The Lizards Tale – Part 10 – 3.

Queen Oona with the Faery court high up in the skies above Carniggy.

Oona, her red gold hair flying behind her like flames in an ardent fire, her King and court of Lords and Ladies sketched out across the sky like shining stars, are heading homewards. Unfortunately Fox (Lowarn) would unbelievably appear to have eluded them, and therefore they have yet to fulfil their agreed challenge from the Lord of this realm. All the hunts senses are cast downwards and seeking for something living that may well ease their passage back to Faery land through the magical rift in the skies. It is now that Oona feels the searching eyes of another Fae upon her, and looking out and down from her saddle high in the evening skies, marks Hav standing in her walled garden in the forest below. Now that Oona’s attention is on Hav’s summer garden, she feels with her Faery senses that there is another Fae present in Hav’s garden. Oona on a whim, jerks on her flying horse’s reins, turning its head away from homeward bound, and then glides instead for Hav’s garden of summer. She will investigate this other Fae, for this could indeed be where the wily Lowarn indeed hides behind the skirts of summer?

Hav and her court at the house of summer.

Hav stares at Cora, her eyes searching each minute detail, the colour of her hair, the smallest glint within the girl’s eyes, and as she gauges Cora, she draws in huge wafts of Cora’s personal perfume. Hav then knows without a doubt, that this before her, is ‘Cordelia’ the name Celtic, meaning faithful daughter… And so in softest voice, Hav asks her prompts the woman by asking what her name is? “Cora” the girl replies with her eyes still cast down,  her name as given to her by her father. This is no surprise to Hav, as she knows that the father, who is obviously only a man, would have given his babe a more than likely modern name. But Hav knew that her sibling would have used the true name ‘Cordelia’ and yet, there is a hint of her more majestic Fae heritage in this shortened version. Hav’s face without warning bursts into the happiest smile, for her sister is the first to give life to another Fae, in this her long and noble family.

Pan in the great Oak.

beneath me I catch sight of Fox, or Lowarn, as the Man would have him known now. He is scrabbling on all four feet, regardless of the fact that he is now mostly man. Of course he has called to me for mercy, rather than the Man, as Oona and her rabid Lord with their Faery hunt chase him through the garden with their hounds snapping at his very heels and with his death foremost in the Faeries minds. My woodland magic springs forth before I even bid it, twirling into the form of the ancient mistletoe, which then reaches down, and then grabs the quivering, shivering lowly Lowarn, and then as quickly as it has descended, it retracts back up into the tree bringing Lowarn with it. The mistletoe instantly disguises him from the dogs that low for his demise, and also from Faery eyes, and then swiftly lifts Lowarn even higher up amongst the branches and then deposits him next to me. Lowarn’s former Lord the Green Man would have him dead, and this somewhat puzzles me, but then I let this conundrum go, for it is minor in my mind and laugh into his wildly staring face.

Under the oak now, barking and yapping in frenzy are this Faery hunts most foul dogs. Pan can smell their fetid breathe, and see their yellowed bloodshot eyes a staring for a glimpse of their prey that they see as just a Fox. And then who arrives in haste, the Lord of them all, Finvarra, a stupid jealous dog himself, and he is quickly followed by his bitch, the gorgeous, but cunning seductress Oona, her red hair curling down across her pouting breasts and very nearly naked body to then trail out along her horses glistening sweating back. Both of these Faery royalty ride around Pan’s seat in the mighty oak, but they cannot see either Lowarn, or indeed Pan, as he has his woodland wild magic give them such glamour. Round and around they go, seeking their rightful quarry, the rest of hunt arrives now and starts milling and mixing near the bole of this greatest of trees. Just for a second Pan lets his face appear through these greenest of oak leaves, his tongue stuck out in the rudest ways, and for just a second Oona has ken of hi,, and then she wears the most wicked of smiles. Oona smirks and then bears her horse away as her husband brandishes his golden horn, and blows his dogs away from here to search for the quarry elsewhere. Finvarra himself though, hangs back for one more searching stare and Pan almost feel he can somehow see the woodland god, even though Pan’s glamour is complete. Then even Finvarra draws rein and gallops away, and Pan awaits the small forest sounds returning, before he pours down to the ground disguised at first as a shower of rain, but once on the ground and safe, Pan dresses in his real self, and pulls his pipes up from about his waist. Now trilling a merry tune he calls Lowarn and the Rook to his side, then away they whirl through the forest, for now Pan would find the beauteous Kynyav, as he has no longer a need to be the furious god, for Pan is at last in the garden of the Green Man, and at last revealed as the great god ‘Pan’ himself!

Gaia.

As Pan had entered the Green Man’s domain, Gaia swept a spell upon him, and removed the pressing enchantment that the Gardens Lord had laid about Pan. He no longer has such ardent anger, and he would be merrier, but she would not take Pan’s wild indifference from him, nor instil in him a degree of responsibility, so Pan would in essence remain the tricksy god he always had been. One thing she changed though, Pan’s small goats horns, these now grew to his stags appearance, and Pan, he was considerably more majestic in this guise. Gaia was now content though, for time was moving on and the end of her world was nigh, and Pan had an enormous part to play yet, as did Btu Chun.

Tom and Jago at the caravans.

The gypsy stands on the top step of her caravan and shouts… “Fool Ho…!”

To which the Fool stops his spinning dance, and slowly approaches the fire with its bubbling pot. Tom watches the Fool with suspicion, as he feels this new member of the caravans is not such the merry fool that he tries so hard to seem. Reaching the fire, the Fool stops for a moment staring intently into the flickering flames, and then executes a prodigious leap into the air, whilst at the same time lashing out a foot to kick the pot from its tripod, thereby spilling rabbit stew all upon the ground. At the top of his leap, he turns a colourful somersault, and then lands next to the empty pot. Crouching he slips a finger into the stew that still dribbling from the blackened pot, brings the finger to his now grinning painted mouth, licks his finger clean, and then grimaces saying… “I should never have allowed that slippery devil Fox into my wood!” And then the Fool, he’s off  spinning, somersaulting and cartwheeling about the dell as though beset with sudden madness, before then leaping up the muddy side of the dell. He stands amongst the bluebells for a split second, before turning to stare directly at Tom, and then nodding as if in an almost sociable way. Then the Fool is off spinning away at speed until he is out of sight under the oak woods. Tom is left staring away up and over the trees, but even now he can just about hear the tinkling of the golden bells on the Fools hat, and then… Even that fades away leaving him alone with the gypsy, and still not knowing the fate of Jago…? So Tom turns to where she stands upon her caravan top step, “What has happened to ‘Jago’, is he dead or alive?” The gypsy’s face doesn’t change, and gives no hint to Jago’s fate, but she does produce a teapot and two mugs. “No how about that Camomile tea, I’ll tell you the tale as we go along.” She then moves down the caravan’s steps and assumes her usual seating; she then pats the step beside her. Tom takes the hint and moves to take the proffered seat beside the gypsy. Saying nothing more, the she pours two teas, and then raises her mug to her mouth, where she then blows across the top of the steaming brew.

Lowarn meets the ‘Fool’.

Pan strides on ahead through the oaks dappled light, whilst sullenly Lowarn follows, and Rook has to flap hard to keep up stumbling across the forest floor, hampered as he is by his wound from the farmers gun.

Pan now obvious as a God for all of the woods to see, and is wearing his new rack of antlers well, his shaggy hair droops boyishly across his forehead, sometimes getting into his deep emerald eyes. His chest is bare and hairless and looks finely muscled in a healthy way. His legs are strong, and completely covered in golden blonde curling fur, his manlike feet unshod, but horny enough to cope with the rough terrain of the woods. Around his waist he wears a fine leather and silver belt, in which is held his Faery pipes, and circling around his neck is a golden chain that bears a finely wrought oak leaf in hammered silver. This pendant bounces off his powerful bullish chest as he strides purposefully through the forest in search of his love Kynyav, for in Pan’s mind, the picture of her face overrides all else. Behind him, Pan hears Rook muttering about his wound and how he must needs rest up! Lowarn is none to happy either; after all he has lost his dinner, been chased by dogs, and then half strangled by mistletoe. It would seem Lowarn and Rook have no appreciation of their Gods help, and this make Pan unhappy! He stops abruptly and Lowarn in his self concern barges right into the back of the resolute Pan, who doesn’t even rock with this collision, and so its Lowarn who falls to the leaf moulded ground. Pan doesn’t even turn, but rather lifts his magic pipes, and there upon them he trills a merry restless breathy tune, instantly Lowarn begins to blur, as does Rook! When Pan turns to look behind over his shoulder, his lips curling into a smile, it is to see Lowarn replaced, and returned to a fox, but Rook is now a man in what appears to be a long black coat. This man if that is what he is, has Rook winged coloured hair, and with matching black beady eyes. Pan claps Rook upon his muscled shoulder, and Rook grimaces with the pain of his wound that has not altered in his transformation by Pan. Pan unusually concerned, bends slightly, rips some purplish woundwort from a green clump that has sprung to life beneath his questing hand. Pan then crushes the flowering plant between his horny hands and invites Rook to show his wound. Rook reluctantly opens his new coat, and here he is revealed quite naked beneath, Pan then slips his hands swiftly inside Rooks coat. He speedily rubs the dripping green poultice all over the darkly bruised and bleeding holes that Rook is carrying from the farmer’s gun. Pan then hastily leaps back as the lead pellets spring forth from Rooks flesh, to drop down to the ground. Lowarn who is now a fox once again, takes note of the way Pan fears the farmers lead, and pushes that information back into the farthest region of his mind, for one never knows when mayhap that information could be of worth.

Rook then shrugs his shoulders in a manly way, sidles away across the forest floor a short distance. Rook seems to stand somewhat straighter now, and then he pirouettes on his new shiny boots, letting his coat flow outwards, and that shows Pan that Rooks wounds have indeed healed. Rook has a sudden need to preen, leans against one of the nearby oaks, and then produces a bone comb from within a pocket of his glossy coat, and now at ease, Rook combs back his rakish hair into what he, believes to be a more becoming style. Pan steps forward, and leans in close to Rook, whispers in his ear, and then pulls away and turning to the fox, “You must pay your due ‘Fox’, for these not my woods, so take heed and run red dog run!” Fox as he is now, is rather confused, what could Pan mean? But then Pan is off a gambolling amongst the trees, watched by the Rook. Pan’s form very slowly becomes see through, and then he fades into dimming summer days light, until he is completely hidden from Rooks view, for Pan is now searching for his love Kynyav once more. Rook now turns to Fox, “Fare thee well, Lowarn as you were, and goodbye!” Fox shrieks “‘fare well’, what do you mean ‘fare well’?” Surely you will not leave me alone in these woods with the possibility that the faery hunt may well return! But with a shake of his lustrous coat and not another word to Fox, Rook spins at speed and then appears to take off and skitter into the darkening skies in a blur, for Pan has somehow left Rook his ability to fly, and fly he does to do as Pan had instructed him in his last whisper to Rook.

Fox is left on his own in the lowering light of the forest… That is until he hears the slightest titter and then a giggle coming from beneath one of the nearby mighty oaks, and on looking with his bright eyes into the darker shade there, perceives a painted fellow, dressed in the silks of a fool. It is of course the now nearly insane Btu Chun in his new disguise as court ‘Fool’….

The Lizards Tale – Part 10 – 2.

Hav and her court at her house.

Hav strolls in all her grandeur down the garden towards her house, and as she passes the flowers, they become ever more riotous in their growth. The plants seem almost unable to bear her presence so rotund is she with the power of life and vigour in this present season of late summer. Hav is right outside her home when her cherry faeries then set up a clamour, should they not be sent in first they ask of her, for who knows what acts may have been committed since Kingfisher was last here? Hav will however have nothing of this suggestion or indeed even listen to their bell like voices ringing in her ears, for it is her time of year. The full of the power endowed in her by her father the Man, will keep her safe, and she therefore will not falter from her purpose for even a second. She approaches the bottom of the steps up to the veranda, and then with her faery court in close attendance, although now the cherry faeries are for once silent, and even Kingfisher has stopped her constant chatter, Hav starts to ascend. Her foot touches the first wooden board gently and the house of summer springs into life… The ligneous structure of the house moves and sways just a little, but where the veranda had been completely empty before, now chairs and tables with beautiful silken cushions and table cloths leap up from the very structure of the house. Each of the tables is covered in sumptuous foods of every type, and in amongst this sumptuous repast, are golden flagons of water, wine and iced fruit juices. A flavour of the meal wafts across the air, ones tongue can almost taste this aroma, one of cinnamon, anise, pomegranate, tangerine and lemon, jaggery tarts and roasted, toasted vegetables. Hav ignores all this commotion that her arrival brings, and continues to mount the steps with stately tread. Once upon the veranda though, she stops and stands still, her court are all a flutter around her head in such a cloud, that Hav has need to brush them away with her golden fingertips, and then at last annoyed, she commands them away, and they return muttering and fluttering to their cherry trees.

