Gypsy's Quest

by Nikki Broadwell

  Drawing closer to the swell of people walking toward the beach I could feel the palpable excitement in the air. In the distance villagers were setting up fire pits and placing tables and chairs in strategic areas. In the center of the beach a tall ash tree had been set up, and at its base three thick ropes snaked away, ending at three shallow pounded metal basins filled with water. I gazed at it curiously as I went by, wondering what its significance might be.

  Further on the town square began, ending at a dark wood house used for town business. There you could find notices of births and deaths and any disputes that arose within Fell’s boundaries. The open space was already filling with women waiting for the selection; there were at least twenty, ranging in age from sixteen to thirty-five or so. They wore bright dresses of red, orange, purple and yellow, their hair tied up with ribbons to match. How many would be selected? The excited female voices sounded like the chatter of birds—shrill with excitement. I saw no sign of the chieftains; I had to admit I was curious.

  “You’re finally here!” Tara stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. “Come in, come in--there’s a lot to do.” She moved aside, waiting for me to enter, and then closed the door.

  “You certainly look nice,” I said, looking her over approvingly. Her hair had been done in braided loops, her purple dress stylish with a wide orange sash that circled her middle. Around her neck hung an ancient looking wooden pendant of three interlocking triangles.

  “What a beautiful necklace,” I said, leaning in to take a better look.

  “This is Odin’s symbol—it represents the three realms of existence and the way to move through them.”

  “Three realms?”

  Tara stared at me, surprised. “It is our way of looking at the world—I thought you would know this by now since you wear a similar symbol around your neck. Did you notice the tree on your way here?”

  I nodded, my fingers going to my necklace. “Mine represents the triple goddess from another tradition—it has nothing to do with realms of existence. And the tree doesn’t seem the correct symbol for a fertility celebration.”

  “You are wrong. The nine worlds are held within Yggdrasill and Odin, the king of the gods, travels its branches to reach the different realms. He is a shapeshifter who you may see this night. He has only one eye and sometimes wears a wide-brimmed hat. Try on your dress while I talk.” She brought over my white wool, slipping it over my head and then fussing with the hem. Pointing upward with her elbow she continued. “The first level contains Asgard, home of the gods, Vanaheim, which is home to the Vanir, and Alfheim, land of the light elves. Here put this on,” she ordered, handing me the leather belt.

  I pulled it around my waist, working the soft leather into a knot. “Who are the Vanir?”

  “They are the gods who control fertility, wisdom and seeing the future—Freyja is part of the Vanir. The second level contains Midgard, which is our world, as well as Nidavellir, the land of the dwarves, and Jotunheim, land of the giants, and lastly, the land of the dark elves, which is called Svartalfheim. Come over here and sit down so I can fix your hair.”

  I moved to the chair, questions whirling through my brain. “If we’re in the same world as dwarves, giants and dark elves, where are they?”

  “They inhabit other isles and lands far from here.”

  “Are they like parallel universes?”

  “These words are unfamiliar to me.” She pulled a comb through my unbraided hair, deftly dividing it into nine clumps. “Now hold still,” she said, winding ribbons into the hair as she braided it. “The third level,” she continued, pointing downward, “contains Hel or the realm of the dead and Niflheim, the world of the dead.” Pulling my hair painfully tight she secured each braid with the end of the ribbon. When she was finished she started on another, letting them hang down until they were all braided.

  “Why nine?”

  “There are nine worlds.”

  “So nine braids because of nine worlds?”

  “Ach, now I take your meaning. Aye. It is tradition on this feasting day.” She began looping the braids, winding them together to form circles that reached my shoulders.

  When she was finished I looked in the mirror, startled by my appearance. Each ribbon was a bright spot of color in my dark hair, oranges and purples intertwined in a pleasing design. “It looks beautiful,” I said, smiling up at her.

  Tara giggled. “You should be in the square.”

