Fairy

R5 Greta: Back to the World, part 1 of 3

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Greta and Berry helped Hans to the table, and then Fae and Berry worked on waking him enough to feed him while Greta had her fill.  The food tasted very good, full of cold fruit, steaming vegetables and plenty of sweets, not unlike the hag’s table, but this was substantial and would fill the body to satisfaction.  Then, something else came up about the food of the little ones which Greta did not remember at first because she felt much too hungry to think.  Besides, Bogus distracted her by mumbling again.

“I was trying to bump her off,” he said.  “I sent her to the hag, pushed the wolf in her direction, and drew her into the wyvern swamp so they could suck the life out of her.  When all that failed, and it makes sense now, I put her into the hands of the clunker humans.  Those brutes like to kill everything they can get their hands on, but even they failed to do her in.  Bee stings and locust plagues!  Then when she comes for the boy, I figure if I can’t get her killed, at least maybe I can scare her away, but no!  She scolds the ogre, sends the disembodied home and gets her boy, and all on the same day. I can’t even make time fly by!  But no wonder.  I’ve been trying to kill my own goddess and scare the beeswax out of my own granddaughter.  Why, I’ll be the laughingest spirit in forever plus two!”

“Excuse me.”  Gorse spoke up.  Greta felt nearly full by the time he approached, temporarily sating her ravenous appetite.  “Excuse me.” He repeated and touched her sleeve.

“Yes Gorse,” she said, and she took the liberty to smile and stroke his red beard which made him turn crimson.  With his hat in his hand he did look rather like Snow White’s Bashful with a red beard.

“It was me and Ragwart who convinced Bogus to save your brother.  She’s a woman who ought to know better, we said, um, if you follow me, but he is just a boy child and ought not to get killed yet.”

“Ragwart?” Greta looked up.

“That’s mostly true.”  Ragwart confirmed.  “But then Bogus thought he ought to dance for months, or maybe as much as a week and think it no more than a few minutes.  Why, he would have been no more than an old bag of bones by the time he got done if Bogus had his way.”

“Say!” Gorse just thought of something. “How did you get Bogus to change his mind?  That is powerful hard to do, you know.”

“But since you have been eating our food, I guess it really does not matter.”  Ragwart said, and he and Gorse began an excited little dance of their own, as if they had played a great trick on the humans and were very proud of themselves.

“That’s it,” Greta said out loud.  “Once you eat the food of life, the food of the little spirits of the earth, you are their captive forever, or until they tire of you.”  Gorse and Ragwart looked delighted, but Greta merely looked at the others.  “I guess that means Hans will just have to stay with me, is all.”

The imps stopped dancing and Bogus stopped mumbling long enough to come over and begin whispering to them.  Fae spoke up while she and Berry, big sized, helped Hans.

“I don’t mind,” she said.

“Don’t mind what?” Berry asked before she realized Fae was not talking to her.

“I don’t mind being captive to the Vee Villy,” Fae said.  “If I can spend whatever precious time I have left with them, well, I always wanted to know and that part of me always felt empty.”

“But you are one quarter Fee.”  Greta said. “I don’t know if the food will affect you like that, though it may fill some of the empty part.”

Fae looked sad for a moment.  “But what about you and Hans.” she asked.

“Me?”  Greta laughed.  “I am about as captive to the little ones as anyone can get, and I have been for about forty-six hundred years.”

“Yes, of course.” Fae understood.

“As for Hans,” Greta started, but Berry interrupted.

“Oh, can I keep him?” she asked.  “I like him much, a lot, and he is very handsome, too.”

Fae and Greta looked at each other.  “We’ll see,” Greta said.  “Only right now we need to get back to the village.  It will be dark soon enough.”  Fae nodded in agreement.

At that moment, there came a sudden flash of light and a real fairy appeared by the table. The difference between her and Berry, when Berry got small, was striking.  This fairy had the veritable glow of life about her, shining in gold and silver sparkles which danced free of her wings, hair and finger tips.  Her every feature looked sharply distinguished, and yet she remained hard to see in some sense.  Every time Hans focused on her she seemed to move. She actually stayed quite still.  The human eyes had the problem, and even Fae had to squint to keep the fairy in focus

“My Lady.” The fairy curtsied in mid-air. Greta, of course, could see her perfectly.

“Please get big, Thissle.”  She knew the fairy’s name without thinking about it, and indeed, when she thought about it, she found she knew all about this lovely fee.  Thissle got big, but Bogus and the boys removed their hats and took a step back.  She appeared a beautiful woman of twenty-nine, so to speak.  “Where is your troop?”  Greta asked, knowing the answer full well.

“They have moved on, a hundred mortal years ago, to green the snows of the North.”  Thissle explained softly in her full-grown woman’s voice.  “Oh, my Lady.”  Thissle tried hard not to cry and everyone felt it.  Gorse had to blow his nose, twice.

“I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”  Greta said, but her own heart started breaking and she knew she had to try. “Thornbottom!”  She called, and the little sprite appeared because he had to. He looked smaller than Bogus, though not nearly as small as Thissle in her normal size.  Bogus and his boys obviously thought little of the sprite, but Thissle clearly loved him with all her heart, and he loved her with equal fervor. He appeared very cute.  Greta wanted to invite him to sit on her knee, but Thornbottom thought to speak first.

“That would be a great honor,” he said.  “But my name is not accidental.”  And indeed, he looked covered with thorns and prickles, much like a porcuipine.

“And that little thing has kept you apart all of these years?” Greta asked.

“Not so little, Lady,” Thornbottom said.  “But I won’t horrify you with the details.”

“Do you love him?” Greta asked and Thissle said, absolutely, and no one needed Fae to tell them that she was speaking the truth. “And will you be a good wife for him.”

“Yes, I will do my very best,” Thissle said.

“And do you love her?”  She asked Thonbottom.

“More than all my life,” he answered.

“And will you be a good husband?”  Greta asked.

“I will be the best I can,” Thonbottom answered plainly and as true as anyone ever spoke.

“Hold hands.” Greta told them.  “I will try.  I cannot promise.”

“We understand,” Thornbottom said.  “The gods never make promises.”

Thissle got on her knees and Greta saw that even holding hands could be hard.  She got pricked by one little spike on the back of Thornbottom’s hand and a small drop of precious fairy blood formed there, but she looked brave.

Greta, meanwhile heard advice that came on the time wind.  “Imagine ordering the colors of the rainbow.”  The voice said.  “Show the bats how to see without seeing and teach the waters to make sculptures in lime. Paint the sky at sunset and sing to the moon to raise the tide.”  Greta understood and stilled her mind.  She did not strain or stress or try to do anything at all.  She simply understood or perhaps decided how things needed to be, and she decided that was how they were, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Thornbottom and Thissle exactly as she decided.

Thornbottom got a little bigger, and Thissle got very much smaller, though again, not nearly as small as she used to be in her normal fairy size.  They had qull-like hair, still prickly, but not nearly the deadly spikes of before, and the backs of their hands and tops of their feet were more like rounded knobs and not at all sharp to the touch.  Both were richly dressed as if for a wedding, which it was, and Thornbottom looked as cute as ever, while Thissle looked no less beautiful.

Thissle and Thornbottom let out squeals of delight and began to dance, hand in hand and arm in arm.  Fae became full of tears and Berry spoke.  “I hope I am that beautiful when I marry Hans,” she said.

R5 Greta: How May Miles to Avalon? part 3 of 3

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Greta did not answer.  She got busy helping Fae up the little hill.  Berry also got preoccupied, back on Greta’s shoulder, sticking her head out behind and sticking her tongue out at the receding ogre.

“Fascinating,” Fae said.  “Such a big and frightening brute.”

“Yes, I know,” Greta said.  “I’m sorry.” As if she was personally responsible.

“And yet, very child-like in a way,” Fae concluded.

“In a way,” Greta agreed.  “After a fashion.  Oh, let’s face it, most ogres are not even the sharpest spoon in the drawer.”

“Fascinating,” Fae said again.  “And I know what you say is true.”

When they reached more level ground, Greta ventured a question.

“Bogus, you are Berry’s uncle?”

“Yes, I am,” Bogus said.

“He lies.” Fae got right on him.  Greta, Berry and Bogus all looked at her.

“Well, no.” Bogus took a side step.  “Actually, I am more like her great uncle.”

“He lies.” Fae said, and Bogus looked very uncomfortable.  He looked inclined to say no more, but Greta felt curious.  They all were.

“What, exactly is your relationship to Berry?”  Greta asked.

“Yes, what?” Berry wanted to know.

“It is kind of complicated,” Bogus hedged.

“He—” That was all Fae could get out before Bogus yelled.

“All right! I’m her grandfather.  Got it?”

Greta could tell this came as news to Berry.  “You are her grandfather,” Greta confirmed.

“Yes, look. We need to stop here a minute.” Bogus quickly changed the subject. “You can rest and I will be back in a minute, I promise,” he said, and looked at Fae, pleading.

“He does not lie,” Fae said, so Greta nodded.  She would not mind a minute’s rest.  She felt sure Fae would not mind.  Berry quickly jumped to Fae’s lap.  She knew Greta had questions.

“So, who was the flyer in your family?”  Greta asked.

Berry shook her head, and then perked up.  “Bogus has wings, but he never uses them.  I don’t think they work right,” she said.  She thought some more.  “Bogus said his mother was a flyer.”  She looked proud to have remembered that.

Greta nodded. It did not make sense to look at them, but it made perfect sense in the folded, convoluted universe of the little ones. She got ready to say something when Fae spoke.

“There is a chill in the air.”  Greta felt the same, and it caused her to look around.

“It’s a bodiless.”  Berry named it, and Greta shrieked as the ghost came out of the tree right beside her. She had to stand and scoot back to keep the ghost from walking right through her.  It looked like a Roman, and an officer at that.  They all saw him well enough, but oddly, he did not seem to see them.