As the cherry faeries alight in the naked branches of the cherry trees, there comes a noise, a lowing of what sounds to be hounds, dogs that are out hunting away, a ways in the distance in the gardens forest, and on the other side of Hav’s garden walls… Hav swings around to glare out of her realm, and up above the trees into the deepening shadowy blue skies, and it is there that Hav spies a sight, not unlike a fiery meteor, one that appears to climb away from, rather than fall to earth. The goddess recognises the heinous ‘Daoine Sidhe’ hunt, led by the gorgeous Oona, for she is the Queen of the Daoine Sidhe. Hav prefers the ancient name for this plague upon the land of her mother Gaia, although most men would call them ‘Faeries’. The Daoine Sidhe Queen is flame haired and a deadly beauty of their realm. Not far behind her rides her husband Finvarra, a yapping jealous cunning dog, covetous as he knows Oona would seduce all males that she meets, her beauty having been spun into many tales by Man, Fae and Daoine Sidhe, and then sung throughout all the lands of man. Hav fervently hopes that this hunt has not been down amongst those of her realm, whilst she has been spinning her chore of summer. Hav has given no permission for such an excursion, and does not like to think of what they even might be hunting, or of their aims of a vicious kill. If however they have, she will be mighty in her anger and will exact a passionate price for their breaching of her will. Then Hav turns her back abruptly on the view in the sky, because she knows that Oona has been unsuccessful in her hunting. Have knows this because she has heard the sullen trill of the Daoine Sidhe’s golden horns, and that tells her that they are in the process of returning homeward after their intended quarry has escaped. Tis likely that they now look for some unwary beast or man, as they need a kill just to breach the sky with such a court after hunting, and then be able to return to their faery realm. Now that Hav is home however, all her responsibilities will be safe beneath her glamour from this fae hunt, and therefore she has no further concern with the faeries. However Hav also knows that now she will have to pay court to her father at his house in the middle of the enchanted garden, to tell of this sighting in this his mystical forest, for even they, the Daoine Sidhe court, have to bow to this worlds truest God the Green Man. Hav now faces her houses doorway, and then without the slightest hesitation, enters her home of endless summer. Her foot lightly touches the inside boards, and the room bounds up in true devotion, and once again chairs and tables appear, food both plain and exotic covers every table top, drinks of every type clamour to be drunk, and along with flowery perfumes and rare spices, the air feels almost heavy, and ready to ignite into sudden flame such is Hav’s summer might. There before her then, Hav sees a woman with reddest of hair, and she is pale of skin, and this woman, her back is to Hav, for she is turned away with almost an acolyte’s attitude to her. And there upon this woman’s shoulder, Hav observes that the most honourable Mouse is resting. Hav’s nostrils flare in ire, and then in a rush she inhales the other woman’s scent causing her face to soften once again, and she almost smiles for she has detected her sibling Kynyav’s scent, and yet, not quite? Hav moves forward with no word yet spoken, and extends her long golden fingers to her beloved Mouse. Mouse’s beady black eyes follow Hav’s advance, and he is excited as this is his lovely goddess returned, his heart flip flops in his intense excitement, but from the lack of sternness in her face, he knows his goddess will do this young girl no harm.

Rook arriving in Carniggy’s garden.

Rook crashed into the highest twigs, all of which are green with summer leaves, and then he slips down through to the branches big enough to take his feathery weight. Once under the greenwood cover, he finds himself a secure hidden perch, and then checks himself over. Whilst he grooms his feathers, he hears the baying of hounds hunting, yapping and howling as they go, this is mixed and followed by many huntsmen’s horns. Gazing down from his secret roost and through the green leaves of the oak, Rook spies a colourful character abruptly emerge from beneath one of the other trees, he appears to be running on all fours, and he is wearing what is definitely man type clothing. Rook feels the branches sway just slightly beneath him, and that can only mean that he is not alone! Raising his head a little, Rook sees a very curly headed apparition, one of a very young man sitting naked nearby in this very tree. The man is staring straight back at Rook, and then smiles, he displaying rather spade like, slightly yellowing teeth, but is a great beauty, of that fact Rook has no doubt. Upon this boy’s head amongst his curling hair, it would appear that he is sporting a pair of short and very curly horns that glint as if with gold. Rook looks a little lower, and then he realises that this young man is not completely naked, for he has the furry legs of a goat, covered in its curly matted coat, and the scene is completed with its blackened hooves. On his side on a silver chain, hang some musical pipes, and around this boy’s head is a crown of ivy entwined with belladonna and hawthorn. Rook has the feeling he has seen this apparition before? The youth shivers slightly, and for a moment takes on an older form, he then speaks quietly to Rook and suddenly Rook understands..

Pan in the great Oak.

At last… I am in the Man’s most secret world, I’m in his walled garden, and just how did I get here after all my failed attempts? One of his former vassals that I had twisted to my wiles and rescued from his former masters curse, but then betrayed, has called me into being to save him! SO here I find myself in the greenwood, and to keep him from their majesties pleasure, the faery King and Queen who are out hunting. I feel no obligation to him as his god though, for after all this Fox lost his life in pursuit of information on the Man, and I am his god. Yet again maybe I could have some fun with the faery Queen Oona, for she, the dogs wife, did once seduce me in the moonlight, and by making me believe that she was my luscious Kynyav. Maybe I will help my one time begging vassal the Fox? Although at the moment he would seem to be playing some other different character called ‘Lowarn’? Then near where I sit comfortably, I however hear a crash, followed by a black winged fluttering, and there before me I see Rook my spy, Oh now this day is now improving and at such speed, what joy!

Hav and her court at the house of summer.

Hav took Mouse gently to her bosom and Mouse nestled comfortably there in his Goddesses décolletage. It was then that Hav extended her hand once more, her fingers outstretched and questing, and this time she allowed them to softly fall upon Cora’s shoulder. Cora turned to look Hav straight into her now golden hazel eyes, eyes that seemed to shift with sliver flowers flecked in the background.

The Mouse’s tail…

Mouse has failed to alert Cora to imminent arrival of his Goddess, and now he feels the full weight of this guilt, for he is so sure that this young lady might be some sort of Goddess herself. So without further adieu, he scurries up her leg, and in haste arrives quickly on her shoulder. From this, his new vantage point he instructs her to turn away from the doorway and bow her head. Mouse feels it better that Cora not look Hav straight in the face as she enters, but be at least submissive. The young woman turns as instructed, and Mouse then strikes a pose, one that he believes is best to meet his Goddess on her arrival home …

Cora in the house of summer.

Cora let’s the squeaking Mouse instruct her as there is nowhere to hide that she can see… And so she turns from the clamour now coming from the houses doorway, and then stands facing in the other direction and as best she can, at ease with head bowed.

The frantic tinkling faery voices outside suddenly cease, and now the silence itself is almost as deafening as the noise from the cherry faeries before.

Cora almost feels herself shivering, her milky flesh covered in goosebumps from the anticipation of meeting the owner of this house, and of whom this little Mouse seems so in awe of.!

Cora then feels an almost sunny burst of warmth across her back, and then watches unbelieving as the room explodes with tables and chairs, all covered in almost unimaginable types of food and drink. Cora then feels Mouse stand up on his two hind legs, and then he turns to face the incoming homeowner, whom Mouse has informed her in his squeaky little voice, is called ‘Hav’. Hav is the goddess of summer and her name is apparently the true Cornish Celtic name for summer. Cora feels Mouse run and suddenly leap from her shoulder, but still she resists the sudden urge to turn and face this Goddess, as Cora is still struggling with the whole reality of the garden that she has found in the forest, and is having difficulty in not believing that this could be all a dream. The silence stretches out, and Cora is just beginning to believe that may be Hav has indeed gone, when upon her shoulder she feels the slightest touch, then almost as if encouraged, Cora turns and faces the goddess Hav, and immediately Cora’s eyes are drawn inexplicably to the Goddesses golden brown green eyes, eyes flecked with tiny silver shapes.

The Lizards Tale – Part 10 – 1.

Tom & Jago at the Gypsy’s caravans.

Tom closes his eyes tightly, for he cannot bear to see Jago’s small body bitten in half by Lowarn, and now the woods themselves go very still, it is almost as though they are waiting with bated breath for the killing of ‘Jago Castanea’, the Green Man’s right hand. Tom finds however that he cannot, or will not miss Jago’s demise, and so… He opens his eyes to see a glimmer of bright red, way off in the woods, it’s impossible for him to tell exactly what it is, and then on peering down into to the dell below, he sees Lowarn has closed his mouth, but Jago is still very much alive! Jago is kicking and fighting back, and held tightly in his right hand, is the enchanted nut. Tom can see that he has this magic hazelnut open, its then that Tom also perceives that Lowarn’s ears are a twitching as if listening for some sound that only he can hear. Faintly through the trees, one soft peel of a horn, but it is a sound that both he and Lowarn know; and it’s then that the gypsy breaks the Lowarn’s spell over the dell…

“That’ll be the faery hunt Lowarn, for the ‘Man’ will only give permission for them to enter his realm, if there is punishment to be meted out in these here Fae woods. And you Mr Fox, have been very naughty I do believe!” Lowarn drops Jago from his jaws in his haste to be off and a running, he panics as he clambers up the mud sides of the dell, almost slipping back several times. Once at the lip however, Lowarn is off on all four legs, just like the Fox he really is, scampering away through the bluebells, and then off into the dark oak woods. From the opposite side of the dell though, can now be heard the soft lowing of hunting hounds, and that is what Lowarn had heard and scared him so. He knows his most deadly enemy oh so well, and the hounds draw nearer, and then through the leafy oak woods, Lowarn hears the loudly almost barking, growling words,

“Tally Ho… The quarry is in sight!”

Tom sees the gypsy quickly stand upright from her seated position, and then step down from her caravan, sidle forward, and very gently but firmly, pick up Jago from the leaf strewn ground. The gypsy then returns to her caravan carrying Jago, who neither moves nor makes a sound. The gypsy climbs the steps rapidly, opens the gaudy painted door and takes Jago speedily inside. The gypsy then, after shutting the door firmly, assumes her place upon the steps as before, casually picks up her work and starts a tapping. Within mere moments of the gypsy reclaiming her seat, huge white hounds arrive at the lip of the dell, and then they slip and slide into the dell bottom, trampling the blue bells, and their leaves as they scramble down over the edge. The faeries rise up in agitation from the bluebells; some are trampled to death by the hounds, the others scream out their annoyance in their squeaky twinkly voices! Once In the centre of the dell, the hounds just mill about sniffing at the air, circling the dell, and then seem unsure, is that man they smell, or fox? Then they set about baying, and decide to rush the gypsy on her steps, but she makes no move, for then upon the lip of the dell, a man appears astride a massive black horse. He barks and bays like the hounds, and then drives them with his snarling voice back upon their appointed task, to find and kill the misbehaving Lowarn. The rider, whom Tom strongly suspects is Fae, then canters his horse down to bottom of the dell, where he produces a long straight golden horn, and with no delay he plays a merry tune. As the last note trumpets forth, Tom runs down the side of the dell himself, to stand next to the lone rider, and good it was that he was shadowed by the riders perspiring great black horse, for other riders now appear in ever greater number, and appear to almost skim in flight right over the dell!

