~ Beltaine Fire ~

by

Kathrine McGibbons

Judith awoke to the smell of wet wool and the warmth of that small bit of sun that managed to work its way through the thick forest growth. She found herself snuggled against Griffon’s muscular, unyielding chest. He had one arm about her waist, holding her tightly against him. So she would not slip off as she slept? She found the sensation comforting and... familiar?

With the other hand he guided Lugh. Griffon had introduced her to Lugh back at the well. Named for the Druid deity, Lugh of the Long Arms, she had laughed with delight at the name in spite of her circumstances. The great Shire horse was aptly named, being an exceptionally large animal with very, very long legs. Griffon had explained to her that the animals were bred for their stature and strength because of the need to carry a man into battle in full armor as well as the heavy weapons of war. Moreover, Judith had immediately recognized the horse, then Griffon, as the mysterious dark-haired man and horse from her dream the night before.

Judith feigned sleep that she might have time to think. When Griffon had awakened her earlier, at the well, she had been deep in a troubled dream--fighting off a nightmarish Peter, a grotesque slavering monster who chased her through the tangled maze of perfectly clipped hedges of a formal English garden, a garden which somehow gave the feeling of intense evil. The sound of Griffon’s voice had pulled her from that dream, though the vision, the terror of it, had stayed with her. Still caught in that nightmare world, she had been badly frightened, and reacted with near hysteria. She had just wanted to get away, though she had never felt any fear of the dark-haired man. Perhaps, subconsciously, she had already associated him with the more pleasant dream of the previous night.

The first impression she had of Griffon was of massive size, tall, with broad shoulders and muscular arms and chest. Now she took a closer look. His hands were large, and coarsened by hard work. Looking up at him, she noticed the long black hair, which curled about his face in the damp morning air, tied back with a leather thong. Truant sable curls clung damply about his face and neck, escaped their leather binding and played about his face. Dark gray eyes stared off in the distance, beyond the trees and undergrowth of the forest at... what? The muscular arms, bare, except for a wide leather band which encircled his upper arm. The band was covered with embroidered symbols and magical incantations. Her gaze lingered there. They seemed somehow familiar, as though she should know what they meant. A heavy gold arm ring displaying a mantling bird, perched upon the head of a Goddess on each terminal, banded the other arm. A soft deerskin tunic covered his broad chest and a heavy twisted gold torq encircled his neck. The tunic was richly embroidered in patterns of intertwined lines forming intricate knots, ornamentation of silver worked into each side

"You’re awake, then. It’s time to stop. You have yet to break your fast and we have much of which we must speak."

Suddenly reluctant to leave her protected nest, Judith did not want to explore the implications of what had happened that morning and made no move to leave the horse’s back. Her reluctance seemed to go unnoticed, for Griffon did not seem to expect her to move, he simply swept her up, and slid from Lugh’s back with her held tightly in his arms. The sudden drop from that great height caused her to gasp and throw her arms about his neck.

Laughing, Griffon placed her upon her feet. She very much liked the sound of his laughter.

Not for the first time, she realized how ludicrous this whole situation was. She had allowed herself to be carried off by a very imposing man, into what appeared to be an extremely remote wilderness, with little idea of where he was taking her or of his intentions toward her. Of course, if his intentions had been rape or murder, he could have easily accomplished that back at the well. Judith had always relied upon her instincts about people, and all of her instincts told her this man would not harm her. But then, look at how badly she had misjudged Peter.

The spot Griffon had chosen to stop immediately charmed Judith. Taking her hand in an archaic and courtly manner, Griffon led her to a low, sunny spot on a shelf of stone, which overhung a swiftly moving stream. Close growing trees formed a lacy canopy over the rushing torrent. Judith dipped her feet into the racing water as it pounded down out of the mountains, tumbling over rocks and ledges in its hurry to descend from the mountainside. Flashes of silver caught her eye and she leaned over to catch a closer glimpse of the tiny darting fish, riding the rapids to what lay ahead.