“Roman,” Berry said.  “I should have remembered this was his place.  Roman!”  She called to the ghost and the ghost stopped.  At first the ghost looked around as if something did not quite penetrate. “Roman.  Why are you here?  You frightened us.”

“Little mistress?” The Roman communicated after a fashion.

“Where are you going, Roman?”  Berry asked.

“Round and round. I do not know.  I cannot find my way.  It is so dark.”  The ghost seemed to look at Greta, and then more nearly looked through Greta.  “Do you know the way out?” he asked.

Greta let go of her little prayer and spoke.  “The rebellion is over.  Rome has won. The emperor says to come home, now. You are ordered to come home.”

The Roman took off his helmet and appeared to put his hand through his hair.  It appeared as only a slight wind.  Berry flew back beside Fae.  This seemed new to her.

The ghost smiled for a minute and they all caught the sense of home.  Then the ghost vanished altogether.

“What did you do?” Berry asked, and leapt for the protection of Fae’s hair.  “Where did he go?”

“She sent him home,” Fae answered, even as Bogus showed up.

“Back like I promised.”  Bogus said, but he eyed Greta harder than ever.  “You must be made of stronger stuff than most humans.”

“No,” Greta said. “Same stuff, just a little more experienced is all.”

“So, who are you?” he asked.

“A sister who wants her brother,” she answered.  “You know the instructions of the goddess.  Now, no more tricks.”

“Oh sure.” Bogus almost sneered as the sarcasm crept into his voice.  “And I suppose you always do what your god tells you.”

Greta could not fairly answer that with Fae around.  “All the same,” she said.  “I want my brother back and the day is drawing on.”

“Little do you know,” Bogus chuckled and rubbed his hands.

“Bogus,” Greta got through fooling around.  “You must take me to my brother, right now.”  She compelled him.

“Well, if I must I must,” he said, and he started to walk.  “Though my better nature asks why?”  He mumbled again.  “If I were in my right mind I wouldn’t do it.  Not in a million years.  So that’s it, then.  I’ve gone completely bonkers.  Lock me up and throw away the key.  See, my feet are moving, and in the right direction, too.  I must be mad.  Well, here we are.”

Greta stepped up and saw Hans dancing with a woodwife while two little imps made wild music on a pipe and a drum.  Several woodwives stood around, clapping and waiting to take their turn at the dance. Hans had been dancing for nearly three days and three nights.

“Greta.” Hans saw her.  “I’m sorry I left the camp, but isn’t this wonderful?”

“Stop.  Stop the music,” Greta insisted, and the music stopped.  “And how long have you been dancing?”

“Not more than a few minutes,” Hans said.  “I was about to come back.”  He collapsed. Greta rushed up to put his head in her lap, but he had already fallen asleep.

“Hey Bogus.” Greta heard one of the imps. “What happened?  It’s still today.”

“What?  Not possible,” Bogus said.  “I’ve been walking them in circles for days.  It must be the day after tomorrow at least.”

“No, it’s still today, I tell you.”

“Ragwart.” Bogus called for a second opinion. “How many days since we left the river?”

“Same day,” Ragwart said.  “Just like Gorse told you.”  Gorse nodded and Bogus turned to face Greta but Greta spoke first.

“We need food,” she said.  “Hans must be absolutely starving.  And then I want to go straight back to the river without tricks.  I want to be back in the village before dark.”  She did not want to spend another night in the haunted woods.  Gorse and Ragwart volunteered to fetch the food while Bogus tried one last time.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I am the Traveler, Greta,” she finally told him.

“The Kairos, the goddess,” Bogus said.  “Pots and kranky bits!”  He started to swear, though he had actually figured it out, but he stopped as Greta held up her hand, having more to say.

“More important,” she said.  “Fae and Berry are both your granddaughters.”

“What?” Bogus jumped about four feet straight up.

“Not possible,” Fae said.  “I am seventy years old and Berry can’t be more than thirteen.”

Greta shook her head while Berry spoke up.  “I’m seventy,” Berry said.

“It’s true,” Greta said.  “The little ones age much more slowly, but twins were born and Fae stayed with the humans while Berry was given to the fee.”

“Honkin beans!” Bogus yelled.  “Great horned butt headed goblins and ogre snot!  I’ll be the laughing stock of every spirit between here and Davy Jones.”  His language got rather colorful after that as Ragwart returned.

“Eats is ready,” Ragwart said, having missed everything up to that point.

************************

MONDAY

Playing with the sprites is all fine and well, but at some point, Greta has to return to reality.  he has guns to deal with, and a rebellion getting out of hand in Ravenshold.  Next week, Back to the World.  Until then…

*

R5 Greta: How May Miles to Avalon? part 2 of 3

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“You must be Bogus,” Greta said, while a quick image flashed through her mind. Basically, she thought if he took her home to where there were six others that looked just like him, she would hit him.

“And just who are you?”  Bogus asked. Danna had hidden the truth from him so he honestly did not know.

“Greta,” she said. “Plain old Greta.”  And she thought real hard at Berry to keep her big little mouth shut.

“Oh, no,” Berry said.  “I’m no tale teller.  No I’m not.”

“So, what exactly do you want?”  Bogus asked.

“I want you to take me to my brother, Hans.  I appreciate you looking after him, but it is time that he and I finish our journey.”

“I don’t know any Hans.”  Bogus sounded very sincere.

“Just take me to him,” Greta insisted before Fae could say a thing.

“All right,” Bogus said, as if he suddenly changed his mind.  He turned, but stopped in mid-step.  “Why am I doing this?”

“Just…” Greta started.

“Oh, I’ll do it,” Bogus said, and started to walk again.  “I just don’t know why, that’s all.”

They walked slowly because Fae could not walk very fast, and all the while, Bogus mumbled. “I protect my people.  I work out a fair deal, a fair deal, mind you.  And we take the wyvern, the bogie and all of the other not so nice on our side.  And then all we get is squeezed between the river and the road, but that’s all right because at least there is a little room for us to be free, and what happens?  A mere seventy years later, a measly seventy years, mind you, and the goddess shows up out of nowhere and Poof!  It’s all gone.  Then she says I gotta give this dumb girl her dumb brother back besides.  I tell you, what is the world coming to?”

Greta looked around briefly to see how Fae and Berry were getting along, but when she looked back, Bogus had gone.  Instead, there came a tremendous roar and a vision of horrible ugliness that towered before them.  It stood right in the path, and all three women screamed, and Fae at least feared that Bogus might have been eaten.  Greta jumped forward without thinking to get between Fae and the beast.  She was not sure how Fae’s old heart could stand it.

“Stop that!” She yelled at the beast without really thinking about what she did.  She just reacted.  “Bad, bad ogre!”  She yelled, and then she slapped the ogre in his outstretched arm, truly without thinking. Curiously, the ogre wilted under her scolding and, though he would not have felt a human slap, he howled in pain at Greta’s touch.  Then Greta remembered that ogres were included among her little ones, though they could hardly be called little.  “Bad, bad.” She said again, and the ogre winced as if under hammer blows.  Then Greta felt sorry for the beast.  Berry was hide-ed in Fae’s hair, and Fae, while clearly repulsed, at the same time, she seemed fascinated with the sight.

“You scared us badly,” Greta said, a bit more softly.  “You really are an ugly, scary ogre.  I bet if you saw your own reflection you would even scare yourself.”

“I did once,” the ogre proudly admitted, and he turned a little red from embarrassment.

Fae drew her breath in sharply as Greta stepped up and put her hand right up to the ogre’s mouth; but Greta had no fear.  “Oh, I knew it.”  Greta praised the creature and he turned ever redder as she began to scratch beneath the fold of his chin where his own hammy hands could not scratch.  Ogres develop a kind of moldy fungus there which otherwise only grows on rocks.  It is not painful, but it itches terribly and Greta imagined that might be why ogres were sometimes so mean.

“Have you always been this scary, or did you grow scary when you got older?”  She made polite conversation.  At the moment, he was thumping his leg against the ground like a puppy dog.  The ground shook a little and Greta felt obliged to stop scratching to let him answer.

“Always,” he said and stuck his chin out for more.

“What’s your name?” Greta asked, not offering any more scratches.

“Thunderhead.”

“Well, Thunderhead, you know you are not allowed to scare humans.”  She almost scolded again and that took his attention from his chin.

“Bogus said it was only fairies.  He said it was a prank.”  Thunderhead defended himself in the classic way.  He blamed someone else.

“No, Dunderhead.” Berry jumped out and began to scold him herself.  Evidently, she knew him.  “No hurting the humans.  It is not permitted.”  He listened, but at the same time he made a couple of slow attempts to grab the sprite darting in front of him.  It looked a bit like trying to swat a fly with a wrought iron lamppost.  Greta backed up a little to avoid the flailing arms. “Don’t make our goddess mad at you,” Berry said.  “You have had enough scratchies.”

“No telling,” Greta insisted.

“I’m no tale teller.”  Berry said, and she fluttered back to hover between Fae and Greta.

“What do you do, Thunderhead?”  Fae asked out of curiosity.

“I make sand,” the ogre said, frankly.  “I crush the rocks to make the soil good.”  He made a fist, like he was showing her how it was done.  “But sometimes my hands get tired so I crush them with my head.  But right now, I got terrible itches.  Maybe you scratch or I eat you, rule or no rule.”

Greta’s jaw dropped.  “Of all the nerve!”  She got a little angry, and the ogre wilted again under her lashing.  “You frighten my friends, but I make nice.  I compliment you and scratch under your chin, and what do I get?  You threaten to eat us anyway!  Serves me right for being nice to an ogre!  Now move, you big, ugly oaf!”  The ogre raised his arms as if to ward off her tongue, but she slapped his arm again, and this time he felt something electric in her touch.  Thunderhead howled and jumped back about eight feet.

“You sound like Bogus,” he confessed, while he sucked on his arm and eyed Greta with awe.

“Yes.” Greta started building up a good head of steam.  “Bogus! Bogus the Skin!”

