Marei - book one. Part three: Shadow. Chapter 16

Yule came and went, a jolly rollicking celebration which brought the Woodsman family up the hill, and brought Gurek from his house in town to be a permanent resident of the House on the Hill. I had my second taste of sweet honey mead, this batch so smooth in taste that the alcohol was not noticeable until I got up to dance to John’s drumming and found that my feet were not as I had left them. With much laughter, Ursa and Gurek jumped up and danced with me, spinning me around until my head swam and the world took on a warm rosy glow.

In the cold snowy weeks after Yule, Grandmother’s early morning sickness lessened and she began to eat as if she were two people. Luckily, Gurek had brought several weeks worth of fine meats and barrels of grains when he came to stay with us, so there was never a lack of food for her to happily eat.

She and Gurek radiated joy whenever they were together, which was virtually every minute of the day. Without moving his forge, Gurek was not able to do his work as a smith, but he proved to be quite talented carving and repairing wooden objects as well. He spent any time when he was not touching his new wife carving intricate designs into the wooden objects in the magick room, and maintaining or repairing anything around the house he could get his hands on. He carved several well defined animal shapes from blocks of fire wood to give to the baby once he or she was born.

Nights were warm and loving, even though I could not, by convention, be included in the conversation. Dinner was always followed by time spent creating, sewing, crafting. Grandmother was teaching me how to spin lengths of carded wool into fine threads we could use to create fabrics for clothes. Looking back now, that was the last time I truly felt as if I were at home, and loved by family. That winter saw the last vestiges of my innocence.

As the weeks passed, the days began to become slightly longer again. This winter was milder than last winter, with few heavy storms and less rain or snow to pound against the roof, building into cold slushy puddles around the house as we made our way to the well to collect water. We lost few sinhgles from the roof from the wind. Grandmother’s belly had gotten slightly more round as the child grew within it. Often Gurek would rest his hand on her growing stomach and sigh contentedly, kissing his new wife.

At Imbolc, the circle gathered outside in the dark and cold in a procession of candles around the woods grove; frosty voices breathing warm mist sang songs of pleading to the sun, begging it to return and warm the earth with its touch.

In the bleak of midwinter it was easy to forget that the days of summer were long and warm, and that you would soon be able to move around outside, leaving behind the confinement of the house. Tempers grew short as we came out of a mild winter into a winter determined to leave its mark before spring’s thaw. The snow that had been missing during the Yule and Imbolc season appeared all at once in a three day blizzard.

After three days and nights of nothing but gray swirled with fat white flakes, there was so much snow that half of the house could not be seen from the outside. Using plates and bowls, Gurek and I pushed aside the clinging, sticky snow and cleared a path to the hen house and the outhouse. We first checked on the animals in the shed and found to our relief that they were fine. The goat was angry since she had not been milked for so long that her teats were full and sore from over stretching. She had to be bribed with half a loaf of bread to keep her from knocking down the milk bucket or nipping while she was being milked. The hens had kept laying eggs and though the amount of snow was amazing, it had insulated the outside of the shed and because of the body heat of the animals contained within, the shed had stayed warm enough so the eggs had not frozen. We collected more than a dozen eggs and took them inside to Grandmother, correctly guessing that she would want more hard boiled eggs with seeds.

The snow was gone almost as quickly as it came. It lingered, tightly packed and snow ball sticky for almost a week until a warm breeze blew in from off the ocean below the cliffs. The warm breeze smelled of spring and of flowers and within the same amount of time it took to build up the heaping mounds of snow, all of it melted, turning the yard into slippery dark mud.

Though the snow was quickly here and gone, the mud lingered through the moon between Imbolc and Ostara and even beyond. As the moon rounded and filled again after the night of darkness the yard remained saturated by the puddles left behind after the snow melted. Gurek and I drew lots to determine who would have to wade through the muck to fetch more water from the well. It was a good natured competition and neither of us was disappointed, even when it was our lot to fetch the water from the well, slipping and sliding in the ooze and spilling half of what we had drawn during the slick return walk.

Ostara fell just after the full moon and the circle again convened at the House on the Hill. Grandmother’s pregnant belly was beginning to really show now, stretching tight across the front the fabric of her traditional ritual clothes. Malina, one of the other women of the circle was strained almost to bursting with a baby that had been planted within at the previous summer’s circle. She had carefully made the slippery trip up the muddy hill to Grandmother for assistance in birthing the baby. She said she had seen the sign and knew it would be within a ten day.

