Maud smiled contentedly as she watched out the window at the sunset colors. It was June so the sun was up late. Each morning she had a separation anxiety as Maya was whisked off to serve the dark knight, and each afternoon she ran out to hug her when she returned. At first hug the anxiety disappeared as if it had never been.
In between times the household of useful women continued to hum with positive energy and creativity and the sound of work getting done. Almost all the rooms in the house were now clean and useable, though many needed some decorating, the least of which was replacing the many curtains that had shredded when first drawn back. The sun had so deteriorated the fabric over the years of negligence.
Extensions to the herb garden and kitchen garden had been dug over and tomorrow, early, the planting of them would begin. There were village men working the hay fields and erecting low, modern plastic greenhouses for tomatoes, flowers and peppers.
She, herself, was too busy with authorizing finances and reorganizing finances, and okaying new projects to do much manual labor herself, though she always found time each day to visit the roses and talk sweetly to those she deadheaded.
Cook was fully busy running a kitchen, now that they were feeding at least twenty people, depending on what workers were around at mealtimes. The meals were so good, and not just the food, but the company and the wine and beer, that most of them timed their work so as to be around for meals.
There was a strange role reversal going on in the kitchen with Cook. The women most willing to work beside her in the kitchen were the ladies of other great houses, who in other times could have been Cook's employers. Now they followed Cook’s orders just so that they could be a part of the exotic scene that was emerging in this house.
Maya was excused from all manual labor, even making her own bed and washing her own clothes. She was now constantly flipping in and out of states. States of the transcendental into states of sheer exhaustion and back again. She and Fiona had spent this afternoon practicing with the crystal wand and from the shrieks of wonder, had found some success. By now Maya would be with Beatrice trying to sample each of the ancient crystals through her dreams.
Maud looked at the clock. "It's almost time for bed, Fiona. Just one more paragraph." They were transcribing and translating more of Saint Margaret's memoirs. It was slow going, what with them being so busy setting up the manor for more guests, and reorganizing the farm, and running 'yoga' sessions for Wicca.
"Maud, come quick!" Beatrice poked her head in the door. "Up in Maya's room. Quick!"
They both hit ‘save’ on their files and clicked 'hibernate' on their laptops, and then raced after Beatrice. They entered the dimmed light of Maya's room without knocking, and Beatrice was already sitting on the bed trying to calm the girl with soft words. Maya was bouncing around on the bed as if possessed.
Fiona went to grab Maya and hold her back from falling off the bed, but Maud pulled her away and hissed. "She is in a dream. Look at the crystal on the pillow. One of the ancient ones. It won't be her dream, it will be a dream from long, long ago. Don't touch her. You will stop her aura from connecting to the memory in the crystal."
"What's wrong?" Fiona asked Beatrice and got shushed.
Maya calmed for a moment and Beatrice passed her pen and pad to Maud and hissed, "Here, I'm too busy calming her and asking her questions to make notes. You make the notes. If you have a question, write it down and pass it to me. Now shush. Don't speak."
They were both taken aback by Beatrice’s business-like manner. Usually she was so soft and wishy washy. Just now she had given an order like an old fashioned hospital ward nurse.
Beatrice had learned to use a happy whisper to communicate through the dreams to Maya. If the first try failed, she just asked the same thing again, in the same happy whisper. Eventually Maya would hear and either wake up or stay dreaming and make a response. "What are you doing, love?" she asked for the fourth time.
"Dancing. It is Frya's feast day."
Beatrice turned and mouthed "who is Frya?" to Maud. Maud scribbled furiously. Frya = Freyja. North sea moon goddess, fertility, tides, women’s things. On feast days, villages would make sacrifices to ensure good crops.
"Who are you?" Beatrice whispered softly, and again, and again.
Maya stopped bed dancing for a moment. "Why, Anske of course, silly, come and dance with us."
"Who are you dancing with?"
"My sisters and their friends. Do you like my mask? Mine is the best of all the masks. Look at my sister. She has teased my uncle up again and he ready for us to sacrifice his cock."
Beatrice and Fiona both sucked back a breath in horror. In ancient days the priests often accused witches of cutting off and sacrificing penises to some female version of Satan.
Maud saw their reaction and whispered urgently to them, "Not that kind of sacrifice. The ancient Frisian villagers would spill the seed from all penises onto planting fields and into fish streams as an offering to Freyja to ensure fertility."
Beatrice wasn't so sure, so she whispered to Maya, "Is everyone happy?"
"Oh yes, so happy. It is so naughty to tease the fathers, and brothers, and sons of our friends. They are happy to be teased. We are happy to tease them. We are young and pretty so we must do the older men, for they need to be teased hard. My aunt and her friends are doing the younger men. They are so easy. One squeeze and spurt, it is done." Maya stopped bed-dancing.
"What do you see now?"
"Inka, the wittewijven." Maya's words came very slowly. "She and our warlord have caught the black priest praying to his god to bring down a curse on us for holding our planting feast."
