Marei - book one. Part three: Shadow. Chapter 23

As two couples hand in hand, we left the pole as it was slowly being approached by the increasing tide and made our way through the encampments to our cook fire for dinner. Grandmother and Gurek laughed all through the preparation of the meal as they attempted to do with only two hands what they usually accomplished with four hands. Claudius and I finally had to release hands to assist them when Gurek turned to the fire and Grandmother turned to the store pile and they almost spilled the stew they were comically preparing.

We finally sat together to eat dinner and clean up the mess. Claudius sat close to me on a large piece of drift wood we were using as a makeshift bench, though he did not hold my hand again that night. When we were almost finished, Maeve approached and placed her hand on Claudius’ shoulder.

He started in surprise at her touch but smiled at her shyly when he recognized her. As she sat down closely next to him, pressing the side of her body against his and placing one hand territorially on his thigh, he looked at me, eyes wide. After the intimacy of sharing both fear and comfort, I knew instinctively what he was trying to express and smiled my forgiveness. His eyes searched my face and I very carefully did not allow the disappointed ache in my chest to show as I shrugged and slid away from him on the log.

Somehow I knew that though I was unable to participate in the events of the night, there would be more opportunities to share the connection that had begun weaving us together that afternoon. I felt certain that regardless who he shared the warm evening with, any imprint left on him by that woman would be as fleeting as writing in the sand at low tide. I felt as if he were mine already, that all I had to do was wait until such time as I was able to fully claim him, and that he too felt the unspoken agreement between our souls. We had only to continue the charade of separation until my Shadow term was completed.

Maeve stood and tugged gently at Claudius’ hand so he would follow her. Again he looked to me and I nodded once at him, feeling as if I were giving him permission. He bowed his head slightly and flashed a full, boy-like grin that swelled my heart to bursting. I couldn’t help but smile in return, then he put his hand in Maeve’s and was gone into the descending dusk.

Not long after they had gone, John rang the large silver bell to signify the beginning of the Beltane circle. Gurek and Grandmother, still bound with the red ribbon from the handfasting, walked together to where the Beltane bonfire was blazing up into the darkening sky. I followed at as much of a distance as I could manage, keeping a watchful eye out for Claudius and Maeve.

When we reached the circle, we took our places in a huge ring of people that was surrounding a five foot diameter. The sky had darkened so quickly and the light from the bonfire was so bright that we couldn’t see the faces of the people on the other side of the fire pit; all we could see were the shadows. I was struck by the image that to the people across the circle, all I looked like was the shadow I was supposed to be mimicking. I could only clearly see those within ten feet of me on either side, though over one hundred people had gathered around the fire. The anonymity of the shadows lent me a feeling of both safety and unreality.

John and Ursa, the high priest and priestess for the day, were presiding over this ritual as well. When all had assembled together they cast the protective barrier of energy that kept the negative at bay. Ursa stepped into the circle of light cast by the bonfire and began circling it sun-wise, slowly. Her dress was pale in the fire light and fluttered like leaves and she was wearing the wreaths from the top of the May pole on her head. Her long pale blond hair was flowing freely around her shoulders and fragrant flowers had been woven into tiny braids. She was singing a low crooning song that raised the hairs on the back of my neck as it echoed into the night, punctuated only by the cracks and pops of the central fire. As she sang, Caentigern Strachan stalked into the center of the circle, trailing Ursa by a few steps.

Caentigern had been chosen to be the May Queen’s Consort for the previous year’s Beltane when Maeve had been the priestess for the day. During the ritual, he had strapped deer antlers to his head and protected the May Queen when last years Consort failed; symbolically replacing the old with the new. This year it was he who was playing the role of the old lover who would be thrown down to make way for the new. Again he had strapped deer antlers to his head and was dressed in only a deer hide cape and loin cloth.

I watched in fascination as the age old scene of rebirth and replanting was enacted at the center of the circle. Ursa was still crooning, beckoning for Caentigern to draw closer to her, and closer to the fire where the central altar had been placed. Confidently, he began to stalk closer to her, coming within arms reach of her tantalizing dance when the haunting sound of wolves howling broke through the mesmerizing tune. Ursa’s song stopped in mid stanza, as Caentigern froze in place, head swiveling to all dark corners for the source of the sound. The hair on the back of my neck rose as the howling sounded again, closer this time.

From all around the circle the wolves attacked. Men with wolf pelts pulled low over their faces scurried on hands and feet towards the center where Ursa and Caentigern were stationed. She cried out in fear; a sound that cut into my heart. All around me through the circle I could hear other women’s sharp intake of breath at the terrified noise the helpless woman made as the wolves drew near.

The Consort spun around with a snort and bared his powerful chest to the attacking Wolves, placing himself between the attackers and his Lady. As the Wolves approached, they sprang at Caentigern, snarling and growling, teeth slashing at his throat as they tried to kill the protector of the Sacred Lady. He lashed out with his mighty antlers and hooves, knocking aside Wolves with powerful blows that drove them to their knees. Some of the Wolves did not rise again, but others were merely momentarily stunned and rose again to race in for another attack.

