Chapter 39
For the last few days Meg from Wickham has been getting up very early and going to bed late. There was so much to complete before the great Yule holiday. The villagers were preparing to celebrate the winter solstice: some were brewing festive ale, some were smoking pork carcasses, Meg needed to bake festive muffins made of dried fruits and nuts. And the pile of sheep's wool that lies on the bench in the corner will not spin itself, and according to tradition, all the work should try to finish before the beginning of the winter holiday, so that good luck will accompany them in the new year. She looked at the wall where a festive wreath of mistletoe leaves hung, woven by her and decorated with coloured threads and wild berries. Meg smiled immediately, remembering how John had brought her those sprigs of evergreen mistletoe the other day. How many anxious days she had spent waiting for news of his fate and that of his friends.
How she was overjoyed to see him after a long languishing separation. But despite her eager embrace and questioning, John told her very succinctly about his magical release from the Baron's castle and simply let her know that they were fine and would spend this winter in the secret caves. This secrecy was a little upsetting to Meg, but she was well aware that it was best for everyone. This gave the story of the rescue of the outlaw forest archers a very fairy-tale colouring and on the eve of the general holiday the villagers told each other unrealistic half-made-up stories about Robin in the Hood, who once again outwitted all his enemies and escaped unharmed from the sheriff's pursuit. And Sir Guy of Gisborne's last visit to the village made one think that the village was under the protection of the spirits of the forest.
It was five days ago. Early in the morning a troop of mounted men led by Gisborne rode into the village. According to rumours that had reached Wickham from Nottingham, the Sheriff had been very ill of late and almost all his duties in filling the castle's coffers had been performed by Sir Guy of Gisborne. Being by nature not very clever, but executive, he did his best. On entering the village that morning, he began quarrelling with Edward, the thane of Wickham, demanding additional contributions of silver and goods.
Edward answered his attacks calmly and confidently, and when Sir Guy realised that he was unlikely to be given anything for nothing, he shouted to one of his soldiers to hand him a torch. Gisborne grabbed a flaming torch and headed straight for the village barn where the grain was stored, intending to burn it to the ground. On the way he angrily kicked the composed clay pots, to his misfortune one of the pots contained oil which stained the edge of his cloak.
No sooner had Sir Guy approached the barn than a spark falling from the torch instantly ignited his cloak, turning it into a walking bonfire. Gisborne spun around trying to beat the fire, and it was only through the efforts of his guards, who toppled him to the ground and extinguished the flames, that he survived. Suddenly there was a terrible wind that raised a column of dust. The guards began to scatter, trying to get away from the gusts of wind.
Realising at one point that he was without his guards, Gisborne began to shout angry curses, threatening to kill the people of Wickham, but the howling wind made it hard to make out what he was shouting. Looking round wildly and covering his face with his hands, Sir Guy left the village as quickly as possible, and after this incident no one from Nottingham came to the village, either for taxes or otherwise. So the people of Wickham could only wonder whether it was a happy accident, or whether the wrath of the forest spirits had really chased away the uninvited guests.
The Sherwood Outlaws camp was also busy these days with pleasant pre-holiday chores. Monk Tuck was tending to a huge vat of holiday ale, and his friends joked that it would be enough to get them drunk and knock out all the spirits of the forest combined. But Tuck only smirked and said, as if he still had to brew.
They had been lucky in their hunting, too, and had shot several wild boars, whose carcasses were now rotating on the spits, browning. Marion checked the stock of grains and nuts and felt that the amount available should be enough to make pies for the feast. Just wish there was more honey, she thought, finding only one clay pot with sweet contents.
At the agreed time the friends met the people of Wickham and in a large clearing in the woods built a high fire, which allowed them to celebrate under the open night sky, studded with a myriad of stars. It was a frosty and clear night.
First, the people of Wickham laid offerings to the spirits at the altar in the clearing of the forest and lit candles in honour of the ancestors. A bowl was passed round the circle of guests and everyone who drank from it spoke words of gratitude to the spirits of the forest and asked for their protection in the new year.
Treats for all the guests were set out on tables around the fire. Baked pork hams, meat pies, sweet muffins, dried fruit, nuts and, of course, kegs of strong ale. It was deep night, but the fire and the rising full moon lit up the forest clearing, dispelling the gloom. Joyful laughter and merry music could be heard everywhere. People were singing and dancing around the fire. Stomping to the beat of the drums, a string of dancers moved away from the fire, then squeezed in a ring around it, their bodies and hands twirling, drawing an intricate pattern of the holiday, looking at it became light and cheerful at heart.
An excited Meg sat down to rest after the dance. Little John lowered himself onto the bench beside her, holding out a cup of strong ale to her.
