The Fox

by Arlene Radasky

  Firtha continued. “Lovern, you were brought to us by the gods. You should have died by the Roman sword, but you fought and lived. You are the one to be sacrificed on Beltane.” I watched as she gave him the cup.

  He turned to me and said, “I do this because I love you. I have pledged not to let the Romans take us. If this will keep you free, I will gladly die in a sacrifice to Scotia.” He gulped the contents of the now black goblet.

  The roaring inside my head was subdued by the hissing of my snake. I understood now what I had seen from the beginning. The gods had given us a short life together on this earth. Too short a time together. All my fears were being realized.

  Rhona’s arms left me and I stumbled back to the circle of stones as all the druids gathered around Lovern, and the droning hum started again.

  His voice rose above the noise of the druids. “I will speak to the gods for us but I ask one thing. I wish to go home. I want the ceremony to be during Beltane with my clan chieftain by my side. I ask to hold my daughter one more time. Pray to the gods to allow me to do this one last thing, Firtha.”

  Lovern held my eyes locked in his. I wanted to flee, to grab his hand and both of us run as fast and far as we could. We would go get Crisi and live in the forest, by ourselves. We could do this. He had done it before. But in his eyes, I saw he would not run again. Resolve and understanding passed through me. At that moment, I started to give him up to the gods, though it rent my heart into pieces.

  I did not see him again for three days and nights. Firtha had received the answer Lovern asked for. We would go home. I did not remember eating, drinking or sleeping the time we were in the fort after the night of the choosing.

  I watched him come out of the lodge and slipped through the druids’ protective circle. When I reached him, I could not stop myself. I hit him. I beat him around his chest and shoulders. I was so angry I could not stop. “How can you leave? Why is it you? Why not another druid? Who is to protect Crisi? How can you do this?” I knew the answer in my mind. He was not mine. He belonged to the gods. I felt betrayed.

  He stood still, his strength holding him upright. As I started upward to his face, he took hold of my wrists. I tried to wrench free, but although he did not have a tight squeeze on my arms, I was unable to break away. My breath ragged and my muscles weak, I leaned against his chest in tears, his hands caressing my hair, telling me to shush. When I calmed enough to lean back and look into his face, I saw tears running freely from his blue eyes.

  “Do you not think I wonder every day why the gods chose me? Why it is me who must go to their table and beg for our lives? I remember every minute of our lives together. I can feel Crisi’s weight as a baby in my hands. I hear her laughter. I long for the warmth of your body against mine, the sweetness of your lips, the velvet tip of your tongue. The last thing I remember at night is you. The last thing I will think about in death is the lavender scent of your soft, raven’s-wing hair.

  “These earthly things I will miss more than any man could ever know.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and shook the tears from his face. “But it is not for me to ask why. I have been chosen. I am the one to go. You are the one to stay and remind the others to prepare. The gods will not make this an easy trial. Scotia has told us that we must fight to free ourselves.” He slipped his labyrinth bag off his shoulder, held the soft leather in his hands, kissed it and handed it to me.

  “Jahna, this is all I have of value other than you and Crisi. I charge you to care for it and pass it on to Crisi. I am not going to see you again until the night before the ceremony.

  “You of all people, Jahna, know how to make my crossing smooth. I want you there. I need you there and will ask you for no more tears. No, I demand no more tears. I will spend my last night with you. I will give my body and soul to the gods willingly if it will save Crisi and the other children of our clan the loss of self I have seen in the captured children. I need you to be strong. I have begun my last journey.”

  His eyes bore into mine, pleading. I could not refuse his request, his demand. “Yes. I swear,” I whispered. “No more tears. I will build a wall around my heart to dam them and keep them from falling. I will be with you and will make your crossing as easy as possible. I will plead for Beathan to be there to guide your boat across the river and my mother to meet you on the other side. She will keep you safe and go with you to the gods until it is my turn to come. We will meet again, Lovern. We will be together again for a time longer than this life on earth.”

