The Fox (14 page)

I knew I would be doing this work for the years left in my life. I wanted to do it beside Lovern. But if he decided not to marry me, I would continue to be a healer and helper of souls. That was the gift the gods had given me. Lovern helped me learn how to use it. And I loved him for it.

There was a fear in my gut. We made love frequently, and I still was not with child. Usually, after one year of hand-fasting there was a child to consider. Lovern and I did not have that tie. This thought crept into my mind many times and now, as before, I sighed, shook my head, and released it. I must allow the will of the goddess be done. I will give birth when it is time, when I am ready. As Lovern says, when the goddess is ready.

This morning, as I followed my labyrinth, I prayed a silent thank you to Bel and Morrigna for allowing me to follow their way. I also prayed, while my finger traced my labyrinth, for a sign to help make the decision we faced.

Mother and Lovern were still sleeping. Lovern had come in late last night from a visit with a sick child. His day ahead was full, and I wanted him to rest as long as possible. I listened to the rhythmic inhale and exhale of his sleeping breath behind the hanging wool blanket, there for privacy, and to keep the sometimes messy and odoriferous preparations of our medicines as far away from my mother as possible. Smoke and some odors worsened her cough. A spoonful of a brew made from bog bean and the bittersweet nightshade, three times a day, along with the heather tea and sour milk helped. She seemed to be sleeping better.

We stored our plants and herbs used for the very ill at the hospice. Our small room here filled with treatments for the clan’s common illness.

Hospice.
The word sometimes still made my tongue stumble. Some of the clan would not use it and referred to it as Harailt’s home. It was Lovern’s word. He used it when he was learning the healing arts in his other home. Before he came to us – to me.

We tried to take care of our own in our homes. However, some of the ill required more watching than the family can provide. The hours of the day filled with the care and feeding of our animals, the sowing and harvesting of our crops and the raising of our children. The ill sometimes pushed families beyond their limits.

Harailt and Sileas slept in the home given to this dream, the hospice. Lovern worked there, and when a clan member was close to death, I stayed, too. It was my wish that our friends and neighbors would live long and useful lives with times of work and joy to share. But when the end of life was near, I helped create an easier path for the dying. I did most of this work at the hospice.

After I washed, I was cold and pulled on my tunic and peplum. The nights were still damp, and a breeze ushered in the early hours. I placed two small pots of clean water near the fire, one to boil barley and one for mint tea.

While I prepared our breakfast, I listed in my mind my chores for the day. There was no one ill at the hospice. My morning was free.

I would to go to the river and gather some blackthorn. Its leaves were just coming, and its white blossoms still were stark against the black bark. I harvested the berries in the fall; even the dried ones we now have help stop the bleeding in small wounds. There were many children with raw throats. A wash of its leaves and blossoms steeped in boiling water and then cooled would ease this pain. I wanted to gather enough to boil in a large pot and distribute the tea tomorrow.

I also wanted sweet heather, pungent juniper branches, and green ivy to freshen our bed. The ivy would keep lice away while the smell of the juniper and heather helped us sleep. I thought of lying next to Lovern on our newly freshened bed and smiled. I prayed the day was not too busy for us to lie in it tonight, together.

While the barley boiled and the fragrant tea simmered, I heard Lovern stir. His lithe, sinewy body slipped under the hanging blanket. His trousers already on, he pulled his tunic over his head and shook his copper hair loose. His belt, a cord for his hair, and his memory bag hung from his teeth. After he tied on his belt and slung his bag on his shoulder, he leaned over and kissed me on the top of my head. He tied back his long hair into a red tail.

“May the goddess bless this day,” he said as he stepped outside, into the cool haze of a new spring day to carry on his morning routine.

Mother awoke, her cough softer this morning. This pleased me. If her cough was deeper, I would have changed my earlier plans and gone to harvest and start her on a tea of fresh
lus mor.
The plant was available year-round and we used it to ease the bloody cough. Mother had not yet coughed blood, but I knew she would. It was the progression of this illness. She cleared her throat and, after combing her graying hair into the thick plaits she wore on top of her head, came for breakfast. Lovern returned. We ate and discussed the day ahead.

