Chapter 3.8

#

The warmth of the kitchen bathed my face; the smell of baking bread and roasting meats filled my nostrils. A kitchen maid, crouched on the hearth to stir a large pot, turned to face me, and smile. She rose, flour-streaked skirts swirling about her legs, and hurried over. It was nice to be recognized, for once.

“Are ye hungry?” Elise asked.

With her question, I was. I nodded.

She slipped away, and returned just as silently. “Fresh-baked bread, just out of the oven. And some of the best cheese Ay’ve ever aged.”

At Songless, when the Old Lord was still alive, I was lucky if the handouts from the kitchen were no more than a little stale. I nodded my thanks at her generous charity.

“Do ye know, that sweet-voiced boy hasn’t been seen today, and the Lady Victoria was caught dozin’ at her needlework. They must have been all night in the garden!”

I shook my head at her words.

“Ye don’t like my saying that?”

Again I shook my head, this time sternly. The Lady Victoria was a lady of the castle, a beautiful rose among brambles. Kitchen maids were too easily replaceed.

“Aye, well, I’m no Christian to call a Bard a horrible Pagan beneath the sun, then kiss him by moonlight. I stand by my bard no matter the weather.”

Another conquest for Sharp, I thought bitterly. He was the only Bard to be found in this castle. I nodded my thanks for the meal and turned to go.

“Ay’ll see ye tonight,” she said quietly.

Behind me, Charles said loudly, “Gir-rl. Go-od.”

I looked back to see him make exaggerated gestures of the feminine shape with his hands. Then he laughed, and the other workers in the kitchen laughed with him. Face burning, I shouldered him aside and stalked ot the door.

“Why are ye bothering with that mute creature?” another woman asked behind me. “Do ye think he even knows what ye are sayin’?”

You lose your voice and you lose your ears. Soon I would be nothing more than a ghost.

Chapter 3.7

#

Ghost-like, I wafted along the hallways of the upper floor, relearning the maze of decorated corridors and bare service hallways. I peeked behind tapestries, finding the secret passages and hidden staircases, and made my way into the spyhole beside the chapel. Through a slit in the wall I watched the two Silent Monks sing their mid-afternoon mass. Brown cowls and robes hid their features, but their voices were distinct. The taller one was a strong tenor, filling the room with the bells of his voice, and he led the other, a feeble baritone, down the twisting path of their music.

At this time, before their god, no silent monk is denied his voice. He is free to shape the words and music, giving what is sacrificed elsewhere. But it had been years since I had heard their mass, for the Church’s interdict took these services from them. We were equal there – perhaps that is why they took an interest in me.

After my ill-treatment by the Bard-killer, I fled to the hayloft in the stable and hid there. I vowed not to come out and beg, even if it meant that I would perish. But the monks came to me with blankets and bread softened in wine, and stayed with me through the long days that followed.

For me they pulled back their cowls, showing themselves to be common men, not formless shadows. Then they took my hands in theirs – rough, work-worn hands – and taught me to shape them into their signs. With a slate they taught me the meaning of the word: those that could write, did, and those that could not drew pictures. Without demanding that I join their order, they pulled me into their witty, lively world.

When the young lord found me in the stables, and demanded that I play for him, he soon learned of my new way of speaking. He would not be satisfied until the monks taught him the signs, as well. Why anyone who does not listen would want to know what is said, I do not understand.
Still, the monks taught him, and ceased to converse in his presence. Only blessings flowed from their fingers until the doors were shut.

In the chapel before me, the two voices rose in a crescendo, ended with a flourish, then faded with an echo. I, mute and hidden, could watch but not touch the experience. The wall between myself and the chapel was more than physical. I was soul-mate to the monks only while they where at Songless Castle, for elsewhere they still had their Mass.

Chapter 3.6

#

Remembering the story, I also remembered sitting at Master Meiltung’s feet with the other Bards-in-training, learning the stories I would tell to the children of the world. Stories learned to no avail – I would never teach them. I threw the memory away into the fog and hurried over an arching bridge to the main keep. There was cold water beneath my cloak, and I wanted to be near a fire. As if any fire could melt the ice around my heart.

I entered one of the upper hallways, a long passage lined by portraits of stern and somber Guerneys, all looking down at me over large, sharply hooked noses. It held a multitude of other treasures: covered chairs, engraved chests, and locked showcases containing books, Christian icons, and pieces of Lord Guerney’s famed knife collection. A chambermaid moved up the hall, carefully dusting as she went.

I recognized her.

Ten years earlier, in the warmth of the kitchen after the big meal, the servants would gather and listen to our music. She was always there, a maiden not many years older than myself, and she seemed to favor my tunes over Sharps. Once, even, she sat in my lap and dared me to play. I did, if badly, and everyone laughed. It was all light and innocent, but even then she rose up quickly when her soldier walked into the room.

Days of laughter and pretty maids.

I touched her shoulder, wondering if she remembered those days as fondly. But when she turned to me, with a face older but still sweet, she dropped her eyes and bowed her head.

"Yes, me lord?"

I touched her chin to tilt her head up, so that she would look me in the face.

"Oh no, my Lord." She stepped back from my reach, but watched me cautiously. Her hand rested on her swollen abdomen. "Ay beg ye let me go. Ay’m a wife and a mother."

I gestured to my face.

She quickly shook her head, and backed away further.

I was forgotten then, my memory lost with my voice. I had ceased to exist, and even my songs belonged to another.

Chapter 3.5

#

Before there was land, sky, and sea, there was ice, mist, and milk. Some of the ice broke away and floated to the surface of the milk, and upon it lay the Master of Paths and Earth Mother, two halves of the same whole. Looking upon each other, and seeing that each was only a half but together they were a whole, the Master of Paths and the Earth Mother lay down with each other and were joined together. That is why men and women seek each other.

In the days that followed the Earth Mother became aware that she carried the joining within her, and so she gathered together all the ice to make a land for her children to live in. She warmed the ice with her body, and caused plants to grow upon it, and then she filled the plants with bright flowers. Every spring the Earth Mother remembers that she did this, and brings out green plants and bright flowers where the snow and ice has been.

Looking down on this land, the Master of Paths was so moved that he began to cry. As each shimmering drop fell, it became a god and flew into the Earth Mother’s world. But these gods were not of the Earth Mother, and did not belong in her world, and were rejected. They cried out to their father, the Master of Paths, who told them that if they joined themselves to the Earth Mother’s world, they would be her children, too. So the gods went forth and joined themselves to her rocks and waters, her plants and her fires, and thus made themselves complete. This is why gods are found where they are, bound to streams and groves, mountains and grassy plains, and sometimes burning as a bonfire.

The Master of Paths caught two of the fire gods, Snir the Greater and Snar the Lesser, and set them high above the Earth Mother’s land There they wander restlessly, treading the same path day after day, warming the land and giving it light. Then, so that Snir and Snar should not be lonely, he caught up two god-sized handfuls of Silver-eyed and threw them into the sky. It is their eyes that shine at night.

When the Earth Mother’s time came, she made a bed on the land, and lay down. She spread her thighs and sang, and the birth waters came out in a rush and made the sea. Then from her womb spilled every animal of the earth, from fish to bird. Each child went to a place of the land and claimed it as its own. That is why certain creatures are found one place, but not another, and why the sea tastes of salt.

At the very last, the first man and the first woman climbed from her womb. They looked upon each other, and saw that each was only half of the same whole. They went to the grass of the new world, and there celebrated the creation of the world. And that is why, to this day, men and women lie together in joy and celebration.