Chapter 7: The Isle of Assateague

We slept cuddled up together on the beach, all nine of us. Nannakussi had a fever in the morning. I wanted to get started, but he was in no shape for a long walk, much less for a twenty mile hike. Even I could see that, and I have a thick head. Trying to travel would leave him at death’s door, maybe even kick him through.

Rather than let me sit around and grouch about it, Nevy took me for a long walk along the beach, questioning me some more about my “realm.” She liked hearing about how people lived. She wasn’t much interested in politics and government and such. She was more interested in the things that were utterly different to her, like cars and trucks and planes and supermarkets and Amazon and Google and indoor plumbing. She was disappointed that she couldn’t go to the moon. She’d never lived in a city, never been more than a few miles from her unnamed little crossroads, in fact.

“Ic... Aye would like tæ see it, for real” she said, trying my dialect on for size. She spoke slowly and with exaggerated care, pausing now and then to dig for words, trying to get familiar with the sounds of it. As yet they were just approximations.

“You’re welcome to come along, if I can ever find it again,” I told her.

“Thou ... ye ... you want’st me with thee ... with you?”

“Hmmm ... Good question. I’ve known you for almost forty eight hours now. I still get distracted looking at you. I’d love to have you.”

“Ænd I thee,” she assured me. “Thou hast æn nice ærse.”

“So do you. Just about perfect, in fact. But looks don’t last forever.”

“Aye,” she agreed sadly. “Would that they did!”

“I like you enormously already,” I told her. “That counts a lot. There are other things that count for much to make a marriage, things we need to have in common.”

“Ic bœn æn witch and thou art æn demon. Wit hæbben das in common.”

“That we do, except that I’m no demon. A grouch sometimes, maybe an ogre before I’ve had my coffee, but not a demon. I’ve never been married...”

“Nor I.”

“I’ve been in love several times,” I admitted. “Once it lasted almost a month.”

“Never I before,” she told me. “Wass... What wær her nahmen?”

“Her name?” I asked. “Heather. Why? Are you jealous?” Heather had been the most important person in our relationship, to both of us. She left in a huff after not getting her way over something so trivial I can’t remember what it was. Shortly after, she met Mister Right. She got his house and one of his cars when they divorced. She asked for both cars.

“Aye, Lord. Ic bœn ‘jealous.’ But offter... after thirty days thou wilt ... you will be sure?”

“You can use the familiar with me, honey,” I told her. “I like it. I think I’ll use it with you. It’ll be a nice compromise.”

“Wass ist ‘familiar?’”

“Thou speakest to me using the familiar,” I explained. “Remember you said I speak to you formally?”

She smiled, her nose wrinkling very prettily. “If Ic bœn thine, Ic musst speak thy spræc... speech?”

“Which brings me back to what I was saying, my beauty. Thou made’st a bargain with the demon Asmodeus. He didn’t show up, which I’m sure was a good thing for thee and for thine. Thou got’st me instead. Thou had’st no bargain with me, so thou art under no obligation to me.”

“And thou hast no obligation to me?” she asked, her eyes starting to tear up.

“Thou art taking it wrong, my sweet. I want to find this Palégos and conk him with a chunk of cord wood because I like thee. I like thy mother. I like all in thy coven...”

“Thou likest all the same?” she demanded.

“I like thee best. Thou knowest it’s so. Thou art stunningly pretty. But I would not have thee want me because of some bargain thou made’st with a fellow whom I don’t even believe in. Thou art free to make thine own choices and thine own bargains. I’ll admit, right now I’m head over heels in love with you. Something akin to love, anyway. Passion is passion. I suspect I will be next month and next year and a dozen years from now, though the passion will become less intense. Thou can’st understand?”

“Ic... Aye think so, Lord. Know’st thou, that wrfgifta, marriage here usually ist arrangèd. Mine muþer... mother would spræc... speak with thy muþer. This is after the custom of the Lenape, which here we follow. I spake much med... with mine muþer ‘fore Ic made mine bargain med Asmodeus. She wast sore against it, but þann... then she agreèd, without bliþs ... Blisse?” Not seeing any recognition on my face, she tried Latin: “Gaudia?”

“Joy, I think we’d say.” The word “joy” comes from French and hadn’t made it into her dialect of English.

“Joy.” Her face was serious as she tucked the word into memory. “Lord Asmodeus arrivèd, ænd from that moment the bargain wast made, unless thou dost not subdue den ... ye... eofel wizard ... Ic know not the word in thy speech!” she added in frustration.

“‘Evil,’ I think you mean. Or maybe ‘vile’ in my language. One’s about the same as the other, yours is closer to my English.” Enough with the language problem for now. I’ll translate:

“I thank thee,” she said, twining her fingers with mine. “Thou must remember, I had seen thee, before thou arrivèd. I knew thy face, knowing thou not as a demon. I was surprised that thou wast. I have seen thy house, seen even to ... to thy ... to... our bedroom.” Her face was flaming bright red at this point. I assumed we were having a good, good, really good time when she Saw us.

I kissed beautiful hands that had never had a manicure. “You’re implying you know for sure that I’m going to love you next month?” I suggested.

“Aye, lord. I do. Mine muþer ... My moth-er spake not to thy moth-er. Rather, mine heart spake to thine.”

We’d kissed a bunch the night before, along with a little messing around. Actually there had been lots of messing around, and pretty passionate it was. I kissed her now and it made those other kisses look piddly squat.

“Lætra,” she whispered in her own dialect. “Later.”

We walked back, holding hands again, this time with little electric tingles running up and down my arm, emanating from her hand at around 220 volts. Nannakussi was sitting up and not looking at all like he was on his death bed. I’d never have known he’d been wracked with fever an hour ago. He was making a lightning recovery. I complimented Eadgyth and Sigeflæd on their nursing. It was almost like magic, the way he’d come around.

We gathered our stuff, which at this point consisted mostly of our shoes, since we had our clothes on and hadn’t brought anything else with us. We set off for the south. I was feeling pretty good. I sang a couple verses of “We’re off to see the wizard.” Nevy demanded I translate, and when I did, she poked me in the ribs.

She demanded a language lesson as we walked, and we tried to sort out whatever happened to the “Æ” and “Œ” sounds, and the many other differences among vowels and consonants. Nannakussi joined us, trying to follow the conversation. As my servus he would need to communicate with me and it seemed he took his duties seriously.