James Does The Gardening

It all started with a blunt shovel and a hot afternoon. "Concrete" James asked, "hasn't anyone heard of concrete?"

CHAPTER ONE

James really hated gardening but it was either that or divorce. He had thought long and hard about it but chose gardening.

The back yard was in a dip and a river ran along the fence line, although the fence was little more than some wire strung between timber posts, and, the river, a meandering creek that spent a lot of its time dry or, at best, stagnant.

It was said that in another time this place was magic. Now it was just a communal estate built a little too far away from everything and with just not enough services to support the community. “Panorama Estates” was now an old and overlooked collection of 1960’s brick two-ups/two downs, quietly getting on with being forgotten.

It must have been about three thirty on that late summer’s afternoon when it happened. James was digging the other side of the fence. Until then he had kept on his side, not for any territorial reason, just that he hated all there was to hate about gardening and to move over that side increased the area he had to tend; not good tactics by a long chalk. In this instance he was overruled, the command was issued from the back porch. “Jim, do the grass over the fence will you, it looks unruly.”

“Unruly!” he mumbled to himself as he parted the wire and stepped through the gap between the top and second strands. The ground was lush and soft with long green grass that, until now, had been left well alone. He started cutting away at the long runners of weed, hacking and cutting with the blade of his shovel.

The afternoon toiled on inexorably towards evening, the shadows grew longer and the pile of cut grass larger. Except for a short tea break he hacked away, and, to his disgust, the grass stayed as “unruly” as it had begun. When James was seriously considering packing it in for the day his shovel shuddered as it hit something solid in the soft peat. It was totally unexpected and surprised him so that he uttered an expletive that would have caused a grave look if it had been heard by his wife, one not for swearing of any kind, at any time.

The shovel was almost to its hasp; his toes on the peat and the blade stopped and met his instep, protected only by the thin sole of a Hush Puppy slip-on. It hurt and he withdrew, hopping comically in a circle around the spade’s handle, itself vibrating from the event. James was prepared there and then to be done with it, but his curiosity was piqued. He remembered talking to Mr. Donaldson, one of the original “Panoramarians”, about how the foundations and plumbing work had been so easy because the ground was soft; without any rocks of any kind.

For this reason, James was interested; he had found a rock.

He started to explore the area. Not one to dig aimlessly; too much forced gardening had made sure of that; he used his brains. He radiated out from his first strike in a straight line, pushing the spade in until it hit, lifting it, moving it and pushing it in again. This went on for about thirty minutes and his unscientific boundary marking had produced a perfect square of about six feet.

James was a math teacher; he knew that there were no perfect squares in nature. No crystalline forms make squares and there was no way any igneous formation would do it. He knew it was not a square in the strictest sense because squares are two-dimensional. His analytical mind dictated a square because he had only found two dimensions. To find the third he would have to dig.

* * * * * *

That night he tossed and turned. It was early morning when he finally gave up and went down stairs to the kitchen to make a cup of Ovaltine. “Christ, Ovaltine” he thought, remembering his student days in the sixties; drinking till dawn, smoking the best Jamaican and solving the world’s problems on the way to Hyde Park for the rally.

“Drinking Ovaltine” he sighed and shook his head “sitting in the kitchen of a middle-income comfortable two-up/two-down in suburbia, Jesus”.

What would Donny Bronley and, what was the name of the girl, the one he took to see the Stones on Eel Pie Island and had made love to in Donny’s bed while he slept on the floor, pissed and as high as a kite; Mary? No Marigold; that was it. What would they think now?

He looked out the back window and saw the spade handle sticking up proudly from the peat, the moonlight quite bright at that time. As he watched, a cloud must have covered the moon and it disappeared into the black shroud that replaced the light.

He went back to bed and, for the first time, realized what the tossing and turning was all about. It was the spade and the square rock under it. It was a hint, just a touch of excitement that the unknown tends to bring. Made more outstanding by the completely flat and lack luster palette his life was. Any excitement would have increased his awareness. And, thus, awareness increased, he finally fell off to sleep, a sleep fed by the joy of a quest.

* * * * * *

He awoke, filled with that delightful feeling one has when they awaken on a day that holds an adventure. His wife was in the kitchen and he could hear the radio playing the classical FM station. He listened and identified it was Greig, The Peer Gynt Suite, In the Hall of the Mountain King. For some reason it seemed apt and he sprung out of bed and was dressed before his wife called him for breakfast.

James entered the kitchen and kissed her on the neck, something he had not done much of lately and she was quite stunned by it. She served his breakfast in silence as he told her of his discovery and his plans to uncover it.

By mid morning James had dug down one side, and, as he had expected, reached rock. It was a strange bluish colour, not unlike the blue metal he had seen quarried to the south about one hundred miles away but definitely not anything he had seen around the riding.

The little he uncovered illustrated that this thing, for he was thinking now of it being a thing, was man made. It had been cut and finished to an almost mirror like sheen. It was a dark colour and it was flecked with silver and gold. He spent the rest of the afternoon digging. It ended up not being a cube; its dimensions being three feet by three feet by two.

Late in the afternoon, with the thing showing completely, James rested. Now that the brute work was done, it was time to study it. He felt a little apprehension, knowing that in his haste to uncover it, he had not been all that scientific and, where he had used a Tolsen’s Number 5 Shovel, he was sure archeologists would have been at work with hand spades and fine brushes.

Still, it was done so no use worrying about it. In front of James was a relic of importance, he was sure of that. It sat gentle in its solitude in the early evening heat of a hot summer’s day. Its even dark colour was alive with the silver and gold flecks, its cut perfect and absolutely precise in its masonry.

James was in awe. He moved to it now, resolute and breathing slowly. He touched the corner nearest him and found his hand tingled slightly. He quickly removed it and moved away, it was not unlike one of those shocks you used to get in the Haunted House on Show Day.

Further inspection showed that the top right hand corner was engraved with symbols and words. The form was foreign to him although he could identify letters and bits of words. The language was not modern; he believed he would have identified the cursive form if it were. No, this was ancient. About ten inches in from the edge was a fine line which James saw was a lid join. The top must be removable. Reasoning that this thing must be hollow he started to search for a way of opening it.

* * * * * *

There was too much mud and clay on the thing to allow James to inspect it much so he started to use his math teacher’s mind to reason a plan of attack. Obviously he would have to clean it. Water was the best way but it would fill the hole, so he started to dig drainage channels to allow the water to flow away to the creek. Thank God the bank was dropping quite steeply here and he could see that it would only require about two yards of digging to get it done.

His wife was calling him now for supper and had come down once during the afternoon to survey proceedings. She did not appear interested in any of it, and her only input was to point out that he was making a “blessed mess” and that he would have to fill the hole when done.

It was darkening quite quickly so, reluctantly, he decided the rest would have to wait until tomorrow. He had classes in the morning but would be able to get back by two p.m. and would complete the work then. For the first time in years, James felt excited about tomorrow.

* * * * * *

Morning came quickly and James was up with the sparrows, something he never did. He found he could dig the drains, finish breakfast and be ready to leave by the time he normally dragged himself out of bed. The morning was great, he was a man with a mission, and relished in the new found or re-won state. He made a call to his old friend Toby Daniels. Toby was a lecturer in the Arts at the local university specializing in Polynesian Chicken Sexing or Love and Ancient Civilizations or some such. He told him of the find and swore him to secrecy, but only after Toby elicited the right to visit that afternoon and study the thing with James. The agreements were made and James was home by two p.m. as he had planned.

He suited up in his gumboots and made his way to the dig with the garden hose. It was another warm day and he could see that the peat had dried quite dramatically since yesterday. The water would not be a problem. He started to play the stream over the face of the thing and was delighted to see that the mud and clay would wash away easily, leaving a clean and machine-like surface in its wake. As he had thought, the water drained away pretty well and by the time he had rolled up the hose and cleaned up a little, most of it had gone.

Toby arrived and James made them a cup of tea, bringing Toby up to speed on the events, waiting while the afternoon sun got to work drying the area and making it less muddy by the minute. Finally, the time came to venture back to the thing, James in his jeans and tartan shirt, Toby in his worsted trousers and white cotton business shirt and tie; quite the duo for archeological activities.