The Beloved Consort fought valiantly, with his Sacred Lady singing a powerful warrior’s song to lend him the strength and blessing of the Goddess. The group gathered around the scene joined the warrior’s song, sending the cry echoing along the beach and into the starlit night. A great cone of energy began to spiral in from the circle of souls surrounding the enactment. The Consort cried out, a powerful rallying cry of triumph and intention as he struck at the Wolves again and again, defending his Lady from the violent death that awaited her at their gaping jaws. Yet even filled with the light of the warrior God, his Powerful blows could not dispatch all the Wolves. Again and again the Wolves’ teeth and claws found their marks as they leaped and slashed at his muscled body until he was dripping with blood and stagering. The Sacred Lady shrank from the carnage, closer to the protection of the central fire as her Consort fell to his knees, bleeding from the throat and belly from the vicious attacks. The warrior’s chant stopped with a stunned collective intake of breath as he fell.

As the Consort wove and struggled to regain his footing to defend his Lady to the death, the Wolves encircled the pair. Four of the Wolves remained from the pack that had started the attack; at least half a dozen more lay dead on the ground around the Consort. In unison the wolves howled into the silence, an eerie, hungry sound that raised the hairs on my arms. The Lady was crying, reaching out to her Beloved Consort as he rose heroically for one final stand against the attackers. For a long moment, silence descended on the hideous tableau; the Lady’s proud sorrow, the Consort’s steadfast bravery and the Wolves intimidating perseverance. Then suddenly, the attack.

All four Wolves rushed forward at once. The largest of the four raced straight towards the Consort, howling a triumphant battle cry. With one mighty leap into the air, the Wolf landed on the Consort, sharp teeth connecting with tender flesh on his neck. The Consort fell. As he fell, the remaining three Wolves raced past the martyred hero towards the Sacred Lady. She fell to her knees, arms raised to the sky, and cried out a prayer imploring the Goddess to save her from the Wolves.

From behind her in the shadows of the fire leaped a Powerful horned figure; bare chested, wearing only the deer skin loin cloth. The antlered man jumped across the five foot flaming pyre in defense of the Sacred Lady. His leap propelled him through the gateway of her open arms and directly in front of her just as the Wolves reached the same spot. Startled by the new arrival, the Wolves faltered and the Stag King plowed into them with his mighty antlers and hooves, driving them back from the center of the circle, past where the Consort had fallen.

With each mighty blow from the Stag King, a Wolf fell and did not rise. Finally, there were none left alive but the largest of the Wolves who had sacrificed the Consort. He backed slowly away from the Stag King, who lowered his head as if to ram the Wolf. As the Stag King galloped forward to kill the Pack Leader, the Pack Leader sprang forward to intercept the blow. The Stag King ducked and turned, impaling the Wolf in mid air with his sharp antlers. For a moment he stood tall and proud with the Wolf’s carcass still stuck in his antlers, then with a mighty shake he tossed the dead Wolf to the ground with the others.

The Stag King turned to the Sacred Lady. While he had been fighting, she had rushed to the side of her Beloved Consort, who lay dying, covered in his own blood. Tears ran down her face as she struggled to hear the final words of her lover. We all leaned forward in careful silence with her.

“I die now because one year’s stores are not enough to stave off the wolves of a second winter; they must be supplemented with fresh meat, new harvests, new loves. The harvest of this season is not yet upon us; only now we plant the tiny seeds that will sprout and grow into that which will sustain us through the long winter months next year. Until you have a new harvest, my love, I give my body to you, to sustain you through the summer.” The Beloved Consort gestured to the King Stag, beckoning him to come near.

“Each season knows a new hero. Last season it was I who saved you from the fury of the Wolves. Now when I die to sustain your body, you must have a new Consort to sustain your soul. I give my son to you, the King Stag, the Sun Bringer, to warm your Earthen body through the summer months and bring about a bountiful harvest to keep you safe and well through the long winter nights of next year.”

The King Stag knelt before the Sacred Lady, bowing his head low. Gently, the Lady kissed her dying Consort, her sweet water tears falling on his bloody face. From her lips, the song of mourning rose with the smoke from the fire as his soul rose into the night sky, to take his place among the fallen heroes in the stars. Tears were running down my cheeks as she caressed his ashen face and held his lifeless body to hers. When she had finished the lament, she kissed her consort again and rose to face the center altar.

The Lady threw her hands up into the air, thanking the Goddess for providing for her life and her needs. She collected a silver plate and chalice as well as a small silver dagger from the altar and brought them back to the Consort. With practiced strokes, she cut his tender flesh into strips and placed them on the silver tray. Holding the goblet to his side, she collected his blood and placed it next to the silver tray.

