Beyond the Gyre

Chapter One-2

Fyn sighed. “I found her late last year. She has returned to the Temple and locked herself away from the outside world. When I visited her there, I begged her to go back across the heavenly plane and seek the companionship of our kind. But she would not. She says her people have need of her, and that she is at fault.”

“Perhaps they do,” Katkin murmured, as she spread some butter on a piece of the oat bread. “What is my son up to these days?”

“I know not. I may spend only a few hours in the living world, my dear. What little time I have I choose to spend here, with you.”

“And I am very glad that you do,” Katkin said, smiling, as she offered her wine in a toast. “To wicked liaisons,” she added.

Fyn tapped his goblet against hers, but gave her a sharp glance all the same. “Indeed. But have you no shame, Katrione?” He smiled as he asked this, so she would understand it was a jest, but still she answered him very seriously.

“No, I suppose not...” she said, and then did not speak again for a minute or more. Fyn sat by her side, and sipped his wine, waiting for her to continue. “I love you, and I love Jacq. You both have been part of all my lives, and will be for all my lives to come, I hope. But Huw... Well, I just don’t seem to have any room left in my heart for him. I mean, I care about him, of course. How could I not? We have been together for sixteen years on this cursed island.”

“Why don’t you leave here, if you hate it so?”

“What can I do? Would you let me go with you?” Katkin snapped back. He shook his head, as she had known he would, and she scowled at him. “I have my task, just as you have yours. The Dawnmaid has to come first.”

Katkin sighed and rested her head on Fyn’s shoulder. His hair was pungent with the scent of lavender and rose. It brought a blush of remembrance to her cheeks, knowing that the pressure and warmth of their bodies had crushed the petals and released their perfume. “I am sorry, love. I know you are not to blame. But I despise this place. It is windswept and barren, and very lonely. For me the sun shines but once a year, on this day — the day of the solstice.”

He wrapped his arms about her as she shed soft tears on his bare shoulder. Silently, they finished the last of the wine, both aware of the sun’s passage across the sky. They had another hour or two together, no more. After a moment, Fyn stood and approached the statue of Lalluna, then knelt before it reverently. He spilled the dregs of his wine into the sand, as a libation. Katkin joined him, and did the same. They stood and turned away as one, before walking back to the palliasse. Katkin undressed again, and Fyn pulled her on to the quilt. For a long time they lay together, and said nothing.

This time, this very last time, their lovemaking was measured — and sad. When it finished, they did not talk. Fyn dressed and re-buckled his sword belt. Katkin tidied her hair as best she could. Now they stood together under the rift in the cavern ceiling.

Fyn said softly, “I must go now, but my heart remains here — with you.”

Katkin smiled through her tears. “Farewell, my love. I hope, someday...”

“Nay,” he broke in, and for the first time his voice echoed the bitterness he harbored inside. “Do not hope for what will never be, Katrione. I am a walking corpse, and you have much life yet to live. Live it, in happiness, with those of your own kind.”

She threw up her hands and cried, “My country lies in ruins, Dai has betrayed me, and you will not stay. What happiness have I? What reason to live?”

Fyn shook her shoulders. “Joy can be lost, and yet found again. But if it seems far away, then a noble duty may provide some solace.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only this. My heart tells me that the final conflict is hard upon us, and this turn of the Gyre will soon be at an end. One we both love lies in darkness, bereft of hope. She needs you. Go to the Temple, as soon as you may.”

Katkin nodded, and as he embraced her, she said, “Then we will meet again on the last battlefield, you and I. Even if it is in death, we will be together, and then there will be peace for all.”

“In death?” Fyn closed his eyes and said forlornly, “I only wish it could be so. Farewell, my dear.” He stepped away, and left her. Her surroundings now seemed monochromatic, and Katkin shivered. Slowly she drifted around the cave, collecting her belongings, and packing them away in the basket. There were no tears, only a brittle resolve that would soon be shattered in the secret spaces of the night, in silent lamentation for what she had lost, again and again.

Katkin exited the cave, and then made her way across the meadow, swinging the basket in the long grass. She swore and ducked behind a tor when she saw Huw in the distance, heading towards her on the same path. After a moment, he walked by with his head down, oblivious to her presence. She waited until he had passed from sight on the next rise and then hurried back home.

* * * *

“Wait for me!” Poppy called, as she slipped and slid down a high dune. Gwillam and Myrie, who were well ahead of her, did not slacken their pace.

Her brother looked back. “Wait for yourself, sluggard. We will have finished all the gooseberries by the time you catch us.”

He and Myrie dived behind a hummock of sand and shrubs, shrieking with laughter. Poppy slowed her pace, for she had seen another figure approaching. Jakob. Or was it Lut?

