Scarlet Moon (Once Upon a Time)

by Debbie Viguié

  Despite her best intentions, she laughed and impulsively took his arm. “You promise not to bite?”

  The smile left his face instantly, and she shivered as he stared down at her. “Not today—today you are safe,” he whispered.

  She felt a chill run through her, and something deep inside her told her that she had seen those green eyes somewhere else. She shook her head to clear it and tried to keep her tone light. “In that case, escort away”

  “Your grandmother lives in the woods?” he asked at last.

  Ruth nodded. “She was banished before I was born. She was falsely accused of witchcraft.”

  She felt him stiffen, and fear brushed against her. “Of course that’s ridiculous,” she hastened to add. “My grandmother studies nature, medicine, the way things grow. Only the ignorant believe in witchcraft.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he said softly. “There are more things in this world than can be explained with reason.”

  “Spoken as a man who has seen some of them,” she teased.

  “That I have,” he whispered so quietly she had to strain to hear him.

  They finished the walk in silence, though Ruth was acutely aware of his elbow where it brushed her side and the play of the muscles in his arm beneath her fingertips.

  Just before they entered the clearing he suddenly stopped and turned to her. “I almost forgot, I have something for you.”

  Ruth tilted her head to the side, puzzled.

  From a small bag hanging from his belt he pulled out a rough cross, all four sides equal in length, attached to a chain of thin silver metal. “It belonged to my mother,” he explained. “I wanted you to have it as a payment, a thank you, for your help the other day.”

  “I did nothing more than what was needed,” she said, aghast. “And you already paid me for that more than generously.”

  “No, this isn’t for the horse. It is for your kindness. You did much more than you’ll ever know. Here,” he said, placing it at her throat. “Lift your hair,” he commanded.

  She obeyed, and he fastened the clasp behind her neck. He moved his hands and she let her hair fall back down. Reverently he touched the cross where it hung low on her throat.

  “Perfect,” he said. “I want you to have this. I pray to God that it will offer you protection in the days ahead.”

  She stared down at it for a moment before looking back up at him. “They tell me that none who know you speak well of you. You yourself have admitted to being dangerous. But I don’t see that.”

  He bent down suddenly and kissed her. Almost against her will she closed her eyes and surrendered to his embrace. His lips were warm upon hers and it felt like her whole body was on fire.

  She opened her eyes as he pulled away. His own eyes pierced her as he whispered fiercely, “I am dangerous”

  She blinked, and in a moment he was gone. She turned all around but could see no trace of him, as though he had vanished into thin air. Just like the man I found on the path. Her hand flew up to her lips as the realization hit her. William and the man I found sleeping in the woods are one and the same!

  He cursed himself as he slipped into the forest, hiding from her probing eyes. For the last month he had done nothing but think of her. For a week he had carried the cross with him, debating whether to try and see her, whether to give it to her. He had never thought beyond that. He had never anticipated kissing her.

  She had looked so beautiful, so innocent and helpless, and like a wolf drawn to a lamb he had pounced. He could still feel her lips on his, and he knew the memory would haunt him until he died. She tasted so sweet.

  He was starting to lose control; he could feel it. He had spent years training his mind, learning how to control his thoughts and his feelings. Since the moment they had met he had been reverting, losing his ability to concentrate.

  “I am a man, not an animal,” he whispered to the forest.

  The ancient trees shook in the breeze, denying his claim. They spoke to him, telling him that he was not what he wanted to be, that he was everything he feared to be. He covered his ears with his hands but could hear them all the same.

  “No, I’ve fought so hard to control myself. I can’t let go of that, I must not let passion hold sway.” The words sounded empty and hollow even to him.

  He turned and fled through the woods back toward the castle. He ran from her and from himself. All he knew was that if he stayed in the woods, he could not be held responsible for his actions.

  That night William woke up shaking and covered in sweat. He had had the dream again. He had been in a battle, fighting and killing the dark-skinned men who surrounded him. Their blood sprayed across his chest. His sword was slick with crimson liquid and he fought to keep his hand around the hilt. The fighting ceased for a moment and he stopped to catch his breath. A sound behind him caused him to turn, and he plunged his sword into another mans chest. It was only as he pulled it out that he realized the man was no warrior, just a simple farmer whose land was being desecrated. Next to him his wife stood, screaming in a language he could not understand. She pointed her finger at him, invective flowing out of her small, quivering lips. He knew that she was putting a curse on him, though he didn’t know how he knew. A light flashed around him for a brief moment and he blinked. He stared at those sputtering lips, now flecked with foam. Her lips were still moving after he cut off her head.

  Every time he had the dream it was the same. Only upon waking would he remember that it had not been he, but a distant ancestor who had committed the crime. “And unto your sons, for seven generations” he muttered, quoting from the Bible, The sins of his forefather that were being visited upon his head, though, had no such time limit. Every male in his family was cursed, until the end of time. The dead witch had seen to that.

  “God forgive me,” he prayed, as he always did upon waking from the dream. He dropped his head into his hand and sobbed. The dream was bad enough, but what was coming next was worse. The dream always preceded his three nights of hell. The full moon and the night on either side of it always bore witness to the price he paid for ancient sins.

