Chapter 5. The Spell and the Herbalist
My mother. A gasp
brought me out. I was cold, so cold. I tried to ease up the tree again,
this time only getting a little way. More light from my gift to ease the
pain. It was dark now inside the tree, the small patch of sky just a whisper.
I started to cry for help, a lone tree in the dark.
Visions of my mother and those at Castledore haunted my mind. Were they all
right? Had they survived an attack? I could smell smoke in the air, was
it Castledore? Was it my home? The base of the tree was covered with my
blood, congealing into a sticky mess, merging with the roots. It covered
my hands curling round the pot my father had made for me. Again I tried to
climb, again the blackness as my life surely played itself before my eyes.
The track led down the steep hill, between gnarled oak
trees, to meet the sound of running water. As I rode, letting the pony
take its own pace, I chewed on some of the bread. My thoughts were full
of home, I suddenly missed it and felt I should be there.
Further down the path I could tell the pony wanted to
drink, so I dismounted, and led the gentle beast to the river. The stubby
neck of the animal dipped to taste the flow, and I let go of the reins.
There were newly ripe blackberries on a bush just within my reach. I picked
a handful of them and ate as I watched the pony drink.
As the red juice ran from the berries and stained my hand I thought of
Cormac. The image of his crushed body lying there with the life leaking
away would not leave me. I felt sad, shocked at such a terrible waste of
life.
I looked up to check the pony. She drank the dark river that slid by under
the trees. I saw the flash of a fish turning in the water and then heard
the briefest snatch of music on the wind.
I led the pony back to the path and mounted to investigate. I loved this
path along the river, I had known it all my childhood. The deep mystery
of the woods were all around me, I felt at home, always safe here. There
a rock jutting out, with a face staring if you just squinted a bit. There
an outcrop of ivy roots, climbing over each other like writhing snakes.
A pointing, gesturing tree would say, 'There, go that way', another would
say; 'sit beneath my branches for a while,' and point down to a soft seat
between its roots.
The wind across the leaves made a soft rustling and the breeze lifted a
humic perfume from the woodland floor. With it came the sound, nearer now.
Shrill single tones floated to me on the wind, the sound of a voice now,
singing as if in answer to a question. I stopped the pony with a soft tug,
a squeeze of my feet and a quiet 'Whoa.'
The voice was a woman's, singing quietly, rising and falling in a rhythmical
chant. I tied the pony's reins onto a branch and silently as a sprite,
took off in the direction of the sound. Hunting rabbits had given me useful
skills.
I was worried that the sound was coming from near the tree where I kept
my stuff. I had discovered it during the last summer. It had a hollow trunk
with access from the top. I kept a small box there, with some things of
my father's that my mother had given me. I ducked down behind a bush at
the edge of the clearing, peeking out from between the leaves.
The crone stood facing my tree. It was Old Ma.
She wore a black cap, and a dark cape. The belt hung
crosswise over the cape down to her fetid underskirt. Suspended from the
belt were leaves, acorns, and bits of twig and something else. In between
was something skin coloured, like a long worm. Woven strands of dark slime
stretched from this and seemed to attach her to the ground.
Her face was hidden from me as she plucked and scattered objects from
her belt. She continued chanting the spell she impressed on my tree:
"Tree spirit, hear my prayer
True friendship with you I would share...
Heart to heart I bind us; soul to soul I bind us:
I am bound in your roots, my soul in your fruits,
Your sap in my blood, I give you fresh blood,
My breath in your wood, I give you good lung,
My voice in your leaves, here's sweet bird's tongue
Your strength in my grief, juice of beech
My heart in your heart, by magic's employ
And dark spirits sanction, let this spell be done."
With that she gathered up the items on her belt and made
a small pile of them. She stood and sniffed up her phlegm and then spat
it on the pile she had wrought. A dull mist rose from the mess, like steam
from fresh animal dung in winter.
With startling speed the slime strands snapped back into
the ground. She turned around and headed directly for me, as if she were
gliding across the ground.
"Who are you? What do you want? Stand up so that I can
see you." I was caught, and emerged from the bush.
"So, its you, sweet Fintan. Just the kind of nourishment I was hoping
for. What are you doing here?" She leaned towards me eagerly and I stepped
back in alarm, glued by her gaze. I almost told her about the tree but
stopped myself. I just wanted to run.