  “When will the chieftains arrive?”

  “They will be there now; the sun is nearly gone for the day. Shall we venture down to the beach?”

  I paused on the way by the commons to take a look at the two men standing on a raised platform. They were both blonde with wide shoulders, tangled hair hanging to their collarbones. One looked around twenty, the other around forty, but it was hard to tell since they were bearded and both wore helmets. They were dressed in long woolen tunics with a band of bright embroidery around the neck over loose fitting trousers, their feet encased in leather boots that came to their knees. Daggers and swords hung from their belts, making them look quite fearsome. They stood with legs apart, scrutinizing the crowd of women imperiously. Dagmaer was one of several women who stood behind them, which I assumed meant she had been selected. When she saw us she waved, her eyes bright with excitement. I looked around for Gisla but didn’t see her.

  “Lofn rules tonight,” Tara whispered as we headed down the hill toward the beach. Noticing my questioning expression she added, “the goddess of forbidden love.”

  The scene developing around the tree was chaotic, with strains of flute and drum music and people dancing wildly. The women’s full skirts billowed as the men twirled them, reminding me of the Virginia Reel as the men and women passed by each other, their arms looping for a moment before finding their next partner.

  “Have some mead,” a voice entreated, and I turned to see Foy next to me holding out a leather wineskin. There were several others of his kind wandering about, each carrying one of these, dispensing mead to all takers. I swallowed a mouthful of the potent honey-flavored liquid, feeling it settle heavily into my empty stomach.

  “Where have you been? I’ve not seen hide nor hair of you,” I said, wiping my mouth and handing the skin back.

  “Hide nor hair—I like that. I’ve been in the woods with my own kind for a while. You humans can become very tedious. Tamar is here,” he added, pointing toward one of the fire pits.

  I followed his gaze to where the shepherd crouched, rotating a spit on which a haunch of lamb was roasting. When I turned back, Foy’s goat-eyes met mine, a lewd expression turning one side of his mouth up. When I frowned he began to laugh.

  “You humans are so hypocritical—one minute fornicating with abandon and the next pretending to be prudes. This is not the night to be prim and proper, Gertrude, and especially since I know your little secret.”

  “It was only one night, Foy. I’m not going to attack the man. And maybe there’s a more suitable match for him here, someone he might take for a wife. I think he needs a woman up there.”

  “Suit yourself,” Foy replied, turning away. I watched him weave through the crowd dispensing drink to all. Luckily Tara had not heard this exchange, her attention on a friend.

  The feasting tables were stacked high with fresh-baked breads, sliced meats, apples, cheese and savory and sweet pies. The smell of roasting meat filled the air, pale smoke billowing into the darkness. Flagons of beer were being emptied into mugs, people growing drunk on the strong homemade brew. The noise of the crowd grew louder by the minute. I sat on a bench and poured myself some beer, watching the revelers as I sampled some of the food.

  As night deepened I joined the dancing, letting myself go as the alcohol soared to my head. Tamar took a turn, twirling me around several times before planting a firm kiss on my lips. But he didn’t stay, swinging away with another woman who seemed to fancy him; the smile on his face made me happy. Tara and Gisla had joined the dancers, wending th
eir way through several partners. There was a very large man dancing in the middle of things, a wide brimmed hat on his head, but before I could get a look at him, he’d moved to the outside of the circle, his arm encircling the waist of a buxom woman. When I searched for Dagmaer I saw her with the younger chieftain, her idolized gaze on his face. He had removed his helmet and the flames from the fire brightened his golden hair as he bent his head to hers. After kissing her he picked her up in his arms, striding away from the crowd. Several women watched, their expressions resigned as they waited their turn.

  I had no idea how many hours had gone by when I noticed Kafir appear out of the dark from the direction of the harbor. At this point I was fairly drunk and wondered if I was imagining things. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a dark-haired man pulling Tara free of the crowd to kiss her. After that they disappeared from the light cast by the fire, melting into the shadows. When I looked again Kafir was moving toward me through the crowd.