They stood on the lip of the hole, the thing there with its dark stone glinting in the afternoon sun. James, arms crossed like the proud father of the centre who just stole the ball and ran it all the way for a goal, Toby with his mouth agape and repeating “my God; my God”

The inspection Toby gave the thing was like an Arab Sheik and a million pound stallion. He went over every inch of it, noticing, as James had, that touching it gave a shock or tingle of sorts. It was not uncomfortable once the initial concern had mellowed. There was no noise, just a tingle against the skin when you put your hand against it.

“I think it is a box, James. There is no doubt the writing is ancient. Perhaps Druid; may even predate them. Out of my area of expertise I am afraid, we need to get Buffy Masters down to have a squiz, what do you say old man?” Toby asked as he walked around the thing, stroking it and touching its flanks, as if working out how it would run at Ascot. James thought long and hard on it then decided, against his heart, that Toby was right. It was time to get the professionals involved.

“You know, James, this will make you famous. I reckon that whatever it is, it is bound to be an interesting find. God, I wish I knew what it was.” The look on Toby’s face illustrated his honesty in the comment.

“Why do you think it’s here Tob?” James asked while he jumped down into the hole.

Toby shrugged, “’spose it has to be somewhere, Jim my boy”.

James could not argue with that. It did indeed have to be somewhere and that somewhere was here.

* * * * * *

Buffy Masters was a lovely lady. James had not felt to use such terms in a long time, but here, standing in front of the thing in the dawn light, she was a woman of most magnificent beauty. Dressed in light dungarees and matching shirt, gumboots and woolen pullover around her neck, this lady just looked like a Goddess.

“Well, James” she said observing the thing “this is wonderful. I have never seen anything like it.”

“I told him, Buffy old thing” Toby recanted with a pride that the realization his understanding of proceedings was correct. Dr. Masters nodded to her somewhat pompous but likeable college. She turned to James. A smile as wide, as she could muster, crossed her face and he was amazed at the warmth that smile caused him to feel.

“I am damned if I know what it is but let’s see what we can see.” She said as she dropped into the hole. James followed her for no other reason than he felt at that time that he would have followed her anywhere.

“It is Druid” she said as she studied the top of the box. Studying the inscription as neat as handwriting but a little larger “I can not make it out; it seems to be a riddle, a rune more like. I am sure it is a Dolmen of sorts.”

James had spent the evening prior reading up on the Druids and replied “I thought Stonehenge was a Dolmen, this is a lot smaller.” As soon as the words had left his mouth he wished he hadn’t said anything. He was sure it just sounded silly but to his delight she smiled at him, continuing.

“Well, in a way, you’re right. They are usually quite large but there is no real rule to it. They can be huge and small, although this is quite small.”

She walked around it and continued studying it.

“They are chambers” she said, watching James who was nodding, basking in his new found knowledge having forgotten how much he used to enjoy learning “as a rule, Dolmens are surrounded by a circle of megaliths collectively called a Cromlech, they are usually burial chambers.” She looked around at the peat moss and nodded absentmindedly.

“There may be other stones in a circle around here, the Cromlech is important.”

“Do you think it is a burial chamber?” James asked, a shudder passing through him, subconsciously moving back a little.

Buffy shrugged, “Well, burial chamber is literal. They used Dolmens as containers at times, to hold or trap things.” She smiled at James again, and he enjoyed it “They were Mages James, their magic had elements of containment, sometimes Dolmens were believed to have been used to hold or store magic, both good and bad.” She seemed distant for a second. “Good and bad.”

She took a piece of rice paper, about the size of an A3 sheet, from her pack and placed it over the inscription. She celotaped it to the stone and rubbed over the sheet with a piece of charcoal causing the characters to appear in reverse.

“I am damned if I can make this out and I don’t want to rush it. I will need to take the rubbing back to my rooms and makes sure of one or two things” she said as she completed the work. James was standing behind her and looking over her shoulder, she moved back when he didn’t expect it and pushed against him. She laughed and James apologized as they untangled themselves.

“What now?” He asked, sort of having expected a far bigger production, something akin to the discovery of Tutankhamen with a party the size of Lord Carnarvon’s.

Buffy turned to him and said “Well, you can come and watch me translate and help decipher it if you like.”

“But, what about the thing” he said, expecting something, just not sure what.

“James, it isn’t going anywhere and it is solid stone. It must be thousands of years old. I think it will be all right, another eight hours is not going to hurt. Anyway it must weight tons, it isn’t going anywhere” Buffy completed with a laugh.

James watched Susan Masters, Doctor of Archeology; Buffy to her friends, named so for the time she ran naked through Stonehenge on a field trip in her first year at University. James watched this lady, fourteen years his junior, lift her body out of the hole and was feeling warmth that had long been missing.

She turned and smiled at him. “You coming, James?” and walked away with Toby, leaving James to follow, excited to be a part of this project, excited for a number of reasons.

* * * * * *

Over breakfast, the day was planned. James had morning study hall and agreed to meet Susan at the campus at three p.m. Toby extended his deepest regrets but had been called away to London to a board meeting of the college or some such. It seemed Toby was interested in the political side of university life and was growing his stature with all tools available. James was not in the least bit upset about Toby’s departure although crowed a few well-rounded disappointed words.

He couldn’t understand why but he just felt glad he was going to be alone with Susan Masters and mores the point, she seemed a little glad he would be able to be there herself.

His wife was a little nonplused by the goings on and let James know. He dismissed her with an “it will be all right, you’ll see, this is exciting” She went back to writing in her diary. Tonight she was going to stay with her sister in Bathgate and would be gone for two weeks. Her only instruction to James was to “clean up any mess before she returned” This annual pilgrimage to Bathgate was James’ respite; perhaps his wife’s as well.

The fortnight was his time for being a mess again. Something he was always very good at and something his wife had put right amongst other things. She was a nurse, now a matron, and had met James the night he and Fred Daley fell into the canal at the back of the Bull and Hair.

Both blind drunk and full of canal water, he broke his leg and, during his convalescence, they became lovers. In bed 4E ward seven at three a.m. to be precise. At the time her “differences” were attractive, now, they had just made him bland. He loved his fortnight.

His morning ran like a train and he was at the university at one-forty that afternoon. Susan had given him instructions on how to get to her room and had said she was free anytime after two p.m. She promised she would wait for him before starting. He liked the way she had offered to do that, acknowledging James’ right to be there without it being said.

He got lost, but that was to be expected, he was a klutz with a map at the best of times. Finally, with the assistance of an elderly lady from the Bursar’s office, James found Susan Masters. The lady pointed to the door and smiled. “Be nice to Susan, she is a gentle soul.” She said as she tapped on the door for James, then turned and walked away. James was taken aback by the candor but didn’t have time to worry about it because the door opened and Susan was there.

He smiled and stammered an apology about getting lost and a lot of other things, his mind out of sync with his reality. She stood before him in a lightweight shift dress, a pastel blue with violets, square at the neck, showing a hint of cleavage and short above her knees with a drop waist. She had dark blue socks and a pair of Bluntstones. No make-up and her hair tied up in a ponytail.

Smiling, she opened the door further, “Come in James”. He entered her office and was delighted to see they were alone. “God, stop it” he thought “this minute”. She closed the door behind him and motioned to the sofa near the window. They were on the second floor of the east wing and overlooked the soccer fields and the woods beyond. It was a peaceful scene.

“I have taken the time since to read a little” she looked at James and must have sensed his mood changed ever so slightly. “No silly” she said with a delightful laugh in her voice, “some text books, I promised I’d leave the scratching till you got here”. She patted his hand and he felt a shock not unlike that off the Dolmen “I would never do that”.

Their closeness filled the room like water. The sounds that were intruding disappeared like some huge curtain had been lowered. James was looking into Susan’s eyes and she his. He felt an urge so strong to kiss her he was lost to it. Their lips met and she moved to him thirstily, their embrace fired from some source that was foreign to James.

Then, as quickly as it had happened, the noises returned and reality crashed in. Susan moved away from James with the sudden movement, her face was red and she exhaled in a “Whow!”

“Susan, I’m so sorry” he stood and moved towards her and then stepped back, feeling the weight of the closeness as he neared her “please, please forgive me I never”

She had an expression on her face that was akin to surprise, amazement and something else, none seemed to be anger. She coughed and James just held his hands in supplication.

