Sookin' Berries

by Jess Smith

  What a shock we had when we came to the burnt ground, which was still smouldering. We both ran and started digging at the tree roots where Hedgie had been deposited. For a moment Katy froze in fear at what state he might be in, but as she gently felt inside the hole beneath the roots it was obvious from his curled body and shallow breathing that he was already sleeping for the winter.

  Many times after that year we winter-stopped in Kincladdie Wood. Katy continued to watch out for injured animals, helping them when she could. When she grew up she moved far away to Canada. Granny lived until the ripe old age of 101. Our parents died in their fifties.

  When I grew up and got married, my wife and I had three children. We lived in a house, where in the evenings we’d switch off the telly and by candlelight I’d tell my children stories of our times on the road. Their favourite tale was about Maggie Walls and her cat!

  2

  LUNARIA

  This next tale is one that never fails to remind me that what seems perfectly delightful might not be quite as wonderful as it looks. A rich gentleman dreams of a beautiful wife. Does he find her?

  The master, the Right Honourable Randolph Dollerie, stood outside his sprawling mansion surveying the marvel of granite excellence he’d had built for his pleasure. Every window was adorned with plush velvet curtains, and inside there was mahogany furniture from the Orient, the finest leather sofas and, as far as the eye could see, the plushest of wool carpets filled every inch of flooring. His bedchamber had all a gentleman of his status needed. There was a butler to attend to visitors; cooks to prepare food for the many dinner parties that he threw; there were horsemen, stable hands, chambermaids and many more, employed within stately Friarton Manor.

  His father had built a coffee empire abroad, and by the time his young son had reached nineteen he’d inherited the entire fortune, which was considerable.

  So there he stood, under a perfect full moon in the clearest of night skies, as friends and dignitaries made their way home and the staff bedded down for the night. It was such a lovely evening, so before going to bed, he thought he’d take a gentle meander through the forest.

  Owls hooted when he entered the woods, and bats flew erratically at the sound of his boots crunching on a carpet of autumn leaves. Apart from those natural sounds, everything was still and quiet. As he walked, the conversation he’d had an hour earlier with his friends, while sipping brandy, came to mind and disturbed his peaceful stroll.

  ‘Randolph, you must be about thirty, surely it’s time you chose a wife?’ asked Doctor Menzies, a close friend and confidant. ‘I mean there’s no shortage of beauties to choose from, and we can have another ball and invite debutantes from the continent.’

  Lawyer Roberts added weight to the good doctor’s proposal, saying, ‘My sister Annabelle has two daughters ready for marriage. Quite lovely they are too, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

  Several others of his party guests who had his future at heart were all of the same opinion: it was time Randolph had a wife. After all, who would be his heir otherwise?

  What they failed to grasp was that he’d not met anyone to love, and according to the natural law of life, surely this has a lot to do with finding a wife? To date he’d not met the right person. In fact the truth was that he’d not yet met the woman who came to him nightly in his dreams; she of sea-green eyes, jet-black hair, perfect form and peach-blushed skin. Randolph had lived a perfect life; he desired a perfect wife. But as ‘she’ was not a person of flesh and blood, only a simple figment of a lonely man’s imagination, that’s all she could be and, as he grew older, would remain.

  Suddenly his path came to an end as a shimmering sheet of water appeared before him. The moon’s light was shining upon the small loch at the forest edge. He’d not meant to walk such a distance, but lost as he was in his thoughts, he had misjudged the pathway. It had petered out and his footsteps now crunched on leaves.

  But he wasn’t tired, and it had been a long time since he had visited the picturesque scene. Moonbeams danced on the still water like gossamer fairies, and there was twinkling upon the black surface as if the stars had come down from the heavens to share the night. He sat down not caring if the ground was damp or not. He lay back and stared upwards, so grateful that he had decided to take a midnight stroll during a full moon.

  ‘Hello.’ The voice of a female came out of nowhere, utterly shattering his peace. He sat upright and looked around.