  The sun was streaming into his bedchamber, and he wished, as always, that it would last forever, beat back the cruel moon and rule the sky for eternity. Then he would be free and all his children after him.

  He rose and dressed, taking his time, as though that would somehow slow the progress of the rest of the day. He had preparations to make, though, before night fell.

  It was growing dark as Ruth reached the edge of the woods, setting out to take a basket of food for her grandmother. She glanced skyward anxiously, seeing that the moon was already up even though the sun had not yet set. Full moon, or nearly.

  She had hoped to be on her way home by now, but she had needed to stay at the shop longer than she had thought in order to complete an ax. She should hurry if she wanted to get there while there was still some light. I’ll probably have to stay overnight. She was about to pass the first tree when her foot stopped, hovering in midair.

  Something is wrong. She stood, staring, eyes and ears straining. She couldn’t see or hear anything amiss, and yet there was. She looked up at the trees, but they stood like silent sentinels. Whatever secrets they had, they kept.

  Move forward! she screamed at herself. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t will herself to step onto the path. Slowly she lowered her foot back to the ground, next to the other one.

  The hair on the back of her neck rose on end. Then, with a swiftness that left her breathless, a wave of fear stronger than any she had ever known washed over her. Death is in the woods tonight. She turned on her heel and walked quickly away. I’m sorry, Grandmother; I will see you tomorrow.

  Her father looked up, surprised, when she entered the cottage, “I didn’t expect to see you until the morning.”

  She thought for a moment about telling him what she had felt, but she was afraid he wouldn’t believe her. Still, she wanted him to know. “It
would have been dark before I got there, and, somehow, I had a strong feeling that I should just turn around and come home.”

  Her father stared at her for a long moment, and she wished that for once in her life she could read his expression. He turned back to the fire he was tending. “Then it is good that you came home,” he said quietly;

  She stood staring at his back, wondering what exactly he meant by that. She decided against asking and instead put down her basket and changed for bed. “Where’s Peter?” she asked after she had laid down.

  “He left for your grandmother’s several hours ago.”

  “I’m worried about him,” she said before she could stop herself. She held her breath, unsure how her father would respond.

  For a long minute he didn’t say anything. Finally he sighed. “He’s been through a lot. Any man who has seen what he has needs time to rest, recover. He’ll be fine.”

  She heard him stand up, suddenly enough to knock over the stool on which he had been sitting. He swore quietly as he picked it back up.

  Biting her lip, Ruth rolled onto her side and stared at the wall, a feeling of unease still lingering with her like the smell of burnt food. She heard her father preparing for bed. Shortly he blew out the lantern and she heard the creaking of the wood as he lay down across the room. Her eyes grew heavy and she closed them. She could feel herself drifting off to sleep when very quietly she heard him say, “I’m worried too.”

  She opened her eyes but didn’t say anything. She couldn’t remember a time when her father had ever admitted something like that. She found it disturbing and yet at the same time very comforting. At least I’m not making that up or reacting to nothing.

  She closed her eyes again and drifted back toward sleep. Then, from way off, she heard the howl of a wolf. She sat upright, heart pounding in fear, and she screamed.

  The moon rode full and high in the darkened sky. He could feel it calling to him, illuminating the night, throwing light upon his deeds.

  The tanner deserved to die for what he had done to Ruth. That was why he killed him. Alone in the forest there was no one to hear him scream. He was a fool to be out here alone. He’s a dead fool now. He clawed at the body, slashing clothes and flesh. He picked up an arm and gnawed great chunks out of it. Must blame it on the wolf. If it weren’t for the wolf, it wouldn’t have happened. I’m not responsible for the wolf, no man is.

  Ripping, slashing, tearing, rending. See how the claws draw blood, see bow the fangs rend flesh. Smell the blood and decay. Already the corpse begins to rot, and all the tiny woodland creatures come to watch. They’re all afraid of me.

  As they should be.

  Chapter Five

  S unlight streamed through the tops of the trees, bathing the path in a golden haze. Ruth skipped along, her basket clutched in one hand and her other wrapped loosely around the hilt of her knife. She was thinking about her cousin and what she could do to help him, and for once she was able to ignore the whispering of the trees.

  It was midmorning. Her father was working in the shop all day and had told her to go to her grandmother’s early. It was nice to be out of the smoke and the heat. The air was crisp and cold, and she took several deep breaths. Birds were twittering in the trees and darting back and forth across the path before her. They eventually drew her attention away from her dark thoughts.

  “It is a beautiful day,” she called out lightly to the looming giants surrounding her.

  They whispered a reply, but she paid no heed. She paused only to spin slowly in a circle, spreading her arms wide and reveling in the sun upon her face.

  When her eyes fell upon a dark form lying just off the path, though, all thoughts of warmth fled. Her heart began to pound and she found herself suddenly drenched in a cold sweat. She dropped the basket, and it landed with a sharp crack upon a branch» She jumped as the sound continued on around her, echoing and only seeming to build in intensity.

  She pulled her knife from her belt and advanced with trembling steps. A wind sprung up and the trees rattled their leaves above her. Their swaying caused patterns of light and shadow to play across the ground in a macabre dance.