"Show me what it is you have boy. Show me your secret." She sidled towards
me. She knew that I was hiding something from her, I pulled away and turned
to run back to the pony. For a moment I couldn't move. I could feel a dark
cold on my back as she held me suspended. I broke free from the hag and ran
as fast as I could. I quickly mounted and urged the roan on to my home. That
old woman really gave me the creeps.
I crossed the clearing to my door and Ma was inside.
I rushed into her open arms and burst into tears, nestling my head into
her bosom. I hadn't realised how much I missed her. It was such a relief
to see her.
"It's your stepfather," she exclaimed. "He's gone, that's all. He sold
you to Lugh for two gold pieces, and now he's gone. He even took the few
coins we had left. He said 'Why should I hang about in this dump, scraping
a living from these skins, when I can go off and see the world.' And then
he upped and left. He took a boat downstream two days ago and I haven't
seen him since. Oh Fintan, I'm all alone and have nothing to barter for
winter stores."
A polite coughing at the door reduced the wailing to sniffles.
"Anything I can do to help?" interjected the beak face
of Nevli, the herbalist to whom I was to be apprenticed. We both turned
round and wiped tears from our faces. The birdman ruffled his feathers on
the doorstep.
"No, nothing," sighed Ma. "Unless you can find me another man like Fintan's
father. He was so kind and gentle." This nostalgia provoked another bout
of sobs for her. I clung to my mother like I would never let go.
"Chieftain Lugh let me come back to visit my Ma, sir."
I said to the herbalist. "My name's Fintan, sir. I'm to be apprenticed
to you, Chieftain Lugh said so sir."
"Oh yes, I know you boy," said the herbalist, standing
in front of my mother's house. "The healer boy isn't it? Lugh told me about
you. I saw you when your sister was ill." I nodded. "Where's Lugh, at
Castledore?"he said. I shook my head.
"No sir, he's up at Riversend." I pointed back up the
valley. "He said I was to return there by sundown."
Just then Gerslin came back with some of her friends. They were happy to
see me. She had a picked a mass of blackberries and made them into skeg
tea, one of my favourites. Ma had some sweet-cakes, rich with the scent
of fresh honey.
We drank hot blackberry juice with Ma's sweet-cakes.
Nevli took out a small skin from his bag, and poured a drop from it into
the tea. It gave the summer fruits a rich, warming taste which lingered
long afterwards.
"I can help a bit, Ma." I took the pouch from my belt and gave it to my
mother. It contained some of my silver coins. I had hidden others under
grain sacks at Castledore.
"You'll be all right mother, you'll see, I'll bring you some more. People
give it to me for making them well."
"Fintan, Oh Fintan, thank you." She exclaimed gratefully
as she peered into the little bag, her arm around my shoulder. "I know
people will help with curing the hides, but this will get us the stores
we need for now."
Too soon Nevli reminded me it was time to leave. I really
didn't want to go. After the meeting with the old hag a cold feeling perched
on my back right between the shoulder blades. I held my Ma tight for a moment,
and then my sister, and then we left.
On the journey back to Riversend, Nevli and I shared the apples. Nevli
tested me on my knowledge of the woods. He asked me which plants were edible
and which were poison. He pointed to trees and asked me what I knew of them.
He seemed pleased with my answers and the time passed swiftly as he told
me some of his lore. While I listened, I wondered if I should confide my
secret with the herbalist, could I trust him?
"There are many sorts of plant, algae and fungi, lichens and ferns, plants
with cones and flowering plants, trees and shrubs. Each and every one
has a special value. Look at these nettles for example." He dismounted
the pony and strode over to a clump of mature nettles.
"We boil these and eat them as a green vegetable in the
spring. You must have had the broth these make called Brotchan Neantogg?"
He looked at me for an answer but none came. I had eaten nettles many
times, and actually liked them. My young friends thought I was stupid
as they hated it, but nobody had ever called it Brotchan Neantogg.
"This plant has other properties that make them worth
harvesting. Old people use these plants against stiffness in the joints,
they are full of goodness and they grow early after the cold season, just
when we need the tonic. A tea made with these helps to dispel some of the
melancholy of the cold and makes the heart merry. They can help with racking
coughs; the roots help with blockages inside a body. The leaves make a fresh,
light beer if brewed; they can even be used as a cold compress for inflammation.
The stalks are often used to make cloth. So much value in one plant." He
looked down his beak at me.
"But they sting when you pick them," I complained.
"True, true," repeated Nevli, "but look here." He pointed
down to a clump of dock leaves.