These new riders horses look as if they have rainbow coloured wings, but wings that are half in this world, and also at the same time somewhere fae. These whirring wings seem to allow them to fly just above the ground, and the hounds that run at their sides are huge. These dogs also mill around, whilst setting up a huge baying chorus, their jaws agape with excited saliva spewing from their lips, and then these hounds are off, following the directing riders, who shout and laugh in this game of death, a game some would call a hunt. As Tom stands and watches, he flinches as each red coated rider flies past and then onward into the forest where Lowarn had disappeared. Then as the last of hunters springs forth, and glide over the dell on their strange beasts, the rider in the dell then puts wind to his horn and a peeling note flies forth, and then once again he barks loudly, “Tally Ho, Such fun!” Before then savagely yanking on his own horses reins, and roaring and yapping he starts out of the dell, as his beast beats its furious fantastical wings. Tom is taken aback by this riders blood red coat, white trousers and black shiny boots, and then just as horse and rider are about to shift away, and once more heading for the darkness beneath the trees, the rider turns his head to stare Tom full in the face. Tom is shocked to see an ugly drooling, snarling dog like countenance, but then the huntsman’s horse rears and paws viciously at the air, and Tom is forced to suddenly duck away before it kicks him. The horse with foam flecked mouth, then drops back to all four hooves to carry it’s dog like rider up out of the dell in full flight, up and away from the bluebell dell, and out then into the forest. Tom almost rather doubts what he has just seen, but knows it’s a vision he will never ever forget… And yet at this moment in time he is quite unaware he has just met the Faery King Finvarra…

The Gypsy who has never moved from upon her caravan steps throughout all this, and almost as thought she believes she is exempt from all this excitement, now quietly speaks, “I think me and you, could do with a Camomile brew, what say you?” Tom is still in shock over the appearance of the fae rider, and he can only nod slightly as he stares away into the forest, and he has no idea what ‘camomile’ is? The gypsy rises, turns, and once more opens the door to her caravan; she disappears inside, and as the door clicks to behind her, she leaves Tom standing alone in dell. Tom then wonders if Jago is okay? But something tells him not to bother the gypsy with this question just yet. Tom looks about the dell, and idly counts three caravans, then guesses that one would have been Lowarn’s, but that still leaves one other than the gypsy’s. Tom wonders who occupies the other, and how they make a living from the woods and what do they eat if meat is forbidden? He looks to the edge of the dell and sees that the flower faeries are settling and seem to be ignoring their dead brethren who lie strewn about them amongst the trampled bluebell stalks. Tom looks back to the caravans and sees that they are each painted in one primary colour, although they are painted in a pallet of many other colours, the main colour always shines through. The Gypsy’s is yellow, Lowarn’s is red, and the other one was blue. The caravans are very small, and Tom has seen no animals with which they could be drawn with, so that is a puzzle, maybe the ponies are tethered elsewhere? As Tom is thinking of these matters, there comes the softest noise upon his ear, just as if a clock had mayhap ticked just once. For moment he stands still, just looking at the caravans, and then has the feeling he is being observed, and so spins around in haste, for he knows not that Lowarn hasn’t returned! There in the dell behind him, and within just five feet of Tom, is a large brightly dressed man, who appears to be wearing grease paint upon his face. His face is quite ghastly, his mouth drooping and Tom has the feeling that this creature’s mouth is full of nasty teeth, even though he has not seen them. The man is made to look like a clown; his hat proclaims him to be a ‘fool’ however, with its three tails ending in golden bells, one on each end. This fool, his clothing mostly red, but shot though in places with both black and grey, stands staring at Tom with crimson gimlet eyes, before he dips forward and gives Tom a most courteous bow! The bells on his hat jingle merrily like Christmas sleigh bells, but somehow they sound somewhat sinister, and then he is off at a prance, almost spinning amongst the bluebells. This causes the Faeries to become enraged once more, but as before there is nothing that they can apparently do in their defence. Around Tom, and around, and around the dell, as quick as Tom can see, the fool turns cartwheels, spinning in the air and then doing somersaults. He becomes a blur of red, and then as Tom is becoming quite dizzy with the performance, the gypsy reappears.

Lowarn running in the forest beneath the trees.

Lowarn puffs, he pants, and runs as fast as his four Foxy legs will carry him, but he has no doubt now that the faery hunt will catch him, and soon! As to his fate then, maybe to be torn apart, and that would be the best of fates. However the King of the hunt and his Faery Queen may just decide to bear him away to who knows what foul fate. Now a Fae creature himself, and no longer the wily ‘Fox’, Lowarn is fully aware that there are much worst things than death, and this could come to be just be the beginning of his torture by these evil faeries. He hears the dogs now in full bay, encouraged on by these scary faery hunters upon their gliding horses, and in his madness calls out to his God! Not however God, the Green Man, who has sent these devilish beasts upon his trail, but Pan, a god whom has no sway within these woods.

Behind the running Lowarn, the faery hunt now have their first real sighting of their prey, several riders pull their own long golden horns from their saddle tack, and then draw breath ready to blow the hounds towards him. The hounds however are already well in pursuit, knowing their Lords or Ladies will give good pleasure for the outcome of the hunt to be a kill. So when the horns ring out with their musical directions, they are already very nearly on their quarry. Mouths agape, sharp teeth ready to rend Lowarn’s flesh, their long red tongues drool spots of saliva to the leaf moulded ground, and their hackles bunch high in anticipation.

With the faery hounds yapping and very nearly on his furry heels, Lowarn nears a particularly large oak, from which hangs down mistletoe from where it grows on one of its boughs. As Lowarn staggers up, the mistletoe drops new green shoots to the woodland floor to net him fast, and then in a blink of an eye, Lowarn is entwined and whipped back up out of sight into the mighty oak. The hounds can barely believe their blood shot eyes, and frantically set up a huge baying and howling, and then they in their excitement begin to circle around, and around the bole of the mighty oak. As hunters arrive on their horses, they can see no sign of Lowarn, and they themselves show much consternation, wondering exactly just where their prey has gone? Here arrives their faery King and Queen, and they themselves ride twice about the massive oak until the King with horn ringing out, and much barking of his orders, begs of them to continue in their hunt for their quarry. Then as the hounds run forward to seek a new trail, and fly from sight in their anguish to be at Lowarn before all others, Finvarra once again rides tight to the bole of the oak and studies it hard. The faery Kings scowling dog like face, examines the branches higher in the tree above, but even he cannot see through the glamour that hides Lowarn now It’s then that the faery Queen leans into her Lord and tweaks his furry cheek, before loudly yelling… “Tally Ho, and away my gorgeous fine sexy faery King!” Oona, for it is she, the one whom mere men fall at her feet in dire love of, then jerks her horse’s reins in anticipation. Finvarra her faery King, gives a long last scowl into the oak, before racing into the woods on his beast, and in pursuit of his hounds and entourage, in the back of his wolfish mind however there lurks a doubt. Then as the sound of horns a blowing, and the savage hounds a braying fades quickly away, the woods return to normal, and then, and only then, one bough of the tree quivers, and then down out of the tree as though made of good fresh water, an apparition appears, and it flows to the woodland floor, and low it is Pan and in his most recognisable guise, and as often seen by man. He stands firm legged, his goats hooves shiny and black, and upon his curly head, he wears his horns with pride. His tail lashes from side to side as he claps his man’s hands to his human chest with glee, who would have thought the garden would be so much fun? And he had only been here mere seconds and already he had bested the King of the faeries with his cunning forest glamour!

The Lizards Tale – Part 9 – 10.

Rook… Takes death seriously.

Rook half runs, half flaps his way across the field whilst peering nervously behind as often as he possibly can, only to be rewarded with sight of the two dogs appearing through the gateway into the field. At first the dogs mill about sniffing the air and unsure of Rooks direction, but then one or other animal either catches sight, or smell of him, and then they are closing in fast to where Rook is flapping feebly on the grass. Rook knows that they have only one thing on their minds, his coup de grace… Rook no longer has any choice, wounded or not, he must find the sky again! Rook wearily flaps his wings and dancing, prancing sideways, and although in ever increasing pain, he manages to rise upon his black feathered wings. The dogs snarl and bark their annoyance as yet again they see the loss of his feathery body between the jaws of their yapping mouths, “damn you rook” they howl in unison, and Rook now heading up into the sky, and feeling somewhat braver now, is cocky enough to caw out his derision of their puny attempts to slay him, the Rook..!

And then a sudden and unexpectedly bang, coupled with the farmers lead shot flying past Rooks head, speedily persuades him to get a flapping harder, and he limps higher, and then slides and glides into the distance heading for the Mans walled garden.

Five minutes later, sees Rook in so much pain with all this flying, that he has no choice but to land in the forbidden garden of the Green Man. Rook sees the familiar tangle of old overgrown trees and undergrowth within the high walls, and goes into a slow glide towards what he hopes will be the perfect hiding place to check his wounds. As Rook approaches the trees however, he sees them change into mighty oaks, the walls are gone, and a great forest stretches out as far as his eyes can perceive. Its too late now however to change his path, for he guesses this to be the work of his former master, the Green Man!

Kynyav on the cliffs of the Lizard at Poldhu.

Kynyav has left Carniggy’s garden, she needs to think, for some unknown reason she feels restless, but she knows not why? It is nearly time for her to except her chore for the year, and bring summer to an end. Her dance of acceptance is expected of her presently, and she can no more keep Hav waiting, than she can change the direction that the earth beneath her spins in. However when she awoke this time beneath her trees, she had known instantly that something within her father’s realm had changed, something large, and that there was a presence within its walls that she knew intimately, but somehow had forgotten. When she had sent out tendrils of her magics to ascertain this feeling, she found that it appeared all around her in one way, and yet in another, it appeared centred in the direction of Hav’s own garden. As Kynyav had lifted above her walls and left her garden, she had begun to consider that Hav was mayhap spinning her own magics in her garden rather than outside the wall of Carniggy. She wasn’t sure how this made her feel, so for now she would ignore it, but she knew she would have to investigate later and even maybe lightly touch her other two sisters Gwenton and Gwav for their own thoughts. Kynyav lifted up into the sky and slipped across the cove below with its church and onto Poldhu where she alighted gently on the cliffs looking out over the ocean, and here she decides to think on her life.

Kynyav ponders that although she thinks she is oh so clever in her taunting of Pan, that in fact Pan may well be pulling her strings to his own tune. Since entering Cornwall and coming back to the Lizard, she has not actually set eyes upon him, damn her if her father the Man has anything to do with that! She has faith in her father, for he very rarely dispatches anything as far as she knows, and as always he prefers to duck and weave sometimes even his responsibilities. However at the back of her mind crawls the idea that her father may well have his own agenda, for she knows that Pan will have followed her here to the Lizard, and she had thought to maybe dally with him. There is something else worrying her though, for she feels as though there is another in the garden in Carniggy, and it is almost as though she has felt another god or goddess there. This new deity, if that is what it is, appears to be extremely powerful, and Kynyav wonders if her mother has returned to the world, or if she ever left? So with the feelings that she had when she awoke today, and this new worry of a new deity, she has much to dwell on.

Kynyav addresses her appearance, for although she is autumn, she doesn’t have to appear as late in the season. With her natural talents Kynyav brings forth the fruit of the hedgerow, blackberries, sloes, and rosé hips as an intertwined crown upon her brow. And then clothes herself in such sumptuous silks of orange flame, mixed with brownish hues, Kynyav believes she will go a hunting for her Pan! She reasons she has led him a merry dance for far too long, and now it is in deed time to reach the fundamental play in their game of lust. Kynyav believes she might as well enjoy Pan’s yearning for her, as she has no other male equal to play with. In Kynyav’s mind there is however a slight regret, and just for an instant Tom’s face rises to the surface, but then slowly fades. Tom had been a short tryst that she didn’t understand, and one that had given her Cordelia, and even now she speculates just why she ever had a child? As a goddess, as a season, she had no need for a child, after all what position would this child play in the round, there was no position for a fifth season within this, Gaia’s world!

The caravans at the bluebell dell.

Away in the forest at Carniggy, the gypsy woman turns from a stick she is whittling, and stares towards the coastline she knows is out there beyond the walls of the garden. Although it is unseen by her eyes presently, she smiles and then ducks her head back to her work, Kynyav has a real daughter, not like the child she is creating from this wood. Beneath her hands, she is making little wooden children, and on the step of her caravan, she has a line of them finished. Time is nothing to the gypsy and she moves freely though it, and as she carves, she observes that Lowarn is back to hunting rabbits in the woods. She knows he will make a stew, and she knows this will be discovered soon. Just as she finishes her work, and picks up a silver pot that she had been working on earlier, a man, and Jago appear in a slight flash of stars on the edge of the dell that she and Lowarn are presently living in. The man looks confused, however Jago not so much, and in the background the gypsy smells the rabbit stew, and senses that all is going to the worlds plan.

The Mouse’s Tail.

Mouse sits upon the girl’s right hand, she does smell so right, but with his beady eyes, he can see now that she is not Hav his lovely Goddess, she who would take him foraging for his winter’s store, and before Gwav her stately sister begins her winters tale of woe, snow and ice. But Mouse knows that Hav is on her way here right now, for he has caught sight of Kingfishers flight to be amongst the cherry Faeries, and knows that she will snitch on this fae’s chance encounter with Hav’s house. This Fae smells so right, almost as if she were one of the seasons, but not quite, and so as sun is fading fast. As he sits upon her shoulder though, mouse has a feeling, its as though inside this girl who looks just like Kynyav, yes, yes, she appears just as Kynyav, but not, and has some thing monstrous within! Mouse’s nose quivers and he shivers, and then the feeling is gone, and now Mouse endeavours to explain to Cora the danger she may find herself in presently!

