The Tower: Part 6: Ostara
Post #55: In which rage and confusion ...
(If you are a new subscriber, you might want to start at the beginning of the Webbd Wheel Series with The Hanged Man. If you would like to start at the beginning of The Tower, go here. For the next serial post, go here.)
“Eurydice was in a temper,” said Maria.
“I could tell, just by looking at her back,” Heks replied. “I bet it was the story about the lyre. Have you noticed anything different about her lately?” She sensed a sudden flicker of movement near her head and started. A small weight came to rest on her chest near her right shoulder.
“Heks, it’s me.”
“Ash?”
“And Beatrice,” shrilled the beetle.
“That’s a bat!” said Persephone, amazed.
“Hush,” said Heks. Wait until we get home.”
When they entered Heks’s cave-like dwelling, Ash flitted to his accustomed perch in the corner while Heks made a light.
“Do we need a fire?”
“No,” said Maria. “The air is so sweet. I love the smell of rain.”
They sat around Heks’s table and Ash swooped down to Heks’s tunic and hung from the collar, his black eyes shining in the lamplight.
“This is Ash and his friend, Beatrice,” said Heks matter-of-factly.
The fur on Ash’s chest parted and a beetle poked its head and thorax out, waving delicate antennae.
“Ash and Beatrice, meet Persephone. You’ve met Ginger and Maria.”
Persephone, well-used to bats because of her years in Hades, said, “I’m pleased to meet you both.”
“I’ve often seen you, Queen Persephone,” said Ash.
“Why didn’t you speak?”
“You’re a queen,” he said simply.
“I never thought I’d meet a real queen,” murmured Beatrice, “especially such a beautiful one.”
“I’m an ordinary person like everyone else,” Persephone assured them, “but thank you for saying I’m beautiful.”
Heks, impatient, said, “What’s the news? Where have you come from?”
“We’ve come through Rowan Gate from Yggdrasil, and before that from Rumpelstiltskin in Dvorgdom. He wants your help – yours and Ginger’s, if she’ll come.”
He related Rumpelstiltskin’s adventures, Pele’s appearance, and Rumpelstiltskin’s plan.
Heks raised an eyebrow at Ginger, who said, “Of course we’ll come. I’m honored to be asked.”
“I’ll come too,” Persephone offered. “I can drum, and I’d like to meet Pele. We both serve underground, after all.”
“That would be good,” said Ash. “In fact, I intended to seek you and King Hades out, because Beatrice and I heard a worrisome rumor that some of the Dvorgs have their eye on Hades. Slate and his followers feel all of belowground is theirs by right and tradition.”
“Hasn’t Hades always existed?” asked Maria.
“No one really knows,” Persephone said. “I’ve never heard it was taken from the Dvorgs. Have you?” she appealed to Ash.
“No, and neither have the fire salamanders. There’s no evidence I know of, but Slate doesn’t need evidence. He specializes in starting rumors and divisions with nothing but a muttered word.”
“Pele might know,” suggested Heks.
“Yes, but she’s properly aroused and not inclined to participate in a reasonable discussion,” said Ash.
“Poseidon’s worried sick about volcanic vents in the ocean floor,” said Persephone. “Superheating is creating toxic gases and sea life is dying because of rising water temperatures, not to mention the sea withdrawing from the land. I wonder if that’s all due to Pele?”
“She’s incredibly powerful,” said Ash.
“She’s incredibly angry,” added Beatrice. “I think it’s more than the Dvorgs rejecting her. I think she’s a woman scorned.”
Heks smiled at this.
“I mean it,” said Beatrice. “I think there’s more going on than we know about.”
“Can you get back through Rowan Gate to Yggdrasil, and then to Rumpelstiltskin?” Maria asked Ash.
“I think so,” said Ash. “Everything worked fine when we came.”
“I must send word to Hades,” said Persephone. “He should know about what the Dvorgs are saying.
“We want a day or two to rest, anyway,” said Ash. “Beatrice and I are both looking forward to fresh food. I’ve missed hunting over the winter.”
“There’s a lot more to talk about,” said Beatrice. “Are Clarissa and Seren here? I’ve been thinking about her.”
Outside, thunder muttered and a light rain began falling while the four women, the little brown bat and the beetle talked long into the night.
CLARISSA
As the audience filed out, Clarissa lingered. Perhaps if she stayed to help move the tables and benches back into place Seren would speak to her.
Seren’s host, David, and several others she didn’t know also stayed, congratulating Seren and putting the hall back in order while Seren sat on his stool and rested. Clarissa knew a performance like this exhausted him. He put so much of himself into it. Without being asked, she brought him another glass of water and encouraged him to take a seat before the fire and relax while they put the room to rights. He gave her a weary smile and did so.
She felt shy and embarrassed after the scene in front of David after her arrival, so she avoided him. She found a broom and began sweeping the floor of crumbs, wood chips and mud, hoping the others would leave her alone with Seren.