  ‘I’m over here, by the laburnum tree. Stand up and you will see me,’ the person said, in answer to his thoughts.

  He stood up, then accidentally stumbled over a branch. A slender white arm reached over to steady him, and he stared into the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen.

  ‘Where did you come from?’ he asked, then wished he’d bitten off his tongue. He should have introduced himself first, as gentlemen are expected to do.

  ‘You brought me here, did you not?’

  ‘What kind of remark is that? Excuse me, my lady, but I have never set eyes on you before.’

  Then, as she moved closer, he saw the face of his dreams.

  ‘Yes, you have, my love.’

  ‘What form of trickery is this?’ He was shaking, unable to grasp that this was reality. ‘I’m dreaming, aren’t I?’ he said, closing his eyes. Then two soft, ruby-red lips met his to prove that this was not a dream.

  ‘Randolph, I am Lunaria, yours to keep and cherish for ever. From your desires I have come. It took many long, dark nights travelling through a maze of dreams to reach you, but with a totally committed love, I am here at last to share your life.’ She touched his head, smiled sweetly and said, ‘Shall we go home, my precious?’

  They walked back in a magical state, his eyes drifting from the leafy path beneath their feet to her face of perfection. At last the turrets of Friarton Manor loomed on the horizon. When inside, under the chandeliers of the ballroom, he saw just how beautiful Lunaria really was. Of course she’d no clothes on, so he covered her with his cloak, then called on Charles, his butler, to make up a guest bedroom. His new-found vision of loveliness wouldn’t hear of it, however, and insisted she sleep in his bedroom. Charles couldn’t take in what was going on; first because he was half asleep, and secondly, her vivid beauty seemed to hold him spellbound, as it did the master.

  That night Lunaria became Randolph’s wife. There was no ceremony, no white dress or handmaidens, flowers or church bells. He had imagined her into existence, therefore she was his.

  Next day it was clear to see that the master was under this charismatic lady’s spell. She wasted no time in lining up all the household staff and instructing her husband to dismiss them. Without question he obeyed. From that moment it would be her responsibility to take care of the house and her darling husband. Within a week the entire household had packed up and left.

  Lunaria adored horses, so she kept on stable boy Billy and Garrow the blacksmith. Apart from them, the place was left deserted.

  She was everything Randolph had ever wanted or needed in a companion. In fact her attentiveness, at times, though welcome, was smothering. He certainly didn’t miss his loyal staff, because she did all the cooking, cleaning, and household duties without the slightest problem. Flowers filled every room. Brightness and love abounded. And on the night of a full moon, she showered him with kindness and her undivided attention.

  The first thing she did on these nights was to cut his nails and hair, fill a deep bath and add droplets of essential oils to relax him, and lastly gave him a small glass of her specially prepared wine. She said it was to celebrate their full moon anniversary. So much adoration mystified him, especially when she insisted sweeping his hair and nail cuttings into a stone jar and keeping them by her bed.

  When word reached Randolph’s friends about the mistress of Friarton, they simply had to visit – wild horses wouldn’t have stopped them. When the vision of perfect beauty, wearing a blood-red, off-the-shoulder velvet gown, welcomed them with open arms,
all curiosity was satisfied.

  ‘She is the most delightful of creatures,’ said Doctor Menzies, sounding like an excited little boy.

  ‘Wherever did you find her?’ asked Roberts, the lawyer. ‘What a dark horse you turned out to be, keeping her a secret!’

  Questions, some light, others probing deeper, came thick and fast, but Randolph told them nothing while his lovely wife stood by his side, smiling. Who would believe him, anyway? The truth was far too outrageous, and they would no doubt have sent him to an asylum if it had been revealed. This woman of his dreams had been a product of his success; she was nothing more or less than perfection, like all of his life.

  Leaving him in peace with his new wife, his friends didn’t visit as regularly as they had done previously, allowing Lunaria to have complete control over her husband. Strangely, he had been feeling under the weather recently, but didn’t know why.