“I am going into the woods to see if I can find him today.”

Lovern went in search of his namesake, the red fox, every year at this time. He often sat for a full day near a den, waiting to see the foxes.

“If I find one, I will do what is necessary to please the gods.”

“Good hunting, my love,” I said.

He ran his hand over my hair and stooped to kiss me in a gentle goodbye and left.

And so the day of our marriage began.

I survived the sharp and hidden thorns of the blackthorn tree; boiled the infusion and stored it in small jugs, ready to be used by those with sore throats. The heather and juniper were fragrant in our bed. After giving Mother her medicine, it was time to go to the hospice to see if word of new patients came this morning. Sometimes people stopped by to tell us that someone in their family was ill and to ask us to come treat them.

I arrived at the hospice and greeted Sileas with a hug.

“Harailt and I have used this morning to sweep the house and lay clean bedding for the next patients,” she said. “There was even time to go to the river and eat my midday meal. The sound of the waterfall and its peaceful surroundings renewed my spirits.”

“I often wonder, do you and Harailt ever regret turning your home over to the sick? Do you miss the farm?” I asked.

“No. We have never looked back. Remember, it was not our decision. Cerdic commanded it through my vision. I have enjoyed being useful in ways other than farming. I am fulfilled with my work here and never regret it. Harailt tells me that his father’s spirit has come to him in his dreams, smiling,” she said. “We will never be unhappy with this choice.”

She stepped back from the simmering pot, lifting her dress out of the way of the fire. We hugged, happy our lives would continue this path together.

Harailt and Lovern sauntered through the door, heads together, deep in conversation. Harailt hefted an armful of wood for the fire. Lovern carried two hares and his bow.

Handing the hares to Sileas, Lovern said, “There they were sitting in front of me, asking me to bring them to you. I agreed, and now they are yours.”

“Thank you,” said Sileas. She took the hares from Lovern, lifted them to judge their weight, and said, “I think it will be a good hunting season this year. It is early, yet these are a good size. The grasses are growing fast to feed them.”

Harailt took the hares from Sileas. “I will skin, clean them and return them to you. But I must know, Lovern. How many did you see? Is there a concern that we may lose many of our chickens? If it shall be a good year for the foxes, then I must be sure to keep our fowl in a safe place.”

“I saw three yearling males. Each was on the prowl for mates. I am sure there will be females for them close by.” Then Lovern smiled. “I also saw a vixen with four kits. I am always glad to see them. I know Arimid is pleased as long as I continue to have my foxes around me.”

“Arimid,” Harailt said. “She is a demanding goddess. She expects much sacrifice by us to keep the foxes alive.”

“Yes,” said Lovern. “She is the one who gave me my skills for healing and sacrifices must be made to her. I cannot work if the foxes are not here. But I do not worry this year, they are here and well.”

Harailt said, “I have heard your foxes are doing well. There are many farmers missing chickens and ducks. They blame the foxes and would trap them, but you have forbidden it.”

“There will be many young kits for the vixens to feed this year. I will help you build a hut to keep your hens in. They will need protection.”

“But you know many farmers will not be able protect their animals in this way. They will lose food.”

“Yes,” Lovern said. “It is always so. We will pass the word that if they are losing livestock to a fox, they may trap it. If it is a nursing vixen, let her be, but they may kill every other adult male. If that does not work, then come to me. I will help them build protection.”

Harailt nodded, picked up a skinning knife, and walked through the door into the sunshine with the rabbits.

Sileas followed him. “I want to make sure he cuts the skin in a way that I may use it for a winter hat,” she said. “I will return soon.”

I touched Lovern’s tunic. “There is too much blood here for just two hares. Did you find him?”

He reached his long arms around me, and pressed his face into my hair. “How is it you always smell of lavender?” he asked, inhaling deeply.

“It is the same as you always smelling of acorns and beeswax to me. It does not matter what physical work you have done, even after sacrificing a bull, I still find that scent on you, just under your skin. It is you.” As comforting as it was in his arms, I pulled back to see his face. A questioning look came into his eyes. I repeated, “Did you find him?”