Cora in the house of ‘Hav’.

As soon as Cora understood what Mouse was excitedly squeaking, she stood up instantly and wondered if she should hide, and where? For Mouse, seemed to be saying that she was in deadly peril from the Goddess of Summer?

Hav with her faery court at the edge of the great forest.

Kingfisher tells Hav all of what she has seen, but cannot say what the intruder is up to in Hav’s house, as after all, she did not venture in herself, for she is afraid of the intruder for some reason? Kingfisher does however tell Have that the person reminds her of Hav’s siblings, and yet somehow not. Hav stands aloof and haughty, her nose twitches like a rabbit, and then she says to no one in particular… “One of my sister’s is mayhap nearby, I detect her perfumes upon the air… And yet I see nothing of her seasonal feminine wending wiles?” And then leaving this short speech to hang in the air, Hav strides out of the forest shade most boldly, away across the sward she glides, and then directly to the moat. As Hav arrives with her entourage in tow, and them all of a twitter, Hav’s golden hair is suddenly pulled in tight and bound by flowers of every type. Her dress a cornucopia of summer flowers and vines in the greatest of vigour, changes now to become a shade of deepest pink. At the edge of the moat however and just for a moment, her adoring vassals grow silent as she stops, and then. Hav raises her tiny foot to step out upon her moat. Where upon the moats water lily pads extend their giant water borne leaves and spread like a carpet of shiny green, and with popping sounds their buds go from bud to flower in mere seconds, to spread beyond the bank across the waters to the great stonewall of Hav’s garden. Now Hav waves her left hand in a somewhat courtly, but nonetheless somehow diminished wave, for all to proceed across this footpath made.

And so court of Hav once more singing her praises in their tinkling bell like voices, and with kingfisher now perched upon Hav’s right shoulder, wend their way across the bridge of lily’s. At the moats end and where the water meets stone, vines instantly grow and hang down from the wall loosely. These vines then sprout rose without thorn and become a densely packed spiralling staircase, which Hav and all the court do then ascend. At the top of the wall however, Hav stops momentarily, and then looking back, watches the huge golden carp that inhabit the moats waters, push their mouths out of the water to give their homage to their summer Goddess. At this praise, Hav then magnanimous throws forth a shower of insect grubs for them to dine on and then turns to survey her garden… All this time the cherry faeries have kept up their riotous twinkly clamour, flitting and flying around Hav, and also down both sides of the wall, their agitation increases and more of the faeries from the cherry trees in the centre of the garden fly to join them. Now the trees empty and left completely nude, bare branches that no longer hide the statue of the divine Hav.

Hav stands atop the wall momentarily, eyes flashing, her face proud in the knowing of her powers, the rose staircase falling away into the garden and sprawling out on the grass there. Hav as she starts to descend to the garden proper, speaks out grandly, her voice clearly carrying to every corner of the garden, though not inside her house.

“Sister Kynyav come forth, I feel your power and smell your essence, and yet I do not see your court, have you then come to visit in friendship?”

In the garden true, below Hav, the flowers along the walls boil awash with summers fullness and vigour grow bigger, greener and brighter, their scents almost overpowering. They are nevertheless completely unable to mask Hav’s own beguiling summery perfume. Hav’s faeries then lift her up in their exultation, and with no less fever, they then lower the vision that is Hav, softly to the ground so that her feet have no need to touch the rose stairway at all. Hav alights slightly to the left of the Lychee tree, and her deepest blue eyes, tinged with the slightest sea green, take in the muddle of Lychee husks beneath the trees boughs. Hav’s eye then spy the sight of the messy trail of husks and seeds that lead directly to her house..

Cora in the house of ‘Hav’.

Mouse has become somewhat frantic now, and then he runs down her arm and leaps from her fingertips to the ground, where spinning in circles he runs and scampers, squeaking his fears to Cora, whom he knows somehow he should trust? “Hide, hide, under the couch, or by the door, for I can hear, smell, and feel that Hav my Goddess approaches now, she is in her garden and is not pleased!”

Cora panics and looks from side to side, but she is no mouse that can easily hide just anywhere, and then she catches the essence of a perfume on the slight summer breeze. At the same time Cora also hears a chorus of tinkling tricky faery voices from just outside the doorway, and their voices are getting increasingly louder… It’s too late, way too late to hide and she must meet the goddess of this house just where she stands, and Cora feels dread for the first time in her life, real dread, for she can actually feel this goddess like a bramble crawling on her skin…

 

And so…. Ends Chapter 9..

The Lizards Tale – Part 9 – 9.

The Mouse’s tail.

Scurry, scurry, and dash…. Hide away under the giant leaves of the dark green nasturtiums that run along the front of the flower border. Nibble, nibble, piddle, nose always at a quiver, look here, look there, a flash of cobalt in the air above, accompanied by glinting fluttering wings of darting purpose. Was that a bird? Remember to keep watch for owl or hawk, the Lady has told me that I am safe, but after all these years, I still find it hard to believe. Sit up, rub my ears, clean my glossy brown coat, twirl my whiskers, and then off I go again through the flowers, and then hastily up the nearby stonewall I scurry to its top. Once there and in a flash, off I go again, almost faster than an eye can follow. All along the grey and orange lichen covered pinnacle, before then skittering on down again to be back in amongst the nasturtiums with their dark green protective umbrella leaves, and their flowers with bright trumpets of red, orange and lemon.

What’s that out there lying in the grass, what’s that? Brownish pink, I ‘Mouse’ must have a closer look, need to have a look, must see, looking now, and then gone in the blink of a eye with my prize. Mmmm so very sweet, although almost most of it is bark like skin, and it smells a bit like ‘Hav’! I love Hav, she’s so fine with her tanned skin, and hair like spun sunlight gold, I wish she were here with me now, for we are friends, I love her so… And so off on another forage, need more food, more, more food, but maybe see if Hav is back, back home for Kynyav to do her job, will Hav then take Mouse out into the bad world to collect my winter store of food. Such succulent foods she knows for me, things like nuts, berries and mushrooms to nibble… Hav, she is the one, she is the one for me, and I’d live always in her pocket if given half a chance, in her pocket if she had one indeed! Is that Hav outside her house, is it, I hope it to be? Or its maybe one of her three sisters, don’t like Gwav, she makes me so cold, and then I damn well fall asleep, but Gwenton and Kynyav, they be fine, although sometimes so stern with each other. This one, she smells so right to me, but then again, also somehow somewhat different. I see, I must see, see now, hurry, scurry, scurry through the nasturtiums to Hav’s house, to the house of the warmest season. Please let it be Hav there, for I love her just so much, or am I too early again this year? Oh there is someone there, there I see. Oh but it’s not Hav at all, maybe Kynyav, yes it must be her, for the person has the hair and skin of that colder windier goddess, maybe she has a pocket, and we could go look for some food for me?

Kingfisher

I’m watching from a branch by the wall of the moat, that insolent girl, she’s dropping Lychee fruit casings, and then spitting the inner seed to the ground beneath her feet as she dallies along! What cheek to dirty Hav’s garden in such a way, and what with Hav being so very tidy, and not at all like her three sisters. Kynyav is definitely the worst with her dead leaves a plenty. Oh is that a minnow in the moat, I’m sure I saw. Oh there she goes again, dropping fruit skins, she’s such a naughty girl, but that is no excuse for her invasion of Hav’s garden all, was that a minnow? A flutter of my wings and I’m at Hav’s house, but the girl has gone inside, something I would not dare, unless of course I wanted a very special favour from Hav. After all, she is the Goddess of this garden. This girl is for it now, but it is my duty to tell, as I am a garden guardian, I must let Hav know as she is far away in this season of hers. Away, away to Hav’s statue in the middle of the garden with my wings all of a flutter of deep iridescent blues and greens as I fly with speed to court Hav.

And so with a fast flutter of wings, Kingfisher is right beneath the cherry trees, and there she alights on the bare shoulder of the statue of Hav. From this position as always in the past, she can whisper into Hav’s ear, and within an instant the faeries of the cherry trees sail up and up into the sky in huge agitation. And from their new arrangement in the skies, just a few split from the rank and file, to streak away out over the forest. The remainder relax back down softly to the branches of the cherry trees, there to debate in much eagerness of this intruder in their Goddesses house. For awhile all that can heard above the statue, is their disconcerted tinkling bell like voices, before once again they close their petal faces, and then they once again become peaceful, and return to looking just like blossoms.

Kingfisher decides she has done her allotted duty to her goddess Hav, and then is speedily away over the wall and muttering to her, for now she will try and capture her supper by fishing in the gardens moat. The kingfisher knows that Hav will have her own way of dealing with this invasion of her house and garden when she returns, and quickly forgets all about Cora.

Finvarra and his host.

To say that Finvarra is annoyed with Oona, is to compare a mere lit flame to a volcano in full flow, Oona’s horse is missing and Finvarra believes quite rightly that she has an assignation with Pan. Of course Finvarra has no idea that Pan has spurned her favours and attempts to court him, for Oona could never really believe that Pan will not fall for her charmed seduction, and so she is ever hopeful. Oona’s King and husband, with Nonetoogood at his side and his host right behind, finally arrives at the Rainbow Bridge, only to discover Oona upon her steed looking most forlorn. In the instant that Finvarra saw his wife Oona distraught, his temper is lost like a flame doused by water, and as once again he fell to her romance enchantment. The King now, could no longer reason or even remember just why he had been just so upset with her his Queen? Nonetoogood saw all this, but he saw right through Oona’s girlish glamour to perceive a worn and very distressed faery Queen, but he said nothing to Finvarra as he led the disgruntled host back to the stables.

Cora in the walled garden.

Cora steps from the veranda into the shaded doorway, she knows somehow that the owner of the house is far away, or it seem to feel that way to her. Cora also has needs that must be though, and this make her much braver than normal, the fruits of the Lychee will not sustain her for long, and so far she has seen no gate, nor gap to leave the garden by. The doors, for there are two, are imposing and have carved handles, on closer inspection Cora sees that they are carved like honeysuckle. Cora reaches for one of the door handle tentatively, and then grasps it firmly in her hand and pushes hard. The door swings inwards revealing a darkened room, and then Cora walks slowly in, at any moment fully expecting someone to shout out in annoyance at her entry into their home! However once inside the room, she perceives that for all ornamentation on the outside, this is a most plain dwelling inside! The room she has entered is set out for eating, and cooking, and is most likely a general day room. Once inside, what had seemed so dim from outside is in fact quite well lit and also nice and cool. Cora was glad of this, as she had been outside in the sun for far too long. It would seem to take up all of the ground floor up, and in the furthest right hand corner there are stairs that corkscrew their way up into the ceiling. Although Cora’s knows in her heart that there is no inhabitant in residence, she still calls out. “Hello, hello, is there anyone here?” Cora stood for just a little while longer, whilst listening alertly for any returning call or sound, but there’s nothing. She walks leisurely towards the end of the room and the curving stairs, and as she walks, she examines the large room that she is presently passing through. Although plain in manufacture, it’s decorated in all the colours of open field, seashore and sky, and on every wall there are the most exquisite paintings, all of which are of animals native to here in the Isles. On reaching the foot of the stairs, Cora hears her first sound! It’s a slight scratching noise from right behind her, coupled with frantic squeaking, on turning; she looks back across the room to the front door, but cannot see anything amiss. Cora is about to turn back to the stairs again, when yet again she hears the same noises, though this time she looks downwards. There on the wooden floor, she sees a little brown mouse standing on its hind legs and looking straight at her with its beady eyes.

Hav in pursuit of the dying summer.

Hav is about her business of summer enchantment, and even though it will be autumn soon, she still has woods to visit, and crops to run her hands through bring them to lasting fruition. Above Hav’s head however, a tiny swirl of cherry faeries thrum, their tiny tinkling voices raised in concern, telling their Goddess of an intruder in her innermost sanctuary. Hav nods and frowns, she has so much work left to do, so much work to accomplish for her father the Man, but it would appear that she was needed at home! So with a flourish, Hav spins, her golden hair like a sheet of woven sunlight flying around her stern countenance like spun gold. Where Hav had stood, there now appears twirling, and fanning curls of wild roses, white, pink, and on through to the deepest wine red, but then even they slowly fade out into thin air, leaving just dust motes swaying in the summer sunshine. Hav is on her way back to her garden of summer wonders, and beware the indolent intruder who thinks to tarry in the house of Hav.