«How happy I am today», - Meg thought, watching the fun from the sidelines.
Tuck dances dashingly with the villagers in the circle, despite his spiritual rank and considerable weight. Much and Will have a competition and arm wrestle, shifting treats on the table to the side. Will was clearly stronger, but diligently pretends to do his best to defeat the miller's son, thus eliciting general laughter and banter from those gathered around them. Nazir was surrounded by Wickham's first beauties, like a true knight, gallantly lavishing each with his attention and exquisite compliments, causing a blush to break out on the cheeks of the beauties.
Robin and Marion sit a little apart, distracted from each other, only to accept the villagers' congratulations, for each wants to talk to them and say good wishes. Meg noticed the change in Marion, that her gaze had become calmer, her movements smoother, and the noticeably rounded belly, visible even under Marion's loose clothes. Mentally, Meg was sincerely happy for her.
The music gets faster and faster, people's voices get louder. Everything spins in a whirlwind of celebration, reflecting the glare of the bonfire, the joy in people's eyes. Everything rushes by with a string of songs and bright sparks of merriment. The time is past midnight, but no one thinks about sleep, in this forest glade under the bright moon Yule reigns, giving everyone warmth and happiness.
Close to the fire the words of an old ballad rang out:
A ROCKY CLEARING IN A DARK FOREST,
A PINE BRANCH IN THE OBSERVER'S HAND,
THE SMOKE RISING FROM THE IRON CALLS OUT TO THE GUARDIAN OF THE FOREST.
YOU CAN HEAR THE FLIGHT OF THE WINTER GEESE, THE RUN OF THE MASTER OF THE FOREST!
YOU CAN HEAR THE BLOWING OF THE BRANCHING ANTLERS.
IN THE NAME OF THE LORD OF BEASTS!
YOU CAN HEAR THE BREATH OF THE GOD, FEARSOME AND FRUITFUL,
THE FOOTSTEPS OF THE REINDEER-HORNED MAN.
KERNUNNOS CAN BE HEARD STEPPING OUT INTO A ROCKY CLEARING IN A DARK FOREST!
Suddenly a wind blew over the treetops, blowing snow flakes away, and a thick fog slowly descended into the clearing with a sparkling frost. A magical singing was heard, high and elusive, like the chiming of many bells. A bluish glow appeared at the altar in the clearing, growing ever larger and filling the space. People first saw the silhouette of a deer's head with branching mounts. But it was not a deer.
- Spirit of the forest, ... Hearn the hunter...' it echoed in the air.
The spirit of the forest came out of the fog with a stately step and everyone around him parted and stood still, bowing their heads in greeting, very quiet.
-The wheel of time begins a new circle,' his voice rang out in the silence, 'the millstones will receive new grains, the patience of those who labour will not be in vain. The time of gifts comes for trials.
A shimmering glow emanated from the Forest Spirit, illuminating everyone around it. Meg looked at Robin and Marion, who were mesmerised by the ghostly glow, staring at the Forest Spirit.
-Come to me, Loxley,' Hearn muttered, fixing his gaze on Robin.
Robin rose slowly and walked over to Hearn. Everyone around him froze in admiration, breathless.
Hearn raised his hands up, there was a crackling sound and a flash of lightning gleamed above his head, the next instant everyone saw that the forest spirit was holding a shining sword in his hands.
-The forces of light guide you, may Albion serve you faithfully, so be it! - said Hearn the Hunter, and handed Robin his sword.
Robin knelt down and, bowing his head, accepted the glittering blade from the forest spirit's hands.
-Thank you, O great Hearn! - Robin said, clutching Albion in his hands again.
-The Forces of Light give you and your endeavours a blessing,' the Forest Spirit said, looking at the people around him.
-Thank you, oh great Hearn,' came from all sides the voices of the people who bowed before him.
When the men looked up a few moments later, the Hern-Hunter had already disappeared into the mist, leaving behind a bluish glow that melted into the black night sky.
People looked around, not believing it was real, hugging each other and repeating to each other the words of blessing spoken by the Forest Spirit.
Robin held the Albion in his hands, the glare of the fire reflecting on the shiny surface of the blade. The gentle touch of a woman's hand brought him out of his daze. Marion stood beside him and looked at him with admiration. The friends approached.
-The Forces of Light are with us,' Robin said, holding out his sword in front of him.
Each of the friends held out his hand to Albion and said like an incantation, 'The forces of light are with us! So be it!'
The dawn was nearing; they had left behind them the longest and darkest night, which is always powerless before the rising sun and no forces of darkness can defeat or delay its approach.
So it was, so it is, so it will be. The wheel of time, like the wheel of life, begins its new turn, a new circle. So be it!