“I met him a while back—he helped deliver my baby.” Rifak began a plaintive mewling and I unwrapped him from his sling. “Without Kafir’s help we both would have died.”
“I have only met the man a few times,” he said, staring pointedly into the distance. “He needed my help to put together some wire cages.” Tamar gazed toward the disappearing sun. “You’d best accompany me back to the house. It grows dark.” He turned, whistling to his dogs and using hand gestures to organize them. They obediently rounded up the sheep, herding them toward the valley. Any stragglers were brought into line as they raced back and forth nipping at their heels. Rifak had fallen asleep after his last feeding, his breath hot against my chest as I silently followed the shepherd.
Tamar’s small wooden house was nestled into the hill, the barn on the other side of the hollow. The barn door stood open, and the dogs and the sheep headed inside. With a practiced air he closed and latched the doors, checking to make sure it was done properly before turning toward his house.
With the realization that I would have to spend the night here I had grown nervous, my thoughts erratic. I didn’t know this man, didn’t know if I could trust him. I had put myself in a very awkward position.
Inside Tamar went to the table and lit the oil lamps. “I’ll make tea,” he told me, building up the fire and hanging the kettle on the iron bar imbedded in the stone chimney base.
“You have a nice house,” I said, trying to make conversation. The sparsely furnished room contained a double bed, two chairs and a table. Cupboards had been built into the thick walls, dishes and plates stacked neatly.
“I built it myself. I once lived in the south but this northern area suits me well. And it’s better for the sheep.”
“Why is that?”
“Why is what? That it suits me? Or that it’s better for the sheep?”
“Both,” I answered, trying to smile. My nerves were making me jumpy, I thought to myself, watching my hands twist together.
“Please sit,” he offered, pointing to the rocking chair next to the fire. Moving across the room he took two mugs from the cupboard before continuing. “Before here I lived close to town. I had a wife. We made boots, special ones. After she died I needed something, I wasn’t sure what, but I think I’ve found it here. And there’s always ample food for my sheep. The ocean keeps this area temperate in the winter, you see.” He paused and glanced over at me. “I have some leftover partridge if you’re hungry.” Along with the mugs he brought back a pewter plate containing a partially eaten carcass, some sheep’s cheese and a loaf of bread, placing it on the table. “I bagged this one yesterday and cooked him up last night.”
“I’m sorry I timed my trip so badly. I’d planned on doing it in one day. I didn’t know how far it was,” I added, picking up a small piece of cheese. “Why do you bring the sheep in? I thought most sheep wandered the hills during the night.”
“The lambs may come any day and I don’t want the foxes or wolves to get them. I’m a bit overprotective,” he added.
“That doesn’t seem overprotective to me, it’s obvious you care about them.”
When he smiled, laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his bright blue eyes. When our eyes met a moment later I quickly averted mine, heat rising into my cheeks. “Tell me about Kafir,” I asked, trying to undo the tension developing between us.
“There isn’t much to tell. He found his way here, we did our business and he left.”
“Did he mention me, my baby coming and everything? It was the night of the big storm.”
“Not that I remember. He did say he was searching.”
“Searching…for what?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“He must have told you where he was from or if he planned to come back this way.”
Tamar looked wary. “I cannot divulge what he traded.”
“I didn’t ask that, I was just…I mean I would like to thank him for what he did for me and my baby.”
“He will be back.”
“He said that?”
“No, but he comes every year and sometimes twice. You’ll see him at festival time.” Tamar went to the fire and lifted the kettle off, pouring hot water into a small earthenware teapot.
I had more questions but it was obvious by the set of his shoulders and the thin line of his lips that he would not answer.
“I need to tend to the sheep. I will sleep in the barn tonight and you may take my bed.”
I opened my mouth to protest but Tamar had already picked up his tea and opened the door. I watched him exit, and then close it firmly behind him.
I lay in Tamar’s comfortable rope bed on a mattress of thick felted wool. It was so much nicer than the hard pallet in my little house. What was I thinking coming up here? The man seemed trustworthy and not someone who would rape me and kill me, leaving my body in the heather. But what if I was wrong? He could come in during the night and do any of those things. And his attractiveness wasn’t helping matters. I sighed, turning on my side to feed Rifak, relaxing into the familiar pleasant sensations. When he finished I changed him, using the crude cloths given me by my friends in town and then closed my eyes, surprised when sleep quickly claimed me.
***
In the morning the thump of the heavy door woke me; from my cozy place in the bed I watched Tamar prepare tea, his movements quiet and sure. The weather had turned nasty and rain lashed against the little windows as he built up the fire.
When he turned and noticed I was awake he said, “You will not be able to travel today.”
“Is it a bad storm?”
“It will last the day. My sheep will remain in the barn until it clears.”
Leaving Rifak asleep I climbed out of bed, pulling my shawl around me before joining him by the fire. “I don’t want to get in your way.”
“I’ll be working in the barn for most of the day.” He glanced at me for a second and then dropped his eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you. Your bed is most comfortable.”
“I made that bed for my wife…” His voice drifted off.
“How long ago, I mean…”
“It’s been two years. I must go to the springhouse for the cream.” He got up quickly and left the cottage.