"Natures providence is endless, there, the cure for the
sting right next to the plant. Anyway a small sting is nothing to pay for
such a valuable plant. If you grab them hard, they're actually less likely
to sting; they're only defending themselves anyway. Go on, have a go, grasp
it like a man of mettle."
I grabbed a handful about half way up, as if my hand
was metal. They still stung. Nevli laughed. I picked the dock leaves and
rubbed the tiny, white blisters as they formed.
"You'll just have to keep practising that one, my boy,"
he said, through a set of most child-like giggles. It seemed that I was
apprenticed to a practical joker. I noticed the light was leaving the sky.
"We'd better get up to Riversend," I said. "I promised
Lugh I would be back before dark."
Now I was blind. Light had left my tree-cave. I cried
out but could hardly make a sound. I stopped trying to climb my way out
of the tree. The screech of an distant owl broke the silence of the empty
woods, and the sound of the dark wind breathing through the few autumn
leaves.
I took out the gift again; the energy made me feel warm and stopped me
hurting. I sunk into it as the white wave washed relief through me. I was
aware of myself, a guest in the heart of this tree. Snatches of the hag's
incantation came to me.
"Bound in your roots, my soul in your fruits..
Your sap in my blood, my breath in your wood...
My voice in your leaves, your strength in my grief."
We were gathered around a twilight fire at the centre
of the fort. The skies opened for viewing and Gods and heroes looked down
from the stars as we ate fresh-cooked hunks of steaming lamb, with dark
bread and cider. The man next to me passed a skin of cider, and I swigged
at the tart brew. I didn't like the taste much, but it sent a warm feeling
through me that shifted the dark dread I felt.
The men who I had healed earlier drank to my health, and I joined in, gulping
back large mouthfuls of the warming stuff. I was soon feeling the effects
as the night grew closer. A tribesman threw another log onto the fire,
a spout of dancing lights leapt into the sky to join the others twinkling
in the sky.
Singly the men gave tributes to the dead tribesman Cormac, and flagons
were raised. One told a tale of catching a huge fish with his friend; another
sung a sad lament of lost love. Individually the men contributed to the
memory legend of their lost friend.
Before long my eyes were brimming with tears, not just from the fire smoke.
My head was spinning and I left the campfire, staggering uncertainly away
from the flickering circle of light. I felt awful, my vision blurred. The
light from the fire made the palisade dance before my eyes. Suddenly I keeled
over, retching uncontrollably to release the contents of my stomach to the
ground.
I rose, and retched again. Looking back to the fire,
I staggered back down onto my knees. There were two fires, both dancing
simultaneously before my eyes. Which one should I make for? A wave of nausea
hit the pit of my stomach and I collapsed again, to lie still as a whirlpool
erupted around me. My head swam in a world of its own. One by one my senses
closed down and I lapsed into a swirling sleep.
When I woke, it was pitch black; blacker than any night. The black had
a depth in which my eyes could find no focus. There was no sound, no light,
nothing. It was also much colder than usual and I shivered.
My mouth tasted as if something had died in there. It was completely dry
and my tongue stuck to the top. I peeled it off and pushed myself to sit
upright. At least there was ground beneath me. A blanket slipped down my
chest. Someone was looking after me.
My head felt heavy as rock, as if its bones has shrunk and were pressing
me. I could hear the drum beat of my own heart thumping through my elbows
down into the earth.
Thankfully, my hand found a jug in the dark, and I lifted it to my lips,
gulping cold water in greedy mouthfuls. I felt the shock of cold liquid
flow to my insides and quench the dryness that filled me.
I needed a piss, and pulled the blanket off my legs.
As I moved I saw tiny lights dance around me. I reached out my arms to make
contact with something solid. There was nothing. I reached out on all fours,
making contact with some soft material, and under that something squashy.
My hands explored. A tube, no two tubes of something lying next to each other.
I reached further along, they joined together and I realised it was the
body of Cormac. Someone had shut me in the hut with the dead man.
I shrunk back to my bed on the ground, in a state of
panic. The panic inspired my bladder to greater desperation. I edged out,
away from the body, groping for a wall. I felt straw stubble and dried
mud. Both hands outstretched now, I worked along the wall to find the door.
Under my hands I felt rough wooden uprights, set closely together and sealed
from the outside where the wood joined. I felt up and down the texture,
and along the wall. I followed it round; there was no door frame, just
the upright poles. I kept going, and still no door. This wall was different
though, I was sure, but here was another upright with no sign of a door.
I pissed against the wall and it came in a hot, stingy gush. The relief
I felt quelled all fear of the dead man, but only for a moment.