“Goodness me” she said, her breath coming in starts “James, what; what happened to us?”

He felt the heat of his blush move from the pit of his stomach up to his head like an army of ants chasing sugar syrup.

“I don’t”

She smiled and moved back to James, putting her hands on his shoulders, moving into him putting her head against his chest and her lips against the skin of his neck, his shirt opened and one button loose. He felt his hands move to her back and the softness of her skin was evident through the wafer-thin material of the dress.

“Shush” she said, “what ever it is, I want more”

He was lost. His lips moved to hers and they kissed, drawing from themselves and floating together. The embrace lasted and lasted, James’ hands moving down her sides and holding her hips against him.

They were lost; Susan moaned and broke the embrace, turned and locked the door. With a single pull of the cords, the Venetians dropped to the floor and made the room darken considerably. James reached for her again and she moved to him. There, in her room, James with the most beautiful person he had ever seen, solid with his lust, light with the euphoria of this, she gave herself to him.

At the moment their bodies united, the Godhead one with his dragon, time stopped still; neither being aware of any feeling beyond this and completely full. Their lovemaking was wild, passionate, maddening. As it finished, as the physical overrode the emotions, 20 miles away, in a hole in the garden, it started.

In the top left hand corner of a stone tablet, on the first row of seven, the second symbol from the right of seven, the Moon symbol changed to a sun. The lid section lifted about an inch with a protesting growl that sounded like a thousand Banshees on a stormy wind.

* * * * * *

They lay together. The evening had descended and they had made love twice more. He had never, ever, felt like this with anyone. Completely captivated and yet, free. Susan lay in light sleep and he nodded in and out.

Dreams came and went, of soft places and warm lands, one image working its way into all. A hillock or mound, barren crags in the highlands, he was sure it was the highlands, heather blowing in a strong wind, and a solitary figure, a man, old, wizened, robed in black with white hair blowing to the side, his face smiling and long fingers beckoning. Just as words were about to leave his mouth, Susan sat up, bolt upright, straight from sleep to full awareness.

“No.” she said strongly.

James joined her looking for a danger he felt but could not see. “What is it?”

She turned to him, a smile soft on her lips. “Oh! Nothing James; a dream.” She stood, her body lit in the warmth of the evening, soft curves and shadows filling the gaps and her breasts firm and soft.

James expected it now, expected that horrible awkwardness that he had always felt after sex, as the parties endeavored to explain away their carnal lust in rational terms, with promises of ringing tomorrow, having dinner, calling around again. Susan, pulled her dress over her torso, James dressing as she did.

He stood and tucked himself in, Susan turned, now it would happen. She moved to him and kissed his lips with a gentleness that weakened him. “I think you are the best lover I have ever had, James. I have never felt like this” she completed with a smile. James smiled and kissed her back. Unlike James’ fears, the talk was of dinner. Perhaps to her flat first if he didn’t mind; and he didn’t. They drove there together and Susan parked her little Citroen 2V. They entered the flat and James was impressed with the tasteful but messy presentation of the place. He immediately felt at home.

After a shower, a shower they shared and a shower that saw the water run cold on two bodies lost in a primordial coupling that was loud and strong, they went to the Indian restaurant around the corner and had Lamb curry, Nan and yogurt dip.

Over dinner they talked of things. Just things, Susan close and near, touching him softly and laughing with him. Walking home to the flat they held hands and Susan spoke to James like she had known him for years, and he her.

Later, they worked on the rubbing. He a book runner for her requests, text books looking for symbols, words, images and needing much concentration and effort. About two a.m. they decided to finish at that and without discussion or debate, they went to bed. Made love again and slept.

The hillock, and the man; traveled to them both.

* * * * * *

Next morning, over breakfast, Susan in a wrap-round robe and James in a towel that was laid across his lap, both finding their sexuality raised beyond anything they had experienced before, talked of things to do with the thing.

They discussed the dream. Now, twenty four hours after they had met, they both felt they could tell each other anything. James felt he loved Susan with all his heart and was dumbfounded. OK, the sex was truly wonderful; truly, but it was more, their spirits, souls were bound in some way.

Susan had told him in her climax that she loved him always and later just smiled when she recalled the words. This was the strangest thing that had ever happened to either of them.

“What do you think it all is Sue?”

She smiled, “It is a Dolmen for sure. I think it is a point. These are units placed to catch and process the earth’s power. Did you know they are known to have served as altars, as on the island of Guernsey, where they were used by the Druids in their religious rites? Dolmens are particularly numerous in Ireland and Wales and in the English counties of Devon and Cornwall; in northwest France, especially in Brittany; and in Spain. They are also found in Northern Africa, in Syria, and in other countries ranging as far east as Japan.” She said as she poured fresh tea into white china mugs; the legend, “Dig to discover; dirt!” on them.

“James, Japan, isn’t that amazing?”

He nodded his affirmation.

“Points are always fours. They form a perfect square and in the middle is the top. James, they have been found hundreds of miles apart, and if worked from a map, their accuracy is to millimeters.”

“What are points used; were used for Sue” he asked, amazed at the discussion.

“Before I answer that” she said as she cuddled up to him, “I need to tell you a little about the Druids”

He nodded, saying that he had read a little of late and she said to stop her if she was stating the bleedin’ obvious. He said he would and she continued.

“They were members of a professional class in their culture, the Celtic Nations of Western Europe and the British Isles, they were not an ethnic group; their culture, the Celtic culture, was.” James nodded; he had known this even before this all began.

“Well, they filled the roles of judge, doctor, diviner, mage, mystic, and clerical scholar. In other words, they were the intelligentsia of their culture, the Iron-Age people of the Celtic Nations, although not an elite by any means.”

“Mythologies describe Druids who were capable of many magical powers such as divination and prophesy, control of the weather, healing, levitation, and shape changing” she pondered for a moment and added “still, most cultures have room for magic; it is only something we have removed in this century.”

“Their education was so rigourous that at the end of it they were virtually walking encyclopedias. The best word for them would seem to be "priests"” once again she pondered “I am loath to use this term myself for two reasons: The Romans never used it, and because Druids didn't preach to congregations as priests do.”

“You know they had a clientele, like a mystic, a shaman, or a lawyer would have. Caesar and his historians never referred to them as priests but this could be because their own priests were more mundane, teachers and judges, less emphasis on being seers or diviners, whereas the Druids appeared to have both legal and magical powers.”

They talked on, Susan building James’ knowledge, presenting the Druids in a light he had not understood before. Possibly the most amazing realization was that they were good. The bad press was part of the Roman propaganda machine. Susan explained why it was so. It was the Celts they stood to conquer and the Druids tended to be the people of influence in the various places of that empire. Give a dog a bad name and their influence would weaken.

They studied the scratching. More so Susan studied it and James ran errands and performed look-ups in the mountain of books on the table. They stopped for lunch and Susan said they would have to go and ask for some help; later.

Over lunch they held hands and talked and talked. James expected to be going back to the university but he found himself traveling into the country in the sling seat of the 2V. Susan was an interesting driver and the 2V is an interesting car to be driven in by an interesting driver.

It was going on dusk when the arrived at a little cottage on the outskirts of a small village about 30 miles from the city. A brass plaque announced “Annwyn” and if ever there was a place the postcards came from this was it.

CHAPTER TWO

Susan got out with a practiced ease that James had yet to master, the doors opening forward and the seats swaying as you moved. He finally disentangled himself from the Citroen to see Susan hugging another woman; an old woman that looked just like the woman that should own the cottage.

“James, come on slow coach, come meet Maerre.” He did so and they entered the postcard. Inside the cottage was warm and inviting, a mix-match and everywhere something, a place of activity.  Susan had introduced the lady at the gate, and now, as they drank a sweet herbal tea that James actually liked, he learnt that Maerre was not a professor, or lecturer or any such thing. He learnt that Maerre was a Druid. Maerre was a Fianna.

“The Fianna were warriors and typically adolescents and young-adults” Susan explained to James “similar to the Hindu "sadus" but more militant and luminal than religious in nature.” James looked at the old woman, standing five foot two wringing wet and had difficulty holding a smile away; Susan continued with an excitement that James found captivating.

