Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Spring morn

Free of grime and dressed once more, notwithstanding the underlying sense of urgency, they took time to clean their leathers-wetting and scraping away the semisolid muck yet clinging to the garb until pants and jackets were habitable once more-for who knew what might lie ahead? Who knew what the Fates might have in store for them?

After a quick meal of their own, they mounted up and on they went, and the hills began to flatten until they rode across undulant plains, mostly grassland, though a few thickets were scattered here and there.

Sunwise they went and sunwise, and they came to a road curving out from two points starwise of sunup and bending ’round to bear directly sunwise as well.

Now following this route, on they forged, and the sun crossed above and arced in its invariant descent toward sundown.

“Whence fares this road? I wonder,” said Roel.

Celeste retrieved her vellum chart and began unfolding it. “That I cannot say, yet let me see if there is any clue on our meager map.” After a moment she shrugged and said, “This route is not on our sketch, but that is no surprise, for many things are missing. This I can say: it seems there are only two twilight borders left to cross, and if the drawn gaps between notations are anywhere close to accurate, we should be in the Changeling realm within three or four days.”

“Well and good,” said Roel, “for there are only eight days beyond this one ere the fall of the dark of the moon.”

“I do hope that is time enough,” said Celeste, refolding the vellum.

“It will have to be,” gritted Roel. .

. . And on they rode.

As the sun lipped the horizon, “What’s that in the distance ahead?” asked Celeste.

Roel stared down the track and frowned and held his hand to the right side of his head to shade his eyes against the sullen rays of the setting sun glancing across the ’scape. Finally he said, “It looks like a gibbet.”

“A gallows out here in the middle of the plains?”

“Oui. It seems so.”

“Then that object dangling is- Oh, Roel, is it a person?”

“Oui, cherie. Ah, but look, there is someone beyond.”

“Where? Oh. Someone sitting. Come, let us see what is afoot.” Celeste spurred her horse into a canter, as did Roel, and as the last of the sun fell below the horizon, they could see that the gibbet had been placed at a crossroads, for running sunrise to sunset another route ran athwart the one they followed. Closer they drew, and closer, and now they could see the corpse of a young man hanging from the crossbeam of the gallows, and nearby and among low mounds a young woman sat weeping at the edge of an open grave. As the two came riding up, the demoiselle sprang to her feet and cried out, “Oh, monsieur, will you please help me? My Joel has been wrongly put to death, and I am sentenced to bury him, but I have no way to cut him down.” Roel frowned. “Wrongly put to death? And you must bury him? Who did this thing to you?”

“My papa, for he caught us making love, and we are not wedded. He said that Joel must be a devil to have done such a thing to me. He clubbed my lover and brought him here and hanged him, where other criminals have been put to death.” She gestured at the low mounds. “I must bury Joel here among the other graves at this crossroad so that his ghost will be baffled, hence will not find its way to me or to haunt my papa.” The girl broke into tears.

Gritting her teeth, Celeste said, “ ’Tis your pere who should be hanged. Roel, cut the lad down. We must help this fille.”

Celeste leapt from her saddle and embraced the sobbing demoiselle, while Roel, standing in his stirrups, clutched the corpse and cut the rope. He eased the body to the ground, and then dismounted and took him up and bore him to the graveside. He clambered into the cavity, and gently drew the boy in and laid him down. As Roel climbed back out, the demoiselle looked at Celeste and quietly said, “It seems you two are at a crossroads as well.”

Celeste peered into the eyes of the girl, and black as midnight and deep they were.

The girl disengaged herself from Celeste’s embrace and glanced duskward at the darkening twilight heralding the onrush of night, and then she smiled and said to them both, “Thank you for the favor. It is one of the required things.” Celeste sighed and said, “Roel, I think it is as you once deemed when you said whom next we would meet; I believe this young demoiselle is none other than Lady Doom.”

A darkness enveloped the fille and then vanished, leaving behind a bent and toothless and cackling crone dressed in ebon robes limned in satiny ebon as well.

And from somewhere, nowhere, everywhere, came the sound of weaving looms.

Conundrums

Roel bowed and Celeste curtseyed, and Urd cackled and said, “Had you fooled, didn’t I?” She made a vague, one-handed gesture, and the graves and gibbet vanished.

“Oh, my,” said Celeste, “with those things gone, we did not do a true service for you.”

“Heh! Nonsense, child. It is what is in your heart that counts, whether or no the need is real or illusory, vital or trivial, large or small. In this instance, Celeste, your heart was filled with rage at an injustice done, and sorrow for the victims of it, and the need to do something.” Urd turned to Roel and added, “And in your heart, Chevalier, you felt a momentary twinge of guilt, for you and your own lover are not married either, but o’erwhelming all, you felt the same rage and sorrow, and the need to seek out the perpetrator and exact vengeance.

Yet, my boy, you need to take care when dealing out retribution, for such passions unbridled will blacken a heart.”

“You can truly read what is in our hearts?” asked Celeste, wonder in her gaze.

“Oh, Princess, that is but a simple thing. This I do know: you two are deeply in love. . fortunately with one another.” Urd hooted in laughter, her ebon eyes dancing in glee.

When she finally stifled her joy she turned to Roel and said, “You, my boy, are yet certain that you-a mere chevalier-are not worthy of a princess, yet I tell you this princess knows you are. Set aside your doubts, Roel, for it is not station that determines merit, but heart and soul and spirit and deeds: the very fiber of your being.” Celeste looked at Roel, her heart in her eyes, and she said, “Oh, my love, did I not say it was so?”

“You did, cherie, you did. Yet I. .” Roel fell into silence, as if strong emotions blocked his words.

“Heh,” chortled Urd, “my sisters said he was a catch.” Roel looked at Urd, a frown on his face. “Lady Doom, I did not see or speak with your sisters, yet you appear before me. Why is that?”

Urd waggled a finger at Roel, saying, “Now, now, Chevalier, don’t you recall railing that we Three Sisters never answer something straight out?” Roel’s eyes widened in startlement, and Urd smiled a gummy grin at Celeste. “Didn’t know I was listening, did he?”

“My lady, why have you come?” asked Celeste.

“Begging for a straight answer yourself, are we? Well, you know the second rule: first you have to answer a riddle.”

“Might Roel help this once?”

“Of course, of course. Why do you think I let him see me? Silly girl.” And again she crowed a laugh.

Celeste reached out and took Roel’s hand in hers, then said, “Ask away, Lady Doom.”

Urd looked from Celeste to Roel and back, and as the sound of looms swelled, she said:

“It can run but never walks,

Has a mouth but never talks,

Has a head but never weeps,

Has a bed but never sleeps,

When it tumbles, always grumbles, Never bumbles when it rumbles,

Ever shouts in heady falls,