Mythago Wood - 1 (17 page)

Peredur watched from the forest edge, despairing. His nine were with him and
none could console him. Twice, during the night, he attacked the fort, but was
repulsed by force of arms. Each time he could hear the voice of Dierdrath,
crying to him, 'Be quick. Save my child.'

Beyond the stone gorge, where the woods were darkest, was a place where the
oldest tree was older than the land, as round and high as an earth fort. There,
Peredur knew, lived the Jagad, an entity as eternal as the rock across which he
scrambled, searching. The Jagad was his only hope, for she alone controlled the
ways of things, not just in the woods, but in the seas and in the air. She was
from the oldest time, and no invader could come near her. She had known the ways
of men from the time of the Watching, when men had no tongues to speak.

This is how Peredur found the Jagad.

He found a glen where wild thistle grew, and no sapling was higher than his
ankle. Around him, the forest was tall and silent. No tree had fallen and died
to form this glade. Only the Jagad could have made it. The nine warriors with
him formed a circle, with their backs to Peredur, who stood between them. They
held twigs of hazel, blackthorn and oak. Peredur slew a wolf and spread its
blood upon the ground, around the nine. The wolfs head he placed facing north.
He pushed his sword into the earth at the west of the circle. He laid his dagger
at the east. He himself stood to the south, inside his ring, and called for the
entity.

Seven times Peredur called the Jagad.

On the first call he saw only the birds fly from the trees (but what birds
they were, crows, sparrows and hawks, each as large as a horse).

On the second call, the hares and foxes of the woodland ran around the
circle, and fled to the west.

On the third call, wild boar rushed from the thickets. Each was taller than a
man, but the circle held them back (though Oswry speared the smallest for food,
and would be called to answer for the act in another season).

On the fourth call, the stags came from the spinneys, followed by the does,
and each time their hooves touched the ground the woodland trembled and the
circle shook. The eyes of the stags glowed in the night. Guillauc tossed a
torque on to the antler of one of them, to mark it as his, and at another time
he would be called to answer for the deed.

On the fifth call the glade fell silent, though figures moved beyond vision.
Then men on horseback emerged from the treeline, and swarmed about the glade.
The horses were black as night, each with a dozen great, grey hounds at its
feet, and a rider on its back. Cloaks flowed in silent winds, and torches
burned, and this wild hunt circled the nine twenty times, their cries growing
loud, their eyes bright. These were no men of the lands of Peredur, but hunters
from times past and times yet to come, gathered here, and guarding the Jagad.

But the Jagad could not break the circle of Year and Land, could not drag
Peredur far beyond this place and season, and lose him in a wild place, where he
would be at her mercy. Three times she walked around the circle, stopping only
to look at Oswry and Guillauc, who knew at once that by killing the boar and
marking the stag they had doomed themselves. But their time would be for other
years, and another tale.

Then Peredur told the Jagad what he needed. He told her of his love for
Dierdrath, and the jealousy of the sister, and the threat to his child. He asked
for help.

'I will have the child, then,' said the Jagad, and Peredur answered that she
would not.

'I will have the mother, then,' said the Jagad, and Peredur answered that she
would not.

Then I shall have one of the ten,' said the Jagad, and brought to Peredur and
his warriors a basket containing hazel nuts. Each warrior, and Peredur himself,
took a nut and ate it, none knowing which would have been bound to the Jagad.

The Jagad said, 'You are the hunters of the long night. One of you now is
mine, because the magic that I give you must be paid for, and a life is all that
can be used. Now break the circle, for the bargaining is done.'

'No,' said Peredur, and the Jagad laughed.

Then the Jagad raised her arms to the dark skies. In the emptiness that was
her face Peredur thought he could see the shape of the hag who inhabited the
body of the entity. She was older than time itself, and only the wildwoods saved
men from her evil glance.

And Peredur looked grim. But when his friends all gave their consent, he
agreed, and so it was done. And thereafter they were known as the
Jaguth,
which
is the
night hunt.

On the day of the child's birth, ten eagles were seen, circling the Roman
fort. None knew what to make of the omen, for the bird was a good portent to all
concerned, but the number of them was puzzling.

Guiwenneth was born, in a tent, watched only by her aunt and the druid. But
as the druid gave thanks with smoke and a small sacrifice, so Rhiathan pressed a
cushion to her sister's face, and killed her. None saw her do this deed, and she
wept as loudly as the rest for the death.

Then Rhiathan took the girl child and went out into the fort, and raised the
child above her head, proclaiming herself foster mother, and her Roman lover the
father.

Above the fort, the ten eagles gathered. The sound of their wings was like a
distant storm; they were so large that when they grouped they cut off the sun,
and threw a great shade across the fort. From this shadow came one of them,
swooping fast from the sky. It beat about the head of Rhiathan, and snatched the
child in its great talons, flying up again.

The eagle with the child in its talons was slowest of all. There was one
among the legion who was renowned for his skill with a bow, and his single shot
struck through the heart of the eagle, which let the child fall. The other
birds, seeing this, came swiftly back, and one flew below the girl so that her
fall was broken upon its back. Two others clasped the dead bird in their talons.
With the infant and the dead bird, they flew to the wildwoods, to the stone
gorge, and there regained their human shape.

It was Peredur who had dived for the child, Peredur himself, her father. He
lay, beautiful and pale in death, the arrow still through his heart. About the
gorge, the Jagad's laughter was like wind. She had promised Peredur that she
would give him his Guiwenneth, and for a few moments he had had her.