“Still, there is a mystical dimension to the Fianna, for many of them were accomplished poets and seers, and Fenian myth abounds with hunting trips that wind up in the Otherworld; the Annwyw. Perhaps it is easier to slip into magical space when one lives on the border of civilization and savagery.”

Two days ago, any talk of magic would have left James smiling and wondering about the person telling the tale. Now, he just nodded, watching Susan as she spoke and accepted her words as he did the air he breathed.

“Of course, not all Fianna were fearsome warriors, James” Maerre rejoined as she sat opposite them in a large wing-backed chair. “In fact, a lot of the imagery surrounding the Druid myth is misinformation from the Romans. Their agenda was quite identifiable, to cause the Druids to appear less than acceptable to the then gentile society that was occupied Britain.”

“In fact Boudicca was perhaps the most knowledgeable of Fianna, with much magic and power at her disposal, she was an intelligent woman who rallied and prepared a great army and planned her things well. She was effective and caused the Romans much concern. Yet today, she is seen as a dirty rude chieftain of some band of rabble. Goodness it could not have been further from the truth.” Susan continued and finished with a resolve.

The discussion went on longer, as Maerre told James of the Druid world, explaining much as she did; none the least that the Druids existed and learnt and taught in the modern world. Her cottage was an example of the tangible aspects of it all. During Maerre’s discourse, Susan sat with James, her arms around his knees and her chin resting on her hands. He held his hand on her shoulder and had never felt such warmth as he felt now.

Maerre was a gentlewoman, wise and loving, of that he was sure. In his heightened state he could; taste it. Well taste was a strange sense to use, but; it would do. It was like new dimensions had opened. Susan told Maerre of the thing and produced the rubbing like some ancient tapestry. Maerre made room on the table and laid it out flat studying the messages locked into the symbols and letters that heretheto were less than identifiable.

The ladies started to talk in a language that was English albeit spiced with marvelous sounding words that must have been Gaelic or the like.

“It is not a point Susan, I am sure of that. This is a Dolmen, no doubt. But it is not a tomb. I have never, and I mean never, seen the likes of this. It is written in riddles and the symbols are arranged in an array.”

Maerre was hunched over the paper and they paid strict attention. The minutes passed and the intensity of the study and talk between the ladies caught James spellbound, so much so, it was dark the next time he thought to look out the window.

The lights were burning and he sat there dumbfounded when he realized no one had moved since. Maerre must have been aware of his thoughts and smiled at him. “Timers James, on the standard lamps, burglars you know.” He smiled and laughed out loud.

“Susan, much of this is Zoomorphic” she was pointing to a number of the symbols, and James could see they were like knots intertwined with animals, but, no, not animals. For the first time, he could see they were people and then, the realization was that they were in erotic poses. The intricate work had been lost on his less than appreciative eye.

“I think I must see this thing” Maerre stood and offered to prepare dinner for them. Much more was discussed over dinner and James was amazed at how readily he was accepting all the talk of magic, great Druid achievements, enlightenment and the like.

At one time Maerre turned to James and Susan and asked them how long they had known each other. They both became quite introverted at this and mumbled two days, adding about ten hours to the gross time together.

Maerre just nodded and smiled.

“Susan, it is to be my love. If this thing is what I think it is I can tell you both that you are doomed to be.”

She just smiled and it was the smile of someone who may be able to understand the power of their, Christ, what was it that it was; relationship; no, too soon for that; their predicament, nope, no way, not predicament. “God” James thought “their; magic” was all he could think in light of the course and discourse this day had taken.

“Do you have an opinion Maerre?” Susan asked.

“Oh yes I do” she smiled “tell me more of the man in the dreams.”

They did that then Susan added a little about the woman. At this James sat up straight “Woman?” he had seen no woman. Susan spoke of the lady trying to get to the man, held away by something and trying to fight against it to reach him.

Maerre nodded and smiled. “Be warned sweet child” James never thought of Susan as a child but he now realized that her thirty to his pending forty-four was a gap for sure. This had never entered his thoughts.

“You two are doomed to be. Is it good?” God, James was amazed to hear the lady ask the question and was about to say something when Susan smiled and rejoined.

“Maerre it is like James touches my heart. When he makes love to me I soar like nothing I have ever felt prior, I can’t explain it, it is like flying and swimming and being caught and free all at the same time. His touch centers on me and I am lost, I have never been so. Maerre I love him with all my heart.”

James was just not used to such candor but he keened two things quickly. These women were very special and more than acquaintances and that he liked the way it sounded to have a Goddess of such wonderful things telling someone he was what she said.

Maerre smiled. “My angel, I am so glad for you.” She turned to James and smiled that smile of a maiden aunt that had been given the care of a niece and was about to allow her to the care of her lover.

“James, you are a special man, you don’t know it, but you are. Susan has power beyond her understanding and I have feared she may not realize it due to the lack of a suitable lover.”

“Power?” James asked.

“Oh yes, Susan is capable of great things, she is my apprentice in such, but I suppose you may have realized some of this although I am sure that she would never have told you without my grace. She has it now.”

Susan held James’ hand tightly and he felt his emotions swell with such love it was not real; oh damn it, it was real all right, everything else prior to Susan was not.

“She will be a great Fianna and you her chief; if you want to be.”

Maerre smiled at James lovingly “Susan has described the “flight”. When you make love, this is the taping of the power. It is documented in so many places, the Taoists make a religion of it, the Hindi talk of the Godhead, and so it goes. At all times the womb is the centre.”

She took a mouth full of soup and continued.

“If you help her fly, you are the one James. I am amazed at the magic that has brought you together. It is wildly exciting to me. This thing is powerful and it serves a purpose. I will tell you both more when we have inspected it.”

They ate on in silence but with warmth that further held the maiden aunt/suitor relationship James and Maerre were forming. It was good.

* * * * * *

Susan was radiant in the evening light. Maerre had lit candles and the only incandescent light was a small globe over the back door. The room swelled with their fellowship and Susan’s eyes shown and sparkled in the ricochet of the candlelight.

As the meal came to an end Maerre turned to James. “Do you feel the same love Susan does, or is it just lust? Oh, and don’t concern your self if it is lust now James, it will become love, I am just wondering the level of attainment at this early stage.”

“Maerre, I love Susan like I have loved her forever” he stared at the lady, never taking his eyes of her “like I have always done” the words left his lips and he was not even aware of them.

“By the Gods you are two marvelous people. James, Susan” both looked at this lady now as students would any revered scholar, James amazed at his preparedness to do so “be aware that this is all beyond understanding for this world. It would defy description or explanation to any others. You are best to not bother. As to you both, you will be and are to be from now. James, I want to test you later, I believe I have found in you a sleeper. Susan would never have been attracted to you if were not so. I need to keen its origin.”

James agreed and over coffee they discussed more. James learnt of a little of the legends of the Celts and how the Druids worked and fitted into the scheme of things. Maerre was a loving host and a loving person.

Later, she asked James to sit in the wing backed chair and in an exercise akin to hypnosis she regressed him to find out what ever it was she was concerned to find.

As she did, James felt himself floating and then lifting. Initially the start caused him to break the hold she had as he felt himself falling back.

“Relax James, you will find you are flying of sorts.”

This time he did and he soared with wings invisible to the eye. The same wonderful visions of his dreams and the same place he visited. The highland fog heavy on the heath, this time he felt at home. In the distance the man stood and lifted his arm in greeting. It was a greeting of friendship and knowing.

James replied with the same but felt himself returning and next was back in the room.

“Goodness James, you are not even aware of anything about yourself are you?” Maerre smiled as she patted his hand. Susan was standing behind the old lady, a smile from ear to ear and at the same time a look of incredulous delight on her face.

“It is early days James; I will help you learn if you wish to. Suffice to say, the pair of you are doomed” she smiled as she said this “so I say, learn to love each other completely. James, please Susan, each orgasm releases power you can drink, and for Susan, each time you bring her so, she soars and gets closer to the sun.”

Maerre looked at them both, shrugged “I spent my life looking for my chief James” she smiled more, leaned forward and kissed his lips, not like a maiden aunt “If it were that you were thirty years older”

That broke the spell, Susan laughed and Maerre joined in. James was learning to be less dumbfounded by these two and he just smiled. Maerre suggested that they should not stay with her that evening. With a wink to Susan her reason was that she needed her sleep and that the walls were paper-thin.