Grandmother was skilled at midwifery as well as all the other talents she put to use daily. Gurek made a pallet for me to sleep on and gave the more comfortable bed to Malina while she stayed with us until the baby was born. Only three days after Ostara, we heard a cry in the night that brought both Grandmother and myself sitting straight up from dead sleep, then rushing to the room next door to find that Malina was soaked to the skin in a liquid that smelled similar to the wetness produced between my legs when I was not bleeding.

Quickly but without hurry, Grandmother fetched a large basin and a bucket of hot water from the hearth, as well as several lengths of clean linens and a jar of mixed herbs and dried flowers. Once in the room, she dumped a small portion of the herbal mix into the bucket of steaming water and helped Malina remove the wet clothing she had been wearing.

She sent me out to toss a handful of the signal herbs on the central fire and fetch a fresh bucket of water from the well for Malina to drink. I hurriedly did both and by the time I returned from the well, Ursa had crested the hill on the brown horse she and John shared.

She waved a cheery greeting at me, forgetting that I was not supposed to be spoken to. “Hello lass! Malina’s fixin’ to birth, is she?” I grinned, but said nothing and she laughed a laugh big enough to match her giant of a husband. Together we tethered her horse to the goat’s usual post and entered the house.

Grandmother had lit several candles and Gurek had stoked the fire high so the house was almost steaming warm. As Ursa and I entered the door, he was on his way out to bring in another heaping arm load of wood, ready to burn. From the back bedroom came the sounds of two women talking quietly.

Ursa and I pushed past the door way curtain and entered the room where Malina and Grandmother were engaged in conversation. Malina was sitting calmly on the side of the bed with Grandmother’s hands resting on the tight swell of her belly. Grandmother was feeling carefully around in a circle on the stomach, pressing here, prodding there and asking Malina questions about how often she felt the baby turn inside her, and how long it had been that she’d been feeling that peculiar pain in her back.

Every few minutes, the skin on Malina’s belly would pull tight and she’d catch her breath slightly. When this happened, Grandmother would begin a chant with no words that I recognized, only syllables that sounded like someone with a lot to say had been running for quite a while and had yet to get her breath back enough to get a full word out. After three cycles of the chant, Grandmother continued chanting, even when Malina was not feeling the birth pangs. As she continued the chant, Ursa joined her, softly adding her voice to the hypnotic rhythm.

As I listened to the chant, I noticed that there were two distinct sections of the song; one that was shorter and repeated the refrain more frequently, and one that was longer and had several long, low notes to be held with one breath. With a flash of insight, I realized that this song was used to time the duration of both the birth pangs themselves, and the length of time it took for the next one. Sometimes the refrain would be started again, other times the newest pang would arrive before the first refrain was over. But mostly, the pangs were distanced enough from each other to allow for a full singing of the refrain.

Ursa and Grandmother met eyes over Malina’s carefully concentrating face. From the look that passed between them, I knew it would be soon that we would see a baby.

The energy in the room seemed to change, then; to gather and build. Grandmother’s songs were being cut in half now and Malina had begun to get a glazed look on her face, as if she were turning inward into a deep meditation. Her rapid deep breathing punctuated the rhythmic singing of the two older women until the entire room seemed to be a series of nothing but rhythm and harmony.

Malina gave a short cry and Grandmother changed her song to one of encouragement and strength; it sounded almost like the battle songs that my father’s people had sung as they sharpened blades, or when they left to hunt, triumphant even before success had been achieved.

Malina was squatting now, legs wide apart and neck straining with the regular muscular exertions. Ursa brought a chair behind Malina and sat on the very edge of the seat, placing her arms beneath Malina’s arms, supporting the laboring woman with her body. Encouraged by the rhythmic notes of Grandmother’s song; first a long sustained note that rose as Malina took a deep breath, then several spurts of breath on the way out and a long time holding her breath followed by a release of both song and tension as all three women, one laboring two singing, released their breath in a heavy sounding sigh.

The liquid that had been dripping steadily from between Malina’s legs had now started to gush, forming a puddle on the floor beneath her. As I looked curiously over Grandmother’s shoulder, a dark round shape began to appear in the crest between her legs. Grandmother reached over to Malina in mid song and gently touched the dark wet mound. All three women continued the chant, Malina with her breathing and Grandmother and Ursa singing.