She could not tell the twins apart unless she talked to them.

“Hallo, Poppy!” he shouted, as he spied her from the bottom of a nearby dune. “Stop a minute. I want to ask you something.”

Jakob then. Lut would never be so forward.

She stopped and waited as he strode up the loose sand towards her. He gave an easy grin when he reached her side. Poppy wondered to herself how two people as alike as Jakob and Lut could have such very different personalities. “Hello, yourself,” she said. “Jakob, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Have you seen Myrie? Ma wants to cut her hair today. She has been looking all over for her.”

Poppy lowered her eyes and studied a flowering vine that snaked along the ground at her feet. “No. I haven’t seen her. Did you ask Ikor[3] Kadya if he knows where she is?”

Her lie fooled Jakob. “No, I will stop by his cottage on my way back to the byre. Are you coming over to help with the milking?” He gave her a sideways glance, his blue eyes half closed. “We can walk there together. If you want to, I mean...” His voice trailed off, and he thrust his hands into the pockets of his breeches.

She looked towards the gooseberry patch with longing, but decided there would be trouble if Jakob caught Myrie and Gwillam together. After tucking her arm through his, she led him back up the dune.

“I thought you said your Ma had a headache this morning,” Jakob said. “But I saw her, a couple of minutes ago, when I was looking for Myrie on the tops. I saw your Pop, too. He sure looked angry.”

Poppy frowned and changed the subject. Whatever difficulties her parents had, it was none of his business. She said, “I wish I had your long legs, Jakob. Look at you, you aren’t even winded. It takes me twice as many steps to climb this hill. I am such a weakling!”

He laughed at this and peered at her legs, which were alluringly bare, for she had tucked her long skirt into her belt. Despite her complaint, her limbs were well muscled, the skin smooth and brown.

“What are you complaining about now? Let’s have a look at those legs, Miss Brunner,” he said. He dropped to his knees before her and squeezed her calf. “Feels pretty good to me.”

Poppy let out a hoot of laughter. “Is that your best diagnosis?” she said teasingly. “Perhaps I had better get a second opinion.”

Jakob’s hand slipped upwards, past her knee, to the silky skin on the inside of her thigh. “Hmmm...” he said, more softly. “Do you have any discomfort if I press here?”

“No, Doctor,” she answered promptly. “But I do have a pain.”

“Where?”

“Right here!” With a quick twist, she flipped a foot-full of sand into his face and ran away, laughing. But the look that she gave him over her shoulder was frankly inviting.

Jakob struggled to his feet and chased after her, while brushing the sand from his cheeks and eyebrows. She headed towards a copse of birches they both knew well. He caught her underneath their shapely white trunks. A second later, she was in his arms.

After kissing him for a moment, Poppy pulled away. She rubbed her chin and asked, “When are you going to start shaving? Every time we kiss, I get a rash on my face. Katkin is getting very suspicious.”

Jakob pulled her close again. “Dad won’t let me. He says a proper Northman must have a beard. I am sorry, Poppy.” He stroked her chin tenderly, and she ruffled his long blond hair.

“Don’t worry, I can always think of some story to tell her.” She stared up at Jakob. “Don’t you think we ought to be getting back? Bessie doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

He gazed back at her. “Poppy...” He brought up his hand to touch her cheek. “Have you thought any more about what I asked you? You promised you would tell me your answer today.” His face colored, leaving brilliant crimson streaks on his cheekbones that made his freckles disappear.

“Was it today I said?” she asked. “I guess I forgot. I... I need a little more time, Jakob.”

His face fell. “But Poppy, you know I love you. I want to show you. Why won’t you let me? We are both old enough...”

She shook her head. “I am, maybe. But are you so sure you are ready?”

This made him angry. “I am not a child!”

Poppy smiled and shrugged. “Don’t get so huffy. I was only teasing.”

Jakob was not mollified. “That’s right. You were teasing. That is all you ever do, Poppy.” His grip on her arm tightened and he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I want you so much. It is all I think about. It is driving me insane. Please say yes. Don’t make me wait any longer.” His left hand slipped down the front of her peasant blouse and groped for her breast. Poppy gave a cry and tried to back away from him, but he did not let her go.

Incensed, she raised her head and gave him a ringing slap across the cheek. He laughed and shook her by the shoulder. “Come on, stop being so coy. It isn’t as if you have a lot of choice. Who else are you going to do it with? That i***t Lut?”

Poppy pushed him away and rubbed her arm. “I don’t have to give myself to either of you,” she said primly.

Jakob sniffed. “As long as we are all stuck on this stinking island it will have to be one of us. And obviously it is going to be me.”