Chapter 20: Sacred Trust

Saturday, 21 June 1969: Summer Solstice—Litha

It had been a fitful night sleeping in the middle of an island with no blankets and only his tiny fire for warmth. He’d been visited by ghosts all night long, but one hovered nearby, never leaving. He knew her from the dreams. She’d been the High Priestess at that night exactly a hundred fifty years ago.

“Are you here to torment me?” he whispered.

“No, my Vagabond. I am here to protect you.”

“But you are one of them.”

“We are all one of them, including you.”

“It’s wrong—not natural—confusing.”

“There is nothing more natural, my Vagabond. I will protect you. I will not let ill befall you. You have seen what happened the last time the tools were called together. You know not to let it happen again.”

“I am sworn to protect the brothers and sisters of the Art.”

“And to protect The Huntress.” Mari’s form was nearly hidden in the shadows nearby.

“Mari?”

“I am here. Sleep now. I will watch.” In spite of himself, Wayne fell into a fitful sleep.

In the morning light, she was gone.

When he awoke, he realized that he’d need to get back across the narrow channel to the mainland. That meant that he’d be wet through again and no fire to dry beside. The sun rose early. In the distance, Wayne could hear traffic in the town. Who would be up at this hour on Saturday?

He made his way to the shore where he had crossed the night before. To his surprise, a small boat was tied to a branch. At least Wayne assumed it was a boat. It looked almost like a wicker basket with a paddle on the seat. He wondered if it was safe to cross the hundred or two hundred feet of water. Well, if he fell in, he wouldn’t get any wetter than if he swam. He needed to get to shore.

The tiny boat was difficult to control until Wayne got the hang of it. By that time, he’d already struggled most of the way across the channel. It seemed that each time he dipped his paddle in the water, the coracle—yes, that was the name—wanted to spin in a circle. Ultimately, he managed to get across the water and only got a little wet when he splashed to shore, pulling the boat the last few feet. He anchored it and headed toward town, looking up at the cliff called the Lady’s Rake. In his mind’s eye, he could still see her naked form near the top of the cliff. He shook the feeling off and headed toward the village.

As he turned onto the main street near his hotel, he could see what the noise and commotion were about. It was market day. He was pretty sure his peers would still be asleep and missing this excitement. There were so many people there. It was more than he imagined possible in a modern, even if small, village. Colorful stalls decorated the entirety of Main Street on both sides of Moot Hall. The single hand on the clock above the old building was nearing seven when Wayne began eating his way from booth to booth. Fresh baked goods, fruits, berries, and dairy products were represented as well as dried and fresh meats and cheeses.

There were crafts as well and Wayne found a jewelry maker with a variety of charms on leather thongs. As Wayne perused the wares, a lorry rumbled into town and set its brakes on the hill above the hall. The driver opened the back of the truck and began dealing in chickens off the bumper. An overall aura of excitement dominated the marketplace.

“May I interest you in a love charm?” the woman in the jewelry booth asked him. She was an older woman—well, not ancient, but older like his mother—and had a pleasant voice.

“Um ... I don’t think I need one of those,” Wayne answered. “That one over there. What is it?” He pointed at a gray metal disk hung on a leather thong. The disk was decorated with a six-pointed star and writing around the edge.

The woman looked at him strangely. Wayne wasn’t sure why, but there was really no other item in her display that interested him in the slightest.

“Is that not the staff of The Vagabond Poet?” she asked softly.

“The Hart is in the Circle,” Wayne responded automatically, not even realizing he’d spoken aloud.

“This is an earth pentacle,” the woman said, handing him the disk.

“What metal is this? Pewter?”

“Ah, no. This is a rare alloy of seven metals, forged under specific conditions and at the conjunction of specific planets. It is called electrum magicum.”

“These symbols are not like others I have seen. They aren’t Theban runes.”

“Very good. They are Hebrew. This is a pentacle of Solomon. These are the Hebrew names of the elementals. You read from the top counter-clockwise. Adonai ha-Aretz is the Lord of Earth. Auriel is the archangel whose name means Light of God. Phorlakh is the name of the earth elemental angel, Phrat is one of four mythical rivers of Eden, the Euphrates which ran north of the garden. Tzaphon means simply North and Aretz means Earth.”