  I slid his bag over my neck and under my dress to be warmed by my heart. We mounted our ponies. Our small company had grown. Firtha, her nine druids, and three of the king’s warriors. The warriors were to return home as soon as we reached our hillfort. They were charged to stop at all the villages between ours and the king’s to spread the word of the Roman invasion and gather proof of the pledges of warriors.

  I had no memory of the trip home. Rhona rode with me and I slept only when she brewed her tea for me. The druids surrounded Lovern. They enveloped him in their ceremony. Beltane eve, the next time I would be near him, would come too quickly.

  All came out to honor him. News of our journey traveled from village to village and clansmen and women stood in the roads, watching as we passed. Whispered words drifted to all ears about the upcoming Beltane sacrifice. If Lovern had been a warrior who killed others in battle, they would have cheered. But on this ride, there were hushed prayers. All seemed to know of his gift to them. Their eyes followed us until we rode over the next rise or around the farthest bend in the road.

  Sileas and Harailt were among the first I saw on the path that lead up to the top of our hill. Behind them stood the young man whose broken leg we had fixed. Torrian, now grown into a fine, strong warrior, was promised to Kenric’s guard. He would be one of those fighting in the front line with Kenric and the king’s men. His father, Aonghus, stood beside him with several younger boys nearby. All faces had the look of awe and praise that had become common on this road of honor. My stomach ached when I saw their eyes. I had to close mine and take my mind far away to stop the flood of tears that constantly threatened to fall. I had promised. I had sworn not to cry.

  Our group slowly rode through our small village center, surrounded by friends walking with us as we rode. Crisi waited ahead, her hand held by Kenric’s wife, Caitrin. Kenric stood tall in the doorway to his lodge. Dressed as our chieftain, a leader of warriors, he carried his shield, the same one carried by Beathan so long ago, and had two long swords across his back and a short blade in his belt. He stood with his spear, eagle feathers and bear’s teeth hanging from it, in his left hand. His hair was braided and hung down to his neck. He wore a plaid cape closed by the oak pin fashioned by Finlay. It brought back to my mind the mistletoe pin worn by the king and his brother. A stray thought ran through my head. I must remember to tell Finlay about it. As if it were important to me now.

  The king’s warriors slid off their ponies. “We bring the druids as the king ordered us. The Beltane sacrifice will be here, in your village. Firtha, the king’s druidess, is here to conduct the ceremony. Do you take the oath to protect her and her followers?”

  Kenric looked over the rest of us still mounted on the ponies. “I will have the honor of having the Beltane ceremony here. I will protect all who come to take part in this ceremony.” At this, his head turned to Lovern. He nodded. “I am honored to know this sacred man.”

  Yes, Kenric, you knew him. He ate at your table repeatedly, sang your songs, laughed at your jokes, and healed your sick children. He mourned Beathan’s death with you. I knew him too. When he was but a man. He made love to me in the cave. He cried when he killed the white stag for me. Now we will watch him die, give his life for ours. Yes, we knew him, this sacred chosen one.

  The king’s warriors stayed with Kenric and his warriors at the top of the hill. Lovern and the druids rode back down the hill toward the sacred spring where they would burn purifying fires until Beltane ev
e.

  Sileas and Harailt took the reins of my pony and led me back to the hospice. They knew I could not go home. I sat on a cot, the world around me dreamlike, until Crisi came, carried in Eiric’s arms, followed by Finlay.

  I tried to stand, but my legs would not hold me, and I sat back down hard on the cot. “Forgive me for not standing. I have not eaten or slept well on this journey. What day is today?”

  Eiric sat next to me and guided Crisi to my lap where I hugged her, my nose buried in her hair, inhaling the scent of honey. She carried Lovern’s smell. My heart jumped, and tears seeped to the corners of my eyes, but did not fall.