  As day followed day, his strength began to fade. He no longer wished to go riding across his moorland with Lunaria on their favourite horses, or picnicking by the loch. Days passed painfully slowly, and as each went by his bones grew more stiff and sore. She insisted that soon the sickness would pass and he’d find new health. She put it down to nothing more than a virus.

  He was never usually ill, and against her wishes, he visited his friend, the doctor, who after a thorough examination told him that he must have been doing too much work or something trivial. He must take lots of fresh air and a proper diet, and his health should improve.

  It was a full moon again. Randolph had a dreadfully painful toothache, and didn’t have the heart to say so, because his lovely wife was, as always, upbeat and happy and had spent the day pampering and preparing him for his rest. Trimmed nail cuttings along with hair snippings were put into the jar by the bed.

  His soothing bath did nothing to help, and by the time both were in bed, the excruciating pain of toothache kept him wide awake.

  As he lay there in the dark, he felt Lunaria rise from the bed, and heard her pulling something from underneath it. Then, after a few silent seconds, he felt a loop of leather slip around his neck; he knew from the feel of it that it was horse leather, but before words came to his lips the most unimaginable thing happened.

  He was standing on the bedroom floor, not on two legs but four. He was a horse, a great big, strong, long-legged horse, saddled and bridled. ‘I am dreaming, surely?’ he thought, as he felt a leg swing over his back. Then, as if by magic, the wall opened and he was trotted out.

  Out and upwards, he was being ridden into the night sky. The full glare of the moon blinded him as on he went, with the rider, whoever it was, on his back, guiding him. The rider certainly knew where to go. On and on they went, until he saw, far below, a great flaming fire.

  Then a familiar voice whispered in his ear: ‘Soon, my husband, soon you will be ours and your pain shall end.’ It was Lunaria. The next sound tore through him – a screeching cackle of some old hag, definitely not his lovely wife.

  Down they plummeted, to land upon a black rock where the fire raged. As he watched, unable to speak, he saw approaching them hump-backed hags of the most fiendish appearance. They were witches in black hoods with pointed chins and hooked noses, pawing at his rider who was the ugliest hag of them all. He could hardly believe it when one said, ‘Sister Lunaria, how fares your prey?’

  Then, when the answer came, it left him in no doubt that he was wide awake, and that Lunaria, his vision of beauty, was a trickster of the most evil kind. ‘He is near his end. One more lunar cycle and he will be ours!’

  Randolph watched a scene of utter horror unfold before his eyes. Lunaria was completely unaware that he was not still spellbound. One by one the witches took stone jars from their belts. She, however, held hers tightly.

  The female demons ran in unison, and threw the contents of their small stone jars into a giant one that was sitting on the fire. Instantly, as the nail and hair cuttings fell into the container, a scream of pain rent the air. It tore into Randolph’s ears, piercing his very soul.

  When the ceremony had finished and the cackling quietened, Lunaria leapt back into the saddle. She took to the air again, waving to her sisters from hell with promises that the next visit would be her victim’s last – that victim being Randolph himself.

  In no time he was lying on his bed, the halter removed, no longer a horse, but still with toothache and a deep determination to stop Lunaria from carrying out her deadly plan for his destruction.

  He pretended not to know anything of what had happened, and hoped that this fiendish hag, disguised as a perfect woman, would not detect that his love had died. It was important, however, to pretend that he still felt the same. This was difficult to do, when he kissed her cheek, knowing what she really looked like.

  Next day, although weaker than ever, he excused himself, saying he intended to visit his friend the doctor for removal of his tooth. She didn’t suspect anything, and waved him off. The journey, although short, was hard because of his failing health, and he knew that by the next full moon he’d be so sick he’d not have any energy left.

  ‘My friend,’ he told the doctor, ‘you can see that my strength is rather weaker than when last we met.’

  ‘Yes, I must admit there is a significant change. Perhaps you should spend a few days in bed. I will give Lunaria a bottle of medicine to administer to you.’