“What? Who?”  He appeared right in front of her.  “What am I doing back here?”  He got confused, at first.

“The goddess said take me to my brother and she meant safely.  She did not say I should be threatened by an ogre!”

Bogus deflected her anger by turning on Thunderhead.  “Thunderhead.  What have you been doing?”  He began a scolding of his own, but Greta interrupted before the ogre could speak.

“He only did what you told him to do,” she said.  “Yes, I know the truth.”  She added before Bogus could lie about his innocence.  “Now get moving.  I want my Hans back, and Thunderhead.”

“Me?” Thunderhead paused in his sucking. He looked visibly shaken.

“Go make some sand, and maybe, if you are real good, just maybe your itchies will go away for a while.”

“Yes,” Thunderhead said.  “I will. I will.”  He did not know what to make of her, but he felt sure that she was one he ought to listen to.

“Move,” Greta said a bit more softly as the steam began to run its’ course.

“I’m moving,” Bogus said.  “What is the world coming to?  And who are you, anyway?”

R5 Greta: How May Miles to Avalon? part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Oh, no, my Lady.”  Berry jumped up.  She remained full sized, and Greta decided that perhaps Berry was thirteen after all. “But that would mean, Bogus, oh dear.” Berry finished without saying anything at all.

Greta spoke up loud as the men picked themselves off the ground.  “It would be a great kindness to me if you would clean up the three in the lock-up and feed them so they are ready to travel when I return.”

“It will be done.” Baran spoke graciously.  He dared not speak otherwise.  He behaved like a politician, after all.

Greta smiled, but turned to Fae.  “Coming?” She asked.  She stepped over to help Fae to her feet the way she used to help Mother Hulda.  At first Fae looked reluctant to have Greta even touch her, but at last she accepted Greta’s help even as a small tear fell to her feet.

“Where are we going?”  Fae asked.

“To see Bogus the Skin.”  Greta answered.  “This foolishness has gone on long enough.”

“Oh, oh, but oh!” Berry tugged on her own hair as if trying to hide in it, pacing in a quick two step back and forth, and not sure of where to go or what to do.

“If you get little again, you could hide in my hair.”  Greta suggested.

Berry looked at her with astonishment.  She had not thought of that.  Immediately, Berry flew to Greta’s shoulder and stayed hidden from view.  This caused Greta to consider her hair.  It felt frizzled and badly frayed and in need of washing, and so was she, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Vilam?” Greta looked up.  “Will you and your son kindly escort us back across the river?”  Vilam said nothing.  He doffed his hat, nodded to her and to Fae, and went to fetch his son.

They made a quick trip back across the water, and though Finbear continued to stare at Greta, he did not give her the same discomfort as before.  Greta believed he kept trying to catch a glimpse of the fairy on her shoulder, but Berry stayed firmly hidden in her hair.  Every now and then, when Finbear’s attention would waver and he would look down at his pole for a second, her little head would pop out and so would her tongue.  By the time he looked up, Berry would be hidden again, so Greta could not be sure if he ever actually saw the sprite.

When they reached the other side, Greta asked Berry which way to go.  “All ways are equal,” she said.  “All roads lead to Avalon if it is your heart’s desire.” Greta understood.  They would not find Bogus the Skin so much as he would find them.  They said farewell to Vilam and Finbear who headed back for a called council of the Bear Clan.  They did not know it, but Danna made sure that representatives from nearly all of the other Clans would be there by the time the council got into full swing. Only the Dragon Clan in the mountains lived too far away for such short notice.

They waved, and then Fae, who was hardly of the age for a long journey, asked very sensibly, “How many miles to Avalon?”

“Three score miles and ten,” Berry said, without hesitation.

“Can I get there by candlelight?”  Greta asked.

“Yes, and back again.”  Berry completed the story and clapped her hands and giggled.  Fae did not get it, so while they walked in the direction of the fairy circle where Greta and Berry first met, Greta tried to explain.

“Usgard above Midgard is my home, in a sense,” she said, naming the place in her own tongue. “It is a small point of relative stability in the Second Heavens, a universe which folds in and back on itself in ever new, kaleidoscopic fashion.  It is anchored by the seven isles of Elfhome, Dark Elfhome, Dwarfhome and so on.  They act sort of like the tail on a kite, and the innumerable isles stretch out beyond that. All the same it is a small place in the infinitely large and infinitely small universe that divides Midgard from the throne of the Most-High.”

Fae shook her head and did not follow.  “I know of Avalon,” she said.  “It is among the oldest of the stories of my people, but it was always said that Avalon could be found just around the next bend, or just over the horizon, or at the end of the rainbow.”

“Or here and gone in a blink.”  Berry chimed in.  “Or the way you didn’t go, or…”

“Enough,” Greta said, and Berry sat, quietly.  “Mostly it is home for the little ones, much more in the Second Heavens than here under the first.”

“Have you been there?”  Fae asked.

“No.”  Greta shook her head.  “But maybe someday, perhaps, but now, what was I saying?”

“How far is it to Avalon?”  Fae prompted.

“Three score miles and ten.”  Berry shot right back and she would have gone through the whole rhyme again if Greta had not covered her little mouth with her finger.

“It is right there all the time for the little ones.”  Greta said, remembering Fae’s quarter blood.  “It is accessible simply by being there.”

Fae looked very sad.  “How often I felt it was right there before me, and I would reach out and stretch out my hand, but always it stayed just beyond my fingertips.  And when the Villy, the imps of the boon, the spirits of the earth, the sprites of life were in the fields and trees and sky and the moonlight, I could almost see them and almost hear the strange, magical music by which all life danced.  But I never did until today, and now I dare not speak her blessed little name for fear that she will vanish away and prove once again to be only a dream.”

“What?  My name?”  Berry asked, actually following the conversation.  “But my name is easy to say.  You just say “Berry” and I say, “What?”

“And I promise that she won’t vanish,” Greta said.

“Your name is easy, too.”  Berry wasn’t finished.  She squeaked, “Fae.”  She spoke in her normal voice.  “Fae.” She dropped her voice an octave. “Fae.”  They stopped moving.  Berry stood on Greta’s shoulder with her hands on her hips, looking very miffed. Fae just looked at Berry in wonder until she shook herself free.

“What?” Fae asked.

“Yippee!” Berry shouted and did a back flip, landing perfectly again on Greta’s shoulder.  The wings helped.  “Now it’s your turn.”

Fae hesitated, but at last she pulled herself up.  “Berry.”

“What?” Berry yelled as loud as she could. Greta put her hand to her ear, but Berry could not help it.  It all built up inside of her, and with that much built up in that little body, it just had to explode.

“You know,” Greta said.  “Maybe this conversation would go better if you rode on Fae’s shoulder for a while.”

“Oh, may I?” Berry liked the idea but she wanted to be sure it was all right.  She knew the rule that the little ones and humans were not supposed to mingle.

“Yes, if it is all right with Fae,” Greta said.

“Oh, please,” Fae said, and Berry waited for no more invitation.

Good, Greta thought, perhaps now they could get moving again.  She no sooner turned around, however, when she saw a little one standing in the path, baring their way and looking very cross.

R5 Greta: The Old Ones, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Woman.” Baran turned his wrath on the old woman. “I think age has finally caught up with you.  She speaks crazy and you say it is the truth.  I do not even understand what she is saying.”

Fae simply looked at the man until he backed down.  “I understand little myself.”  She said. “But what she says is truth.  She does not lie.”

“Tell us about the wolf,” Vilam spoke up.  “Tell us about Liam.”

“I killed the wolf.”  Greta spoke plainly as she recognized that in a sense this became like a visionary moment for her.  “He did not suffer.  And I buried him twenty feet beneath the earth and solid rock.  Do not dig him up lest you become infected like he was. Let him rest in peace.”

“You killed the wolf?”  Baran only caught the first part of her answer.

“She speaks true.” Fae almost went unheard.

“But you said the Nameless god of the Yellow Hairs killed the wolf.”  Vilam objected.

“The Nameless god did kill the wolf.”  Greta said.

“But how could you both?”  Vilam got confused.

“That doesn’t make sense.”  Baran still protested.

“She does not lie!”  Fae said, with sudden strength.  Everyone looked at her.  Greta also looked and saw that the old woman started looking at Greta in a very different way.  She guessed that the quarter of Fae’s blood which belonged to her little ones saw something her human three quarters never dreamed possible.

“The Yellow Hairs will be made weak by the loss of their woman.”  Baran wasted no more time.  “Put her with the others.  We will bring them to the bogie beast this very afternoon.”

“The bogie beast? The hag.”  Greta understood.  “That won’t be possible.”  She spoke before they could grab her.  “I killed the Hag.  I baked her in her own oven.”

That really got their attention because they knew all about the chimney and, of course, the oven.

“She does not lie,” Fae said, and Baran looked astonished.

“That is why the smoke stopped,” Vedix said, as if confirming her story.  He started looking at Greta with different eyes as well at that point, and not without some fear.  Greta showed considerable restraint not to say anything especially since Salacia kept urging her to ask if Vedix would like to spend the rest of his life as a sea slug.

While Baran conferred with several of the men, Greta considered the stockade around the village.  Such a structure could not ultimately keep out a hag, or bogie beast as they misnamed it. Such creatures returned to the same village, and often to the same house as their last feeding.  But then, a regular flow of sacrifices might keep one at bay and even fix the beast on a new place for feeding.

Baran turned angrily and spoke without preliminaries.  “Tie the woman in the swamp and leave her for the banshees.”

“I destroyed the banshees, the wyvern.”  Greta spoke without hesitation, but lowered her eyes as if not wanting to remember what she saw.  “They are no more.”

“She.”  Fae began to speak, but Baran interrupted her.

“Old woman, I swear you are senile and don’t know what you are saying.”  Then he turned his anger back to Greta.  “I suppose you can prove it!” he demanded.