She had decided to make no reference to his coldness and avoidance since she arrived. Her mother had told her men hated women who fussed. She would pretend it never happened, that they were still as they had been when he left the lighthouse. She wouldn’t talk about her own travels and adventures. Now was not the right time. He would be worn out tonight, wanting to relax and perhaps enjoy the euphoria of his performance. He would be in a good mood. She need only avoid irritating him. Seren liked life to be easygoing and comfortable. He liked cheerful, undemanding people.
She swept, taking pains to do a thorough job, stay out of the men’s way, and call no attention to herself. After doing the floor under the tables, she moved into the kitchen, not liking to disturb Seren by the fire.
The tables and benches restored, one by one the men left, Seren accepting handshakes and slaps on the back with dignity. David lingered, and for a moment Clarissa feared he would actually sit down and talk, but Seren did not encourage him. Clarissa exulted silently. He wanted to be alone with her, too!
The door closed behind David. Not wanting to appear too eager or needy, she finished sweeping. Seren sat without speaking, looking into the fire. Clarissa put the broom away and blew out lanterns and candles so the room dimmed.
“Are you warm enough? Shall I mend the fire?”
He nodded, and she knelt on the rag rug and put a piece of hardwood on the bright coals. She seated herself on a chair, not too near in case it annoyed him.
“They’ll never forget this night,” she said quietly.
“That’s what I wanted, to give them a night to remember.”
“They will. I will, too.”
“It felt good to see you looking up at me again, little one. My faithful muse.”
She glowed with pleasure.
“Why are you so far away? Come here.”
She went to him. He gestured at the floor and she settled there, her head against his knee. He stroked her streaky blonde and brown hair.
“David asked me to give another performance in a night or two. Will you come and be my muse again?”
“You know I will.”
He stretched and rolled his shoulders, grimacing.
“Is your neck tight?” she asked. “It’s such hard work for you.”
“Nobody appreciates how hard it is,” he said. “Never mind. The important thing is to serve others by my art, whatever the cost.”
“Shall I work on your neck? You could stay right there and relax, and I’ll stand behind you.”
“If you’d like. I don’t suppose you have birch oil?”
“I don’t,” she said, apologetic. “There’s lavender oil in the kitchen, though, in case of burns. Maria made it.”
“That witch?”
“She’s not a witch, Seren. She’s an herbalist, a healer. She’s very nice.”
He snorted. “Well, if you think it won’t poison me.”
“Of course not. Lavender is healing. It will help your sore muscles.”
She found lard and mixed a small amount with a few drops of lavender oil.
Seren removed his shirt, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest and shoulders in the flickering firelight. She stood behind him, looking down at his well-shaped head, the firm column of his neck and the light growth of hair between his nipples. Surely no man had ever been this beautiful.
She laid her hands on his shoulders reverently, as though in blessing, and began rubbing, lightly spreading the simple salve and gradually working it in more deeply. The smell of lavender soothed. When her hands were no longer greasy, she paused and pulled her tunic over her head, wanting the intimacy of her bare flesh in close proximity to his and feeling overheated, between the fire and her desire for him. He relaxed and let his head drop forward as she worked on his muscles with her thumbs and the sensitive pads of her fingers. She let her hands speak for her, touching him with sensuality and sensitivity, inviting, exploring, tantalizing. Her hard nipples reached out for his smooth golden hair, longing for touch. Her muscles softened and melted even as his did. Her mouth felt swollen. She remembered with fierce longing the kiss on the cliffs below the lighthouse. If only he would kiss her that way again!
He sighed and turned his head, finding her bared breast.
“Oh,” he said, and kissed its round hardness.
She gasped and guided her nipple to his lips. She felt his tongue and her belly exploded with wet heat.
He made an inarticulate sound around her breast and put his arms up to her.
Clarissa ceased to think. She became skin and lips and warmth, a wanting female animal of moisture and musk. She touched and tasted, worshipped and teased, holding nothing back, entirely natural.
They flowed together, she standing, he sitting, then she kneeling, and then the two of them entwined on the rag rug in front of the fireplace. It felt gritty with ash and wood debris, but she didn’t mind. Texture layered on texture, scent layered on taste, and suddenly he entered her, clumsy and careless in his desire, and she put aside the momentary discomfort and arched up, welcoming him. He thrust once or twice into the sore center of her and groaned. She felt his climax spurt.
Then it was done. He lay collapsed on top of her, heavy and breathless. A wood chip ground into her back. Her body, so supple and lovely moments before, felt confused, her desire overcome with discomfort and a desolate sense of interruption.
She stilled herself and tried to relax. She felt him soften and slip out of her, but the sticky soreness between her legs continued. She held him lightly, trying to express her love without being clingy. He appeared sated and relaxed, even ready to doze. His weight made breathing hard.