The Jaguth took Peredur to the bottom of the stony valley, where the wind was
strongest, and buried him there, beneath a stone of white marble. Magidion was
now the leader of the group.

They raised Guiwenneth as best they could, these woodland hunters, outcast
warriors. Guiwenneth was happy with them. They suckled her with wild-flower dew
and doe's milk. They clothed her in fox hide and cotton. She could walk by the
time she was half a year old. She could run by the time she was a full four
seasons of age. She knew the names of things in the wildwood soon after she
could talk. Her only grief was that the ghost of Peredur called to her, and many
mornings she would be found, standing by the marble stone in the wind-swept
gorge, crying.

One day, Magidion and the Jaguth hunted south from the valley, the girl with
them. They made camp in a secret place, and one of them, Guillauc, remained with
the girl, while the others hunted.

This is how Guiwenneth was lost to them.

The Romans had ceaselessly searched the hills and valleys, and the forests
around the fort. They smelled the smoke of the camp's fire, now, and twenty men
closed in about the clearing. Their approach was betrayed by a crow, and
Guiwenneth and the hunter, Guillauc, knew they were lost.

Quickly, Guillauc tied the girl to his back with leather thongs, hurting her,
so tight was the binding. Then he summoned the magic of the Jagad, and changed
to a great stag, and in this form he ran from the Romans.

But the Romans had dogs with them, and the dogs pursued the stag throughout
the day. When the stag was exhausted it turned at bay, and the dogs tore it to
pieces, but Guiwenneth was saved and taken to the fort. The spirit of Guillauc
remained where the stag had fallen, and in the year when Guiwenneth first knew
love, the Jagad came for him.

For two years Guiwenneth lived in a tent within the high walls of the Roman
stronghold. She was always to be found, struggling to see over the walls of the
fort, crying and sobbing, as if she knew that the Jaguth were there, waiting to
come for her. No more melancholy child was ever seen during those years, and no
bond of love formed between her and her foster mother. But Rhiathan would not
part with her.

This is how the Jaguth took her back.

Before dawn, early in the summer, eight doves called to Guiwenneth, and the
child woke and listened to them. The next morning, before first light, eight
owls called to her. On the third morning she was awake before the call, and
walked through the dark camp, to the walls, to the place where she could see the
hills around the fort. Eight stags stood there, watching her. After a while they
ran swiftly down the hill, and thundered about the fort, calling loudly, before
returning to the wild glens.

Out of the mist came eight great hunting dogs. Each towered over the girl.
Each had eyes like pools, and jaws like red wounds, and the tongues lolled. But
Guiwenneth was unafraid. She lay down and let the largest of the great hounds
take her in its jaws and lift her. The dogs padded silently to the north gate. A
soldier was there and before he could make a sound his throat had been ripped
out. Before the mist lifted, the gate was opened and a foot patrol of men left
the fort. Before the gates closed the eight hounds and Guiwenneth slipped away.

She rode with the Jaguth for many years. First they rode north, to the cold
moors, through the snows, sheltering with the painted tribes. Guiwenneth was a
tiny girl on a huge horse, but when they came north they found smaller steeds,
which were still as fast. They rode south again, on the far side of the land,
across marshes, fens, woodland and downland. They crossed a great river.
Guiwenneth grew, was trained, became skilled. At night she slept in the arms of
the leader of the Jaguth.

In this way, many years passed. The girl was beautiful in every way, and her
hair was long and red, and her skin pale and smooth. Wherever they rested the
young warriors wanted her, but for years she remained unaware of love. It
happened, though, that in the east of the land she felt love for the first time,
for the son of a Chief, who was determined to have her.

The Jaguth realized that their time with Guiwenneth was ending. They took her
west again, and found the valley and the stone of her father, and here they left
her, for the one who loved her was close behind, and the Jagad's laughter
sounded from beyond the stones. The entity was about to claim them for her own.

The valley was a sad place. The stone above the body of Peredur was always
bright, and as Guiwenneth waited there, alone, so the spirit of her father
stepped out of the ground, and she saw him for the first time, and he saw her.

'You are the acorn which will grow to oak,' he said, but Guiwenneth did not
understand.

Peredur said, 'Your sadness will grow to fury. Outcast like me, you will take
my place. You will not rest until the invader is gone from the land. You will
haunt him, you will burn him, you will drive him out from his forts and his
villas.'

'How will I do this?' Guiwenneth asked.

And around Peredur came the ghostly forms of the great gods and goddesses.
For Peredur's spirit was free from the grasping fingers of the Jagad. His
bargain fulfilled, she had no claim upon him, and in the spirit world Peredur
was renowned, and led the knights who ran with
Cernunnos,
the antlered
Lord of Animals. The antlered God picked Guiwenneth up from the ground and
breathed the fire of revenge into her lungs, and the seed of changing, to any
form of animal in the wildwood.
Epona
touched her lips and eyes with moon
dew, the way to blind the passions of men.
Taranis
gave her strength and
thunder, so that now she was strong in every way.

She was a vixen then, slipping into the fort at Caerwent, where her foster
mother slept with the Roman. When the man woke he saw the girl standing by his
pallet, and was overwhelmed with love for her. He followed her from the fort,
through the night, to the river, where they stripped off their clothes and
bathed in the cold waters. But Guiwenneth changed to a hawk, and flew about his
head, pecking at his eyes until he was blind. The river took him, and when
Rhiathan saw the body of her husband, her heart broke, and she flew from the
high cliffs, to the sea rocks.

In this way, the girl Guiwenneth came back to the place of her birth.