  “Gertrude.” He took hold of my hands, his steady gaze meeting mine. Firelight flickered in his eyes, turning them gold. Before I could find my tongue he was pulling me away. My bare feet sank into the soft sand, cold seawater oozing up between my toes as he led me toward the water. There was his little boat, sails still up, pulled up on the sand.

  “Shall we go for a sail?” He pushed the boat strongly backward into the small waves, turning the hull to point away from the beach and allowing me a good look at the name on the transom: Gypsy.

  The hair on the back of my neck indicated that I recognized those golden letters outlined in black, the name that was part of my heritage. He held the boat steady, his other hand reaching for mine. It seemed like a dream as he hoisted me onto the deck. The little sailing vessel rocked in the waves making me dizzy for a moment until I found my balance. My sea legs, I thought, settling into the rocking motion, as though I had done it many times before.

  The night felt magical as the boat glided smoothly across the dark water on a beam reach. A sweet breeze filled the dusky sails as Kafir stood in the stern making minor adjustments to keep her in the wind, his hand on the tiller. We watched the moon rise, a gibbous moon that cast a moving ribbon of light across the water. We didn’t speak; the only sound was the slight creak of wood as the boat raced forward, that and the slap of waves against the hull. It was like being on another planet, one of water and cool breezes where boats skimmed the surface like tiny islands. Strangely I felt a sense of joy emanating from Gypsy, as though something had been completed. I shook my head as visions crowded my mind—me as a young woman next to a young Kafir, our fingers entwined, standing in the same place we were tonight.

  When we sailed back in the pale rose light of early dawn, I told Kafir what I’d experienced. “Did we know each other in the past?” I asked him.

  He didn’t answer, only staring into my eyes for several long moments before lowering his face to mine to kiss my lips. When his mouth met mine I clung to him, my legs suddenly wobbly. When he released me and turned to begin the process of docking the boat it took me a moment to collect myself, the intimate moment rendering me mute. But before I left the boat I voiced my other questions, the ones that had been plaguing me for months. “Far Isle seems way in the past. And what about the nine realms Tara told me about—are they real?”

  “We are in Yggrassil’s domain, separate from what you know of the world,” Kafir answered as he dropped the sails and began to furl them.

  “When I arrived in Edinburgh the year was 2010; what is it here?”

  Kafir turned toward me. “Tamar has told me of your visit, Gertrude. You saw the digital clock that revealed the year 2450, did you not?”

  My face grew hot. Did Tamar also tell him about our little fling? And when had he seen the shepherd, anyway? “I saw the clock but I thought it might have been set incorrectly. This place seems too backward for such a date in the future.” Registering the implications of my words, I clapped a hand over my mouth in sudden embarrassment.

  “Have you considered why people live the way they do here?”

  “I figured they had no technology and didn’t have a choice.”

  “This place was once like your world, filled with electronic gadgets and cars and all manner of what you might call modern things. But that was many hundreds of years ago. There was little happiness despite the supposed ease of life. And then the dark came in the form of a cloud of radiation. It wiped out nearly everything. Only a few survived.”

  “Are you saying there was a nuclear bomb?”

  “Not a bomb but several disasters related to nuclear power that poisoned the oceans and the air.”

  My mind whirled frantically. If it was 2450 here that meant that this disaster hadn’t happened yet in my time. “But no one here talks about the past, or at least I haven’t heard them. And where are the telephone poles and grids for electricity? I assume they had those things.”

  “Too many years have gone by and records have been lost; anything made of wood has long since rotted and returned to the earth. Technology had gone way beyond telephone poles by the time things went awry. There are those who have knowledge of what went before but they don’t live in Fell or in Tolam. Many ruins lie to the south, places that have been covered over with vegetation. Technology had finally created water-powered vehicles and everyone had solar collectors. When the first disaster struck, looters came in and removed panels, took apart cars for their parts, stripped houses of everything they could carry. Up here in the north the people lived more simply, and although they also had electronic devices and plumbing and so on they were able to adapt. But the larger cities became cesspools of corruption and crime and are thriving in a way that is the antithesis to what life should be.”