She went on to ask James whether it was possible for them to go to his home, to be as close to the thing as was possible. James agreed and had to admit to himself that he wanted Susan in his bed. They left with the plan to meet with Maerre the next morning. At the door, Maerre stopped them both, kissed them and handed them both a red velvet pouch each.

“Here, take these, you will know when the time is right to use them.”

* * * * * *

Susan was driving the way Susan drove and James just sat and accepted this new world of vehicular transportation. James was sure that Susan had never been told that the makers of this little car did not build it with an accelerator that needed to be held flat to the floor to make the thing go.

They arrived at his home. It was immaculately clean, cold and empty. He rang his wife who gave a perfunctory warning about any mess and was gone as quickly as the call had begun.

Susan stood behind James has he held the receiver at arms length the busy tone sounding. She put her arms around his chest. He stood six foot three and she a little over five foot so the embrace was gentle and soft and she seemed to fit into his shape as if they were cast in some master forger’s sandbox.

Her hands linked and he felt her moving gently against him, sparking warmth that ran through him like lava down the sides of Vesuvius. Yes Vesuvius is the one; they say it would travel at two hundred miles per hour and have a temperature of two thousand degrees. That is what it felt like.

“I am so sorry, James” she said and he knew she was.

“No, stuff it, Sue” he had started to use the diminutive “stuff it absolutely”. He turned and she returned to her embrace, this time against his chest.

“I love you, Sue” he said and he felt her sigh against him, her knees buckled and he felt her droop in his arms. She looked up, her eyes as gentle as silk against white bed sheets.

“Oh, James, I just have to hear you tell me that, it is wonderful. I can not understand how I feel for you but I need you to my very soul.”

They made love and slept arms and legs tangled. In the garden, a ray of moonlight, like it was focused from a torch, fell on the thing. The symbols had change further, the lid, now about five inches lifted, and given the unknown width, perhaps close to opening.

The crickets sang and in the distance a Loon sounded. They slept and dreamed.

* * * * * *

The smoke was from a hut and it was behind a hillock. The black man was standing at the door, beckoning James. As James approached he seemed to get nowhere although he was sure the man was smiling. The smile of a friend for sure, James was sure this was no nightmare. No Steven King twist, no rabid dog about to pounce and after ripping the black man’s throat out, running after and showing James that throat ripping is soft art compared to what he had in store for him.

No, this was a gentle place and James was sure it was good.

* * * * * *

The morning promised a dull breezy day. They lay together in the bed, Susan spooning into James’ side, her hand lazily across his chest, breasts pressing lightly against his ribs, her leg over his allowing his hip to set against her, a soft pressure that underlined their sexual feelings for each other.

Their talk had covered the insatiable need for sex they were both feeling and they agreed it needed no reason. Their talk other times was wonderful, both extremely intelligent, James realized now that his mind had just been sleeping for twenty years. Susan kissed his chest, brushing her lip over him.

“James, do you know the story of Fand?”

James said no, and Susan moved to be on her belly, her arms on his chest and her face on her hands looking at him. Doing so, her breasts pressed against his stomach and he could feel the tickle of her pubic hair against the top of his thigh, he loved how this princess made him feel.

“She was a faery queen, once married to Manannan Mac Lir. After he left her she was preyed upon by three Fomorian warriors in a battle for control of the Irish Sea. Her only hope in winning the battle was to send for Cu Chulainn who would only agree to come, if she would marry him. She reluctantly agreed, although when she met him, they both fell deeply in love.”

She smiled and continued.

“Manannan knew that the relationship between the human world and the faery world couldn't continue without eventually destroying the faeries. He blanked the memory of one from the other by drawing his magical mantle between them.”

“Fand was a sea Goddess who lived both in the Otherworld and on the Isle of Man. Together with Liban, her sister; she was a twin Goddess of health and earthly pleasures.”

Susan smiled. “Do you believe in faeries James?”

He smiled back.

She continued “Some scholars believe she was a native Manx deity who was absorbed in the Irish mythology. There was talk of the mantle being locked away from man and faery alike; hidden in a box so none could take it and break its spell; the spell that keeps Fand and Cu Chulainn apart.”

James moved to watch the eyes of his love, seeing the same wonderment he had gazed last night as the candles had played with them, as she had spoken of the magic and wonder of the world he was such a new comer to. Strange, he knew he accepted it completely.

“Maerre believes this Dolman holds the cloak; the mantle. She believes that our dreams are of those Gods. That this is faery magic you have uncovered.”

James smiled a smile that Susan had come to love, that look of, not skeptic but more so, OK, if it is, show me.

“Don’t think faeries are small things at the bottom of the garden” she smiled at the obvious pun “everything is capricious about them, even their size. They seem to take what size or shape pleases them.”

She smiled “Their chief occupations are feasting, fighting, and making love, and playing the most beautiful music. They have only one industrious person among them, the leprechaun; the shoemaker.”

Now she laughed “Perhaps they wear their shoes out with dancing. Near the village of Ballisodare there was a little woman who lived among them seven years. When she came home she had no toes; she had danced them off.” She laughed.

“When they are gay they sing. Many a poor girl has heard them, and pined away and died, for love of that singing. Plenty of the old beautiful tunes of Ireland are only their music, caught up by eavesdroppers.”

She moved, making warm feelings where she pressed “No wise peasant would hum "The Pretty Girl Milking the Cow" near a fairy rath, for they are jealous, and do not like to hear their songs on clumsy mortal lips. Carolan, the last of the Irish bards, slept on a rath, and ever after the fairy tunes ran in his head, and made him the great man he was.”

“Maerre is convinced this is faery magic James; the symbolism of the writing, the seven rows of seven. She believes that we are, no, were effected by the thing, but thank God, it was meant to be that we are one.” She moved again, both of them feeling the warmth of sexual need flowing through them “The reason for such shenanigans is to keep mortals employed in carnal pursuits and tire them out so their folly is not to interfere with the thing.”

She looked down for a second. “I thank God I found you.” James kissed her and the spark was complete. The rest was as it would always be, forever. Love made and needed to be made, spirits soaring and lifting with each orgasm, each touch, each thrust. It was just as it had to be; for this Fianna and her man.

* * * * * *

In the garden the Dolman groaned another time, the lid lifted and for the first time there was a gap, it stayed floating above the body of the thing, the symbols all the same now. It moved slightly and twisted in the air, resting over the edges, a faint hiss as air rushed in and fine dust left and floated away.

All around the parish that day, strange things would happen, dogs would howl and people would look at each other, pensively talking of the events. Occasionally folk would see the fine golden dust, an old lady crossed herself and repeat the rhyme for faeries near.

The dust would disperse. The Dolman was open.

* * * * * *

Maerre arrived later that morning. Her old green Morris 1000 chugged into James’ drive and rocked to sleep with a pre-ignition that James knew could be fixed if the poor old car was ever given an opportunity to be tuned.

They made morning tea, both showered and dressed and glowing. James loved the way neither of these women seemed to mind that he made a mess when he prepared it.

Remembering the cloths in the bedroom, strewn on and left on the floor, the bathroom with two puddles of water and a promise to clean it later, more so the bed left with love intertwined in the blankets and able to be revisited. God, he had forgotten how wonderful it was to live a mess and then once every day or two clean it up. He had forgotten how much fun it was to clean up the mess made.

They spoke with Maerre who was relaxed and dressed in a dark red jacket. He remembered what Susan was saying about the faeries last night, that the trooping fairies wear green jackets, the solitary ones; red.

He felt a certainty that this jacket had significance but left it at that.

“There is no doubt children” Maerre said to them both, Susan had since explained that the term was that of Druid teacher to pupils. Well obviously there was an old speak word, but children was as close as was needed “that this is a faery site, perhaps a rath of past times. Something must have happened to have caused them to leave and it must have been immediate because they would never have left this thing otherwise.”

“Mind you” Maerre pointed for emphasis “it may be that the one left it in trust may have been a red jacket, perhaps something happened to him and it has been left here undisturbed for all this time.”

Susan nodded and poured more tea.

“Is it?” Susan started to ask

“I’m more than sure it holds the mantle, Susan” Maerre cut her off.

“We will have to be careful about what we do with this.”