Outside of Hav’s walled garden at the forest edge.

With first there is a riot of many hued roses climbing out of the leaf mould, and then Hav’s arrival is announced by the escort of cherry faeries all singing out her praises to all and sundry? They are now in the Mans glorious woodlands of the garden, and there is no longer a need to hide themselves from the tardy men of the outside world, so they can sing loudly in her praise. Hav herself appears in a flowery flash, resplendent in her tartan Celtic cloak of yellows and greens, and the forest fills with her beguilingly exotic perfume. Her scent which now pursues any casual watchers, and then with enchantment, magics all or any with the love of her summer season. It is then that with attendant faery court, Hav glides to very edge of the glade, and from this vantage point observes her summer garden beyond its protective moat. Kingfisher sees her arrive resplendent, and fly’s in a flurry of snapping wings to pay court, while also telling her own tale to Hav without hesitation. Hav listens and her visage changes not, for she believes that the intruder will be another Goddess, and one of her three sisters, mostly likely Kynyav, as kingfisher has described this woman to her perfectly.

Cora in ‘Hav’s’ house.

Cora slowly and gently kneels down on the floor before the little brown field mouse, which continues to squeak most frantically. Cora without thinking offers her hand to the mouse to help it climb up, and the little thing without any hesitation, jumps upon her fingers, and then laughingly Cora bears it up to her ear. Mouse has much to say, and Cora finds to her astonishment that she can actually comprehend these squeaks!

 

 

The Lizards Tale – Part 9 – 8.

Cora in the walled in garden of Hav.

Cora awoke with a start; she had been dreaming that she was falling out of a tree! She looked around herself and found she was in a tree! The Cora saw the garden from her perch and remembered where now found herself, and she saw that the garden was even now falling into dusk. It was hard for Cora to believe that she had slept that long, but the proof as they say is in the pudding. Cora knew it had been about midday at least when she had fallen asleep in the warmth of the sun, and with her back to the trunk of this tree. From her post high up in the tree, Cora could see across the garden to the cherry trees and the statue that they hid, and also way over to the opposite corner. Cora saw there was no opposing tree in the far corner, but she did notice that the sky was now clear of clouds, and turning a much darker shade blue. Cora checked back along the way she had come, it looked exactly the same as it had when she had walked that way earlier in the day. She had hoped that maybe a gateway had magically appeared whilst she had been asleep, but no such luck. However when she looked in the opposite direction along the wall, there appeared to be a house set into that corner of the garden, and she had certainly not noticed that before. This house from what she could see, appeared to be decorated with golden sunbursts along the roofs peak, and it had aquamarine fish scale tiles for a roof. The woodwork below the roofline seemed to be a marigold colour and might have animals and flowers engraved into its surface. It was difficult from Cora’s position to see the finer detail, how curious she thought. Cora stood carefully, and for the first time she looked over the wall and then into the grounds beyond the walled garden.

All Cora could see on the other side of the wall was water, water that ran for about twenty yards away from the wall, and then beyond that there was short grass, which looked almost as though it had been mown short so well kept was it. Fifty yards of grass and then huge old trees, a real forest of what looked like huge oaks, each one of which would easily dwarf the tree that Cora was standing on the bough of. Her position on the bough didn’t allow her to see properly to the foot of the wall in front of her. Cora had to guess that the water of what she thought of as a moat went right up to the wall? She wondered if the moat was to keep things out, or maybe keep them in? Cora examined the forest from her vantage point, but because the trees grew so close together, she couldn’t make out much detail of what was below the boughs of the trees. She saw nothing moving or out of place for such a forest, and certainly no sign of any Faeries. Cora frowned did she believe in faeries? The last day, or it might be couple of days, for she wasn’t at all certain of how much time had elapsed, might just be her imagination. One thing Cora didn’t know yet however, was that time didn’t flow in the garden as in the world outside of it’s walls, and that some places had no time, whilst others where in the future, and indeed some were in the past, and all at the same time.

Cora decided she needed to make a decision as to if she was going to spend the night up here in the relative safety of the tree, or drop down to the garden and then make her way to the house? She looked out along the wall again towards the house, the golden sunbursts looked appealing and also inviting in some way, and she hadn’t seen anyone or indeed anything threatening so far. Cora realised that actually she hadn’t seen anything apart from the statue and the little faeries, so she couldn’t see any reason for not exploring further this evening. Cora made one more decision though, and that was to collect some more of the delicious Lychees to take with her. So she scrambled carefully along the bough again, but this time much more confidently. Cora gathered the little bunches of fruit into her hoodie, and then got down very carefully from the tree, and it was considerably easier getting down, than climbing up earlier. Once firmly on the ground again, Cora then made a makeshift pouch out of her hoodie for the fruits, leaving a few out to eat now, she then tied the hoodie by its sleeves around her waist. She set off for the house, peeling one after another of the fruits that although very sweet, did not seem to slake her thirst or fill the gap in her now very empty tummy. Cora knew she would need some real food soon, or she would begin to feel faint, but the water issue was more pressing. The house wasn’t so far away as he had though originally and as Cora drew nearer, and nearer, she started to make out more than a few interesting details. The little house in the corner appeared to be designed like a pagoda, and completely built of carved woods. There were lots of flowers growing up and over parts of the building, but it seemed to be in a good state of repair, but Cora knew somehow that human hands hadn’t built it. There was a slightly alien feel about its appearance, Cora couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was that marginally disturbed her eye, but there was definitely something. Cora wondered if the owners of the garden lived here, and if she might meet them, but as of yet there appeared to be no one at home?

There is a sudden startling flash of violent cobalt as something small dashes across Cora’s path behind her, a blaze of rainbow wings. From the position of a large flower stem, the stalk bent with the weight of this garden occupant, tiny piercing eyes watched Cora’s back as she slowly walked from the Lychee tree along the wall towards the house… The owner of the sharp eyes clung to the stalk, and then flew at a furious speed to the Lychee tree, and once there it alighted on one of the boughs. The owner of the eyes was not amused at Cora’s peeling of the fruits that she was eating, or her dropping of the outer shells to the ground, as she left a messy trail behind her. The eyes watched as Cora ate the soft interiors of the Lychee, and then spat the large black shiny seeds messily out onto the grass… Just who in the goddesses name did she think she was to come here into this garden, and then treat it like a refuse tip?

Rook under the shade of the hawthorn.

The big red beastie got nearer, and nearer, and it was then that Rook realised that it was heading straight for him. The accompanying dogs were yipping and snarling at one other, were obviously happy with something or other. Then Rook put all the facts around him together, for he could be quite clever at times, Pan hadn’t slain Fox, this man and his dogs had!

Rook suddenly felt awfully nervous, Fox had been wily and no fool of an animal, and if man had slaughtered him, then it could be regretful for Rook to be found in the place of Fox’s demise by man. So without further adieu, Rook hopped wholly into the full sunlight, shook his wings out and made ready to go aloft into the deep blue sky. As Rook submitted to the sunlight, he heard the dogs set up an massive baying, and on turning his head to peer slightly myopically towards the approaching big red beastie, he saw that the dogs were now rushing directly towards him. Flapping his wings frantically, Rook managed to just get off ground as the dogs arrived. One of the dogs nevertheless took a prodigious leap upwards to try and bring Rook back to the earth again. Luckily for Rook though, as the dog left the ground, his companion tried to muscle in on the action, and so both dogs collided with a solid thump, and then fell away yapping crossly. Rook flapped a little higher as the big red beastie, and its rider arrived at the tree. Rook managed to turn away flapping his black wings and began to head out over the hawthorn, but as he gained a little more height, he heard a roar of dark sound from somewhere near behind him! Rook abruptly found himself pushed upwards and his wings buffeted fiercely, and then he realised that he was going down swiftly towards the ground again. Rook also found he now had an accompanying sharp pain in his side as he tumbled towards the grass. The field on the other side of the hawthorn rose up to met him sharply as he crash-landed in a fluttering black heap, a cloud of feather slowly following in his wake. Rook had been wounded by something, and which he suspected to be the man’s thunder stick, that and he was also winded by his crash landing. Rook knew he’d better be able to get back into the sky quickly, and then away from here. It would be only a moment’s work for the dogs to be on this side of the hedgerow, and also Rook realised now that the man had something that could reach him even when he was skybound!

Cora in the walled garden of Hav.

Cora at last reached the house that she saw now was set well back into the corner of the wall; she saw that it resembled maybe a sort of Chinese temple. The house had wooden steps that led up to a large veranda, beyond the veranda however the entranceway to the house was set back into the building. As the light dropped away to dusk, it appeared as just a black rectangular shape with no discernable door. The house had an air about it that made Cora sure that it was lived in, although for now she couldn’t make her mind up exactly what sort of dwelling place it was. The plants growing around and over the veranda were just so colourful, electric blues, violent yellows, rioting reds, and there were countless hues in between, Cora saw that a lot of the flowers had a white border and very large petals. When she moved a little closer to them, the flowers abruptly fluttered up into the air! She could see now that they were butterflies of every conceivable colour and shade, some of them were as large as Cora’s two hands put together, and others were as tiny as a penny. Cora climbed the steps up and then walked slowly onto to middle of the veranda, but she stopped short of the houses doorway that was enveloped in shadow. The butterflies’ flitted and spiralled about her, some of them at times forming a halo of just one colour around her head, almost as though she wore a crown. The others then flew faster and filled all the remaining space on the veranda so that Cora could no longer see the garden beyond.

 

The Lizards Tale – Part 9 – 7.

Tom & Jago at the Gypsy’s caravans.

Tom felt almost compelled to step back from this rather menacing character in a hat, this wolfish creature, and although he didn’t want to take his eyes off him, Tom just had to look momentarily downwards to Jago for reassurance, Jago! Where was Jago damn him? Tom was about to twirl around peering after Jago, when the character in a hat barked out gruffly, “Let me introduce myself my fine friends, my name is ‘Lowarn’. How can I be of service, lost are you? I maybe could give you some directions to your desired ending, or perhaps you wish an introduction to a fine Lord, which could be of some benefit to you! Something pretty for your maid, or even simple food from the woods, come sit and dine with me, I have cowslip wine and tansy cake, or would a glass of elderberry, and some delicious soup be more to your liking? It might be better to tarry awhile, have a meal, rest, as there maybe terrible Fae afoot in the forest and you wouldn’t want to unprepared would you!” Tom was bewildered, one moment Jago had been standing by his trousers, and then like some poor magical trick, he’d disappeared, and just when Tom could really have done with his knowledge of these wild woods and their denizens. As Toms eyes raised back quickly to the character in the hat, he noticed that in amongst the leaf covered floor of the dell, a large horse chestnut casing, or what Tom realised now, had to be Jago rolled up into a ball like a frightened hedgehog, Tom took that to be a bad sign…

‘Lowarn’ strode forward to Tom, and in a poorly disguised attempt of camaraderie, caught hold of Tom by his upper arm firmly, Tom looked at this creature’s hand, the nails were pointy and very dark, just like an animal. Lowarn then, and not very gently, propelled him swiftly towards the caravan opposite the old Gypsy’s. As Tom and Lowarn passed the woman, Tom thought he heard the gypsy mutter,

“Lowarn my arse, I’d not have nowt to do wiv that old fox if’n I were youse!”

