Where the Path Leads-Chapter 14

Mistress of the Creatures

• MARY DRAKE –
  

When she finally stopped running, Emily leaned against a tree to catch her breath and calm down. Shadows were lengthening in the forest, which now seemed deathly quiet. No more horn. Oh God! Was Arthur’s brother dead? She was afraid to think about it and covered her face with her hands. She hadn’t meant to startle the horse, but she shouldn’t have been there. All she had wanted was a little rest, and she hadn’t thought anyone would notice or care. 

            Now what?

            Straightening up and smoothing her rumpled clothes, she began to pick leaf litter from her hair. Looking around the silent forest she saw a seemingly endless variety of trees, saplings, and undergrowth, all different, and yet all the same, a sea of leaves no matter which way she looked. What she wouldn’t give for street signs or landmarks. Instead, she just started walking, wondering how long it would take to get out of here, and what would happen because of leaving her work. Could she get back before dusk and the Bailiff never know?  The thought made her pick up the pace, and she walked faster, but after what seemed like an hour, she was again overcome with fatigue.  

            Feeling a draft of coolness, she wandered towards a small, still pool.  Hidden in plain sight, it was sheltered by tall pines, the water clear, but dark.  Thirstily, she knelt and drank from her cupped hands. It was cold and slightly bitter. She knew she should get back, but still, she just had to sit down, her body feeling heavy and not wanting to move.

            Gazing wearily into the water, she thought of sitting at the loom, weaving, and could see her hands deftly throwing the shuttle back and forth in time with her feet pressing first one pedal, then another. As the heddles moved up and down and the thread went in and out, the fabric that appeared filled her with wonder at its beauty, all blues and greens, gold, silver and yellow. A lovely mirror of nature. Just the kind of thing she had longed to create, when suddenly she knew with a certainty she couldn’t explain that it wasn’t her at the loom. With keen disappointment, she saw Sophia leaning over, giving guidance and advice to Thea, Cyril’s daughter; it was an older Thea weaving that beautiful fabric, not her. It would never be her.

            Working in the water meadow had sidelined her weaving lessons. Who knows what she might have accomplished if she’d stayed with it. But she had to go to work for the ruling folk, she thought, digging her dirt-encrusted fingernails into her palms. Then she recalled Arthur and smiled. He wasn’t so bad. He was kind and quick to help, like with Isaac. And easy to talk to. Walking down the road after the May Day feast she had felt at ease with him. He had a gentle smile and she thought it endearing way his sandy blonde hair fell across his forehead. But her smile faded as she realized she hadn’t seen him since May Day. She had never ridden his grey horse and probably never would. Who was she kidding? He wouldn’t be attracted to someone like her, a plain laborer with short brown hair and a homespun dress. 

            She massaged her temples. Her headache was starting again and her shoulders sagging with dejection. The pool was dark and blank, like a closed door. Sitting there, she felt like she was waiting for someone who would never arrive. Somehow the pool’s glassy stillness was involved in all this.           

            Again she wondered what she had done by leaving her job at the water meadow. What had she done by not returning home. Who knew what her parents were going through? She had just added to their troubles by disappearing. She should have stayed to face the consequences of failing algebra. Running away was just irresponsible. Why couldn’t she seem to do the right thing? Suddenly she wondered if the blackness of the water would blot out everything, help her forget all her failings. Maybe she could sink her bad thoughts into its depths.

            “It won’t help,” said a voice behind her that was gentle and firm, but totally unexpected.

            Startled, she tried to jump up, but her tunic had gotten twisted around her legs and she stepped on it, falling towards the pool. Her surprise at having someone sneak up behind her was followed by another surprise. As her arms went into the pool to break her fall, she felt no bottom, even along the edge. A strong hand grabbed the back of her tunic and pulled her out.

            Finally, she got to her feet, dripping wet. “Why did you startle me like that?”

            “It wasn’t my intention,” said the woman. “You just didn’t hear me.  You were lost in thought.”

            Emily was facing a tall young woman with long, dark hair, wearing a green cloak. She wasn’t as pale as the ruling folk at the castle, like Rosamond, but neither was she as browned as the laborers. Her light skin was sun kissed from being outdoors and she had thoughtful dark brown eyes.

            “You’re right. I was,” Emily admitted. “And you caught me off guard, but I’m really glad to see you. I’m lost. Can you help me get out of here?”

            The woman looked puzzled.

            “You’re trying to get out of the forest? Then why are you sitting here?” She lifted her chin, indicating the pool.

            “Oh, I just stopped to . . . ,” but she couldn’t remember why she had stopped.

            “All right.  Now, step away,” the green woman said quietly, holding out her hand to Emily.

            It was Emily’s turn to be puzzled. She looked again at the dark water, so mysterious, and felt a strong pull towards it. Even though her thoughts had spiraled downwards while she had been sitting there, she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she just sat there long enough and thought about things, everything would become clear and she would know what to do. Confused, she turned back to the woman.

            “I . . . I don’t think I’m ready yet. I still need to think.”

            “No, you don’t. The pool won’t help you think, not in the right direction. When I found you just now, you were thinking bad thoughts about yourself, how you had let people down.”

            How did she know?

            “It’s the pool,” the green woman said.

            Emily looked back again at the unruffled surface. Such a quiet spot. She wanted to be quiet too, and still.

            “Come with me.”  The woman’s spoke with assurance and again held out her hand. “It’s the pool of lost opportunities. Deadly in its attraction, it has lured many an unwary traveler from her path to sit beside its still waters and get lost in hopeless contemplation of paths not taken. Many never leave its banks. Overwhelmed by despair, they plunge forever into its unseen depths.”