“I have a witness.”  Greta answered, as calmly as she could in the face of the man’s storm.  She had amazed even herself up to this point in the things that she said, but now, suddenly, she felt completely alone.  She did not hear a peep throughout time, and she knew she had to do it herself, whatever that might be.  In truth, she could only think of one thing to do.  “Berry.”  She called softly.  She steadied herself and decided how things needed to be.  “Berry.”  She insisted. “On my shoulder.”  And Berry got compelled to vanish from wherever she was and appear on Greta’s shoulder.  “There, there.”  Greta said immediately.  “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Berry let out a little shriek and instantly hid in Greta’s hair, but not before everyone in that place saw her.  Most just stood and stared, including Baran who appeared to be frozen with his mouth part way open.  Fae, however, fell to her knees, placed her face in her hands and wept.  It seemed as if seeing Berry became the fulfillment of her every hope and dream.

“Just talk to me.” Greta said.  “Come and face me and speak up good and loud, Okay?”

Berry hesitated and shook her little head.

“You can put your back to all of the people so you don’t have to look at them.”  Greta pointed out.

Berry thought about that and decided she could do that.  She flitted out to hover and faced Greta, and Greta did not hesitate to get her talking instead of thinking about being on display.

“Did I go into the swamp yesterday morning?”  Greta asked.

“Yesterday? I have to think.”  She put her little finger to her temple and tapped. “Think, think.  Oh, yes!  You know you did and I almost stopped you, but Bogus the Skin said I was supposed to just watch.”

“And you followed me?”  Greta made it a question.

“I watched like I was told.  I do good what I’m told.  So I fly from leaf to leaf and you don’t see me because I hide-ed.”

“You hid.”

“I sure did. I do good what I’m told.”

“Then what happened?”

Berry flitted back and forth several times very fast before she settled down again.  “I don’t like to think that part.  The suckies came.”

“The banshees? The wyvern?”  Greta suggested both the Celtic and Dacian names for the succubus.

“They been called that.”  Berry said. “But you got the big god sword and POP! One is no more.”

Then you did something very brave.”  Greta praised her, and Berry puffed up her chest in pride.

“I showed myself,” she said, and then added, “But not so brave.  I knew you would save me, and you did.  You powered them with more than magic, like fire and lightening herself, and they turned like fish bubbles and POP!  POP!  POP! They were no more.”  Berry smiled and then frowned.  “But four still chased you.  They did not chase me so you could not power them.  One got popped on the God sword, but three surrounded you and I was afraid for you.”

“And what did I do?”

“You went into tomorrow or yesterday and the big man came.  With the god sword and the long knife, you one, two, threed them and they were no more.”  Berry thrilled at the memory of them being no more, and everyone present felt it. Berry did a back flip in mid-air and zoomed right up to hug Greta’s neck and kiss her cheek.  Then she pulled back and looked serious as if she just remembered something very important.

“Oh, but Lady. I’m not supposed to be here.  No, no!  Bogus the Skin made a greement.  The mortal, clumsy trompers get this side of the river and we get the other.”

Of course, it was nonsense.  Greta knew that Berry and plenty more were over on the human side all of the time. They were in the grain, the trees, the flowers, the animals, but she supposed they always hide-ed.  They had a comfortable freedom in being able to go about without always having to be invisible; but then those days were over since the dissolution.  The days of dividing the land into separate realms was over.  The earth was one, now, and it belonged to the lowly human race.

“And what was this agreement?”  Greta asked. She was not entirely surprised to hear Baran answer.

“It would last until Danna herself, the Earth Goddess, the mother of all the Gods should end it herself, and what can you do about that?”  Everything had gone so badly for him thus far, he wanted to mock her, as if that might still give him some power over events.  Greta simply looked at the man without blinking.  Then she went away into the winds of time, and Danna, herself came to take her place.

Some ran. Most hid.  Some fell to their faces.  Berry got big and got down on her knees beside Fae, but she could not contain herself.  She slowly inched forward to where she could hug Danna’s knees, and Danna reached down and gently stroked Berry’s hair.

“All right.” Danna said.  “The agreement is now ended.”  And she made sure that Bogus the Skin and all of the little ones heard as well. “The whole forest now belongs to humanity which at present means the Celts, Dacians and Romans in equal measure.” She paused to let that sink in before she turned to the leader.

“Baran, you think if the Romans and Dacians fight each other it might weaken them and be to your advantage, perhaps even give you the opportunity to reclaim your land. Foolish man.  The Northland is terribly overcrowded.  Even now Germans of many tribes and nations are jostling each other and pushing against the soft side of the Roman Empire.  Even as we speak, the Quadi stand poised to invade. If the Romans and Dacians weaken each other, only the Quadi and Samartins will gain, and the next invasion will not stop at the borders of the forest.  For your own survival and for the sake of your children, I implore you to make yourselves known to the Romans and Yellow Hairs.  You must join with them to strengthen and defend the border. There may yet be a hundred years of peace, but I leave that in your hands.”  She paused again, but only to stroke Berry’s hair.

“Now Vedix.” Danna said, and Vedix appeared before her, instantly.  A number of people gasped and several screamed.  They were startled, but not surprised when Berry appeared earlier. They almost expected such things from the Vee Villy.  But to think that it could happen to a man!  “You kicked me this morning.”  Danna said.

Vedix fell to his knees.  His heart beat too fast, his palms sweating and he looked ready to pass out.  Poor Danna had to tone down her nature to almost nothing at all, and even then Vedix barely eeked out a response.

“’Twasn’t you,” he said, and fell on his face.

“’Twas.” Danna responded in kind.  “Not Danna me, but Greta me,” she said.

“Oah!” Vedix moaned.

“This is your punishment.  Hear me!” Danna threw her arms out compelling attention and the sparks flew from her hands and eyes.  Vedix certainly had to hear her because she had the power to send him to where a thousand years would barely begin his torment.  All she did, however, was speak.  “You must learn to treat others as you would wish to be treated if you were in their shoes.”  She paused before adding, “No sea slug.”  And she waved her hand once more and sent him back to the place where he had been trying to hide.

“I must go,” she said, and smiled, which suddenly warmed every heart present.  Many people looked up, but only Berry had the presence to speak up.

“Must you?” she said and flitted to another thought.  “Is it time for my Greta to come home?”

“Yes, sweet,” Danna said.  “This is my Greta life, not my Danna life.  Only, be good to her.  You know my Greta is just as human, mortal, and fallible as Baran.”  She paused for effect.  “Well, perhaps not that fallible.”  And she vanished into the winds of time, and Greta did come home, still speaking as if finishing Danna’s very thought.  “Still, Baran, I would appreciate it if you would stop trying to sacrifice me to myself.  That would be too strange, even for me.  Now, I hope to make peace instead of war, but even if I fail at that, I must still destroy the weapons of Trajan.”  Greta shook her head.  These people had no idea what those weapons might be.  “But first.”  She looked down at Berry, “I’m going to fetch my brother Hans.”

************************

MONDAY

R5 Greta goes in search of Hans, but he is in the territory of the Wee Willies, and they are not inclined to cooperate with mortal humans.  As she really begins to learn her place, and what it means to say they are her little ones, it becomes a very heady experience.  Sadly, she does need to return to the real world to finish her quest.

Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

R5 Greta: Nowhere to Run, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The armor adjusted automatically to Greta’s shape and size, and as she thought on it, it felt very comfortable, and not at all too heavy.  The cloak of Athena also felt much warmer than her poor red cloak, and she could make it longer with a thought, so it got long enough to act as a blanket.  She lay down on the heather and added her own “Thank you” to the moon, her Artemis moon. She slept, and this time, she slept peacefully, and without dreams.

Greta woke in the morning feeling much better in her mind and heart.  She had faith that somehow that morning everything would work out. She had hope, even if she felt terribly thirsty.  A bit of breakfast would have been nice as well.

She smelled the air.  It smelled fresh and clean.  She looked all around and felt that the Sylvan River had to be fairly close.  She started out in that direction and was not even aware that she wore her armor until she stopped to relieve herself. She decided to wear it for a while. It really felt that comfortable, and she did not mind the feeling of protection it gave her.  Besides, it became hers for her entire lifetime, and this was her lifetime and she would live it for all it was worth for as long as she could.

Greta came to a spring fed stream and had a long, cold drink.  Why did she head toward the river?  She could not imagine the reason, but there had to be one.  If nothing else, she decided to see where the path let out.  It did not take long, though, before she started to get bogged down in a swampy area. The fact that she wore water-proof knee boots rather than sandals helped a lot, but after a while it still became rough going.  She kept thinking any moment she would break out on to the riverbank, but the bog continued, and she could see no end.

Something caught the corner of her eye and the hair came up on the back of her neck.  It wasn’t Berry.  She considered pulling Salvation, the sword Nameless had graciously left her.  She might have brandied it as a warning, but she could not be sure if her arms were strong enough, even for this sword made for a woman.

She stepped around a tree and a man blocked her way.  He shimmered in the dim sunlight and looked beautiful to behold.  Greta felt an instant attraction to the man which felt so strong, she almost rushed to his feet.  She had to struggle to check herself.

“What do you want?” she asked.  The man said nothing while a second man stepped out from the shadows.  He looked very different, but in his own way, he appeared as attractive as the first.  Greta felt herself flush with desire and excitement.

“What do you want?” she asked more sternly.

A woman stepped forward.  Hers seemed an unearthly beauty beyond anything Greta ever imagined.  Greta felt the urge to fall into the woman’s arms and kiss her passionately.  That felt wrong.  She was one who never had any inkling in that direction, and the thought repulsed her a little and returned her to her senses.

“No,” she said.

“Come to me,” a third man spoke.

“Come share my love.”  A second woman came into the light.

They are not real people, Greta said to herself, and she started to back away until she realized a fourth man and two more women stood behind her.  She got surrounded.  The ones behind her, however, had the morning light behind them, and she could see through them in a distorted sort of way.  They looked translucent, and whatever else they might be, they were certainly not people.