“What’s with the iron cross between the names?”

“That is a Rose Cross method of sigilisation. The symbol next to it represents the name.”

“It doesn’t look like it was planned well. There’s room for another.”

“That is where you would put your own motto and sigil.”

“Would it have to be in Hebrew?”

“No. English would suffice.” Wayne could see the shape in his mind’s eye. He just had to have this.

“How much?”

“Thruppence.”

“Huh? Did you say three pennies? This must be worth...”

“ ... far more than any of us could pay,” she finished. Wayne fished the coins out of his pocket and the woman handed him the pentacles.

Wayne was so fascinated looking at the piece of jewelry that he hardly noticed the woman folding up her table and tent. He moved slowly uphill. A donkey squealed and he heard chickens cackling. What a day!

Someone up the hill ahead of him screamed. Angry shouts followed. They rolled into a panicked fervor at the Moot Hall and crested beyond the next street. He looked up to see a lorry bouncing down the street backward. Somehow, he knew there was no driver and he turned to run. The jewelry woman was just behind him. They stood in the path of the runaway vehicle.

He caught her frozen look of panic and in the moment that he locked with her eyes, he ran the risk of spacing out again. He’d been so caught up in the pentacles that he’d never looked into her eyes. It was like seeing Judith in front of him.

He felt his body react without his own volition. He caught her arm and dove to the side of the narrow street. Clean. It would have been such a perfect rescue had not the truck bounced on the uneven pavement and dived right after them.

Economy of movement, Rebecca had said. Don’t dive and roll if simply turning your head will do as well; but here he lay, half under the old woman whose legs were still under the truck which lodged against the building. Around them he could barely see a glowing bubble. He looked at her legs as the truck hovered a fraction over them. His staff, extended toward the truck, seemed to hold it motionless. Pulling her toward him, away from the threat, he let the truck drop and bounce on its springs after her legs were free.

She had hit her head in the fall and was only now regaining consciousness. He cradled her in his arms, careful lest he hurt her. The woman’s eyes turned to him again. It was so like looking at Judith. The crowds that were closing in the wake of the runaway seemed to recede out of his line of sight. He shivered convulsively and wondered vaguely if he was going into shock.

“Listen to me Vagabond,” she said as they locked eyes. He heard the eerie wailing of an English siren. Why is it taking so long for someone to come and help? “Tell the Huntress that she must call the circle herself. No one else. Give her this.” The woman fumbled with a cord that hung around her neck. “Here. Quickly. Take it.” Wayne had the cord in hand and pulled a small leather pouch with it out of the woman’s blouse. It lay in his hand and she squeezed her hand over it. “That which you have purchased is powerful. This, many times more so. Give it to her. Tell her.”

So fast. It was all too fast to have been real. A policeman was crowding behind the lorry where it had wedged them against the building. Above him a woman screamed.

“Mother!” Wayne looked up to see Judith’s head poking from the hotel window above him. “Wayne, don’t move. Just stay there. I’ll help you. You’ve saved my mother.”

He thought a moment and as the lorry began to shift away from them, Wayne willed himself to disappear.

Then it was all over as quickly as it had begun. The lorry was pulled away from the scene to allow the medics access. Wayne felt a distance closing in around him so that he was far away from the scene. The woman was quickly gone, Judith riding in the ambulance beside her. The crowd was busy at the market again. He stood against the wall of the building with his staff in one hand and the leather pouch in the other. Aside from Judith’s initial outburst, no one had spoken a word to him or had even appeared to notice him beside the woman. It was as if he were invisible.

He ran.

“Where is he?” Judith gasped as she crashed through Rebecca’s hotel room door.

“I ... what?” Rebecca sputtered. She laid her book down on the bed.

“Oh! Rebecca! He saved my mother’s life and now I can’t find him. He’s in danger.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Wayne.” Judith paused. Tears were flooding her eyes again. She’d been near hysteria as she rode in the ambulance with her mother. Having the doctors pronounce her condition as not being critical had left her gasping for breath. It gave her an opportunity to wonder what had happened to Wayne. She’d not been thirty seconds getting from the window to the door of her hotel. But as they moved the lorry off her mother, there’d been no sign of Wayne—no indication he had ever been there. She needed to pull herself together.