While he was gone I picked up Rifak who had begun his complaining noises, carrying him over by the fire to feed him. A heavy crack made me jump as lightning struck the hill behind. A second later thunder boomed.
Tamar rushed in, closing the door behind him. “The weather is worsening. I hope my sheep don’t lamb early.” His gaze went to Rifak at my breast, sadness passing over his features. “My wife and I had one child but he died within a moon.” He took off his boots and then came over by the fire, pouring a mug of tea and placing it on the table next to me. Once Rifak had his fill, I put him in my lap and rebuttoned my dress. We sipped our tea quietly, listening to the roar of wind and pings of rain against the windows.
Something about the intimacy of our situation seemed to relax the taciturn shepherd. He leaned toward me, telling me about his life, describing his wife and the freak accident that killed her. Fan had fallen from a rocky ledge when they were tending the sheep, breaking her neck. I could tell the horror he still felt about what had happened. He had loved the woman very much. When he left the house again to check on the sheep I tidied up and made the bed. When I placed Rifak down to sleep my gaze was caught by a clock on the shelf above the bed. The glowing digital numbers showed that the time was 11:30 a. m., the date January 22, 2450. I stared at it for a full minute before concluding that it had to be set wrong.
From my experience so far, time didn’t seem to matter here, people going about their business on no particular schedule--milking at dawn, fishing when the tide came in and planting according to the moon. Sven’s hotel had wind-up clocks as well as plumbing and brass fittings that must have come from traders, but this was the first digital anything I’d seen.
When Tamar came in an
hour later he was drenched. He turned away from me, stripping off his wool undershirt and giving me a view of his well muscled back. When he turned and our eyes met I blushed like a schoolgirl. To cover my embarrassment I pointed to the clock. “Is this what Kafir traded?”
He didn’t speak for a moment but finally he nodded.
“The date is set far in the future. Do you know if it’s correct?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never measured time this way, although I know others who do. I was born during the dark time of Gormanuour the year the sun disappeared.”
“That’s an eclipse—so the coldest part of the year?”
Tamar nodded. “There have been other ‘darkenings’ since then, but none that lasted so long.”
“My world is obsessed with time. It’s measured in milliseconds.” I snapped my fingers.
Tamar smiled. “Kafir told me what this clock does and what it means. He said it would eventually run down because it uses some unit of energy called a battery.”
“I wish I could talk to him. I want to get home.” I gazed out the rain-streaked windows.
“Once the storm is over you can be on your way.”
I looked up. “I mean really home, back to the States where I come from.”
“I am not familiar with this ‘States’, but I hope you find your way.”
When Tamar left the house for the barn some time later, I took the opportunity to climb into bed. I imagined him in the barn without a fire or something soft to sleep on, wishing I had been able to leave. He returned sometime later, heading to the fire to add logs.
“I don’t want you to sleep in the barn tonight. It’s too cold.”
“Yes, the storm brought a change in the weather.” He turned, his eyes going to Rifak. “What about the child?”
“Your bed’s big enough.”
By the time Tamar climbed into bed, I was dozing, facing the other way. He carefully avoided touching me as he slid beneath the covers. Rifak was sleeping peacefully on the other side. Sometime in the night I felt the shepherd’s arm come across my body. When I turned I saw that he was asleep, his mumbled words unclear. I moved closer, enjoying the warmth of another human being as the fire burned low. When Rifak woke me I pulled him close, snuggling back into Tamar’s warmth to feed him. It was early morning when I felt a shift in the energy between us, looking over my shoulder to see the shepherd’s eyes on mine. He looked sad, his eyes liquid with longing. I thought of Kafir, all my hopes of being with him rushing to the surface of my mind. But Kafir had not returned. I was lonely, the proximity of an attractive man bringing long forgotten sensations. And so despite my second thoughts, when he reached for me I responded.
In the morning he rose and dressed, giving me a crooked smile before heading out to the barn. I dressed and fed Rifak, straightening the bedclothes and gathering my things together; the window revealed a clear sky. I was ready to go when he came back, waiting in the rocking chair by the fire.
“What do you use to prevent a baby?” he asked, crouching in front of the hearth.
“Well, nothing. I thought because I was still breastfeeding that…”
Tamar shook his head. “This is not foolproof. My wife and I…well…after we lost our child we decided to prevent another.” He stood, reaching for a small clump of herbs hanging from the rafters. “This is smartweed and will keep you from conceiving.”
“Isn’t it a little late for that?” I laughed nervously.
He watched me, his expression serious. “You should drink this before you leave.”
The tea smelled very strange, but when he brought me a cup I didn’t hesitate, downing it obediently. The thought of another baby was horrifying, especially one that came from a casual encounter such as this.
Before I left for Fell Tamar handed me a small pouch filled with the herb. “I have no more need for this,” he said, pressing it into my hand.