Greta closed her eyes for a brief moment and cleared her mind and heart as well as she could.  The first rule of magic was to let be what must be.  When she looked again, she saw demon faces where she had seen beauty, and ghostly, floating figures where their bodies had been.  They still called to her, but she could no longer hear them. Instead, she found Salvation securely held in both of her hands.  She decided the adrenaline helped, but the sword proved not nearly as heavy as she had imagined.  Several of the demon faces appeared to laugh.  They had faced swords before and such weapons were ineffective against them. Greta swung clumsily at the one nearest to her.  It neither moved nor ducked, apparently expecting the sword to simply pass through. Instead, as she cut the creature, it bubbled and fizzed for a moment like carbonation in a glass of ginger ale, and then popped and vanished altogether from the world.  The others backed up significantly, and the smug looks on their faces changed to sheer cruelty.

“Help!” Greta screamed on the inside, but no one answered.  She did hear the word, “Wyvern” followed by “Succubus.”  So she knew what she faced.  “Thanks a lot,” she said out loud.  She tried to back up and swung her sword as much as she could, but these creatures were no fools.  They had let her come way into the swampland before they approached her.  Her arms would tire long before she got out of their territory, and even as they did tire, the Succubus began to close in. She caught no more of them with her wild swings.

Suddenly, a beautiful young girl of about twelve years of age stepped out from behind a tree. “Wyvern,” she called.

“Berry, no!” Greta shouted.  She knew who it was, even though she had never seen Berry before in her big form.

“Lifegiver.” The Wyvern called out, and they all turned instantly from Greta to attack the little spirit of life.

“No!”  Greta screamed as did Berry, but just as they came at her, something like fire poured from Greta’s hands and eyes.  The Wyvern were instantly on fire, and they began to fizz and pop all over the place.  Berry stayed untouched.  Then Greta had to jump and cut one with Salvation, because while she got distracted by her concern for Berry, one came right up to her face.

She still faced three of them that the flames missed.  One floated in front of Greta, one to her right, and one behind her.  Berry, her small fairy self again, went up the tree to her left and Greta knew the little one would be safe for the moment.  Greta doubted she could deal with these last three. They seemed to know that as long as they did not threaten Berry, they were safe, and it would not be too much longer before Greta would be unable to keep her sword up, much less resist them.

“All right.” Greta heard a voice as clear as day in her head.  It could not have been someone outside talking to her because it sounded unquestionably like her own voice.  At the same time, though, it sounded like a male voice and that confused her for a moment. “I’ll take it from here.”  Greta gladly and gratefully let go, vanished, and let him come down through time to stand in her place.  Gerraint, son of Erbin appeared, but older than she remembered. This Gerraint was already a Knight of Arthur’s Round Table.  “Always willing to help a lady in distress,” he said with a grin.

The Wyvern recognized the change and began to flee, but already too late for them.  Two popped on the tip of Salvation’s point. Then Defender got whipped from its’ sheath.  It flew faster than sight and pinned the last Succubus against a tree, catching it square in the center.  The Wyvern bubbled, fizzed, popped and became no more, and Gerraint patted himself on the back because it appeared a near perfect throw.  “Practice.”  He told Greta, as he left and she returned in his place.

Greta had no time to respond as Berry attacked her from the tree, flung her little arms around her neck for a big hug and cried and then laughed because her little self could not reasonably do more than one at a time.

“I knew it. I knew it.”  Berry got excited.

“Knew what?” Greta asked.

“I knew you were my Great Lady,” she said.  “The stories all said the fee were sometimes permitted to ride on the shoulder of their goddess, and you let me ride on your shoulder, and you could still see me even when you were not in the circle, and one of the gods came to fight for you, even though I missed you when you went away.”

“Hold on,” Greta interrupted.  “I’m no goddess.”  And she did not want to be one.  Nameless always came courteously restrained, but she had been Salacia in a moment of havoc. That seemed a power beyond anything Greta could handle, and a responsibility she would never want.

“But you are,” Berry insisted.  “Even when you are completely mortal and human, you are the goddess for all of the little spirits of the world.  And you will be our goddess in your next life, too, and the one after that, unless you are our god.”  Berry had to pause to puzzle her way through that thought.

“But you took an awful chance exposing yourself like that,” Greta said.

“No-oh.” Berry insisted again.  “Even when you are mortal, human, you have everything you need to protect and defend us.”  She became serious for a moment.  “And you make the rules and teach us and keep us on the path of righteousness.”  She paused again to swallow and her little eyes became big.  “And sometimes you punish us when we are bad, and they say your wrath is a terrible thing to behold, and I have to go now.”  Greta blinked and Berry no longer fluttered there.

Greta shrugged. Faster than a speeding bullet, she thought.

She considered Defender, stuck ten feet up the tree.  She supposed she could call to it and it would jump to her hand, but instead, she sent her armor and weapons home, wherever that might be, and became clothed again in her dress and red cape.  She found her dress cleaned and pressed, and sewn where the little tear had been.  She wondered if her little ones did that.  She supposed they did, and she felt grateful, though calling them her little ones would take some getting used to.  She wondered what on Earth she could do that would be even half as nice for them. She felt very warm and loved at that moment.  Then she saw him.

She gagged.  Sanger sat with his back to a tree.  She felt sure it was him, but he looked like a raisin or dried prune.  His eyes were rolled up in his head and his mouth hung open in a scream.  It looked like every ounce of life had been sucked out of him.  She turned away, but saw the bones of others.  Some looked like they had been tied or chained. Sacrifices, she thought.  There were some rusty old Roman weapons, too, and she knew why that Century of Romans never made it to the other side of the forest. She could not stay there.  She had to get out of that death swamp; that succubus graveyard.  She fled and felt terribly sick to her stomach.  She ran until she found herself scooped up by the arms of the gruff old man of the Bear Clan.

“There, there,” he said.  It seemed as if he knew she had been scared by something and he came there to protect her. In the next moment, she felt a rope slipped around her neck and the young man started to bind her wrists.

************************

MONDAY

Greta is taken captive by the old ones, and they almost make her prefer being with the monsters.

Until then, happy reading.

*

R5 Greta: Nowhere to Run, part 1 of 3

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When Greta sat up, the sun already poked above the horizon.  She got angry with herself for sleeping when Hans needed her, and yet she felt calm, now, after some rest, and she could think clearly.  In the light, she might stand a reasonable chance of finding Hans.  In the dark night, and in her panic, she recognized she had no chance of finding him. She had behaved foolishly in the night, leaving the camp, screaming until she became hoarse, getting herself lost in the process.  She chided herself.  She really needed to learn to respond better in panic situations.

The first thing she did, after shaking out the stiffness, was climb the old oak.  The hill proved to be not very far away, and with careful inspection, she felt fairly sure she knew where the stream came cascading down the hillside.  It appeared so close, in fact, she realized that she must have been going in circles all night.  When she thought about it, she actually felt glad she had not gone too far from the camp.

It took nearly an hour to find her way there.  It looked like someone or something had kicked the fire into the stream.  While she refreshed herself with a drink from that clean, cold water, the image of Smokey the Bear floated up in her mind. She knew, then, that the lives she had lived in the past and the future had not abandoned her as she supposed. Indeed, they only waited for her to decide what she would do.  What she still wanted was to snap her fingers and have Hans appear beside her, safe and sound, but she had no such power to do that.  So, she decided to find where he left the camp in the night, and follow his trail until she found him, and pray that he might still be alive.

The wood that Salacia neatly stacked had been scattered here and there along with the stones that encircled the fire.  It looked like someone took great pains to make it seem as if no camp ever existed. Han’s backpack and blanket, and her basket were gone, of course.  There would be no breakfast, she told herself.  Still, at least she had her red cloak.  She had slept in it against the chill of the night, and now, on a cool spring morning, at least she would not freeze.

Greta began to search the perimeter of the camp for telltale signs of passage.  She found where she had run into the woods, and a moment later, she found where someone else had crashed through the bushes.  The Princess, gifted by Artemis herself, looking right there in her eyes, pointed things out.  The Princess, and Diogenes, who once got called Alexander’s eyes as his chief of spies, and who Greta imagined knew everything there was to know about tracking men in the wilderness, seemed to be right there with her all the time. Neither one traded places with Greta through time, though they could have, but they helped her see what she, on her own, would never see, and she felt grateful.

She followed Han’s path for a good distance.  He had not been very careful about where he tromped.  He tore up branches and bushes in the dark as if running.  Was he being chased or was he chasing something?  She did not know.  Neither the Princess nor Diogenes saw any signs of what it might have been.

At last the trail led her to a small meadow atop a very small rise.  She could follow his steps no further.  “Hans, Hans.”  She called out in a reasonable voice, because her throat still felt sore from the night before.  She walked toward the center of the meadow.  “Hans.”  She called once more, before she gave up calling.

Greta found a circle of polished and rounded stones very near the center of the meadow. A fairy circle.  She knew just what it was, and with that realization, she had a terrible notion of what might have happened to Hans.  She took a deep breath and stepped into the circle.

At once, all of the world around her became more vivid.  The colors became more solid and real, the greens being greener, and the blue morning sky much bluer.  Something caught the corner of her eye, and she turned, but it turned, too, so as not to be seen.

“Come out,” Greta said.  “Let me see you.  I won’t hurt you.”  She stood still and waited for a very long time.

Greta saw the little girl’s face peek several times before the fairy finally fluttered all the way into view.  She appeared a little thing, small enough to sit comfortably on Greta’s shoulder, and Greta imagined she was the most precious thing she had ever seen.  Greta loved her, instantly, but oddly, she felt sad for her at the same time.

“I’m Greta,” she said, softly.

“I’m Berry.” The fairy responded in a rather young voice.

“I am pleased to meet you, Miss Berry.”  Greta smiled.

“Oh, no, just Berry,” Berry said in a serious voice, as she hovered a few feet away. “I’m not nearly old enough yet to be Miss Berry.  Why, I’m not even, just barely seventy years old.”