The dark bundle showed further, then retreated. Again it breached then faded, coming closer to the air in the outside world. Ursa began a new song in counter point to Grandmother’s, a soft low tune with no words that tugged at my heart until I felt I should turn and move towards her. Malina’s breathing became even more finely tuned as she panted quickly three times and then breathed out, pushing with her stomach muscles with all her might.

With a wordless cry of triumph, a slippery looking bloody body slid forth from her womb, head first. The baby opened its mouth immediately and its lusty cry joined with Malina’s howl of success. The sound of the new life singing him self into existence brought tears to my eyes and raised the hairs on my arms. Ursa threw her head back as her booming laugh echoed through the room

The baby was still tied to Malina by a long bloody cord that pulsed as if it had a heartbeat of its own. Grandmother gently tugged on the cord, elongating the distance between Malina and her baby. When the length was great enough, she placed the baby on Malina’s chest. The happy mother leaned back into Ursa’s strong supporting embrace and reverently touched her child.

As soon as the baby was in contact with its mother, the tiny cry stopped and he nuzzled against her bare breast. His sky blue eyes opened wide, pinioned on his mother’s face. For a long moment it seemed as if the earth itself stopped as mother and son recognized and loved each other for the first time. Malina put out one finger and the baby snatched it up into his miniature fist and held tight.

I could not look away from this miracle that was simultaneously as routine as morning and as magickal and intoxicating as sweet honey mead. His eyes were bluer than the spring morning sky; deeper than the ocean’s waves at a distance; more innocent than a fluffy chick yet infinitely wise. He gave a satisfied shuddering sigh, closed those eyes that knew all the secrets of the universe and promptly fell asleep.

I felt bonded to him, this new child in the universe. The light in his eyes said that he had wisdom far beyond his years yet I knew that he was unable to speak it to the world, unable to make himself understood with more than cries and expressive eyes. In this I felt I was his kindred; I too was new to the world, only half a year from the cauldron and could not express myself but with my eyes and with my spirit. A surge of tenderness rose up from within my chest as I gazed at the now sleeping baby.

Grandmother began to move again, taking a small sickle shaped knife from a cloth bag beside her on the floor. The cord that connected the baby to the mother had stopped pulsing. Quickly, with one clean slice, Grandmother severed the cord with the sickle and tied a knot in the end still attached to the child. I flinched, expecting a spray of blood to shoot from the cord when it was severed, but only a few dark red drops came out.

Malina began to breathe rhythmically again as Grandmother reached behind her for a wide clay bowl that she placed beneath Malina. With just a few exhalations, another dark mass slid from her stretched opening and fell wetly into the bowl. I peered over Grandmother’s shoulder to inspect it. This was not another baby, but a large, solid looking, blood colored mass that resembled the liver of a pig that John had brought for Grandmother to eat. It smelled like moon blood and something unidentifiable yet pungent; almost the way Gurek smelled when he had spent all day at the forge down the hill. The cord that had been connected to the baby was still attached to this bloody mass.

Grandmother dampened several rags in a bucket of warm water that had been placed near the inside of the room’s door and carefully washed Melina’s legs, feet, and around the opening to her womb, rinsing off the blood several times until Melina was clean. From the bag beside her she took out a moon cloth similar to the ones we used to catch the blood when we were bleeding for our regular moon cycle. She carefully tucked the ends of the moon cloth into place and wiped up the floor beneath Melina where the excess liquids had fallen. Next she wrapped the baby carefully in a much softened fur and handed him, still sleeping peacefully, back to his mother. Finally she and Ursa helped Melina to stand and tucked her and the new child into the bed.

We all crept quietly from the room, bringing with us the bucket of water and the soiled clothes that had been used to clean up. Leaving behind that beautiful new life was an almost physical pain for me and I turned around at the door frame, holding the curtain open to look at the two of them snuggled blissfully in the little bed.

Grandmother was already tight in Gurek’s embrace, sighing with the exertion that she had also experienced by accompanying the birth. I could tell by her posture that she was deep in thought, probably considering her own upcoming birthing. Ursa put a big hand on Grandmother’s shoulder and gestured towards a wash basin that Gurek had thoughtfully prepared. Grandmother nodded, lines of fatigue etched across her face, and moved away from Gurek and towards the basin where she carefully washed her hands and arms. Ursa had brought a night dress for Grandmother from her room and with a small smile, Grandmother held up her arms like a child. Grandmother was not a tall woman, and Ursa was a mighty bear of a woman so for a moment, they did look like mother and child, Grandmother submitting herself to the tender ministrations of the much larger woman.

