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placeofthe Horned One. His hands were covered with the furred paws of a bear.
In one he held a tore of twisted gold, in the other a staff of rowan carved
into an antlered serpent. The sweet strains of lyres and the thrumming of
bodhran drums being played by Quicken-tree hands wove a net around the grove,
enclosing all within a circle.
Elen was there, between the tall roots of the mother oak, swaying to the
music, her hair and body garlanded with fresh green leaves. He felt the pull
of her promise in his groin.
Rhuddlan held court as Belenos to the west of the oak, beneath a bower of
alder trees, their branches entwined overhead, their sturdy trunks standing
guard beside the great oak throne from which Rhuddlan oversaw the festivities.
The wood of the kingly chair had been rubbed to a deep shine and was carved
from one end to the other with the leaves of the plants found growing in
Wroneu. It had filials in the shape of pinecones and mighty acorns at its
feet. Wild grasses were incised up its legs, and woodland ferns were fanned
out across its back.
The chair beside Rhuddlan's, a throne in its own right, was more gracefully
built and carved with flowers and bees. A thousand petals each of freshly
gathered tansy, cowslip, pasqueflower, daffodil, and celandine wrought into
garlands with periwinkle wreathed the arms and back of the chair, giving it a
most welcoming countenance. But for all its beauty, the flower throne remained
empty. No Goddess yet sat at
Rhuddlan's side.
Each year, 'twas the Goddess whose lush sweetness blessed them all. She was at
Her most seductive in the spring, when She urged the earth and all its plants
to flourish, one within the other, pollen to pistil to
make the seed of new life. 'Twas for Her that the gods came, to be quickened
by Her touch, and Dain felt the lack of Her presence. Though he had not vied
with Rhuddlan for Her attention in years past, without Her, the ceremony had
an emptiness he found unsettling. She should have been chosen by now.
Mayhaps 'twould be Llynya. He had not seen her there, and the sprite was ready
to take another step toward womanhood. So was Shay ready for the sprite. The
young Quicken-tree man was walking the perimeter of the grove, gazing outward
into darkness, as if he would find her in the forest. 'Twas Llynya's favorite
hiding place, out among the wild trees, but night was full fallen, and whether
she was the
Goddess or not, she should have been safe in Deri by now. Rhuddlan would not
have allowed her to run free on May Eve, when any man from Wydehaw to
Hay-on-Wye might come across her. Knowing
Llynya, she was probably going from hut to hut behind Shay's back, avoiding
what would someday be inevitable.
Moira, the Goddess from a year past, stood close to the bower near a cauldron
of honeymead, stirring the iron kettle with a wooden paddle and pouring cups
of brew for the dancers. For dance the
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Quicken-tree did, their bare feet in contact with the earth, moving in a
rhythm to match the driving beat of the drums. All of them wore garlands of
leaves, grasses, and flowers draped around their necks, across their shoulders
and chests, and tied around their waists to worship the vegetation-spirit from
whence their lives flowed.
One man, Wei, did not dance, but strode through the others bearing a drinking
horn frothed to the top with Moira's mead. He brought the horn to Dain, who
drank long and deep, quenching his thirst and his hunger with the rich brew
before passing it back to the Liosalfar. At a signal from Rhuddlan, the drums
ceased, their silence calling Dain forth as the Horned One to lead the dance,
to change it with his presence into something it had not yet been.
He rose to his feet, steadier away from the grotto's heavy influence, and
stepped down off the dais, leaving the tore and serpent lying on the hides. He
knew more of his part than Rhuddlan had told him, knew more of their need of
him than Rhuddlan had revealed. The Quicken-tree did not eat the flesh of
animals. They did not hunt. They did not make sacrifices with the blood of the
earth's beasts. Yet like all beings, they had need of the animal-spirit in
their lives. On Beltaine, they welcomed that spirit into their midst with one
who embodied the quickness of animal life. Dain wore the trappings of the
animals and made them sacred with his acceptance of their deaths.
The Quicken-tree separated before him, opening a passage to the bonfire and
making room for him to walk through untouched. There was deference in their
action, and a wise degree of wariness. He was alien, the other, there for his
ability to rouse latent memories of the Animal Master in each of their
breasts.
For 'twas as animals that they would mate in the grove, with powerful
innocence, utterly compelled by the needs of flesh, bone, and sinew to
re-create; and through the act of creation, through their own fertility, they
would aid the blossoming of spring, most wondrous season. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]