Just a teenager, Greta said to herself, translating fairy longevity into human terms. “Still, it is very nice to meet you. Will you be my friend?” she asked.

“Very nice to meet you,” Berry said.  “And yes, I will.  Good-bye.” Berry started to fly off.

“Wait,” Greta said, and Berry stopped as if she ran into an invisible wall.  “Have you seen my brother, Hans?” she asked quickly, and Berry came back.

“Was he as big as you?” the fairy asked.

“Almost,” Greta answered.

“Did he have the same yellow hair and soft brown eyes as you?”

“Yes.”

“And was his complexion ruddier than your milky white skin and without your freckles?”

“Exactly.” Greta knew that Berry had to have seen him.

“And did he walk tromp, tromp through the forest so as to hear him from miles away?” Berry went on.

“I suppose.” Greta had to cut this short. “Have you seen him?”

“No,” Berry lied, and Greta knew it, but Berry quickly covered herself with a suggestion. “But maybe the old killers of the Bear Clan can help you find him.  I will take you to them.  Come. Step out of the circle and come this way.”

“Killers?” Greta had to ask first.

“They kill the trees that Bogus the Skin marks for them.  They show no mercy.  It is chop, chop, chop.  And they drag the poor trees through the bushes, crushing all of the life and my poor flowers.”

Greta could tell that Berry got upset at the thought, but Greta had another question. “The Bear Clan?”

“That is what they say,” Berry said.  “But come on.”

Greta knew she would get no better answer, so she stepped from the circle, but kept a wary eye on Berry the whole time.  Sure enough, the instant she got out of the circle, Berry started to fly off at great speed.  “Wait.” The wall went up and Berry stopped, cold.  “Come back here,” Greta insisted, and Berry came back.  Greta could read fear on Berry’s little face.  It would have upset Greta to think that she, of all people, would cause this little one to be afraid, but Greta knew that in a moment, the fairy would flit to a completely different emotion.  Those little spirits could barely hold one real emotion at a time.

“You can see me,” Berry said, and sure enough she became very curious.  “You are not in the circle, but you can still see me.”

“Yes I can,” Greta said, without thinking much about it.  “But it is no good flying off like that.  I will never keep up.”  Greta sighed. “There is nothing else to do.  You will just have to sit on my shoulder and hold on to my hair.  Just don’t pull my hair, Okay?”

Berry gasped and made a lovely little shrieking sound.  “That’s just like the stories,” she said, and she quickly settled down, took hold of Greta’s hair and whispered in her ear.  “Thank you.”

“Which way?” Greta asked.

Berry pointed, but then realized Greta would not be able to see from the side of her head, so she spoke.  “Straight for a while.”

Greta started walking as carefully as she could, and she asked, “What stories?”

“Thumpy, thumpy, thump.”  Berry giggled in her ear.  “The stories never said it was such a bumpy ride.”

“What stories?” Greta tried again, and she could almost hear Berry’s little mind working.

“No, no,” Berry said.  “I’m not telling.  I’m no tale teller, that’s for sure.”

“Are we going in the right direction?”  Greta tried a different question.

“No, it is back over that way.”  Berry said, and when Greta figured out what Berry meant, they started walking again.

They walked quietly after that for some time while one thought kept running through Greta’s mind. Finally, she asked.  “You’re not a full blood flyer, are you?”

“No.”  Berry instantly lamented.  “My mother was human.  Father named me Berry because he had hopes for me, but I can’t make things grow or ripen at all.”  She had to stop and sniff her little tears.  “I’m just good for nothing.”  She blew her nose in Greta’s hair, but since it was such a little nose, Greta did not mind. “Father left when I was just a baby. His people went off to some new ground. He said I had to stay with Mother, but then Mother got caught by the Wyvern in the swampland and I have been alone ever since.”  Berry began to cry like a baby, and Greta never felt the need so strong in her life to mother a child.

“There, there,” Greta said as the magic in the fairy emotion made her cry a little with Berry. “Is there no one to take care of you?”

“There is Bogus the Skin,” Berry said and brightened a little.  “He is my Uncle, and I always do what he says, no matter what. Oh, we’re here.”  Berry jumped from Greta’s shoulder and flew off, quickly to disappear among the trees and into the late afternoon sun.

Greta’s stomach growled as she realized how late it was.  It must have been noon by the time she found the fairy circle, and well after one by the time she made her bargain with Berry.  Now, it was probably four-thirty, nearly five.  Greta decided she had no choice but to go and ask for food and shelter from the Bear Clan, whoever they might be.

Greta found what looked to her like a genuine log cabin in the clearing.  There were two oxen in a corral in front of the barn which sat beside, but attached to the house.  Otherwise, there did not seem to be any life about the place.  She sniffed.  She felt no magic in evidence.  Anyway, she told herself, it seemed too late to do anything about that now, and she felt too hungry to go on without a bite of something.  Daniel Boone, here I come, she said to herself, as she marched up to the door.

R5 Festuscato: The Hun in the House, part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

April fifteenth arrived, and Festuscato dared not wait any longer.  “Tax day,” he called it.  “Time to pay the piper.”

He had five hundred Amoricans on horseback and roughly five hundred each in the Welsh, British and Cornish contingents.  Two thousand men still did not match the Huns in numbers, and they came nowhere near matching the Huns in skills and experience.  Any direct confrontation would get Festuscato’s men slaughtered. He had to be careful.

When Megla first arrived in the fall of 438, he secured Londinium and the southern Thames. This not only gave him a quick escape route back to the continent, but it gave him a first-rate port to be supplied from the continent, and to bring in fresh troops as needed.  He still had a spare five hundred men there in reserve, and he spent that first winter there.  Then, the spring of 439 he spent burning the southern British coast from Southampton, all the way to Canterbury and east to where the Angles were building settlements. Megla did not seem to care if the people were British or German.  He became an equal opportunity oppressor.

In June, having brought the costal lands to their knees, he began to test inland.  A thousand men burned their way to the hills of central Wales.  A thousand men tore up Leogria and the Midlands.  A thousand men drove to the east coast and threatened York.  They returned in the fall to winter in the lands of the Raven, but they found some resistance along the way.  Julius did a brilliant job of disrupting supplies and communications.  Megla took a risk dividing his forces the way he did, and the dragon made him pay. Most of the summer, Megla had no idea what happened outside of his own little group.  The dragon kept turning up everywhere, draped over the dead bodies of his men, and when Gurt got returned to him, plummeting out of the sky, it about became the last straw.

On the first of April, Festuscato and Constantine risked the last of the storms of winter and sent the bulk of the Amorican troops, some fifteen hundred foot soldiers under Constans, by ship to crawl carefully along the coast to Londinium. Their objective was to drive out Megla’s men and secure the city and the port in time for Easter.    Festuscato’s personal communication network told him they were successful, and by the end of April, they began to move up, a thousand Amoricans and Londoners, to hold and fortify the southern end of the ford of the ox. A monastery complex, that Megla spared for some reason, sat there.  Those buildings became the headquarters, and the woods around the monastery provided the lumber for the walls, spikes and traps against the oncoming horses of the Huns.

On May first, Fetuscato, Constantine and King Ban, with a mere hundred men on horse, lead three thousand Welsh and Cornish foot soldiers along the inland road that followed the flow of the Thames.  They made a spectacle of themselves, and the British people on those lands and on the coast cheered, and many took up arms and joined them with dreams of revenge. The Huns, for their part had good scouts and spies, and they were first rate soldiers regardless of what history taught.  Megla quickly caught wind of the movement and scoffed at an army that would so broadcast its every move.  He knew there were a thousand British foot soldiers north of his position, but he counted them as useless.  He would go south and send a thousand secretly, as he supposed, to where the river could be crossed, behind the marching behemoth.  With his main force of two thousand, he planned to cross at the oxen ford and meet the enemy head on, while the other thousand struck from the enemy’s rear.  It was a good plan, as far as it went.

Festuscato had certain knowledge of the enemy movements, but he only shared what was vital with Julius.  Julius had the cavalry north of the Thames.  They left a few days after the foot soldiers, and they moved through the fields and woods with as much stealth as they could muster.  Julius had his original three hundred working well together by then, and they had some experience scouting out the enemy.  He did not get fooled when a thousand Huns headed in his direction, looking for an easy ford across the river.

Julius and Marcellus had assessed the horsemen and divided them in half.  He gave the men who were still relatively new to this horseback business to Hywel, the Welshman and made Weldig of Lyoness his lieutenant. He assigned Tiberius and Dibs to assist them.  They held their horses in reserve and stayed by the river, hidden in the trees, prepared to keep the Huns from crossing.  Meanwhile, Julius and Marcellus with the thousand best horsemen waited in the path of the oncoming Huns.  Cador of Cornwall went with him, and Emet of York became his lieutenant.  They stood at the edge of the trees just beyond a wide-open field.  Everyone trusted Julius, but he only hoped he rightly guessed the path the Huns would take.

After not too long, Lord Pinewood flew up to land in the mane of Julius’ horse.  “What news?”  Julius spoke first with a glance at Cador who kept his seat and stared.

“The Huns will be coming through the trees on the far side any time now.”  Pinewood saluted the Lord of Cornwall.  “Good to meet you.  I like the Lion.  Good choice.”

“Th-thank you,” Cador stammered.  “So, Festuscato?”  He looked at Julius.

“Strictly human,” Julius responded.

“Human, poor fellow,” Pinewood shook his head.

“But.” Julius continued.  “He has made it clear that we won’t always have Lord Pinewood and his people around to help us out and we have to learn to do for ourselves.  He said we need to fight our own battles.”

“Pinewood’s people?”

“Of course,” Pinewood said.  “What else would we be?  We aren’t animals.”

“Plants?” Julius teased.

“Your wife, maybe,” Pinewood responded as two riders came roaring up.