Gurek put a muscled arm around Grandmother’s drooping shoulders and led her into the bedroom to sleep. When she was carefully tucked in, he returned to the common room where Ursa had refilled the wash basin and was washing her own hands and arms. She finished and shrugged off the stained over dress she had worn during the birthing. She tucked the dirty clothing into a larger bag and slipped her travel dress over the shift she was still wearing.

“I’ll wash these and bring ‘em back to ye on the morrow.” Ursa shouldered the bag of dirty linens and clothes and brushed through the front door, headed back down the hill to tend to her own family.

Gurek looked at me and raised one eyebrow in question, looking towards Grandmother’s doorway. With a start, I realized I had forgotten to accompany her into her room when she went to sleep. I had instead stayed in the common room where her shadow had not been seen. I grinned sheepishly at him and went into her room, crawling carefully in beside her to warm us both. Though I was sleepy, the fascination with what I had just seen kept me awake for longer than I had anticipated and when I did finally succumb to sleep, I did not notice the change from waking to dreaming.

I rose from sleep into a strange colored dawn; the light was reddish, but not the rosy color of a stormy dawn; instead it was the color of the blood moon. I left Grandmother sleeping soundly in the bed and went into the common room where I could hear many people talking anxiously. As I pushed aside the door curtain, no one looked in my direction though there were a dozen people filling the small space. They were spaced at regular intervals, facing one direction instead of in clusters or groups as I would expect a larger quantity of people to arrange themselves.

I could not understand any of them; the language they spoke was not one I had heard before. It was similar to my language, with sounds that mirrored and reflected the meanings of the words, yet none of the words were translatable in my mind. I turned and looked in the direction they were all staring and when I did, they all turned to stare at me. I was only partially aware of the pressure of twelve pairs of eyes trained on my every move; what I had seen against the far corner of the wall had riveted my attention.

A woman was there, naked except for a reddened shawl. A great light streamed forth from behind her and it was this light through her shawl that created the odd coloration of the room. She began to bleed from between the legs as if she was having her moon time. Extending her hands towards me, I could see twin wounds on her palms as they too began to seep bright red blood. As she reached towards me, the blood darkened, turned into dark, rich soil ripe for the planting. The soil poured forth from her as if she was the very earth itself, bleeding.

I looked from her earthen wounds to her face beneath the shawl and saw that she was not sad, or pained, but at peace. Though her eyes were open, her face was as calm as if she had been sleeping. She was beautiful; her eyes were green like the spring leaves, her cheekbones high and well defined, her lips rounded and soft. In the center of her forehead, barely visible beneath the shawl, was the dark crescent brand of the Oak Man.
She opened her mouth as if to sing and though I heard no music, I saw notes of color splash into the air like ocean spray against a rock. As the song spray touched the soil that was piling beneath her feet, the soil turned to night sky. No longer bleeding earth, she was now bleeding the sky’s canopy; dark indigo and filled with a countless myriad of stars.

She put her hands together to form a bowl and the galaxy that flowed from her wounds filled her cupped palms until they overflowed, spilling universal light in an almost blinding cascade from her fingers. She pursed her lips and blew the light towards me as if it were nothing more than smoke. If it had been smoke it would have wafted with her breath but this was a new light, one like the golden cord that had held me fast to my destiny when I met with Oak Man. This light darted forward like an arrow or an eager child and pierced me through the stomach, burning a hole in the lower portion of my abdomen that did not hurt me. I felt instead as if a great burden had been lifted from me and I was now lighter and better able to move as the winds of the universe bade me go.

With a great clap of thunder, the house emptied and I was left there alone in the common room with a great golden edged hole in my stomach. I blinked once and was back in the room I shared with Grandmother as her shadow. I slid back into bed, careful not to wake her from her exhausted slumber. Her stomach was stretching and as the last of the vision cleared my eyes, I could see that she was ripening like fruit on the vine. Her stomach did not have the hole that mine did; in fact hers was a shining sun ripened apple growing and reddening within her. I placed on hand on her belly and felt the baby within her move towards the warmth of my hand. Closing my eyes, I slept again until Malina’s new baby awoke us all with a sweetly fresh cry for breakfast.