said Beatrice, “Ash, Heks, Rumpelstiltskin and I, we would visit Rowan Tree and bring Heks news, just as we do with you. We told them about you, of course. We can also visit Dvorgdom and check on Rumpelstiltskin.”
“We’ll carry news and messages back and forth between you all, so you see we can easily let you know about Seren and Clarissa, as well as everything else,” finished Ash.