But the woman’s accent was very strong and what she spoke was almost inaudible, and Tom was also somewhat bewildered that the gypsy had appeared to call his new friend ‘Fox’, when he was clearly a man, wasn’t he. “Sit, sit, and maybe you shall stay awhile, there is after all no hurry is there? Or have you somewhere important to be? Someone important to meet, or ‘Look’ for? Mayhap you could idle with me for a while, for it would be most unkind not to partake of some dinner with me, ‘Lowarn’ wouldn’t it?” Tom looked into Lowarn’s eyes, the dark depths drew his gaze and he felt almost mesmerised like a rabbit that is about to be eaten. Lowarn, and Tom guessed he, the man in hat, had to be quite a colourful chap, after all he was dressed rather eccentrically. Lowarn’s coat appeared to be made of some rather fine animal skin and his hat was rather dashing with its foppish brim and animal ears. As Tom examined Lowarn’s hat, he suddenly wasn’t so sure that he hadn’t just seen the ears twitching! Surely not, that couldn’t be right, it was then that the world span and Tom caught up with where he was, not that he knew exactly where he was? Tom realised he was lost in some sort of enchanted garden, now Tom had seen a few strange things when he had been living with Kynyav, but somehow she had soothed those worries away. Tom speculated if in fact he was actually lying in some sort of institution and all this was going on his head as a nurse gave him regular medication, because these sorts of things just didn’t happen in the real world. But then before Tom knew it, he was sat on the steps of Lowarn’s caravan, and Lowarn was bustling around the fire adding extra wood whilst also stirring the pot which hung off a blackened tripod made of stout sticks. Each time the man lifted the lid to stir the contents; Tom smelt the food cooking within, and then Tom’s stomach would do a flip-flop whilst sternly grumbling its annoyance at having to wait so long for food. There was no doubt that whatever Lowarn was cooking smelt good, somehow meaty and Tom knew it was going to be delicious. Finally Lowarn pushed past Tom where he sat on the caravan’s steps, and went inside the caravan, shutting the door firmly after him. Tom suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, it was almost as if Lowarn had some sort of influence over him. Rising to his feet, Tom strode to the cooking pot, lifted the lid and looked inside. The pot was near filled to the brim with a darkish slowly bubbling liquid, and what looked to be chicken pieces, or maybe parts of rabbits, no vegetables though. Tom would have to admit that the aroma was gorgeous, and his stomach immediately rumbled loudly again. By the side of the pot, and hanging off one of the tripod sticks was a roughly made wood ladle, Tom lifted it from its hook, and was about to dip it in the pot when Jago’s voice sounded out of nowhere… “Whatever you do, don’t eat any of the ‘Green Mans’ creatures, so if its all veg, go ahead, but if it’s meat and that is what I suspect. I’m partial to a little meaty stew, but not here in the Man’s garden, never here, because I’d not want the consequences… So I’d advise you not eat it if you have any doubts even, as you’ll not want to bring the Man’s wrath upon you!” And then quietly the Tinkers voice cut through all.

“That Fox, he be a lot of trouble, started out right, but now he’s back to his tricksy ways, and eating meat, something forbidden here, and I tell ye, if you eat of his foods, you will be punished by the ruler of this land, so I’d abide by what your small friend says!”

Tom turned to look at the gypsy, and found that she was now a beautiful young woman, and not a wrinkle in sight, and he also noticed that Jago standing right next to him now that Lowarn had disappeared. Tom told Jago quietly that the pot appeared to contain a chicken broth, but it could be rabbit as Tom was not too experienced in cooking. Jago commented on this new information from Tom, “Here in these secret woods, it’ll be rabbit, one of the Man’s creatures, and I think that the Lowarn may just be one of the Man’s creatures gone bad, or just not changed in his ways since his demise!” Tom saw then that Jago was frantically rummaging in one of his pockets, and watched as he pulled forth the polished hazelnut that he had used back at the house, ‘the answer in a nutshell’. Jago maybe rubbed the nut slightly, and then muttered a phrase, and then the nut was open once again in his palm. On opening the worm like creature immediately asked why Jago was bothering him again, and Jago told him to shut up, and then in the same breath, told the worm to grant Tom freedom from any glamour that Lowarn may have placed upon Tom. The worm turned momentarily towards where Tom stood and said one word “Fox”, and then curled up again. Jago then did a flourish with his free hand and the nut closed once again, and then Jago slipped it back in his pocket securely. Just as Jago slipped the hazelnut back into his pocket, Lowarn opened the caravan door again with a big wolfish smile, showing all his large sharp white teeth, he struck a somewhat pompous pose, and then exclaimed loudly. “Oh my, you have a little friend, I saw him from the trees, but when I welcomed you, he appeared to flee and yet, here he is again, perhaps he thought I might gobble him up! Haha, I shall need to get an extra bowl now, and a suitably sized one at that.” Tom stared at Lowarn amazed for he now saw through Lowarn’s glamour, and he was in fact a large fox dressed to appear as a man, or maybe a man dressed as a fox? Tom guessed that it was a large fox standing on it’s hind legs, and the ears that appeared earlier to be pinned to Lowarn’s hat, were now seen easily to be actually attached to his head, and poking through the hats brim! As Tom watched this foxy apparition called Lowarn, he turned and went back into the caravan for another bowl. “Quick” Said Jago… “Let’s be away before he come out again, you cannot trust a fox, they are very cunning especially one such as him!” Tom started to run, and as he went past the gypsy, he heard her mutter again, “I told ‘e so…” And then Tom was trying to scrabble up the steep side of the dell, never even thinking of Jago’s short legs. When he reached the top of the dell, Tom looked back, just in time to see that Lowarn had reappeared from the caravan. In a moment Lowarn was down the step and Tom saw how quick he was on his feet, very quick, and for a moment he even dropped to four feet like the animal he really was. Lowarn speedily overtook Jago and then as he reared up on two feet, he snatched up Jago in his hard nailed hands. Tom stood in shock as he saw Lowarn then opened his mouth in a large toothy smile, and whilst the Gypsy watched in the background, lifted Jago to his mouth full of large sharp shiny white teeth!

Rook under the hawthorn.

Once in the shade of the hawthorns overhanging branches, Rook saw blood and gore splashed about in and on the mud beneath the tree. Everywhere that Rook looked, there were bits of Fox, and pushed right into the bottom of the hedge was Fox’s head with one of his long legs. Rook could see that Fox had been ripped limb from limb by some terrific force. Pan must have been in a terrible temper to treat Fox to this form of death thought Rook, usually he just made creatures dead instantly. Rook sidled closer to Fox’s head and from the look in the dead brown glazed eyes; Fox had died in such terrible pain. Rook placed a horny foot on Fox’s toothy snout before leaning forward and pecking out an eye with relish, waste not, want not thought Rook, and he was after all hungry. As Rook pecked away however, he noticed a smell, quite like Fox, but not Fox, and having now taken both of Fox’s eyes, the best bits as far as Rook was concerned, he moved onto some of the more juicy entrails spread about under the trees deep shade. Rook had been pecking away for a few minutes when the image of dog came sliding into his head, Fox smelt of dog, that’s was it was he thought to himself. Rook wondered, if dog had been here, there was a pretty good chance that man had been here as well, or was at least very close by. Man made Rook very nervous, and there was even a rumour in the hedgerows a while back that man ate rook with relish, and that he even made rook pie. Some of the hedgerow dwellers had even said that man ate anything that moved, flew or swam, or at least was known to kill anything he saw and that wasn’t him. Rook had once been told by the ‘Green Man’ that man was his own worst enemy, and that they even killed each other in what they called ‘wars’! As Rook sidled from one juicy bit of Fox to another, he felt a shaking through the very ground beneath him, and along with that shaking, the rumbling roar of one of man’s metal beasties. Rook pecked harder, thinking to himself how tasty Fox was, and that he’d never have thought of that when he had watched Fox slinking along the fields looking for his own dinner. It was around this time that Crow noticed that the sounds of the hedgerow had ominously gone silent! All the usual background sounds were lost, and when that happened, Rook knew it usually ended with some poor unfortunate beast losing its life and becoming another beasts feast.

Rook pulled his head out and away from Fox’s chest cavity where he had been trying worry Fox’s heart out, for Fox’s heart would have made Rook a sumptuous meal on just its own. Rook raised his bloody beak, and made his way by slowly hop a skipping to the edge of the trees dark shade. It took a few moments for Crows eyes to adapt properly to the bright sunlight of the field. Rook saw that Man’s metal beastie was heading his way at a run, and Rook also spotted that a man rode upon its broad back, and that two of his dogs were running along side, But Rook wasn’t unduly worried, because he could fly off at anytime he wished couldn’t he.

 

The Lizards Tale – Part 9 – 6.

Cora starts off at a slight run towards the tree at the corner of the walls, and eventually she stumbled at last into its shade. She stood underneath getting her wind back, and then feeling better, she looked about herself, and especially upwards. Cora hoped against hope that she would be able to see up through the boughs above her, she couldn’t. Cora thought she might have seen where she could actually climb up and make the top of the wall. A bough that might run out over the wall, and therefore allow her to maybe drop down on the other side. Sadly she just couldn’t see high enough into the tree because of it’s dense foliage. Returning her gaze back to ground level, Cora took in the scene around her, she was glad of the shade of the tree, for it had been very hot on her walk. Looking to the ground around her feet, she saw a few odd looking nuts, or what appeared to be nuts. On closer inspection, she saw that they might be some type of fruit, or nut, but it was rotten. Cora stared up into the tree again, and this time she realised that there were what look like nuts hanging in bunches amongst the leaves. These ‘nuts/fruits’, if that’s what they were, have a pinkish hue, and some are even almost red, not unlike the statue under the cherry trees. There was however no cherry blossoms here to colour them with their dappled shade. Cora walked slowly around the bole of the tree, it had an enormous girth, it would have taken at least six Cora’s clasping each other’s hands to encircle the tree. There appeared to be only one branch low enough for Cora to even hope of having a good chance of reaching. If she could grasp this, then she had a good hope of climbing up into the main part of the tree. From there she could maybe reach some of what to her looked like delicious fruits. Well, there is no time like the present if I am going to climb this tree she thought to her self. So Cora who had missed breakfast, dinner, and maybe even more meals than she like to think of, started to puzzle on how she would actually climb the tree. The reason she had no idea over how many meals she might have missed, was because she wasn’t quite sure how long she had lain in the garden asleep before she had awoken. Cora started jumping and trying hard to get a grip on that bough, but it stayed just out of reach. Jump, jump, grasp, no luck, and jump, gasp, repeated several times, and still no luck! Her hands sometimes just touched the bough, but not Cora wasn’t gaining anywhere near enough height to get a good firm grip on the top of the bough, and so it remained enticingly out of reach. Cora stopped for a breather, and decided to look at her problem in a more methodical way. Were there any logs in sight in the garden that she could drag under the tree and then stand on, and from there, then climb up? A quick search revealed that the garden in this area, as in all the other areas she had seen, was far too neat, and so no logs, fallen or indeed cut. Vines? Were vines growing on the walls in the other direction away from the tree? Vines that she could somehow cut and use like rope? Cora had no knife, and in fact she had nothing about her that was even sharp. However Cora knew the answer to the vine question before she even looked, but she peered around anyway, because she knew that in her heart of hearts that she had to be one hundred percent sure! This garden had shown that everything was not always as it appeared, and it might well be playing tricks on her. So then Cora thought back on the conundrum of the tree, and how to climb up into it, for if nothing else, she wanted to eat some of those nuts. Nothing to stand on, and nothing she could possibly use as a rope? Her father (Tom) always said that if she thought hard enough, an answer would appear, it was then that she suddenly remembered her father, and the fact that he would be worried sick by now! The more Cora thought of her father, the more upset she became. It was a fact that she seemed somehow stuck in some sort of faery story, but her father would have undoubtedly phoned the local police by now, and Cora imagined they would be combing the garden for her. Cora’s tears flowed freely down her freckled cheeks as she sobbed uncontrollably, and for a while she was drowned in the sorrow of her plight. As her sobs naturally abated however, she felt the need to wipe her face, and tugged at her t-shirt. It was of course held down by her hoodie that she had tied around her waist earlier. Cora untied the hoodie, and allowed it to slip to the ground once again, and then lifted the edge of her T, and used it to wipe the tears from her cheeks and eyes. When Cora had finished, she took a fresh look around her, and it was then that she thought of her hoodie? She could maybe use it to pull the thinner end of the branch down to her so that she might be able to climb up! How silly she thought, I’ve had the answer around my waist all this time!