  “Tomorrow is Beltane,” Finlay said. “We have begun preparing. The fire is being laid in the field. Eiric told me you would want to see Crisi so we brought her to you. I must go soon. Kenric is chaffed by this decision, though we know it must be done. I must convince him Lovern will be acting on our behalf. He told me he would rather Lovern act on our behalf as our healer, not as a sacrifice. I know he understands the importance of this event, but I must stand between him and the druids if by chance he says something that angers them. He is like our father, not careful with his words, speaking his mind with no regard to consequence.”

  “It is still hard for us all to understand that the goddess Scotia wants Lovern,” said Eiric. She wrapped her arms around me and gently kissed my cheek.

  “It all happens too soon,” I said. “I have made a decision. I will not be here long after Lovern goes. You know that.” Both Finlay and Eiric looked at me with understanding and nodded. “I charge you to take Crisi and keep her from harm. She has grown to be a part of your family and will do well with you. I love you both and trust my only child to be with you. I know the decisions you make for your children and her would be the same as my decisions. Watch over her. Watch over your children. Our children are our blood, our future.”

  Crisi sat on my knees and I looked into her face as I spoke to her. Her weight was almost too much for my weakened legs. My gut pain had grown difficult to bear, only kept in check by Rhona’s drink. I drew in my breath and prayed for the strength I would need for this conversation. Crisi’s wide eyes peered into mine and she said, “Mother, I went into the forest yesterday and I saw the biggest fox I have ever seen. Does Father know it is here?”

  Ah, the fox. I understood, as soon as Lovern became the chosen one, that the sign I saw in front of the king’s fort was a parting of my life with Lovern. The fox was saying goodbye. My ravens flew away from him, and he gave me his departing bow before he left. The fox followed us, followed Lovern, on this last journey. There were no ravens following us on our trip here.

  “Yes,” I said. “That is the king’s fox and it followed us from his fort. It is here to watch over you. Your father and I will be going away. You will live with Broc now. I remember how you like to go hunting and exploring with him.”

  “But Mother, when are you coming back? When you go away, you always come back. Where is Father? I want to tell him about the fox.”

  “Crisi. You shall have to listen now. Listen well. Do you remember the story your father told you about the fox who gave his life to save his family?”

  “Yes. I remember that fox. He was not as big as the one I saw yesterday.”

  “No. The one you saw yesterday is the fox that will be with you for the rest of your life. Watching over you. When you see it or think about it, you will remember your father. The fox will remind you your father watches over you, too. Remember how we looked for owls at night? Who watches through those owl eyes?”

  “Grandmother,” she said with a giggle. “I saw an owl catch a mouse. Does that mean Grandmother ate the mouse?”

  “No,” I hugged her closer to me with a smile. “No, the mouse will keep the owl alive so that Grandmother can look through its eyes. Grandmother is eating at the table of the gods on the other side of the river of death. I have told you this. Remember?”

  “Yes, Mother. We are all going to be with her someday. She lives in a special place now, not here with us but not far.”

  “I am glad you remember,” I said. “Soon your father and I will be living in that place. We will be watching you through the eyes of the animals near you, like Grandmother. Your father will be the fox, and I will be the raven who nests near your doorway.”

  Her face showed her confusion. I knew she did not understand. All I could give her was the memory of this day. One that she could call back eventually, when she was old enough to understand. I continued.

  “I have a gift for you, Crisi. This is the bag your father carried from his home. And here, this is the bag your father made for me.” I slipped both labyrinth bags from under my dress. They were warm from my body. I opened them and shook the contents to the cot.

  Out of Lovern’s bag fell our hair, braided together and held by the red thread from our marriage. And the fur from the first fox he killed, small pieces of fur from every one since, and dried berries from the mistletoe we harvested just before the rain drove us into the cave. The cave where we found we loved each other. The crystals the bag once held lay buried under the posts of our home. His precious tokens from his past.

  Out of mine fell Crisi’s birth cord, bronze, red-gold and black hair tied together with a red thread, my mother’s hair clasp, given to her by my father, and mistletoe berries. Yes, I had gathered some from the floor of that cave, too. I kept my armlets in the bag as well, since my arm grew too thin to wear them. They clanked as they fell out. Crisi laughed. “That is your sound, Mother.”