James seemed incredulous “But we are talking of mythology many thousands of years old.”  Maerre just smiled “James, time has no value in these matters, it is safe to say that the time it happened can be thousands of years ago, it could yet to happen, it may have just, and anything in between. Magic has no bounds that time can contain.”

With little further ado they went to the hole; to show Maerre the thing. The lid had turned so that it was about thirty degrees off plumb. It was open either side, dark inside.

“Christ, its open.” James said.

Susan stood beside James and grabbed his arm in surprise; Maerre beside them both nodding.

“I thought it would.”

James turned to her. “You knew it would open?”

“Yes, it was in the riddle. It seemed it was doomed to be closed until two with love bound souls were to touch it and take the task as their own.”

Maerre asked James to help her down into the hole, which he did. He was surprise at the sprightly gate of this octogenarian. Susan came down beside them and took James’ arm again. They stood back from the Dolmen, the lid appeared five inches thick; solid stone.

“So what is in it?” James asked, peering into the black void, seeing nothing but the way the place drank the day and gave nothing back.

“Magic James, it is hard to say. Perhaps nothing we can see. Perhaps whatever you believe you should see. It is not that important.” Maerre replied “Bottom line is that there is a lot of what ever it is, perhaps a lot of nothing.”

“One thing is for sure” the old lady said “it will be the answer to the troubles of the Lady Fand.”

“So what do we do now?” James asked.

Susan looked at Maerre and turned back to James saying “It is done James, now we wait and see.”

They went back to the house and sat and talked. Maerre told James and Susan both of the spell.

The box had been sealed and stored to keep the mantle intact. She explained that a lot of the words took on concrete terms but were not so. Of course there was no cloak you could touch. It was not so, but what it was was too hard to describe so mythology, using a word James had introduced with a smile, tended to take care of these anomalies by surrounding the concepts with concrete things.

“It was deemed that only lovers with a love as true as those cloaked would have the ability to open and break the spell.” She told them

“The box sensed you both and allowed you to fulfill the parameters. It was not too know that you were not at that stage but it could be argued that its presumption was a spark to your souls. I have no doubt your first time was because of the magic. Now your times are the magic. Each time you have made love it has lessened the lock on the thing.”

Maerre smiled for a moment. “You must be wonderful together to have had the effect you have had.”

“What about the thing?” James asked, feeling a need to change the course of the conversation; he was still not completely comfortable with the candor.

“I think you will find there is no thing James.” Maerre continued.

“It will be gone soon, leaving you a hole to fill.”

They laughed at that and the talk went on to other things.

“James?” Maerre said “what about you and Susan? What do you plan?”

James knew that this question would need to be answered. It was obvious it would have to be so. So he did.

“Maerre I want you to witness what I am about to say.” He turned to Susan, just the most beautiful lady he had ever seen, made more so now by the shining of her soul.

“I want to be with you forever Sue. We are and have always been. I am sure of that.”

Susan smiled and fell into his arms, Maerre clapped her hands together.

Maerre interrupted “James that is wonderful, I am so happy”.

The phone rang and the mood was broken.

CHAPTER THREE

As Maerre has suggested, and much to James’ continued amazement, the thing had gone by the early afternoon. He was not sure whether it was a gradual disappearance or a poof or what. But, as sure as eggs, it was not there. Now he understood why both Maerre and Susan were not that fussed about doing anything scientific with it, they both knew it would not last.

The day weaved its web around things. Maerre left, James a little amazed at the attitude that they would just have to see what happens. He wasn’t sure he knew what he expected. But he knew he expected something. Susan spent the afternoon with James. They talked, walked by the green, James not really worrying about too much of much at all.

He held her close and just kept doing so. They fitted like a puzzle, and its solution so logical both just wondered at the simplicity of it all. That evening they made love; this time in the lounge on the couch, James holding Susan, no urgency, no time, just that there and then. She below him, and just lost in the love for him she felt; their afterglow together, nude, attached, words, whispers in the dark room.

They slept together in the bed, not made from the morning and as comfortable as any James remembered. Sunday came, the time was just lazily moving. In the morning Susan made breakfast and they ate it watching the Sunday Magazine. Talk was not of anything except the now.

James understood why and he was engineering his thoughts so he could turn out the end result. It was obvious. To be with Susan would cost him his current life. She had never asked anything. He pondered his preparedness to acquiesce. He knew he should, could and would, he just felt that complete reliance one feels on things that have been for twenty years.

The afternoon was spent back to Susan’s flat. James would need his car for school in the morning and they decided that they would spend the Wednesday together given James’ pre-term exams over the Monday and Tuesday. He was not sure he could be without her for longer than he had known her and to make sure the memory would stay strong for both of them they made love once more.

She turned to him afterwards, the softness of her face a beacon to James in a sea of time past, and he knew then that he was lost to her and would honour his words exactly. That evening as he lay in his bed alone, as the early hours fed that day, his eyes heavy, he felt for Susan in his bed and sighed at the emptiness there, they way it had been for so many years.

* * * * * *

The cottage was made of rocks fitted with a patience that could only be found in eternity. Its roof thatched with heather and it was a gray highlight against a gray land.

James floated towards the building that had held his thoughts, the smoke sitting heavy on the ground, full of the aromatic peat used to fuel it. The door opened and the black man stood in the doorway beckoning.

James floated towards it and felt a need undeniable to be there. He heard the man; the words were a language of such beauty and music it sounded like a choir of angels.

Then the thoughts filled with the meaning of the sounds being heard.

“Come, friend, come. I have been waiting”

James next found himself inside the hut, it was filled with plants and roots drying and hanging, flasks and bottles and all manner of containers. A bed of timber and white linen in the corner and by the hearth a wooden bench and table, cooking utensils and food stuffs located away and above most other things.

The black man was tall, strong and handsome. His hair dark with eyes of piercing blue, this man was a warrior, a fighter, but with gentleness James could feel. He knew his friendship was absolute, eternal.

James now found he had form in this world and the tall man smiled. James noted he was his height, he extended his arm and as James went to shake, the other man seized his forearm and shook it vigorously.

“Sit, my friend there are things you must know. Things I have spent for ever wishing I had and did.”

James sat and the man poured a honey-coloured liquid onto two wooden mugs. It was meed; James had tasted it at an Olde English Village near Sheffield last year.

“My friend, you have given me back my life and my love.” He smiled to James who must have appeared dumbfounded because his new friend smiled knowingly.

“I am sorry, I have not introduced myself.” He stood and announced “I am Cu Chulainn leader of my people, warrior lord and protector of Fend.”

James remembered; the story of Fend, of course, the spell, the thing; no it was no longer a thing, the Dolman.

“But it is” James started

“Friend; James; there is much you do not keen, but will. Legend you were going to say, well legend is always there and thus it is. Its being is its body. I am here, you are here and you have allowed me to remember. I have not for so long and now I do.”

“James, the spell could only be changed. Not lifted. It is locked away and the Fey have taken it to hide it again. You see, you have given much to free me and my love. For this I am forever in your debt.”

James didn’t really understand but imagined he did so he supposed, given that he could reason that this was a dream and with the enlightenment of the past few days, that it was so.

“There is nothing I can give you to repay you. But there is one thing I can arrange.”

With that the man moved to a box over the hearth, black wood and engraved with symbols that were reminiscent of some he had seen at Maerre’s. He took from the box a charm on a leather thong. It was a Crescent Moon.

“James, the charm stands for the divine feminine principle of fertility. It is the strongest magic I can offer to afford you your memory of all of this.” The man handed it to James. “I am sure the mantle is covering you as we speak, you must fight for your time my friend.”

* * * * * *

The next morning James awoke and remembered hazy instances of the occurrence. Feeling like he was still in a dream he needed to reconcile events. After breakfast he walked to the hole, now empty; absurd in its emptiness.

He turned to walk away, a strange feeling of foreboding filling his soul, knowing that something was missing; a gap bigger than the hole behind. As his head turned something caught his eye. In the corner of the hole something was shining. James turned back and jumped down, feeling in the wet clay for the offending article. He pulled it gently from the mud and the Crescent Moon was in his hands.