  ‘You will do no such thing. She is behind my ill health. It is a fiendish devil I am married to, a demon from hell!’ Randolph had no intention of disclosing his plans to the Doctor, but hearing the mention of her name sent him into a fit of temper.

  ‘This illness of yours has made you delusional. Your lovely wife is nothing less than a saint, running the house single-handedly, tending your needs! No, I think you should take full bed-rest, my friend. I shall visit you every week until you’re on your feet again.’

  Randolph had a plan in mind, but it seemed that his friend was as much under Lunaria’s spell as he once had been. Proof was needed. On the eve of the next full moon, he instructed Billy, his faithful stablehand, to have his friends waiting in the courtyard, early the next morning. He then asked Garrow, the blacksmith, to forge two extremely heavy horseshoes and await his instructions. He had to be in the courtyard too.

  The cycle of the moon came round again. The ritual of the day once over, he again found himself lying in bed, but this time things would be different. He heard Lunaria rise as before, pulling the box out from beneath the bed and taking out the halter. But the moment it touched his head, he turned around, grabbed it from her and slipped it over her head instead. Instantly she was a grey mare, eyes rolling in her equine head, neighing loudly.

  Randolph looped a leather strap around her mouth, stopping her from making any sound, and pulled himself onto her back. Her journey was mapped before them: out through the bedroom wall, up into the night sky, flitting across the rays of moonlight, heading onwards to find her home of flame, with her witch sisters and their soul jars. In seconds, down she plummeted, to land in exactly the same spot as before. Randolph had wrapped a long hooded cloak around himself; he needed a disguise to trick the others. The only problem was, he’d very little energy left.

  ‘Hello, Lunaria, sister of the moon,’ said one ghoul, creeping over to him. ‘This night you have brought the young master of Friarton Manor to join the others?’

  He nodded. Holding up the small stone jar and keeping his head down, he strode over to the waiting flames. He threw his small one into the giant jar, but nothing happened. A low growl and then a shrill squealing rent the night air, as one by one the demons realised their sister was too quiet and this cloaked creature was far too tall.

  He took from under his cloak a heavy wood stake, and before the witches could reach him, hit the giant jar so hard it split into a dozen pieces, sending every witch into a fit of frenzied screaming. ‘Eek, we’ve lost the souls! Catch them, Catch them! Eek! Eek!’

  Round and round they flew, on batlike wi
ngs, trying to halt the stream of misty souls who were escaping towards their heavenly home. There were many men, obviously sad departed victims of the other witches. They waved and smiled as they went, watching him as he ran over to climb on the back of Lunaria and make his escape. The next moment the earth split open and swallowed up all the witches, the broken jar and the flames.

  A few minutes later, he was still clinging desperately to his horse’s neck as she landed in the courtyard.

  Rushing past his opened-mouthed friends, he called on Garrow to bring the horseshoes. Telling everyone to stay away from the grey mare, he held her close, keeping an extra tight hold on the halter round her neck. ‘This fine horse is my beautiful wife. A woman who is married to the devil, and plots my destruction!’

  ‘What madness is this?’ said Menzies.

  Roberts shook his head, and said that their dear friend Randolph was mad and should be locked up.

  ‘Shoe the mare’s front hooves,’ he shouted to Garrow, ignoring everyone else, ‘make them fit.’

  Garrow expertly shoed the mare, then stood clear as his employer instructed.

  ‘Now you shall all see why my health is failing me. See what I have been living with!’ He slipped off the leather halter, and in an instant, there, for all eyes to see, stood an old wizened hag, cackling loudly. Pointed chin almost touching her hooked nose, she screeched that she was a sister of the Luna spirit – a witch of the moon! ‘No one can stop me from departing this place. I will find more fools to romance; my power is greater than that of mere mortals.’

  She lifted her head to meet the first rays of sunshine, laughed, let out an unearthly squeal and tried to fly off – but she’d forgotten that the earth has a magic of her own. The iron shoes and nails held her and bound her feet to the ground. She tried desperately to free herself, but the shoes were far too heavy, she was going nowhere.