She intoned a blessing over both the containers and brought the tray to the circle of silent witnesses. One by one we all ate a piece of the Sacred Stag, the Beloved Consort and drank a sip of his Blessed Sacrificial Blood. Though I knew that it was only illusion and suggestion coupled with sleight of hand, the bittersweet taste of the salted wine made me shudder and I could barely chew the tiny piece of meat from the carefully preserved stag that had been ritually hunted and prepared months before this ceremony.

From across the circle, the sweet sound of the marriage song floated on the night breeze. The Sacred Lady returned the offering to the fire, pouring the remaining blood into the fire to blaze a bright blue as it burned. The remains of the meat were tossed into the fire as well and as the marriage song continued to play, the scent of roasting venison filled the circle. The Sacred Lady dipped a pure white cloth into a shining bowl of water on the altar and returned to where the Stag King still waited, kneeling. Tipping his face up so she could see it, she gently washed his wounds.

She removed the deer skin cape that the Consort was wearing and draped it around the shoulders of the Stag King. He stood, facing the Lady as she spoke. “Your bravery has saved me. I take you as my Beloved Consort until such time when you will be called upon to feed my people with your flesh and blood. Come with me and sow the seeds of a new year.” The Beloved Consort bent to kiss the Lady as the marriage song drew to a close.

The Sacred Lady turned to the corpses that littered the center of the circle and called to them, “at death, it is only the body that dies. The soul continues on, being reborn again and again as the spring flowers die and are reborn. Rise up now, and join us again, reborn into our midst as men!”

As a group they began to move, shrugging off the skins of their old selves, washing away the wounds of their staged deaths. The Wolves and the Former Consort stood together as men, without antlers and hooves, without claws and muzzles, their costumes as carcasses still on the ground. The circle cheered as they stood proudly around the fire, displaying faces that were known to all present.

With a hoot of triumph, Caentigern took three steps backwards and ran at the fire, leaping over the blazing white coals and through the crackling flames. Howling their wild wolves cry, the others followed like a stream of bodies across the fire. With each successful leap, the circle stomped their feet, whistling and cheering until the cacophony of sound carried out across the ocean and echoed against the cliffs under the House.

The Sacred Lady raised her hands to the sky in benediction, crying out a blessing to all who were present, and to all who were not. She blessed the unions today with compassion and consideration. She blessed those who broke apart with fresh perspective and continued hope. She blessed the wombs of the women and the seed of the men with fruitfulness. “Now go forth, you blessed beings of the God and Goddess. Take my blessing with you and sow the seeds of life with your passionate cries of pleasure. Your voices raised in the union of body and soul will carry on the wind to the four corners of the earth in benediction. The sweat from your naked bodies as it drips upon the Earth’s flesh will sanctify her for the new years crop. Join your bodies tonight in memory of the Sacred Lady and her ever changing Consort. May we all know the pleasures that they experience.”

Ursa untied the antlers from John’s head and replaced them with one of the wreaths she had been wearing. Together they cried out, “As above, so Below!”

“So mote it be!” The circle responded in unison to the end of the ritual. As John Ursa released the energetic borders that had been drawn at the beginning of the circle, couples paired off and disappeared happily into the woods.

Grandmother and Gurek made their way through the crowd to the area where we had been tenting, then continued beyond into the woods where soft beds of moss and fragrant pine needles were abundant. Still bound as Grandmother’s shadow, I followed them into the quiet of the forest. As we slipped under the shadows of the tall pines, I thought I heard Maeve’s distinctive throaty chuckle to our left. Though I peered into the shadows, I could see nothing; but now I could only think of Claudius.

As Grandmother and Gurek celebrated their handfasting in the traditional manner, I laid on my back looking up through the canopy at the stars. I had been witness to many night time excursions and felt that they deserved a modicum of privacy to celebrate this occasion. The sounds of pleasure drifted on the breeze from all corners and the breeze seemed to intensify in response.

My head was reeling from all that had happened today. Not only had Grandmother decided that we should be parted, and that my apprenticeship would continue with someone I did not know, but Claudius had both noticed and needed me. I took the memory of his hand on mine out to examine, running the fingers of one hand against the other where his hand had held mine. With only the slightest amount of effort I could recall exactly how comforted I felt leaning my head against his arm. My skins memory had been imprinted by his touch and as if his ghost were here, I could feel the pressure of his arm against mine, and his fingers wrapped around mine.

Inside me, the feeling of certainty had stayed, bolstered by the intensely strong memories of his touch. Surely if I could feel him this strongly when we were apart, I must not be mistaken at the depth of feeling when we were together. I hugged myself tightly as the swell of love threatened to overtake my entire being; bursting out of my fingers and toes, streaming from my hair like golden rays of magickal light. I loved him. I gasped at the realization, but I knew it to be true, to the depth of my soul. I loved him.

In that almost quiet moment as my soul shook to the core with the new door of emotion that had been opened, I knew both fear and ecstasy. In that almost quiet moment, I knew that he loved me too. And with a certainty I cannot to this day explain, I knew that he would become mine, body and soul, and that I would be the hand that healed him.