“Lord Julius.” The rider from Wales spoke.  The rider from Cornwall acknowledged his Lord. “The Huns are about a quarter mile in the trees across the field.  They should be coming out any time.”

“Thank you,” Julius said.  “Good work. Report to your group.”

“Sir.”  Both riders spoke and took off like two men in a race.  Emet of York came up alongside, and Marcellus trailed.  Pinewood excused himself and took off too fast for the eye to follow.

“News?” Emet asked.

“Yes,” Cador said. “We need to fight our own battles,” and Emet looked at him as if to wonder why it might be otherwise.

When the Huns began to straggle out from between the trees, Julius raised his spear over his head and shook it.  Word went quietly up and down the line to get ready.  Julius and Marcellus made sure there were Plenty of the three hundred spaced between the thousand to help keep the new men in line and focused on target, to await orders.  All it would take was a couple of overanxious fools to ruin the whole thing.  They waited some more, and Emet got antsy when the lead Huns got close enough to see their faces.

“We want them committed to the open field before we attack,” Marcellus risked a whisper to the man, even as Julius raised his spear again.  After another moment, he tucked it beneath his arm and shouted for the charge.  His immediate group were the first out, but the wave followed out from the center and the Huns were completely unprepared.  It did not take the Huns long, though, to get their own spears and some bows from horseback, and the battle was on.

A horn sounded out from the trees, and the Huns that were scattered across the field made every effort to get back to the woods.  Julius let them go.  His men were instructed not to follow the Huns into the woods.  Horses were only as good in the woods as the men riding them, and Julius had no illusions about the ridership of his men.  Several pairs of men split off to attempt to track the Huns, but even they were instructed to keep their distance.  “You are no good to us if you get yourselves killed,” Julius reminded them.

They stayed in the field long enough to gather horses and gather their dead.  They tended the wounded enough to staunch the bleeding, but moved as quick as they could to the south.  They had a small village up from the river where the wounded could receive better care and the dead could be prepared for burial.  The village had a Christian Priest and a chapel, and the priest assured them all would be taken care of.  The first pair of riders found them there while the men rested, and the second pair were not far behind.

“It was like you figured,” the Amorican said.  “They circled around to the north and are headed back to the river and the ford.”

“And they have scouts out,” the Briton added.  “It isn’t safe for a couple of yahoos to be out there.”

“Yahoos?” Cador asked.

“A strange sound that carries in the wilderness.  A signal of sorts,” Julius explained.

Cador nodded. “I was thinking we need to get something like that horn where we can signal and we can all understand and respond.”

“Bagpipes,” Emet said.  “British blue. plaid”

“Golden,” Cador argued.  “Like the Cornish Lion.”

Julius ignored them and sent a pair to tell Hywel and Weldig by the river to get ready and stay well hidden.

R5 Festuscato: Cadbury, part 1 of 3

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Winter in Orleans seemed long, but not too cold.  Festuscato put Dibs and his men on horseback and put them through the ringer as he had his own men.  Julius and the company housed in the city, were good for the most part, and soon enough he had his men and Dibs’ men working together.  Marcellus and Dibs got along well, which seemed a big plus.  It mostly involved Dibs looking up to Marcellus and his military background and experience.  Dibs also accepted the authority of the Centurion Julius, since his own centurion decided to winter in Paris where his tribune claimed to be deathly ill.

Festuscato spent the cold months dreaming about Greta and Gerraint.  At least it seemed like dreaming.  Gerraint and Arthur made the lances, which meant Festuscato got limited on that score.  He had taken his men about as far as they could go without interfering with history. That felt frustrating in a way. He preferred to dream about Greta tromping through the haunted woods.  Somehow, though, he imagined Danna would not make it easy for him.  It was not her place to protect the church, and her appearance might actually make matters worse.  He would have to figure out how to bring the stupid and stubborn Lords of Britain, Wales and Cornwall together himself.  And when he thought about that, he began to get anxious to go.

Early March brought rains to the area which busted up whatever ice and snow still wanted to cling to the land.  By late March, everything turned to mud and Festuscato started to get itchy to move.  By April first, 439, they were a year away from home, and still in Gaul.

“Well, he could not have anticipated being arrested,” Gaius said cheerfully over his glass of wine.

“Oh yes he could,” Mirowen corrected the Priest.

“That’s it.” Festuscato burst into the inn and called for a drink.  He had a letter in his hand and smiled.

“But you would not be deserting,” Pinewood said as he came in a moment later, chasing after Dibs.

“If they catch me, they will chop my head off,” Dibs responded.

“What?” Gaius spoke up.

“Pinewood says Festus wants to leave and I should go with you.  But that would be desertion, and my men would all be deserters.  It would mean our life if I abandon my post, or if I let you go.”  He threw his hands up in the air like a man faced with an impossible dilemma.

“But, your men can be reassigned.  Lord Agitus has the authority, and you will still be serving the Empire.”

“Yes.  The kind of technicality that is so often ignored by senior officers.”  Dibs got a drink of his own.  Marcellus and Julius came in, and wisely sat down beside Mirowen and Father Gaius. This was something Dibs would have to decide for himself.

“Ah, Dibs, my old buddy,” Festuscato said, and Gaius covered his grin.

“Why do I find the look on your face so frightening?” Dibs asked.

Festuscato shook off the implications.  “I hold in my hand the answer to all our problems.  It is a letter from the Magister Militum.  It says…”  He cleared his throat.  “Winter is over.  Why haven’t you had the good sense to escape?  The Vandals are in Africa as you said, and threatening Carthage.  I will be going to Italy to meet that threat. Meanwhile, Attila has made some alliances with the Vandals through marriage and so on.  This is not good for the Empire.  After you straighten out Britannia, you may have to come back and straighten out Italy.  Before you do that, you never explained about your governess.  This is later.”

There was silence for a minute before Gaius asked, “What does that mean?”

“Very simple,” Festuscato smiled.  “Paper.” He looked at Father Felix who sat in the corner, watching, and who always had some velum and some ink handy. “Aetius.”  Festuscato spoke as he wrote.  “Both your centurion and your tribune have wintered in Paris, so they are not here to give their advice.  I hope your tribune is feeling better, being as sick as he claimed.  I am, in fact, ready to leave, but I thought to let you know I will be taking Sergeant Diboronicuous and his men with me.  They were strictly charged to guard this notorious prisoner and the only way they can continue to do their duty is to come along and guard my person.  As for my governess…”

“No.  You can’t tell him that.”

“But I must keep my word.”  Festuscato smiled for Mirowen as she looked away, embarrassed.  “Mirowen is an elf, and she will continue to be young and beautiful long after we are dead and gone, even if we manage to survive long enough to die of old age.  Godspeed in Africa.  I know you wish the same for Britannia.  Agitus.” He thought a minute before he added, “P. S.  Watch out for Attila.  My impression is he is as sly as a fox and a capable liar.”  Festuscato rolled the letter and Felix handed him a bit of wax which he melted onto the edge to seal it.  He set his ring in the seal and called for the horseman who brought the message.  One gold coin and he yelled.  “Free!” People laughed and everyone got a drink to celebrate, except Mirowen who decided she was not talking to Festuscato.

Once out of the city, Festuscato headed his six wagons, his seventy men and his passengers toward Amorica.  “Not the coast?” Julius asked.

Festuscato shook his head.  “Don’t expect Aetius to not change his mind.  The sooner out of his territory, the better.”  Julius nodded and kept things moving.  They only stopped when they reached the border of Amorica.  They found a small army blocking their way.

Festuscato, Julius, Pinewood and Father Gaius went forward with two of the four horsemen. Five hostile looking men came from the other side.  Festuscato hardly let them dismount before he spoke.

“I am Senator Festuscato Cassius Agitus, the newly appointed Imperial Governor of Britannia. We will not be staying in Amorica. I was hoping to have a talk with your King Selyfan, before we cross the channel.  I know you have good relations with Cornwall, Wales and Britain, and I thought you might have some more up-to-date information.  The letters I have appealing to Rome for help are more than two years old.”

“Do not be put off by the armed men that travel with us,” Gaius interrupted.  “His Holiness, the pope was concerned that Lord Agitus be protected on his long and hazardous journey.”

“That is, unless you have turned your back on Great Britain.  I did hope that we would continue to be good trading partners for years to come.”  Festuscato finished.

“My father is ill.”  A man in his late forties stepped forward and the other Amorican’s seemed to take a step back.

“I take it I have the honor of addressing one of his two sons.  May I ask which?”

“Aldrien. And I will be King after my father.”

“Pleased to meet you.  I take it Constantine; the younger son is elsewhere.”

Aldrien looked at the priest before he glared at the centurion.  “In Kernow.  You seem well informed enough.”

“I spoke with Lady LeFleur, the queen of the fairies, but she could give me no details since she pays so little attention to human events and she knows nothing of events in Britannia”

Several of the men laughed and Aldrien got in Festuscato’s face.  “Do you think I am a fool.”

“Not at all. Lady LeFleur,” He called, and the fairy appeared because she had no choice.  She took a moment to get acclimated to her new location, but then curtsied in mid-air.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Your Majesty, this is Aldrien, the elder son.”

“Very pleased to meet you,” she said.  “I only heard of you, but now I have seen you with my own eyes.”  She curtsied again for the prince.

“Thank you for your information.  Apparently, what you told me is true, but I understand King Selyfan is ill.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that.  I hope he gets well soon.”  The queen’s concern sounded genuine.

“Now I need to talk to these men some more.”

“Of course. Only men may know how the minds and hearts of other men work.  It is something which is quite beyond me.”

“Sorry to interrupt.  Please go back to what you were doing.”  Festuscato waved his hand and she disappeared.

“I don’t think I will ever get used to that,” Gaius said.  He pointed to the Amorican noble who got so scared, he grabbed his horse and started riding away at full speed.

“So now, Aldrien. I understand you don’t like Romans very much.”

“Or at all,” one Amorican freely admitted, while Aldrien reached up as if trying to touch the air where the fairy hovered.