Perhaps men needed rest after taking their pleasure before they pleasured their women. She didn’t know. Irvin had never talked about the specifics of sex, and her mother refused to discuss it at all. She hadn’t liked to ask Rapunzel or her other friends. She’d imagined it took longer, involved more stroking and touching and exploring.
Perhaps that’s not what men wanted.
He lifted his head and looked into her face.
“That was unexpected. Why did you take off your tunic?”
She was surprised. “It’s warm here, by the fire. I wanted to be close to you.”
“It’s customary to make sure the other person wants to be close, you know,” he said, and rolled off her.
“Seren –”
“Get dressed, little muse, before someone finds us,” he said, not looking at her, and pulled his tunic over his head.
She wanted to wipe herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to go naked into the kitchen in front of him and find a rag. She pulled on her clothes, feeling dirty and ashamed.
“Seren –”
“Good night.” The door shut behind him and she was alone.
She stood on the rag rug, feeling dazed. This was not what she’d longed for and dreamed of all these weeks. This was not the promise of the kiss on the cliffs. She realized suddenly he hadn’t kissed her at all tonight.
She looked down at the rug she stood on and saw a dark blotch where her blood had stained it. She knelt and rolled up the rug, tucked it under her arm and left the hall, closing the door quietly behind her.
She must get to the sea, where she could rest and think and wash herself clean. She must get there now.
She ran up the hill in the dark. The wind gusted warmly, smelling of rain and green growth. Once under the trees’ shelter, she left the rolled-up rug under some hazel bushes and made her way swiftly to Rowan Gate. Inside the stone walls, the spring burbled gently to itself. She stepped into the water and found herself in the sea. It gathered her in its arms, sighing and rocking. It washed her clean in its foam and played lovingly with her hair. It touched her and held her.
She wept.
***
When Clarissa stepped back out of Rowan Gate, a pink dawn paled the sky and early birdsong filled the air. She walked soft-footed past Eurydice’s little house and skirted Rose Red’s oak tree. No one stirred. Two goats lay with their legs curled under them in one pasture and three milk cows grazed peacefully in another.
Clarissa found her way to the large shed serving as storage for animal feed and hay. There she found Persephone, lying on one wool blanket and wrapped in another, on a fragrant hay mattress.
Clarissa didn’t wake her, but made herself comfortable against a bolster of hay and looked out the open shed across the hill. It was peaceful. She’d never visited Hades, but the idea of living underground and never seeing the sun or sky made her shudder. She could understand why Persephone preferred to be outside when she could.
Her eyes were sore and tired and she felt utterly drained. Her body was her own again. The sea had soothed her pain away and washed the stickiness of blood and semen from her skin. Her mind felt pleasantly numb. She leaned her head back against the hay and a shaft of early sun lay across her lap. She thought she’d be quite happy to sit in the hay and doze forever.
Persephone stirred, stretched, yawned. Clarissa turned her head and met her eyes.
“Clarissa?”
“It’s nice here,” said Clarissa.
Persephone’s eyes were the color of a shallow sea under the sun. She examined Clarissa carefully.
“It is. I like being close to the animals and sleeping where I can see the sky and feel the air around me.”
Clarissa lost interest and resettled her head, closing her eyes.
“I’ve a comb here. I don’t suppose you’d help me with my hair, and then I could help you with yours?”
Clarissa considered this. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be touched. Persephone’s hair was lovely, though, thick and golden.
“I’ll help you first.”
Persephone held out the comb.
Clarissa settled herself behind her and slipped off the leather thong confining the end of Persephone’s disheveled braid. She handed the little leather strip to Persephone so it wouldn’t get lost in the hay, shook out the braid and began combing, starting at the ends and working her way up. She felt glad to be out of Persephone’s view.
“Persephone?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“What was it like when you met Hades?”
“I didn’t like him much, to tell you the truth,” she said, amusement in her voice. “He was sulky and stubborn and he kept ordering me about, saying he wouldn’t have this or that. Underneath he was sad, though, and lonely.”
“Was he … gentle?”
“You mean the way he touched me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he didn’t touch me for quite a while. Once I decided to stay in Hades, and he decided to accept he couldn’t change my mind, for some time we worked together, but we weren’t together together, if you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I began having feelings for him then, and he began having feelings for me, but we didn’t talk to one another about how we felt at first. I talked with Baubo first. Do you know her?”
“I’ve heard about her. She makes people laugh and takes care of children, doesn’t she?”
“She does. She also taught me to dance. She’s like the best kind of grandmother. She knows everything about living in the body and sex and how it is between men and women. You can’t shock her and she’s never embarrassed or ashamed. She was a big help to me. Because of her, I eventually told Hades how I felt, and then I discovered he felt the same way. By the time he did touch me, yes, he was gentle, but also masterful and very, very exciting. It was my first time, you see, and I was a little scared.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Yes, it did, but it was so exciting at the same time I forgot about the hurt. I was sore for a little while, but not more than a day, and after the first time I was never sore again.”