His face relaxed into a smile. He took a deep breath and said, “Yes. He was there. He was in the same glen as last year. He was sitting on a warm rock. His fat tail was wrapped around his body. He saw me before I him, yet he stayed. I was able to use one arrow to capture him and thrusted once to kill and bleed him. It was a clean sacrifice.”

He reached into his tunic and brought out a leather packet, holding it at arm’s length for me to take. I took it from him, unwrapped one soft corner, and revealed the red tail of a Forest Fox, Lovern’s totem.

“The gods be praised. It is fine,” I said as I ran my fingers through its long red fur. I wrapped it, handed it back and Lovern tucked it into his tunic. It was to be displayed above the door of our home, one to be added each year.

“I buried his heart near the sacred pool,” he said in answer to my unvoiced question. “I stopped there, near the water fall, to pray and wash his blood from my arms.

“I understand the farmers’ disquiet,” said Lovern. “However, we must all make sacrifices to the gods in trade for our lives. For me to stay here, I must have the foxes nearby. I cannot have them killed, or I would leave. They bring my dreams,” Lovern said. “Conyn told me they bring the art of healing to me. They are my namesake, my sacred symbols,” said Lovern, with an earnest face.

“Lovern, do not be concerned about your sacred foxes. We will protect them. Our clan heeds your words,” I said, my hand on his shoulder. “I, myself, will go to the den and raise the kits if something happens to the vixen.”

Hearing a flurry of commotion, we turned and watched as a stout, red-faced man I recognized as Aonghus bolted into the room, carrying his weeping boy Torrian. His heavily pregnant third wife and gaggle of small children followed him.

“Please!” His appeals were directed to Lovern. “Torrian fell and hurt his leg.”

We gathered around the big man carrying the small boy, parting the crowd of children to reach them.

Aonghus admonished Torrian as Lovern took the crying boy into his arms. “If you would do what I ask, the gods would not punish you in such ways. You must learn that you should get your work done and then go off chasing clouds.”

“We will see what the injury is,” said Lovern, “and treat it the best we can. Harailt, hold the boy’s leg, keep it as still as possible, while I lay him on the cot.”

“We cannot stay at home to care for him,” said Aonghus. “We are lambing and have to get crops planted. We are needed in the fields.”

Torrian cried out in pain as Lovern and Harailt laid him on the cot.

I saw Aonghus’ brow crease at the sound of his injured son. “I sent him to clean the goat pen, but as usual he ran off. He never does what I ask. We always have to look for him. He runs off chasing butterflies or bugs. I heard him yell and found him lying on the ground under a tree. Can you help him?” He looked at Lovern with pleading eyes.

Sileas and I kept track of the children as well as we could. Some of our pots contained poisons. “Aonghus, take your children home. I will come after Lovern has done his work and tell you of the results,” I said.

Aonghus controlled his children. He left with them and his wife trailing after him like a father goose with his goslings.

Lovern placed his hands on the boy’s body to determine the injuries as I sat down next to him and held his small, trembling, dirt-encrusted hand and sang a lullaby. Torrian calmed his crying to a whimper. His tears slowed in the paths cut through the grime on his cheeks, and he answered Lovern’s questions.

“The branch broke,” Torrian whimpered. “I was trying to catch the bluest bird ever! That branch held me before. OUCH!” Lovern touched the swelling bruise on his leg.

“Is my father right? Is this the gods’ punishment?” Torrian whimpered.

“Do you hurt anywhere other than your leg?” asked Lovern.

“I bumped my head and landed on my wrist but my leg hurts the most,” the young adventurer replied.

I watched Lovern’s face, deep in concentration as he inspected the boy’s other injuries. He ran his large, gentle hands over Torrian’s blond covered head, and down to Torrian’s hand where he looked over his wrist.

Lovern’s face softened when he spoke with the boy. “The gods do many things to teach us right from wrong. It is good that you are interested in the nature around you and want to know more. But the gods say you must obey first your chieftain, then your father and mother before you think of yourself. You should do your chores before exploring.”

Torrian nodded in agreement.