“But I assure you, I have no interest in Amorica other than as a friend to Britain.  In fact, let me see if this helps you.  I know the Vandals have invaded Africa at the far southern end of the empire.  General Aetius is talking about returning to Rome to counter that threat, so there is no way he will be around Gaul to bother you, at least for a time.”

“You know this to be true?”  A man asked, and Festuscato nodded.

“It is true. What Aetius will actually do, I cannot say.  But at least you are not his present concern.”

“Good. Don’t be surprised if we send you your administrators and clerics.  We have had enough of tribute and taxes.”

“Don’t send them to me.  What do I want with a bunch of bureaucrats?  Besides, I’ll be in Great Britain.”

“So Governor. Where is your legion?” a different man asked.

“Alas.  What you see is as much legion as I have.” Festuscato waved back at his men who were patiently waiting.

The man laughed and the others got ready to join him when Aldrien cut them off.  He seemed back to himself.  “Your men wear the dragon.”

“They do.”

“I heard you faced down Thorismund, son of Theodoric the Visigoth and he took his two thousand men and ran away.”

“You could say that.”

“I heard you captured the King of the Huns and let him go, like a cat playing with a mouse.”

“True enough.”

Aldrien looked again at Julius.  “Your men don’t seem so tough.”

“They are men, but I do have friends if you know what I mean.”  Festuscato answered for Julius.

Aldrien nodded. He saw one of those friends. “Wait here.  I will go talk with my father and be back.”

“Wait for how long?  Things are not getting better in Britain.”

Aldrien eyed Festuscato once more.  “Couple of weeks,” he said, and with a nod to the Priest, he mounted and his nobles rode with him.

R5 Festuscato: To Orleans, part 2 of 3

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Mirowen and Tiberius had taken it upon themselves to move the wagons forward a quarter mile, to get away from the dead bodies.  They left the Hun’s horses to graze where they stood.  Festuscato found the wagons easily enough, and the troop moved back into position, not really worse for wear.  One man had a cut in his shoulder from one of the two Huns that broke through the trees, but Mirowen had him well bandaged and he was in no danger.

They arrived in the town of Saint What’s-his-name toward evening and found three hundred legionnaires camped on the main field beside the road.  Festuscato thought it wise to bring his men through the town and get them sheltered on the other side.  Something did not feel right.

“Pinewood,” Festuscato got the fairy’s attention.  Pinewood, big sized at the moment, sat on horseback.  “Would you and May please bring the troop to a place where they can camp and not be found.”  He turned his head.  “Four Horsemen.  Help set a hedge around the camp, please.  Marcellus, remember we have passengers to protect.”   He turned his head again.  “Julius and Mirowen will stay with me at the inn, but no one else. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“May has some family around here,” Pinewood spoke up, but he suggested nothing about what that might mean as he turned down an alley with one of the Four Horsemen, Pestilence, Festuscato thought.  The Horseman came back leading an empty horse.

Festuscato and Julius stopped in front of an inn, and the horsemen Death and Famine stopped with them.  Mirowen and Drucilla brought their own horses.  Drucilla said she was not leaving her mistress, but her eyes clearly stayed on Julius.  Festuscato shook his head.   He got two rooms.  Death and Famine opted to sleep in the main room at the bottom of the stairs, if they slept at all.

“What are you thinking?” Mirowen asked.

“I’m not sure. Maybe something the Hun implied.” They got some wine and bread and sat at a table where Festuscato could put his back to the wall.  “Bill Hickok style,” he said and changed the subject. “Lately, I have been having strange dreams about a young, blind girl, and I have felt very maternal toward her, odd as that sounds.”

“For you, not so odd.”

“But do you know what I mean, maternal?”

Mirowen lowered her eyes.  “No,” she said.  “I was told when I was very young that I would not be able to have children.”

Festuscato smiled warmly and placed his hand over hers.  “And here you had four boys to raise.  Imagine that.”  Mirowen tried to return the smile as one of those boys, Father Gaius, came bursting into the room.

“What’s up? A glass please.  I think you need your confessor with you.”  He pulled up a seventh chair and sat at the corner of the table.

“See?  It isn’t just me.  Something isn’t right here.”

“Yes,” Julius agreed.  “But what is it?”

They did not have to wait long.  A tribune, one full of self-assurance came crashing into the room, two soldiers trailing. One of the soldiers pointed and the tribune came to the table.  “Senator Agitus?” he asked, but his voice sounded sharp, not respectful or polite. Julius and the two horsemen stood.

“Welcome. The party has just started.  Join us.” Festuscato spoke up.  He waved to the young maid who had her eyes all over him and she got another to help bring some more chairs.  Festuscato looked at the two soldiers, and one in particular made him shout.  “Dibs!”

Gaius looked up. “Dibs!”  He added his voice.

Dibs smiled and pointed to his insignia rank as Mirowen got up with a cloth in her hand and wiped the poor soldier’s mouth.  “When was the last time you bathed?” she scolded, and the soldier beside him laughed.

“Sergeant Dibs,” Festuscato said.  “Congratulations.  Come. Join us.  Wine’s on me.” Both soldiers looked willing but the Tribune held out his arms.

“That is not what we are here for.”

“Come now,” Gaius stood.  “Join us. Business is best discussed on a full stomach.”

The tribune looked flustered.  “Senator Agitus.  By order of the regent, Gala Placidia, you are under arrest for deflowering the womanhood of the Princess Justa Grata Honoria.”

“No, I am sorry.” He turned to the men who had their mouths open, Drucilla who covered her face with her hands, and the horsemen who focused on the intruders.  He did not look at Mirowen’s frown, but he felt it burning his skull.  “That is not true.  She was deflowered long before I got there.”

“Lord Agitus is Comes and Legatus Augusti pro Praetore per Britannia,” Julius said, calmly. “He answers only to the Emperor Valentinian.  The former regent has no authority here.”

The tribune started to lose his cool.  His face turned red.  “Centurion. You will report to the officer of the day so you and your men can be fit into the normal rotation.”  It sounded like a command from a man who was not used to be being contradicted.  He dropped his jaw when Julius shook his head.

“My men and I are assigned by the emperor himself to serve the governor of Britannia.  Even General Aetius cannot change that without direct authorization from the emperor.”

The tribune yelled.  “Your duty is to the empire.”

Julius retained his calm attitude.  “Valentinian is the empire.”

The tribune broke and started to reach for Festuscato, but his own soldiers grabbed his arms and held him back.  Festuscato stood.  “I tell you what.  After a good supper, a good night’s sleep and a fine breakfast, you can arrest me.  I will pledge to travel with you to wherever, and I will take only my governess and my father confessor with me.  You can assign Dibs to guard us on pain of crucifixion if he lets us escape.  Besides, there are some things you don’t know.”  He raised his voice.  “Family of May.  Here, in small form on the table, please.”

A young fairy came warily down from the rafters and fluttered to the table.  She looked very reluctant, like this was not what she expected to be doing.  “Don’t be afraid,” Mirowen said, with a smile for the young thing, and the young fairy returned the smile.

“Miss Lilly,” Festuscato also smiled for the little thing.  “Would you tell Lady May and Lord Pinewood please to bring the troops, passengers and wagons by secret ways to, um, where are we going?”  He asked the tribune.  The tribune had his mouth and eyes open as wide as they could be, and looked ready to scream and run at any moment, but his own soldiers each had an arm and held him steady.  Dibs whispered in his officer’s ear.

“Courage.” He turned to Festuscato. “Orleans.”

“What?  Not Paris?  Darn.”  Festuscato returned to look at Miss Lilly.  “Please ask Pinewood to bring everyone to Orleans by secret ways.  We will get there eventually.”

“Yes, my lord.” The fairy curtsied, and with a quick glance at Mirowen who nodded, she flew off through the nearest window and was gone.

“Drucilla,” Julius spoke.  “We should get back to the men before they leave without us.”

“Yes, Julius,” Drucilla said his name, like she enjoyed saying his name.  “They will wait for us.”  They held hands as they left, and no one stopped them.

“There’s a pickle,” Festuscato sighed.  Mirowen wisely said nothing, but Gaius took his seat with a word.

“Young love should not be a pickle.”

“That’s the problem,” Festuscato also sat and picked up his wine glass.  “Drucilla is nearly two hundred years old.”

Gaius nodded and pointed at Mirowen.  “Sibelius too?  I suspected, you know.”

Dibs and his fellow soldier let go of their tribune when he seemed to come back to his senses. “I order you to be arrested.”  The tribune whined like a baby.

“After breakfast, when your men are ready to move.”  Festuscato said.

“It’s a fair offer,” Gaius pointed out.

The tribune stomped his foot.  “Guards will be posted,” he yelled and spun around to march out the door.  Dibs and his companion fell right in step behind, and Festuscato voiced a thought.

“If he has Dibs and his friend whipped for any reason, I’ll have to kill him.”

No,” Death grinned in a wicked way as only an elf can grin.  “That will be my job.”  Festuscato stared.  It was the first time, to his knowledge, one of the Four Horsemen actually spoke in public.

Later that evening, the young barmaid collected Festuscato and took him to her room.  She shut the door before she whispered, “That was a real fairy.”

Festuscato nodded, but he wondered what it was about young girls and fairies, ponies and unicorns.  Greta certainly had no delusions.  “Emotional roller coasters,” Gerraint said, in Festuscato’s head.  “I bet this one giggles.”

Festuscato got ready to answer when the girl unclasped her dress and let it fall to the ground.  He thought to answer the girl instead.  “You can ask Mirowen all about fairies.  She is an elf.”

The girl stepped up into his arms.  “I thought she was too beautiful for an ordinary woman.”

“Exactly what I thought when I first saw her.”

“But I don’t know if I can believe you.”  Festuscato sent his armor back to Avalon and stood naked with the girl.  She grinned, and about twenty minutes later, she squealed. “I believe you.  I believe you.  I believe you.”  Then she could not manage any more actual words.