His head spun, images and feelings, sensual feelings flooding, a voice, the man, “you must fight for your time” and then he realized that he had forgotten about Susan, completely. Now her image was before him, his mind’s eye completely focused on his angel, princess; lover. Christ she had gone, completely. Holding the charm James climbed out of the hole. He turned quickly; sure he had heard music coming from the woods over the creek; sweet, soft music, as loving as any he had heard and then it was gone.

The man in his dreams, the prisoner he had freed had returned in kind, and ten fold, the gift. To think he had almost lost the truest love he had ever felt. The magic now accepted for what it was. James decided there and then to go to Susan and take her as his; damn the consequences of it all.

* * * * * *

He tried Susan’s flat but it was empty. At the university her office was locked with a note to the effect that she would be gone for a week during the end of terms. James was distraught. She had to have had no memory of him. It had to be that way for she would never have gone without telling him. No, she would not have done so. He was sure.

His world was pressing in on him; compressing him to the size of an ant. His heart felt like lead and the feeling went to his gut, pressing it like a vice. “God no” he thought “no; not Susan, not now!”

She must be at Maerre’s, had to be. James drove far too quickly and arrived at the cottage in the early afternoon. As he pulled up he realized he had completely forgotten about his classes and the exams, but he thought damn it all. This was a quest Parcival would have considered greater than the Grail.

He was dedicated to all in front now. Like nothing else in his life. The cottage was locked up tight. The old Morris was in the shed with the doors held closed with a chain that may have held the Queen Mary to dock if needed.

James just hunched to his knees and rocked. “For f**k’s sake no; I am not giving up without a fight you b******s” he yelled out load “not by a long shot.”

Where the bloody hell would they be? He was sure that Maerre and Susan were together; they had to be. Surely Maerre would know about the spell. It’s attachment power. Christ, he felt like a sin-eater. Damn the “thing” to hell then his frustration allowed reason. Without it there would be no Susan.

“Think, James, will you” he said to himself. He walked back to his car looking down in a pose that may have looked dejected, but it was his way of concentrating, looking at his feet.

* * * * * *

Maerre’s garden was full of herbs and plants of strange extraction. Its border was terra-cotta shapes arranged in a pattern that James was sure meant something. He was not looking at them in particular, just looking down. He almost missed the ring-in. In the centre of the border to his left was one tile that didn’t run in the pattern. It was larger than the others and was burning a hole in his mind. The Crescent Moon shape was in relief, almost a perfect copy of the charm he now held loosely in his left hand.

A quick scan of the rest of the borders showed that no other tiles of this kind existed. He kneeled and studied it. Touching it, it moved, and James could see it was loose. He lifted it and was surprised at its weight. Putting it to one side he noticed there was a silver charm the same as the one he held in his hand and a piece of paper. It was parchment, not modern paper and it had one word written on it.

Salisbury.

“Damn, this will be all right.” He said to no one in particular, smiling as he did.

* * * * * *

The drive to Salisbury was reasonably direct. It was to the south so he was traveling against the traffic and decided to stay off the motorway. He was not sure why he did that, just that it felt right. Situated on the River Avon, Salisbury is located southwest of London, Stonehenge about another twelve miles further, on the Salisbury plains. James pondered what he knew of the place on his drive into the early evening.

The site was believed to date back as far as twenty-eight hundred BC. The pre-historic inhabitants of the region used it as a religious or ceremonial center. It was originally encircled by a ditch and had an entrance on the northeast side. Inside the ditch were a ring of fifty-six pits that were eventually used to bury cremated remains. Outside of the entrance were a huge, upright Heel Stone and a wooden gate. It was deemed to be a Druid temple, God how much he’d learnt in the past three days.

Where would they be? S**t, Salisbury had a population of on hundred thousand. Driving through the town he decided to go on to the place. At least the solitude would help him to get all there was to get into perspective.

Three days ago his life was incredibly different; boring, but different. Now, he was on a quest. A quest so desperate that he was sure he would die heart-broken if he lost his love. Susan would be made to remember him. That was absolute. Then, well then, time would out. Whatever; it would.

The evening was now established. The headlights lit the road and James could see the plains were just that, flat and uninviting. He saw the shapes on the horizon; the uprights reaching into the air like the fingers on an old cricket glove, the moonlight filling them with a ghostly reality.

He pulled off the road and drove up the path. The Citroen was parked alongside about eight other vehicles. James was beyond any hope of words when he saw it.

He pulled in beside the other cars and was in such a hurry to get out of the car his foot slipped off the clutch and he stalled it as it rocked its front wheels into the drainage ditch that ran along the fence. He ran along the path towards the monument and the people gathered by the site of the wooden gate.

Immediately James could make out Maerre’s figure, Susan standing beside her. He ran up, his breath exhausted. Not able to speak, doubled at the waste gulping air.

Maerre smiled “Thank the Gods you are here” she touched James’ shoulder and he fell his breath swell back into him. The crowd and Susan had moved on, oblivious to James’ arrival. Well perhaps not oblivious, but not interested in recognizing it.

“Susan” James called but Maerre held his arm and stopped in cold.

“James, listen to me. We need to talk right now.”

He nodded, knowing full well that Maerre’s talk would be honest and informed.

“Yes we do; I suppose.”

Now he felt crestfallen and followed Maerre to a tourist seat by the side of the track.

“We are here to thank the full moon James” she said and smiled. “Don’t worry, no sacrifices or virgins my love”

James just nodded, the joke not even registering. His eyes were on Susan in the dark distance, a shape against the infinity of the black.

“Do you love her James?” she asked “I mean, really love her; love her enough to give everything for?”

He nodded, was about to speak and Maerre put her finger against his lips to silence him.

“Listen to me carefully.” She moved so she could look in his eyes.

“We both know about the spell transferring. I knew it would happen. Mind you, it had to happen. The very premise of its creation is as real today as it was then.”

“What, to keep mortals and faeries apart” James mentioned with a little of what sounded like sarcasm in his voice.

“Yes James, to do just that” she smiled “think about the spell, what was it doing.”

He pondered and then repeated to her that it was designed to make the lovers of legend forget so that he, a mortal, would not become entwined with the faery princess, the fear being that the match would be too destructive. Notwithstanding, James asked Maerre whether one agenda might have been jealousy.

She laughed and said, “You are very perceptive James. Yes, that is a question I have asked often. Anyway, the reason is not important, the spell has bound.”

“Right now, Susan has no recollection, as tight in the spell as you would and should have been” she looked at him “you remember, the man in your dreams helped you didn’t he?”

James nodded, explaining to Maerre his dream and the charm; asking her about her use of the crescent moon tile. She just smiled and said “There is a lot you will get to understand if you choose to James, but now you have a very, no two, very important decisions to make.”

He sat forward a little. The group had disappeared in the gloom that was this summer’s night on Salisbury Plains. He nodded. “I have made the decisions Maerre; can you get Susan back for me?”

“No James, only you can do that” Maerre tapped his leg “the cost is large, more so than you possibly realize at this point.”

“But surely you can reverse this spell, aren’t you a magician, a; damn, what’s the word; mage? Yes, mage.”

“I am sort of those things James, but you have got to understand that there is a limit to what I can do. The spell’s reasons are sound, you” she then stopped, looked at him, a look of realization spreading across her face “My Gods, you haven’t realized yet have you…”

James looked at the lady, her years softened in the moonlight, seeing a beautiful person and seeing a truly lovely lady that youth would have presented.

“What?”

“James, think about the legend” Maerre smiled “think of the elements of it, why were you and Susan chosen. No, not choose, why did you and Susan fit the spell?”

“I don’t know; we touched it I suppose.”

She shook her head. “No, think James, Toby touched the thing, he has not been out making love to the first lady he saw has he?”

James laughed, “Well, any road, it would not be a lady he would be chasing, Maerre.”

Maerre laughed at that “Oh, I see. Then think why you two have taken the burden of the mantle.”

“Damn it Maerre, I haven’t got a clue, I am sick to my heart that I will lose Susan and you are playing twenty questions with me. God I don’t know, I’m tall, she’s short; we’re fantastic in bed; we both love Led Zeppelin” he gave a look to the stars as if seeking some divine intervention “God I don’t know; I mortal, she’s a faery queen”

Maerre smiled at this point; just smiled. James stopped mid word from his frustrated diatribe. Looked at the lady, she nodded.

“Yes James, that’s the one.”

“You’re; no your not are you; joking I mean?”