            Even though she was horrified, Emily felt rooted there, tangled in visions of beautiful fabric, of Arthur, of Sophia, of her parents, all the thoughts swirling in her mind. What kind of hold did this pool have over her, she wondered, turning again to look at its inexplicable, glassy surface and hidden depths.

            “Don’t look back,” the woman ordered.  “Come away.”

            But the urge to sit down again was strong. That’s why she had stopped here in the first place, her muscles screaming for rest. Yet this woman kept urging her on. Finally, Emily recalled her job at the water meadow and felt a stab of guilt. Staring instead at the woman, she placed her hand in the other’s cool grasp and allowed herself to be led away from the water’s edge like a bewildered child.

            “Are you all right? I couldn’t force you to come away,” said the green woman. “The pool has that power over people. You must choose to leave on your own.”

            “I don’t feel so good,” Emily said. “I’m weak, maybe from heat or hunger,” and realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

             “Let me find something for you.”

            After they had walked a short distance, the woman suggested Emily wait under a shady beech tree.

              Emily knew she needed to get back and would, now that she had found her guide, so she didn’t like the thought of losing this woman.

            “I’ll come with you.,” she said.

            “Don’t worry.” The woman smiled. “There’s a boggy spot near here where blackberries grow and maybe some wild mushrooms. It’s not far. I’ll be back soon. You rest,” and she disappeared.

            Tired though she was, Emily was concerned about how late it was getting, certain that she had been missed by now. She fidgeted, scraping mud from the hem of her tunic with a fingernail, then standing up once and considering going after the woman. But what if she got lost again? She wanted to call out but didn’t know her name.

            Finally, the green woman reappeared, stepping noiselessly through the leaves, holding treasures in her cloak: blackberries, crabapples, mushrooms, wild garlic and hazelnuts. Emily immediately began picking out the more familiar things, like the blackberries, to eat. 

            “Try this,” the woman said, holding up one of the small greenish-red crabapples.

            Emily bit into it and grimaced at its tartness.

            “You’ll develop a taste for them after a while,” she said. “They give you energy.”

            If she hadn’t been so hungry, she wouldn’t have touched the mushrooms or the wild garlic, but she was desperate for anything edible to chew on right now, to stop her brain from screaming for food and her stomach from rumbling uncomfortably.

            “Are these OK?”  She was cautious about wild mushrooms.

            The woman nodded. “I washed them in the stream. Perfectly safe. After you’ve eaten, I’ll take you for a drink.”

            All this stuff was right around her in the forest. Why hadn’t she thought to look for it, instead of staring uselessly into a pool? When she had finished everything else, she held the hazelnuts in her hands longingly.

            “Of course, you can’t eat them, can you?” The woman looked into the treetops until a gray squirrel appeared through the topmost branches of a tree. It began jumping from limb to limb, like an acrobat, until it was on the lower branches of a nearby oak, where it scurried down the trunk.

            Amazed, Emily watched it approached them.

            “Sit quietly,” the woman whispered. She lay the nuts in a small pile a little way from where they sat, and they waited. 

            Hardly daring to breathe, Emily watched the squirrel, its bright black eyes never leaving them, darting first to one of them, then the other, as it made its way indirectly toward the pile. When it finally got there, it swished its bushy tail several times, chattered at them, then sat up on its hind legs. Systematically it cracked the nuts, one after the other, never eating the meat inside, after which it returned to all four feet. The woman gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and the creature was gone, scurrying back up the trunk of the oak and out of sight in the branches.

            “How . . .?  That was amazing,” Emily gasped.  “How did you do that? Is it trained?”

            “I didn’t do anything,” said the woman, sifting through the shells and picking out the nuts.

            “It isn’t your squirrel?”

            “No,” she laughed. “I just asked.”

            “You mean? What. . .telepathically? Who are you?” Obviously her companion was no ordinary person.

            “My name is Annamund, Mistress of the Creatures. I live here in Blackwood and help the animals and sometimes, as you just saw, they help me.” 

            She said it as simply as if it were done all the time.  Emily stared, incredulous.

            “But how did you ask the squirrel to come down?” She was talking through a mouthful of the sweet, delicious nuts.

            “Most of them are happy to help if it’s within their power, but you mean how do I communicate with them? I guess you would say we just understand one another.”

            “All the animals?” she asked.

            “Most, although some in the forest choose to do evil, even though it goes against nature. I have little understanding with them since by their own actions they’ve cut themselves off from others.”

            “What? Like, wild boars?” she asked, a little coldness from the ground traveling up her spine as they sat there.

            “No. Wild boars are not evil. More like beleaguered,” said Annamund who stood up. “Come, get a drink and we’ll find your way out.”

            “Well, if there were such things as dragons here, they would probably be evil.”  She recalled Thea’s story about the abyss.

            Annamund looked askance at her as they walked. “Don’t dismiss too readily that which you don’t see.”

            The woman puzzled her, but she had to admit, Annamund knew her way through the forest. Later, when it was almost too dark for Emily to see her guide in front of her, Annamund’s quiet footfalls never hesitated. Finally, a slight breeze stirred through her hair and quivering leaves whispered to her that she was back in the aspen grove which bordered on the water meadow. By the thin light of a crescent moon, Emily saw it was dark and empty, everyone gone home. Her heart sank.

            “So . . . this is why the snakes and frogs, the cranes and ducks have been retreating into the forest,” Annamund said, her voice flat.

            Emily was silent.

            Finally Annamund said, “I leave you to this world, where people persist in disturbing the natural order,” as though she couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to return to it.

            After witnessing the hunting accident, Emily had been desperate to get out of the forest, but now that she was here, she wasn’t so sure herself about coming back.

            “Thank you for showing me the way out,” she said anyway.

            Annamund looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m not sure you should be thanking me.”

            Later, Emily would wonder if Annamund had known what she was returning to.