A forest closes around me as I stumble after my rescuer, tripping over half-buried tree roots and stubbing my toes on hidden boulders. Brambles reach out, grabbing at me with sharp, hard thorns as I push through the undergrowth on the snaking path that meanders through ancient oaks. We pass over knolls and through green, leafy dells and as I look around, I realize the forest is beautiful. I feel my senses opening to my surroundings. I can hear birds singing in the trees as a hedgehog snuffles through the leaf litter at my feet and, in the distance, the echo of a vixen’s call ripples the serenity of the moment. But a brooding weight hangs in the ether. It is as if the forest is watching, waiting on my every move. I shiver and keep walking.
I cannot be sure whether or not I trust this man, but he has not yet tried to harm me, so I follow cautiously. We come to a halt in a leafy clearing canopied by the mature crowns of sturdy beeches. My eyes are instantly drawn to a small dwelling set into a rocky bank. From its structure of stone and earth drips an abundance of moss and ivy.
“Here we are Tanguistl, this is your home.” The man turns and beams, as if bestowing me with treasures of gold. “Come, let us enter.”
He pushes open the heavy wooden door, beckoning me to follow. The hovel is as black as pitch. I stand in the doorway, afraid to step forward for fear of tripping. I had just tuned my senses to the sounds of him moving around in the darkness when light ruptured the room. He has kindled a generous fire which is starting to flare brightly in the enormous hearth. I move towards the heat, rubbing my hands to ward off the damp that seems to permeate this hovel. I didn’t think I was going to like it here. I would have much preferred a sea cave where I could catch the fresh sea breeze and the feel the dryth in the air.
The dank, dark walls glistened with moisture. In an attempt to stave off the bone-chilling cold I huddle closer to the fire until I am almost touching the enormous cauldron that hangs to the side of the blaze. As the man pokes away at the flames with a long iron staff, I scrutinise my new home. I am heartened to see a rough wooden bench and table to the side of the hearth but can see nothing to sleep on; however, my curiosity is aroused by the jumble of earthen jars gracing the mantle.
The man sits down beside me on the hearth and introduces himself as Merlin.
I immediately sense a voltaic energy enter the room that leaches malignancy. Merlin must have felt it too because he starts to tell me of the dwellings’ previous occupant.
“This was the home of Meraud, daughter of the goddess Brigando. Imbolc is her sacred day. For as long as you heed and respect her and honor the purity of her day, you will have nothing to fear.”
I settled in and made the hovel my own, living happily for many summers. The villagers trusted me and came often looking for cures and treatments from my spells and potions.
But one winter I was struck by the red plague and left for dead, my incantations and unguents proving useless against the disease. It was Merlin who kept me alive, invoking the healing spirits and bringing nourishment every day until I was well enough to fend for myself. I had survived but at what cost. My face and body were left hideously scarred, my skin falling in folds around my aquiline nose that now seemed to protrude even more. The plague even affected my bones and I was no longer able to walk upright. Every day, when I walked to the stream for water, my marred features reflected back at me from its trickling waters. I stayed hidden in my house but it was Merlin who encouraged me out, making me realize that neither he nor the villagers found my appearance as repulsive as I did. It was then my confidence started to return and I was able to lead my life, as I knew it, once again.
Two moons ago Merlin brought to me a strange creature. A boy descended from Arthur who says his name is Alex. Although I drew down the moon his past is blocked from me, but what I can see is a world filled with such sorcery I fear for his future. He is afraid of me but I will not harm him, as long as he heeds my will.
© Carolyn Griffin