  The dark form was a man, or what was left of him. His throat had been ripped out, and there were deep lacerations and scratch marks all over his body One arm had been gnawed down to the bone. The ground around him was torn up, with tracks of both a wolf and a man noticeable. The mans blood had seeped into the earth, and drops had scattered upon a few leaves.

  His face alone was intact, and by that she knew him. It was Simon, the man with whom she had fought in the shop. His eyes were fixed in horror, his mouth frozen in his death cry.

  She fought the urge to fall to her knees and retch. The trees began to shake even more fiercely in the wind, though, and this time their haunting warning was clear to her.

  She turned and stumbled back down the path, moving as fast as she could. She snatched up her basket and kept going. A branch snapped behind her, but she was too terrified to look back.

  Ahead of her the trees’ remaining leaves fell like rain and quickly began to coat the path. She ran through them, wincing as they crackled beneath her feet. Her foot caught on a root that she was certain had not been there the week before, and she crashed to her knees. With a thud, her knife fell from her hand to the ground. Ruth knelt for a moment, panting.

  Then she heard it. Something was coming down the path behind her at a steady trot. She turned around and saw a wolf, fangs bared, six feet from her.

  She screamed and it lunged at her. She reached for her dagger, knowing that her hand wouldn’t find it in time. The beast was upon her, jaws snapping. She rolled to the side and its teeth found only her sleeve. With a tearing sound it came free, and she felt a stinging in her arm where his teeth scratched her.

  Then it stopped. It tilted its head and stared at her for a long moment. She stared back, and by his eyes she knew him. It was the wolf that had attacked her as a child. With a cry, she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her knife, and she swiped at him.

  The wolf danced easily out of her reach, though. After a last look at her, it turned and loped off into the trees, her sleeve still in its mouth.

  Shaking with fear she pulled herself to her feet, wincing as she put weight on the ankle that had tripped on the root. She stared for a long while into the trees whence the wolf had gone. Why did he leave me alive? she wondered. She finally turned and limped the rest of the way.

  When she arrived at her grandmother’s cottage she was exhausted in both mind and body. When Giselle opened the door and saw Ruth, her face drained of all color.

  “Child, what happened to you?”

  “It was the wolf from so long ago,” she whispered.

  Without another word Giselle ushered her inside and bade her sit.

  Ruth accepted the chair gratefully and submitted herself to a thorough examination. Within minutes her grandmother had elevated her ankle and put a poultice of willow wood on it, which eased the swelling. Giselle had then washed the scratch on her arm and dressed it with dragonwort to help stop the bleeding.

  “The wolf killed Simon the tanner,” Ruth said at last.

  Giselle looked up sharply. “Are you sure?”

  Ruth nodded. “His throat was torn out, his body covered with scratches and partly eaten. There were wolf prints in the dirt, and it wasn’t far from there that the wolf attacked me.”

  Giselle picked up Ruth’s left hand and gently pried her fingers open. Ruth stared down numbly as Giselle took the knife from her grasp. She hadn’t realized she had still been holding it.

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No, I didn’t even touch him. He tore my sleeve and then he just … left”

  Giselle’s eyebrows shot up in a look of surprise that Ruth had seldom seen from her. “That does not stand to reason.”

  “Nor did I think so,” Ruth admitted.

  Outside the wind began to howl angrily around the cabin, shaking the small building
in its wrath. “lt’s an ill wind,” Ruth said with a shudder.

  “Nonsense,” her grandmother snorted* “Wind is neither good nor ill, it just is. Its effects we may not like, but the wind itself bears no will of its own”

  “That’s not what Father says,” Ruth muttered.

  “Well, your fathers ignorance is not my doing. He’s too much like his father—too stubborn to learn, unwilling to believe the evidence of his own senses.” Giselle sighed in frustration. “At least you shall know better, whether you choose to follow my path or not.”

  Ruth smiled at her grandmother. “I will always follow your teachings, in one way or another.”

  Giselle gazed fondly at her. “That’s my good girl. You can also think for yourself, and that is best of all.”

  Ruth nodded, her fear subsiding with each passing moment. It was good to sit, warm and secure, and bandy words with the woman who had taught her so much.

  She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I just wish I knew what stayed the wolf’s wrath.”

  “Might have been God, honey;”

  Ruth opened her eyes and stared in amusement at her grandmother. “I'm not sure I will ever understand your ability to reconcile your unwavering faith with your reliance on only what you can see with your own eyes.”

  It was an old conversation, but Giselle smiled at her with tolerance anyway. “As I’ve told you before, the study of nature and the world does not preclude God. You do not see the wind, but you feel it and may know its effects. So it is with God. I do not see the reaction between your skin and the herbs I place upon it, yet I know that it will stop the bleeding fasten I know that it works, even if I do not know how or why.”

  They fell silent, and once again Ruth listened to the howling of the wind. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that it was a hungry wolf prowling around the house and seeking to devour them. She began to shake.

  “Tell me of this young nobleman you’re interested in,” Giselle asked suddenly.

  “How did you know?” Ruth asked with a laugh.