I wondered as I stowed it in my bag what he must think of me—did he imagine I went around sleeping with every stranger I came upon? After he helped me wrap the baby into my shawl he stood in the doorway watching me climb the hill. At the top I turned, waving one last time before I headed down the other side. My mind reeled with my wanton behavior, my utter lack of self-restraint. But the intimacy had taken away some of the hollowness I’d been carrying around since Rifak’s birth. Perhaps feeling like a desirable woman in this world run by men had lessened the loss of my psychic gifts, at least for the moment.
Chapter Five
Far Isle-2451
By now my amnesia was completely gone, replaced by horrible memories of the month I spent in the Otherworld. I had been very much in love with Brandubh, feeling that we were soul mates, our destinies intertwined. When I looked back on it I could hardly believe my idiocy. It was Brandubh and his cohorts who had taken the mystical Otherworld to the brink of disaster, his only goal to pull every bit of gold, silver and copper out of the ground and sell it elsewhere. His systematic abuses had turned me against him, that and his fervor to kill Maeve and every human being and animal that called the place home. I sighed, longing for a decent man in my life, someone who would love me as well as my child. When I thought of Kafir his face was hazy and indistinct, as though he was only a figment of my imagination. In his place another man began to take shape, someone I’d known as a young girl. His smiling turquoise eyes followed me, but his name was not Kafir.
In the months following my encounter with Tamar, it became my normal routine to dress warmly, wrap the baby in my shawl and walk into town, spending time with Tara and her two girlfriends, Dagmaer and Gisla. I had not told anyone except Foy about the shepherd. The satyr seemed used to such things and only brayed his funny laugh when I described what had happened, saying that these sorts of encounters were normal for his kind and not to feel ashamed.
My discussions with the three women was revealing all sorts of interesting details about Fell and other parts of Far Isle. There were gods and goddesses here, they told me: Odin, Skadi, Freyja, names that Dia had also mentioned, associated with local mythology. These otherworldly beings occasionally deigned to show themselves during festival time.
My life here claimed me more and more. Even my fervent desire to get home had faded, taking a back seat to caring for my baby and visiting with friends. I had begun to use my cards again, doing readings for my friends, my intuition getting clear messages from my ancient deck. Fell was beginning to feel like where I belonged.
The festival of Ostara was coming soon and preparations were already underway. For several days the men had been piling wood on the beach close to the harbor for the bonfire. Strangers were arriving from out of town, moving in with local residents, as well as filling up the hotel. Most had traveled great distances, bringing food and other goods. I had hoped to see some motorized vehicles, but instead, there were wooden carts being pulled by horses and donkeys. I hadn’t seen either of these creatures in Fell. Fresh spring vegetables were piled high, next to unspun wool, bolts of cloth, and household articles of wood, combs and amulets, leather shoes and other things to trade and sell. A great feast was planned the night of the spring equinox and all the women in town were engaged in baking and gathering ingredients for the community meal. I thought of the Easter I knew and how it had devolved into kids collecting dyed eggs and candy, the real meaning of fertility and new beginnings gone in the race to sell things.
I ran into Foy on my way to Tara’s, hearing that Tamar had come into town bringing a few lambs to be slaughtered for the feast. When the satyr stared at me with a questioning expression, I laughed, ignoring him.
“Just thought you might like to know,” he said, feigning hurt and then adding, “He’s staying at the Inn.”
When I didn’t answer he raised his eyebrows. “Ah, but you’re hoping for Kafir!”
He always seemed to hit the target and my cheeks burned. Damn him!
“Well, good luck with that one. There are several others in this town who would enjoy his company�
��he could have his pick.”
I frowned. “You have the uncanny ability to make me feel…”
“Like a satyr? Always wanting but never getting--ugly and unloved by most? No, you are not anything like a satyr, Gertrude.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say! And besides, you have a wife or a mate or whatever. Don’t play that poor unloved role with me.”
Foy skipped ahead, his hooves dancing across the dirt track. “You’ll enjoy the festival no matter whose bed you end up in.”
“Foy! That’s not funny.”
“I didn’t mean it to be.”
God, he could be exasperating, but I did have to smile at his antics. I headed over to Tara’s house, anxious to get details about the festival from her perspective.
According to Tara and her friends, the two chieftains who ruled over this particular area of Far Isle, would attend this year. They lived in towns to the West called Rond and Sigluvik, but because of the possibility of inclement weather, they didn’t always make it over the mountains. Neither Tara, nor Gisela or Dagmaer had been to these other towns so they couldn’t answer my questions about modern transportation. But they did say that what I described was mentioned in their ancient archives in the town hall. Trains and cars had been here sometime in the past but they weren’t now? I was more confused than ever.
Ignoring my bemused expression, Tara continued, saying that these high ranking men would bring notice of the new laws enacted in the past year. For their trouble they expected gifts from the villagers as well as women to warm their beds for the days they were here.
“Do you have prostitutes here?” I asked.
Tara laughed. “I suppose you mean ‘hora’. No. The women volunteer for this and receive gifts as a result of their generosity. Husbands offer their wives to these influential individuals, especially the women who have not been able to conceive. It is a very high honor to be accepted.”
I stared at her, unable to believe what I was hearing. Maybe my trip to the shepherd’s house wasn’t so bad after all. “What do these chieftains look like?”
Gypsy's Quest Page 5