  “Computers?”

  “The computers were way beyond anything in your time. The speed alone was amazing—that and the thought waves that ran them. Remember I mentioned the Temple of the Moon?” Kafir continued. “The electronic devices are all gone but the priestesses have passed the knowledge down over the years. We consider them the record-keepers.”

  “What year did this disaster take place?”

  “This happened over several hundred years--climate change, wars, loss of proper food and clean water sources, all of it contributed. The governments in charge of the various developed countries refused to pay attention to the signs and then it was too late to do anything about it.”

  “But now that I know, couldn’t I warn the people back in 2010?”

  “Do you think they’d listen?” Kafir laughed harshly. “That would require a complete change of consciousness.”

  He was right, I thought, turning back to watch the narrow band of orange in the east. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t try. A breeze touched my cheek, fragrant with the scent of the sea. We hadn’t discussed anything personal but the kiss had been enough to make me feel close to him. He seemed so familiar, as though we’d been together for years.

  He helped me off the boat, his lips touching mine briefly before he climbed back on deck. “You’re not planning to sail away again, are you?” I asked, my tone light.

  “No, not for a while. I have some repairs to do and I haven’t finished with you.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “We need to catch up.”

  “That hasn’t stopped you in the past.”

  A rueful grin crossed his face. He waved before disappearing down the companionway. I headed up the hill pondering his words and anxious to see my son and regale Solti with the night’s activities. I looked forward to spending time with the older woman. At the top of the hill I registered the lack of smoke lifting from the chimney. This seemed odd since it was quite chilly and I knew Solti was an early riser.

  The first thing I saw when I opened the door was the slumped body on the floor. “Solti!” A deep gash on the side of her head had oozed blood, her skin pale blue and utterly cold. I knelt next to her, feeling for a pulse that wasn’t there. There was no sign of Rifak. />
  I walked in circles for at least a minute trying to calm my wildly beating heart and take in the situation. Tears blurred my vision as I tried to think. Where was Foy? He promised me. It can’t be, I thought to myself. But as soon as I touched her forehead I knew I wasn’t mistaken. Solti was dead and my baby was gone.

  A sob burst from my throat and a moment later I was shaking. Rushing out the door I peered down at the harbor where Gypsy was moored. I cupped my hands around my mouth, yelling as loudly as I could before sagging against the side of the cottage.

  “Odin’s ghost, what’s happened?” Kafir moved past me into the house and I followed, watching him raise the older woman’s eyelids, his hand on her wrist. When he looked up at me his eyes had filled. “She’s gone.”

  “And Rifak’s been kidnapped.” I was crying now, tears flowing down my face unchecked.

  Kafir put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’ll fetch Sven to help me with the body. Will you be all right by yourself for a few minutes?”

  I nodded, wiping my face with my sleeve.

  ***

  I don’t know how long I waited there. Every time my eyes fell on Solti’s still body I began to cry again. She had been a light in my life, like the mother I never had. And my baby…gone. A scream rose up in my throat and echoed across the hillside as the full impact of this took over my consciousness. A few minutes later Kafir and Sven walked through the door carrying a canvas stretcher.

  “You brought this upon us,” Sven told me, his eyes narrowed. “She was an honored member here, a wise woman and a midwife. There is no one to replace her.”

  I turned toward Kafir but his eyes were focused elsewhere. When he didn’t speak up for me, I hugged my arms around myself, trying to stop the shaking. “My son was taken, Sven. He could also be dead by now.”

  “We’ll keep her at the Inn,” Sven told Kafir, ignoring me, “until we contact her daughter.”