"Careful, little one. If you should tumble into the water I would be hard pressed to find what would be left of you."

Griffon handed her a piece of soft bread and some hard cheese, then sprawled on the grass beside her stony perch. Nibbling at the bread, Judith decided to see what she could learn from Griffon.

"You said we were going to Dun Tirlough. Is there a village near the castle? Is that where the priest is? Why would this Father Adolphus send for me? Does he know my husband?"

"Hold woman," he exclaimed, laughing. "I can not think swiftly enough to answer these many questions you hurl at my head. Aye, our destination is Dun Tirlough, which is my home. There is no village, only the castle. All who are retainers there live within the castle walls, except those who tend the fields, the forest, or the cattle. They each live within their own stone rath. I am sent to fetch you, or rather someone I would find there in the spot where I found you, to answer to Adolphus, who has called you witch. This Adolphus is a Christian, and sees demons and witches in every shadow. The people of my Lady Mother have a deeper knowledge of such things and do not so easily quake at shadows in the dark."

Judith sat as still as stone, like a lamp slowly turned up to light a room, the realization of what he was saying alighted in her mind. He had mentioned a witch earlier, at the well. She had heard, but it had not registered. Was the man insane? She almost laughed. Two mad men in as many days, what were the odds?

"What are you saying? Are you telling me I have somehow been transported to ancient Ireland and I am accused of sorcery, witchcraft?"

"I know naught of this place you call Ireland. This country is of the Ulaid, called Ulster, and is ruled by Brennus. Aye, it is ancient, the tribes of the Celts have long held this land, and the old ones before. As to sorcery, it’s not I which accuse. I have been sent to fetch a woman who was told to me by one who might have studied your likeness only moments before telling it to me. I was charged to find this woman at the very place where I did find you. It is not for me to say if you are she whom Adolphus seeks, only to bring you to Dun Tirlough. Now eat, I would travel further before this day is gone."

Ancient Ireland--the Dark Ages--where pagan beliefs mingled freely with Christian doctrine. Judith’s thoughts went back to the previous night and Peter’s sudden and unexpected descent into madness. Running through that terrifying storm into the Druid grove. The storm tearing at her and Peter fast on her heels. She recalled finding herself at the well and throwing her prayers into the inky, black depths, the offering of her gold chain, and herself as well, only to awaken in a world changed.

And there was no denying it, that place had changed. In the clearing by the well, nothing was as it had been the day before. The trees had been different, and she was a botanist after all. She knew about those things. Yesterday, the area around the well had held hawthorn, oak, and rowan. This morning that same area was no longer the cultivated garden-like forest she remembered. This morning it had been wild, remote, untamed and, yes, it still held hawthorn and oak and rowan, but it was not the same. Now it also held conifers, tall, virgin trees, and a low growing tangle of undergrowth found only in an ancient, untouched, forest.

And this track they had been traveling was hardly more than a deer trail. They hadn’t encountered a single soul all day. This was definitely not the same forest she and Colum Donnelly had driven through yesterday. Even the air smelled different, cleaner... no smog.

And this man, look how he dressed and spoke.

"It can’t be. This cannot be where or when you say this is." Turning to Griffon, she asked, "What year is this? Please I must know."

"It is the seventh year of the rule of Brennus, son of Brude. Though the Christians name it differently, calling it the six hundred and seventy eighth year of the God they call Jehovah."

Judith clamped both hands across her mouth to stifle the cry, which rose in her throat. Perhaps it was she who was insane. And yet, there may be an explanation. Perhaps she was right now, at this moment, lying at the bottom of the well or in a hospital bed, and this was just a dream brought on by delirium or drugs. Yes, she was dreaming and the dream would soon end. Satisfied with her explanation Judith relaxed visibly. Best just to let things proceed. After all, it was not an unpleasant dream.

"It matters not what can or cannot be, only what is..." Griffon’s reply was cut short, he held his hand up for silence, his attention diverted by the sound of a horse approaching. Drawing his broadsword and taking Judith by the arm, Griffon moved swiftly toward the trees.