“James, I would never joke about this, it is too important for you both; too wonderful and far too sad at the same time. This sweet child is doomed to be with you James. She is at this time locked to you in a way that only the two of you know. The magic has stolen that from her and I can sense that she will wither and die without it.” She touched his cheek and made him look up to her eyes.

“You have to decide James. You see, she will never be allowed to be with you living as one here. There is no way a mortal could be accepted and the spell knew that. Jealousy may have been an element of the spell but its common sense is not questioned by the Fay, never has been.”

He looked at her with a look that said “s**t s**t s**t”.

“Know something James, for you and Susan to be, you have to make the decision and the sacrifice. There is nothing she can do about this. It is not possible for her to change do you see. She is what she is; in her world a lady born to rule. She is visiting here, to learn the way of we mortals. I have been trusted her care for this cycle.”

Maerre smiled and stood, “Come walk with me unless we lose the others.” They stood and walked on.

“Maerre, can I do something, what do I have to do?”

“Oh James you can do something for sure, and what you have to do is; no let me explain. During history, the Faeries have had a perchance to truck mortals at times. To accept special individuals to their fold and use what the mortals have to offer to them.”

She pondered for a moment. “Use is the wrong word, for both parties benefited, perhaps utilize is better. Any road, the greatest Faery leaders have always been of Faery and mortal parents. It is known that the mortal brings something of the mortality of their race to the equation that offers the faery an understanding beyond the Fey”

“Why Fend and Cu Chulainn were never offered the choice is beyond me, truly that must have been jealousy for there is rarely any problem with the faeries accepting any mortal that has been chosen, either sex.”

“Chosen?” James asked, just a hint of irritation in his voice.

Maerre smiled “Forget whether Susan has fallen for you and is panting after you like a love sick puppy James, her people will see it as she choosing you, no time for male libido and sensibilities in this.”

“Your choice is simple, you have to decide whether you want to be her mortal and, she, your faery. The cost is simple; you have to leave your world. The Charm of Making evoked and you moved to their plane; to live under their lore and laws and to be at one with their world.”

James nodded, understanding the weight of the questions Maerre had asked before.

“Now, you will still be able to travel this world with Susan but you will not be mortal. You become a sort of honorary Fey, beyond mortal in many ways. You and Susan would be free to live and love and be as man and wife and I do mean wife for the Fey will accept you only if you are betrothed.

“And James, do not do this if you are not prepared to be so. It will destroy Susan if it is not absolute. Prior to the spell she asked me of whether you were the one. As we took you into yourself the other night I saw a power and goodness in you that made me say yes. You have to either prove or disprove me now.”

James stopped and stood perfectly still. His mind spinning, then a single thought filled it. Susan’s nude form, her hips locked against his; her orgasm like the songs of a thousand minstrels sounding in his ears. The softness he felt as she moved gently milking it for all its worth, the warmth as her moisture covered him, then the look she gave as she stared into his eyes “I love you James; oh how I do.”

He turned to Maerre “God woman, there is no choice, what do I have to do?”

The old lady took James’ face in her hands. “You have done most of it right now. Do you have the pouches I gave you?”

James rooted around in the pocket of his jacket and removed them. Inside were two rings, hearts held in hands; and a crown over, the gold soft and real.

“James, these are Claddagh Rings. The two hands represent friendship, the crown, loyalty and the heart, love. Wearing the Claddagh Ring, for someone who is spoken for, the heart should be closest to the heart and therefore points up the arm. For those seeking their one true love and want the world to know they are available the crown should point up the arm, showing that the heart is available for that special someone.”

“Put one on James, the heart up the arm.” He slipped the bigger of the two over his ring finger and it fitted perfectly. Absentmindedly he removed his wedding band. The old woman spoke a word or two in a tongue James did not understand.

His hand felt hot and then the ring glowed bright in the night. A sensation flew through him and all around the world was aflame with all manner of pyrotechnics. A ball of pure white light appeared and sat on his palm. Maerre told James to place the other ring into the centre of it and the ring floated above his palm in a sea of white fire.

The sheer brilliance of it all filled his eyes and James lost all night vision. As the display reduced and dimmed, he made out the shapes of the group standing in a circle around him. Maerre at the top, or north quarter and the rest around, hands held and arms spread. Susan was to the South and watching with a smile, yet one detached, interested but not applied to any of it.

Finally the lights dropped, and, as his rods and cones fought to find focus, the darkness appeared stronger. All around the music was as light as a breeze, the voices grew and a throng gathered. Until the press was heads as far as the eye could see.

James focused and realized that many hundreds of faces all watched him now. Susan’s eyes burnt with a far away look, the look of memories trying to fight with the conscious mind to be given time.

Maerre whispered a few words and a silence descended so rapidly that the wind could be heard blowing around the portals of the monument. The moon shone now with an unnatural brightness that was giving an air to it all that was ghostly yet alive beyond words.

Maerre touched James gently “The ring James.”

James walked toward Susan, her eyes wider now, a shine that he had glimpsed once before, as he came back from the meditation in the room. He stood before her.

“Susan” he whispered in a voice so soft that only she would have heard it and took her right hand, her slender fingers held open and across his upturned palm. She watched him now with an eagerness that was born of the sub-conscious love she felt albeit with out conscious reason.

He took the ring and slipped it onto her ring finger. Not a word was said, not a sound made.

The same light was cast upon proceedings, immediately filling the space with a brilliance that was unworldly; Susan’s face shone from it, her eyes wide with expectation then completely wide with recognition.

“James. Oh my love” she yelled moving forward to take him into her arms. He reciprocated holding her so tight to him they felt like they were melting together.

“Susan, I can never ever let you go, I love you with all my heart” He whispered in her ear.

At that moment a great whoop filled the gathering and from all around strains of Celtic music lifted into the air. The lovers stayed together for an eternity. Time was now still, not moving, except the now which stayed and went and was and was to be.

“I too my prince” Susan said to him, a love so real on her face it made his heart ache to think it was for him “will you be my king?” He agreed and they kissed with a passion that was now beyond that he felt in a mortal sense. Now, James was no longer that. The Fey had accepted his presence and from this time on he was one.

The night went on and on until the singing and dancing was done. A feast appeared but James didn’t even wonder where from or why, it was, so be it. Susan introduced James to so many of the Fey he ended up loosing track of it all and fell asleep to the sounds of music that would never be heard by you and I.

* * * * * *

When he awoke, the sun was shining through the window of the bedroom. The drapes open and the bedclothes a mess. He sat bolt upright, in the bed; alone, back in his house, his empty, lonely, boring bed.

“No” he yelled with a voice he never knew he had “God no, no it is not a dream.”

* * * * * *

He sat in the kitchen, head on his hands; a cup of black instant coffee steaming up. Disheveled and crest fallen, a silent tear hitting the lip of the cup and finding its way into the coffee and spreading like a spiral web.

The telephone rang, its shrill voice thumping him on the back like some school yard bully at the tuck shop. It rang and rang. James was loath to answer the thing. He stood, went to the wall phone and took the receiver to his ear.

“Hello?” he said.

“James?” the voice asked softly.

“Oh God Susan?”

“Yes darling” she said urgently, as if she sensed his souls pain “I’m so sorry, I was to be back before you awoke, I got caught up with some organizations and am with Maerre, Darling, please forgive me; you must have thought. No, James, never I promise never; now.”

He sighed with a relief that he had never felt before in his life. They made small talk for a few minutes, Susan explained that the ceremony would need to be held at the next crescent moon and that she would, no, had to be with him today, her need for his touch was filling her thought as every minute continued. She told him that her love was her focus and she was ready to give herself to him totally.

He hung up the receiver…

* * * * * *

Sitting there, humming “Cross Town Traffic”, he knew it was the way it should be.

“James my boy, it’s fine, really” he said to no-one in particular “its fine.”

Cross Town Traffic so hard to get through to you

Cross Town Traffic I don’t need to run over you

Cross Town Traffic

He picked up the telephone and dialed. The phone rang and then was answered. James nodded at the sound of the voice, good he thought.

“Sarah, its James” his wife sighed at the mention of his name “I need to talk to you; about us.”

 

Author's Note

This is really a novella I suppose; perhaps a very long short story. Come and have a look at just how life changing gardening can really be.