Cora picked up her hoodie from where she had dropped it on the ground, and looked up at the lowest branch of the tree. Once she had positioned herself under the lowest thinnest part, Cora attempted to throw one of the sleeves of the hoodie over the branch, whilst keeping hold of the end of the other sleeve. After several abortive attempts, the sleeve that she flung upwards, actually fell over the branch, catching and holding on, caught by some of the smaller twigs. The end of the sleeve fell back down towards her on the other side of the small branch, allowing Cora to grasp it just. With just a little adjustment, and with Cora grasping both sleeves together firmly, she hauled it gently onto the tree properly, the main body of the hoodie now slid upwards and around the branch. Cora heard the stitching in the sweatshirt material groan, but as she pulled slowly on the cotton material, the branch descended enough to come to within the reach of her. Now another problem arose, for Cora needed both hands to hold onto the sleeves of the hoody to enable her to pull the branch down low enough, and therefore this left her with no way of then grasping the descending branch. Slowly Cora although disappointed, allowed the branch to slip back away from her. Time to think again? After a little more thought, Cora tied the two sleeves together at their ends, slipped her left arm through the arms, jumped slightly to get the knotted ends under her armpit and as she stooped downwards, the branch slowly bent down towards the ground again. This time it was low enough to allow her to firmly grasp the branch with her right hand, and so get a reasonable grip. Cora hung her full weight on the branch by her right hand, arm, and then shoulder, thereby dragging it even further down. Now that she had a hold on the branch, she managed with a little difficulty to let go of the hoodie, and then got a good grip with her left hand on the branch. Finally with a little more difficulty, Cora managed to pull her legs up off the ground, and then using the natural swing effect of the trees branch, she then swung her legs up and around the tree branch, phew! This left her hanging upside down a bit like a monkey, but at least she was up in the tree. Just above where she hung, another branch hung down low, and with an almighty effort she then reached out with one arm, and grabbed hold of this branch with her right hand, This helped her to then finally pull her legs up onto the first branch, and then she could finally sit safely. Cora took a few moments to acclimatise to her new situation, her heart was hammering in her chest, but it soon slowed back to normal. She carefully untied her hoodie from the branch, and then shuffled off on her bottom along the branch towards where it joined the main trunk of the tree. Cora found that she was now in a good position to climb higher up into the trees boughs. Once having climbed higher, Cora at last found herself on a fairly wide bough, and just a little way out on it she saw some of what she thought of as nuts, their pinkish outer shells looking now as it they were covered in tiny pimples. Hanging one leg either side of the bough, and then placing her hands out in front of her, she managed to slide along until she reached the nearest hanging bunch. There were around twenty nuts in the cluster, and she reached out to them. They felt rough under her questing fingers, and when she squeezed them, they felt plump, soft and juicy.

Cora got a firm grip on the twigs holding the nuts, or maybe fruit, fruit she thought, because now she knew from their touch that they were not hard enough to be nuts, and then she gently pulled them towards her. With a slight snap they tore away from the branch and Cora very nearly fell off the bough in her surprise when they suddenly and unexpectedly broke off in her hand. Steadying herself carefully, but keeping a firm grasp on her prize, Cora backed up carefully on the bough until her back was again against the warm bark of the trunk of the tree. Now she could relax, and took her first really good look at the bunch of fruits. Cora then realised she had seen these fruits from before, it had been in a photograph, and now she remembered they were called ‘Lychees’. Cora had eaten Lychee fruits from a tin with her father after a Chinese takeaway one evening when he hadn’t wanted to cook. The tin had a picture on the front showing some of the fruits in their pinkish pimpled skins, and she remembered that they had been really tasty. With no further thought, Cora tore one fruit away from the bunch and then peeled its bark like skin off, and then without hesitation popped the revealed fruit into her mouth. Mmmm delicious she thought, and then Cora hastily tore the rest of the lychees skins off, and ate all the sweet juicy perfumed fruit with relish. She spat each single big black seed that was in the centre of each fruit to the ground below her as the juices of the lychee ran down her chin. Cora sat with her legs dangling and swinging from the bough and when she had finished off the entire cluster, she thought about picking more? She felt an almost greedy need for them now, but then the days activity caught up with her, and what with the warm perfumed air from the nearby ripe fruits hanging in the tree, and having eaten a lot of the sweet fruit, and finding herself fairly comfortable, her eye lids drooped and she drifted off to sleep without noticing.

Out in the garden, the cherry trees still cast their dappled shade on the statue. From where Cora reclined on the bough of the Lychee tree, and if she had been awake, she might have seen the blossoms all suddenly arise from the branches of the trees. Blossoms that with a soft floating motion then swirled down around the unmoving statue like confetti, before swirling outwards towards the walls. And if she had looked really closely, she would have seen that they were all tiny faeries dancing, and playing together in the summer sun, their tiny tinkling voices filling the air with the sound of their miniature bell like cries, but of course she was now firmly in the clutches of deep sleep, and a slumber to deep to be broken by casual occurrences on the other side of the garden.

Rook… Takes death seriously.

Rook flapped away from the garden, and then high out over the fields until he saw the hawthorn tree that Pan sometimes frequented, and then with regret, as he knew Pan would be extremely unhappy with him for flapping in the face of what he had thought at first to be a Fae, and then realised after long reflection to be in fact Cora! Rook slipped sideways into a glide, finally flapping just enough at the end to settle in the upper branches of the tree where he waited to see how if Pan was present. Rook couldn’t see down through the hawthorn, the small tree that now he thought of it, appeared to be in full bloom, and much greener than he remembered! He perched for a while and then began to wonder if Pan was here at all, where else could he be? As Rook waited patiently for Pan, he pecked idly between each of his scaly clawed toes, and then finally he raised his head up and looked around, his keen eyes missing nothing, still no sign of Pan, and unusually nothing to even give away his presence. After he had been there a few more minutes, Rook rather thought he could detect an odour on the air, the fragrance of violent death, spilled blood and fear, and he shuffled nervously in the branches of the hawthorn. Finally he let his shiny black wings catch the slightest breeze coming in from over the Ocean. Rook lifted gently into the air above the wind swept tree, and then took a quick trip circling the tree. As he passed where the branches dipped down one side of the stone hedge creating deep shade, Rook noticed strips of brownish red fur, and so he dropped gently to the grass in the field to investigate further. At first he looked around to see if anything was watching him, and then he sidled craftily into shade of the hawthorn.

 

The Lizards Tale – Part 9 – 5.

Tom lifted his head slightly away from the glass whorl, thinking that the woman’s voice came from within the bedroom, and he suddenly noticed Jago’s hand clutching at his own, the little man’s nails were cutting into Tom hand quite painfully, and then the room began to seemingly spin. Watercolours thought Tom, the room seems to be swimming and becoming indistinct, the scene blurring as his eyes tried to adapt, and just before he and Jago were pulled into the now swirling bullseye, Tom wondered where the woman was?

‘Tom & Jago’ in the Greenwood.

When Tom’s sight cleared, he found that he was standing just on the edge of a dell, whose lip was water coloured with the deepest blue, with an under wash of darkest emerald greens, in fact it was covered in a deep carpet of bluebells and ferns. Jago was still clutching his hand painfully; in fact he was gripping Tom’s hand even harder now. The dell was surrounded by large gnarled oaks, and shadows ran deep and mysterious beneath them, and in the dell below were three caravans drawn together, they were all gaudily painted in a rainbow of colours, and the palette was most definitely turned up to full on Psychedelic. Tom could only see one inhabitant presently, even though he was sure that when he had seen these wagons through the bull’s eye, there had appeared to be two. Jago finally let go of Tom’s hand, but Tom was too interested in the woman who was sitting on the wooden steps of the nearest caravan. Tom thought he almost knew her, but just couldn’t put his finger on her name, however he could also smell the most delicious food aroma coming from the black kettle pot hanging over a small fire… He felt drawn to rush down and just fill his belly right away, but then he felt Jago’s hand pulling on his trouser leg. Tom looked down at Jago, who pointed off to one side and away amongst the trees, it was then that Tom spotted a shady character hiding in the gloom of one of the larger oaks. It wasn’t so much that the man, if it was a man, was hiding, more that he blended in, he appeared to be wearing a long brownish, reddish coat that was cinched in tight at the waist, long brown boots, and what appeared to be a dark floppy hat. It was then that Jago said….

“I don’t think you thought about Cora did you? Or we wouldn’t be in this fix!”

Tom wasn’t sure what he should do? Keep an eye on the suspicious figure skulking out in the trees, or listen to his stomachs sudden grumbling, and rumbling on the smell his nose was drawing from the delicious smelling food cooking in the gypsy woman’s pot? A decision was speedily made however when Tom practically ran, and then lost his footing and stumbled his way down the steepish slope of the dell to the caravans, several times he almost fell completely, such was his rude haste. Tom arrived in a rather dishevelled heap before the gypsy’s crouched form where she sat upon the steps of her wagon. The gypsy woman didn’t even bother to look up at Toms approach, but rather carried on tapping away at her work, work that Tom observed to be a small delicate silver pot. The woman was holding the pot in one hand, and then striking it in a gentle way with a ballpeen hammer that she held in her other hand, her brown face cast downwards as she tap, tapped away. As Tom stood rather foolishly before the gypsy, he felt Jago arrive, or rather Jago ran into the back of Tom’s trouser legs, it was then that the gypsy woman spoke, as she continued tapping away, and with her face still looking directly down at her work, “And how’d I be helping you gents then?” Tom stood nonplussed for a moment, the gypsy’s broad folk accent took him quite by surprise, but then he stepped forward and said, “I’m not sure you can, you see…” And at this point Jago broke loudly across Tom’s speech, drowning out what he had been about to say. “What my friend here is trying to say, is that we are not lost, not lost at all, more like exploring the woods in a way, arriving here as we pass through on our journey, and now we needing to be getting off and going home!” The gypsy said nothing, and just kept tapping away at her bowl, seconds ticked away with Tom beginning to feel rather foolish, and Jago standing just behind Tom’s trouser legs, peering past at the gypsy with a frown on his little face. From behind and to the left of Tom and Jago, came the sound of rustling leaves, leaves that might just be rustling because someone was approaching from behind them! Tom sneaked a quick look behind them, and saw what could only be the man who had been leaning against the oak in the woods. He was now nonchalantly strolling into the dell, and right towards Jago and himself. As he drew nearer, Tom thought him somewhat wolfish in his facial appearance, there was however little he really could see of his face, other than his mouth, and this was due to the large floppy, almost foppish hat that he wore, and which cast his face in deep shadow. Tom however did see that the hat appeared to have some ears pinned in some way to the sides of it. These ears would appear to be large furry foxy ears, and for just a moment in the dappled shade of the trees; it looked as though they were actually attached to the man’s head. The more Tom stared, the more he was sure that maybe they were real ears, and were not just stuck to the hat, in fact not pinned on at all! When the strange man opened his mouth and smiled, his teeth looked ever so white, shiny and also very sharp! The name ‘Fox’ jumped unbidden into Tom’s mind, and suddenly the way the stranger was looking at him, made him feel as if he, ‘Tom’ were a plump overfed chicken, and he suddenly didn’t feel so safe in the forest, not even with Jago to guide him.

Cora in the walled garden.

Cora snatched her hand back from the statues shoulder, more in shock, than in fear, she just really hadn’t expected the statue to feel warm, let alone for it to feel like skin! All is not as it seems thought Cora, and she began to think on how she might appear to be trapped in a magical garden, and with no obvious way out that she could see. Previously she had felt a little as though this was all a dream, now she pinched herself hard, and again, but she didn’t awaken! Cautiously Cora walked away from the statue, and then turned to observe it again. When she had turned around she had thought it might have come to life, but it didn’t appear to have moved at all, not even a quiver. The light through the cherry blossoms still dappled its porcelain skin, giving the statue the appearance of having real flesh laid upon its stony bones, and then Cora giggled to herself, how daft was she! She turned and moved away across the grass slowly, she didn’t feel at all threatened now, and so ambled through the buzzing dragons and faery folk, none of which appeared to notice her at all. She began to think of them as just tiny insects going about their business in the fabulously enchanted garden. Cora at last found herself slowly returning towards the wall where she had awoken earlier. The perfume of the garden was rampant and intensified even more as she approached the stonewall of its perimeter. Cora examined her surroundings once more, she stood facing the wall, and then leaned forward bracing herself with her hands, holding herself back with her arms thrust out straight. She could feel the sun on her back and realised that now that she was effectively out of the woods, the hoody that she was wearing was making her perspire quite a lot. Underneath it she was wearing an old, but comfortable white t-shirt dotted with multi-coloured stars, maybe she should take her hoody off? Cora turned her head right, and looked along the wall which ran away from her for at least five hundred yards before it turned abruptly ninety degrees, therefore making a corner. All along the bottom of the wall were flowers, tall flowers at the back, growing shorter and shorter towards the front. There were all sorts of British flowers, some of which should not be out at the same time, and they all appeared to be in full bloom, with not a dead one to be seen! Cora pulled the hoody over her head swiftly, and as she turned to face into the middle of the garden, she dropped it to the ground. With her back pressed to the wall now, she closed her eyes, and felt the granites cold reassurance through her thin T-shirt. As she leaned there, she thought she heard a tiny voice.

“Don’t you go leaving your rubbish there young lady, you have to take away, what you bring to Hav’s summer garden!”