  “Crisi, these are things that will bring you comfort when you need it. Keep these bags close to your heart. You have a history here that you will not understand until you are older. Do not misplace them. Look, on the outside is painted a labyrinth. Learn to follow this path. First, use your finger and then your memory. It will lead you to where you are supposed to be in your life.” I took hold of her little finger and led it around the path on my bag. I had often done this before, as a way to help her grow calm before sleeping. I sang to her at these times. She sang my song and followed the labyrinth, for the last time in my lap.

  “It is good to hear you sing, Crisi. Your voice is clear and beautiful. Someday you will sing songs of your father.”

  We picked up the tokens on the cot, and put them back into the bags. I returned only one armlet to my bag. I was to be buried with the armlet Lovern gave me at her birth.

  “Crisi, I am giving you the armlet my mother gave me. It has the spirals of our family. Someday you will look on it and understand the events that are to come. The spirals are our bloodline. See how they are unbroken.”

  “Yes, Mother. Can I go and play now?”

  “Crisi. You are a child of my womb. Of all the spirits who have touched me, yours is the one I would truly give my life for. When you are grown and have a child of your own, hold him up to show me. Hold him high so your father and I can bless him.” She turned her green eyes to me and I placed my hand on the crown of her hair. “Gods. If you listen to me on this earth, if you value the life sacrificed to you, bless this child and guide her on her life’s journey, in my name, Jahna, and her father’s name, Lovern.”

  Forbidden tears slipped from my eyes. She sat still as I slipped the strings over her head and placed the bags under her dress. She patted them into place. They will become part of her body soon. She will stop thinking of them until she needs them.

  She moved quickly when I let her go, like a rabbit let out of a trap. I asked for a kiss and she grudgingly leaned and touched our lips together. Then she ran out the door with the energy of a child, my eyes following her as long as I could.

  I sipped Sileas’ broth and swallowed honey-sweetened mead laced with drops of the oil of the poppy. I rested to garner my feeble energy for tomorrow. Beltane. My stomach clutched as my mind refused to accept the passage of time. The day…. No, I could not think on it.

  It was the day of his sacrifice.

  CHAPTER 24

  For we have me
t in this life And I will die in your arms

  To dance in the light in the time we have. And all my sorrow will be gone.

  And I will call out your name And all the things in my life

  And through my pain I held so dear must leave me now.

  You will understand But I will live on

  The lover’s song, though love will live on Long after the silence ends the song

  Long, long after life is gone.

  Steve McDonald

  JAHNA

  82 AD MAY 1

  Our heavy cloaks kept out the cold. Mine was lined and trimmed with the fur of the white stag. We passed the night holding each other tightly under the cloaks, skin to skin, and watched the journey of the moon and stars across the sky. I wanted to hear and feel every beat of his heart, to breathe in every breath he exhaled. We spoke little. I tried to forget, just for the moment, what was ahead. To calm my breathing, I traced my labyrinth, the pattern burned into my mind. I silently repeated the words I used in my work.

  The gods give us the sun that sets but rises for a new day. We die, but will meet again in the home of the gods.

  We sat on a small hill, just above the tree-line of the forest, alone for the few hours it took the night to pass. A late frost crept in and laid a crystal blanket of white sparkles reflecting moonlight over the farmer’s fields.

  Lovern shivered as I washed his body. Our jar of water was bitter cold. As I reached his feet, I caressed his toes. “Crisi has these toes.”

  “Ah, and she has your smile. She carries both of us to the future.”

  Now, the sun was about to crawl over the top of the mountain and promise a new day, a fresh new world. Just a few moon cycles ago, I rejoiced in the start of every new day, every sunrise, saying prayers of thankfulness to our goddess for my daughter, my husband, and my life in her work. This was a dawn that I did not want to see come.

  The druids started to assemble around the fire, coming from the dark corners of the forest after a night of prayers. They had not been far, just out of sight. We heard their murmuring voices behind us all night long. I wanted to finish Lovern’s ablutions myself.