I found my blanket and sat down again, suddenly weak and cold and drew
the blanket round my shoulders. Once again my thoughts turned to the flower
inside the leather wallet in my jerkin, and an inner glow lifted the black
atmosphere a shade. A sense of comfort flooded through me, and I relaxed
a little, wrapping the blanket closer and leaning into the wall.
I could make out the body of Cormac in the gloom, the
darkest of glows. A grey mist started to form over the dead man and I shrunk
closer to the wall clutching my blanket.
It spread out like morning fog in the valley. It took shape and formed
a body of the dead tribesman which sat up, looked around and saw me. He
opened his misty lips to talk and I felt the meaning form in my mind as
the spirit mouthed the words.
"Where am I? Who are you?" the thoughts arrived.
"You're dead," I replied, unbelievingly, "at Riversend,
and I'm Fintan. I've been shut in here with you. You were killed when
a log rolled down the hill." I wondered how he would take the news.
The spirit of the man looked down and saw he was still half sitting in
his own body. He stood and stepped away from the ruined human vessel, a
butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. His misty being changed and brightened.
Inside him, tiny lights floated like a swarm of gnats, moving in watery
twinkles. His demeanour suddenly changed and the floating image breathed
in power. It seemed to take on another countenance, the rainbow light of
another being.
"Fintan. Hear my words," said a new voice in my mind, as Cormac's lips
synchronised. The voice sounded louder yet more gentle and a mighty presence
entered the hut, filling every corner.
"I am sent to guide you. In time, your actions will change
the course of Destiny, but for now you must hide your being or it will be
used for ill. Darkness soon falls on the valley. You must remember Fintan,
that there is always love in the world."
With that the intensity of the spirit being faded. Cormac returned and
looked up, squinting into light, stretching out his arms as if to return
to his nurturing mother. His particles radiated a brief burst of colour
and a series of notes rung out as if from the sweetest harp. Cormac reached
slowly upwards, stretched into a plane of light and moved up through the
roof, leaving the hut in total darkness.
Again I tried to find the door to the hut, but it escaped
me. I sat down thinking about the strange spirit who had come to me through
Cormac. I was thankful for the blanket and wrapped it around myself as
I shivered. Faces came out of the dark at me. My sister, lying pale on her
bed, her eyes rheumy with pain. 'Help me Fintan, I feel terrible.'
The crone, snatching at me. 'Show me your secret Fintan.'
Her head back cackling 'I'll get you, and when I do you'll be sorry.'
Nevli, laughing as I stung myself on nettles, Harm cussing
me with a swipe. 'You're not worth your keep.'
Then the spirit of Cormac with its decree. I saw my mother,
her eyes staring down at me filled with love and kindness, the tears pushed
back. The eyes shifted, turning from green to blue. Her face changed to
that of a young man, the man from the boat who had given me his precious
flower, their faces faded in and out and took me into the world of dreams.
END OF CHAPTER 5
This is where Fintan's, and our adventures really begin. He is a disembodied being, adrift in the matrix of time, intimately connected to the valley of his birth.
As his story quantum leaps from time to time, always connected by thoughts of the Lily and his valley, he unveils a deep secret held in the earth. He reveals to us how the Michael and Mary line, also known as the 'Dragon Line' moderates the balance of energies through the earth meridian matrix - and how it has been tampered with, unbalancing the male and female energies of our planet.
He finds friends in modern times to help with fixing the disrupted energy of the Dragon Line and restoring balance to the earth energy matrix. Join in with this adventure now and you can help with the healing of the Dragon line and the restoration of the secret earth meridians.
Purchase 'The Valley' now and join in this stunning adventure to learn what Fintan discovers in his journies through time in the ancient valley of the River Fowey.
If you love stories of natural healing, ancient tales of magic, mystery and nature then don't miss this one - its destined to become a major hit and you can be part of it too! Once you have read 'The Valley' you'll want to join in this Earth Healing Adventure!
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COMING SOON :
Secrets of the Valley, episode 2: The Dragon Line
Secrets of the Valley, episode 3: Black Druids
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Snowdrops
The river from the woods
From Lanteglos highway
From Lanteglos Highway
Farm near St. Veep
Layers of summer field
Plants for a Future
Hillside near St. Veep
The edge of land
Beech tree at Lanhydrock
Nettle
Copper beech and Bluebells
Spring lamb
Hydrangea
Rocks at Lerryn
The river at Respryn
The river at Coulson Park
Midsummer morning mist on the river
Midsummer morning sunrise |