Cora’s heart jumped and she opened her eyes, but there was no one there, but then she saw in front of her, one of the wee faery folk, surely it hadn’t spoken to her, it was far too slight she thought to have a voice that she could hear. Cora looked left and right along the wall, but is presented with the same scene, no sign of someone who could have spoken, and when she turned head to look at the small faery hovering in front of her, it had gone. Now she had her eyes open again, Cora took a good long look along where the wall swept away from her.  Cora looked the other way along the wall, but this wall ran away into the distance, and it was only when she screwed up her eyes so very hard, that she thought she could just make out another corner in the far distance. Cora pulled away from the walls coolness and looked towards the top studying it. It was however a good fifteen feet above her, and looking very solid and unassailable. Cora examined the wall directly in front of her; the cracks between the stones were narrow and filled with tiny ferns and leafy plants. Even if Cora tried hard, and she knew that no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn’t be able climb this wall.

Cora stooped to pick up her hoody from the ground, she took one more look about for the person who admonished her, and then stands back up and ties the sweatshirt by its arms around her waist, at least she will not be so hot now. She looks right; she looks left, and then chooses left, as the wall does not seem as long in that direction. Cora starts to trot alongside the wall following the border; ahead she sees the corner of the garden wall approaching. She reaches the intersecting walls quite quickly, and here she hopes that she might find a way here to scale the wall, but the stones are just the same, close cut and well made just the same as where she has come from, and there are no foot or handholds that she can see. After a through examination of the corner and its attendant flowers, Cora turns and starts to walk along the new section of wall, and after a long while, and yet with it still far in the distance, she can make out another corner appearing, but still with no sign of a gateway anywhere along this wall either. Cora stops for a breather for a moment, wondering if there is water somewhere nearby, a pond, anything, as now she has begun to feel extremely thirsty. She turns on her heel and looks behind studying the view, but is the same boring scene, wall, flowers, and nothing more, however when she turns back to continue walking the walls length, she now notices a tree in the corner for the first time. Cora is sure that this tree had not been there before, and she shakes her head, and then takes another look, there is most definitely a tree there now, and a large one at that!

The Lizards Tale – Part 9 – 4.

Chun & Fox at the Gypsy’s caravans.

The caravans were drawn together in the bottom of a shallow blue bell encrusted dell, there was the usual cooking fire with its caldron hanging above it, of the gypsy however there was neither sight nor sign. All around the dell loomed the huge leafy oaks of the gardens forest, they cast a green light over the entire scene so that it almost appeared to be underwater. Inside one of the caravans sat Fox; he was hungry, and outside in the pot was a stew he had prepared earlier, the thought of which was driving him mad. Fox was aware that there was a new traveller in the caravans, a strange character who was keeping himself to himself, and so far Fox had only seen him once clearly. This new fellow was dressed most peculiar, almost, and here Fox had to hunt for a word in his mind, like a clown of some sort. Fox was new to being almost human, he wasn’t fae, but he wasn’t a true man either. If he were to be seen dressed, he would have be able to pass for a man, excepting for his ears, but his lovely brown hat hid them reasonably well. So Fox’s ability to find a word was limited, but for all that, Fox had retained his cunning, and was country wise as only a Fox can be. His was voice was a little gruff, and he did tend to almost bark when he became excited, but even so outside of the garden he would have just been thought a little unusual. Fox had spotted this clown, maybe joker or indeed fool, and had spoken a greeting, a greeting that was ignored, or rather the tittering noise that came from this persons mouth, wasn’t a reply as such. He had ignored Fox, and it was a he, as no female could possibly have the frightening face that this person sported, and Fox thought he would stay as far from him as possible. Even sat in his caravan, Fox could feel the hair at the nape of his neck, and even further down his back, standing on end. In the short time Fox had been made in the image of man, he had quite forgotten his previous life, and so did not realise this was his Foxes instinct telling him that this fool, was to be avoided at all costs. Fox’s thought then wandered back to food, and the annoyance of being surrounded by rabbits out in the woods, rabbits that he wasn’t meant to touch, and he licked his lips.

In the caravan over from Fox, Chun sat brooding; this sudden new life was a surprise, and for all his scrying, all he discovered was that the Green Man had nothing whatsoever to do with where Chun found himself now. Chun had left the dell once, he found himself free to wander as he wished, but he also found he could not find his way back to the house. In Chun’s mind there was no doubt that there was a huge power hidden here in the garden, a power even stronger than his present Lord and captor. Chun had spotted Fox, and knew him for what he was, maybe in the near future there would be a time when Chun could use this half man, half fox, and if not, he would dispose of him and the gypsy woman who seemed to run this band of wagons. The gypsy woman was keeping to herself, and that was good, for Chun wanted no interference as he tried to break this spell over him. For now however he would wait and see, and of course plot his release and the eventual death of the Green Man.

Pan at Carniggy’s gates.

Pan had been winding himself up over the last day, or maybe the Green Man had a hand in his ire. He now strode mightily across the Clemmo’s fields in raging anger, for he had lost his spy Fox, and although he wished to have revenge upon the farmer, there was something that the farmer had, that made Pan, yes Pan a god, most scared!

As Pan approached the rutted lane in front of the walled garden of Carniggy; his temper rose to a new height, and then like a storm driven wave it broke harshly upon the granite walls encircling the old house. The nearer Pan got to the iron entrance gates, the more incensed he became, and then he morphed in a flash to the shape of a huge wild boar, a boar with open be-tusked saliva drooling maw, and then this manifestation tore through the tamarisk hedge which topped the Cornish stone wall before the house. Having reached the lane it galloped across the narrow gap to the other side, charging right at the rusty red wrought iron gates, smashing into them weightily as he vented his fury for the death of, as he thought, his creature Fox!

Carniggy’s iron gates that should have held Pan back so easily with the Green Man’s will behind them, bent and warped before Pan’s ire, and then gave way slightly, groaning in the pressure and violence played out upon their surface. Then the iron pushed back at the boar mightily, almost as though a humongous shoulder had been placed behind them to bolster them in their time of need. The Green Man’s attention had been caught and brought to elsewhere in the garden as he watched his granddaughter awaken in Hav’s summer garden. Now though his attention was forcefully drawn back to the house where he sat. The Green Man witnessed the gates mighty fight to try to hold fast against Pan’s enormous boar form. Pan fell to the damp ground, rolling over onto his side, his trotters kicking in the air frantically, and his sides flecked with spittle as his mighty lungs gasped lustily in annoyance. Regaining his trotters, Pan backed away as if slowly counting the ground behind him, and when his curly tail encountered the rough hedge stones, he lowered his head once again, his yellows tusks dripping saliva, his breath hot and fetid, and then he charged in at the wrought iron once more, and if possible he was even more rampant…. The force put to the iron gates this time, was not only the full weight of a giant angry wild boar, but also had the full majesty of the wild magic of Pan wrapped around within the charge, and Pan hurled everything he had in full might at the antiquated rusting iron. The gates bent as Pan’s magic enveloped them in writhing vines and ivy that tried to wrench them apart in a physical, yet mysteriously magical way. The gates groaned and moaned as they bent and writhed before Pan, and then… they collapsed, and Pan was through and onto the driveway of the house. His trotters scrabbled to gain purchase in the gravel as he gained momentum away from the torn iron, and then before him Pan saw a Morris car parked right outside the front door to the house. As Pan gathered evermore speed on the crunching gravel, his large boars eyes took on the guise of a demon’s narrowed slits, and shone out with a verminous red. Lowering his head as he ran, Pan galloped at full speed towards the Morris with the image of its destruction firmly entrenched in his head, for he had the need now to rend and twist the metal of this vehicle. Long had he waited in frustration for the chance to reach his true love Kynyav, but time after time he had been thwarted, but now when he had finished with this car in front of him, he would go and look for her in the enchanted garden. However suddenly to Pan’s consternation… He was unexpectedly just himself again, snaking, skidding and rolling across the gravel on his goat’s hooves, and in the opposite direction to what he’d thought he had been going in. It was as though a huge wind had lifted him up, grasped his magic and pulled it away from him, like an adult would pull a toy from a child. Before he knew it, he was past the gates and out into the rutted lane where he was unceremoniously dumped in a heap… When he had sorted himself out, the gates had disappeared, not just shut, but gone as if they’d never been… And he was left with the feeling someone was laughing directly in his face.

The Green Man.

The Green Man was shocked that Pan had managed to crush and push past his own spells, enchantments that had been in place for millennia, and that he had actually entered the garden. More shocking than that fact, was that it was not the Green Man’s spell that had at the last minute thrown Pan back into the road, and then closed the walls across the gates as if they had never existed. The Green Man sent out tendrils of enchantment to find what had caused Pan to revert to his normal form, and then be left bewildered in the dust outside of the walls. Each time however when his magic sense approached the forest, the destination of these magics slid away from his questing, leaving him with just the sense that someone wanted no interference or to be revealed? He sent his mind down into the caverns below, questing for Chun, but Chun was quite absent and no matter how hard he tried to find his signature, there was no answer. The Green man felt he needed to cogitate on this some more, and then maybe he might find an answer to this conundrum, for there should be no one in the garden more powerful than he, and Chun was wrapped in his spell, so how was he hidden?

Pan in the rutted lane outside Carniggy.

Pan jumped up out of the dust and at a run attempted to leap up and onto the wall, as he leapt his head was just above the flat-topped wall. Pan could just see into the garden before he collapsed back to the surface of the lane, and what did he spy? On the other side of the wall, there appeared to be just a short distance out into the trees, three gaudy caravans, and upon the steps of one, a young gypsy woman. As Pan’s head had appeared over the wall, she had been smiling directly at him, but more interestingly, he had seen that there was also a man sitting at the foot of her skirts, and although it was definitely a man, it was somehow Fox as well! Now how was that? For Pan had seen him killed, and not only dead, but torn to pieces by the Clemmo’s dogs. Pan’s ire cooled as quickly as it had come and he leaped the old stone hedge behind him, and then cavorted off across the fields until he came across the stand of old pines, and there he climbed up onto a branch, and here he thought some more about Fox’s death, for he was puzzled now.

Tom & Jago at the wondrous window.

Through the bull’s eye whorl, Tom saw an amazing scene, not Cora though, not Cora at all. What he did see though was magnificent tall trees and very green grass, all speckled with summer sunlight that dashed across the grassy sward like manic paint brush filled with rainbow colours. Flowers of every hue, flowers that moved and flew, almost like snowflakes in a storm. And in amongst those flying flowers flew even tinier figures on gossamer wings that chased miniature fluttering dragons, dragons that were covered in metallic burnished scales of every hue and colour. Tom pulled his eye away momentarily, and the dullness of the bedroom zoomed back into his view, before he then avidly placed his eye back to the whorl. This time through the trees and further out in the distance and over the nearby scene, Tom saw down into a blue bell dell, and there nestled in large ferns and bluebells were three painted wagons, and outside of them two human like figures. Tom felt himself drawn to these apparitions through the window, and was moved to keeping his eye to the whorl as he wanted more of this joyous scene that somehow he’d now been able to spy into, but then he became aware of Jago’s so annoying voice in his ear… “If you see Cora, you need to grab hold of me, and then speak these words, for if it is indeed Cora you can see, we will be drawn nigh to her, but beware of these woods, because they are a magical box of tricks, and made up of all one desires, but also sometimes perhaps of ones fears. So Tom no matter how drawn you are to some other scene, imagine only Cora and your need to be with her!” Tom kept his eye to the window whilst listening to Jago tirade, for he feared to lose this sight so magical as it was, and for not one moment did he question the truth of what he saw… `from the background of the bedroom as he observed the scene outside, he heard Jago sing out.

“There will come a time, when I will roam the green,

And by the will o’er Jack, that time is cometh now,

So take me to whom, or where I so please!”

Tom felt scrabbling at the edge of the bed, and then he thought really hard of Cora, thought of her face, and the colour of her hair, the flash of her blue, green eyes, and the way she liked to hide beneath her hood. He also thought of how he’d held her as a babe, her smell, and the softness of her skin, and then there in his imagination, she stood before him. He saw that Cora was beneath cherry trees in full bloom, and surrounded by flowers of every hue. All around Cora faery figures flew, with dragons at every flower appearing to be feeding as if bees, and the faery folk were attempting to climb upon their backs, and so then to fly them like horses with wings. Tom smiled at this vision of Cora his dearest daughter. Then yet by some trick or enchantment, his eye was drawn back to the tiniest patch of brownish red amongst the painted caravans, and just for a split second he wondered what it was? Then through it all the commotion Jago was making, he heard a woman’s softly spoken voice.

‘Into the woods with you Tom.’