Maud whispered, "Wittewijven will be the seer, the wise woman of the village. The black priest will be from the Romanized church. They were the protestants of their day, rebelling against the true church in Constantinople. You know, with all the forgiveness of our current crop of born-again Christians."
"What is happening?" Beatrice repeated over and over, but always softly in a happy voice.
"Inka has ordered us to sacrifice the black priest," Maya said in a naughty voice. Fiona and Beatrice were horrified.
"We must do him until his seed too, has fertilized our soil." Maya giggled for a few minutes. "He was so easy, and yet he complained so much. I must go and find Inka again."
"Did you find Inka?" Beatrice had to whisper several times.
Maya started bed-dancing again. "Inka is angry with me. She has pulled us apart and is yelling at me."
"Why? Why is Inka yelling?"
"I let my cousin hump me like a sheep. It's okay. It is feast day. I will be forgiven."
Maud whispered, "The Frisians were masters of animal husbandry. They sold their breeding stock all around the North Sea. They knew better than to allow inbreeding. One of the Seer's duties was to prohibit any inbreeding in animals or in humans ."
Some strange words came from Maya's mouth.
"What did you say? Say it again," Beatrice whispered. Maya said the strange phrases again.
"That's in ancient Frisian. Maya doesn't speak Frisian. She told me once that she wanted to learn it." Maud did the translation in her head. Luckily the Olde English she had been translating had revived her memory. "Umm, Inka yelled something at her. Ummm. Like, Umm, If you want to act like an alehouse harlot, then go and hump a foreigner. Yes, that's it."
"I don't get it," whispered Fiona, a bit too loudly. Beatrice stared daggers at her.
Maud whispered, "This was before the days of nation states. The Frisians were coastal traders. Foreigner could mean someone from across the sea, or maybe just someone who is not a local. That makes sense. There would be little chance of inbreeding if you humped a foreigner."
"Gosh," Beatrice turned away from Maya so she would not hear her words and become confused. "Even a girl from a thousand years ago had a better social life than me." She smiled some red dimples.
Maya was restless in bed but not dancing.
"What are you doing?" Beatrice asked three times.
"I have tricked Inka by letting my cousin hump me. She has given me permission to bed a foreigner. I must find Raynar."
Maud grabbed at Beatrice’s arm to stop her from asking another question until she stopped writing the words. "Who is Raynar?" Beatrice read aloud. She repeated it softly.
"Everyone knows Raynar. He is the Hoodsman that Hereward sent to warn us about the Norman raiders. The bowman who killed the Shire Reeve in Peterburgh to put a stop to the raids."
Maud sucked in her breath. "Bingo, Fiona, take over making notes from me. I must help with the questions."
"Do you like Raynar?" Beatrice whispered.
"He is dreamy. He has the touch. I want to travel with him. I want to share his adventures. I don't want to grow old in the same village I was born in."
Maud scribbled 'more about Raynar' and showed it to Beatrice.
"Raynar who?"
"Raynar the porter from the mines in the western mountains. Raynar of the Peaks."
"Raynar who?" Beatrice straightened up and put her mouth close to Fiona's ear and whispered, "This is like playing those old-fashioned computer adventure quest games, you know, the ones without any graphics. You have to find your way through the maze by picking up tools and clues and asking questions."
"Raynar the bowman who killed King Harald of Norway." Maya started beating her arms back and forth.
"Jackpot," Maud whispered with a low whistle.
"What are you doing?" Beatrice whispered happily into Maya's ear.
"Poling my eeling punt to find Raynar. He is in Spalding with the countess."
Maud whispered, "Eels were an important cash fishery for the villagers before the nobles drained the Fens. By destroying the eel habitat they could force the villagers out of the Fens."
"Who is the countess?" Beatrice whispered.
"I've found Raynar! There he is! Oh, I love him so. Fuck, he is with the foreign woman from the big cog."
Maud whispered, "Cogs were the trading ships that revolutionized trade in the North Sea. The Frisians invented them."
Beatrice was about to repeat the countess question but Maud had scribbled something. "Who is the foreign woman?"
"The princess who travels with the Earls."
"Who is the princess?"
"The high born harlot who teases my Raynar," Maya hissed.
"What is her name?" Beatrice repeated over and over. "What is the princesses name?"
"Countess Beatrice comes. I must go to her. I must talk with her," said Maya.
Maud scribbled 'Urgent, we need the name of the princess'.
"Who is Countess Beatrice?" Beatrice asked. She felt Maud’s grip on her arm shaking her. "Who is Countess Beatrice?"
"The wife of the Shire Reeve of Lincolnshire. Everyone is staying at her manor. I am always welcome at her manor."
Maud was tapping her finger on her last scribble. Beatrice shrugged. "What is the name of the princess?"
"Which one? There is a mother and two daughters. They are all princesses," replied Maya, now obviously starting to waken out of the dream trance.
Maud's shaking of Beatrice's arm became urgent. "What is the name of the princess with Raynar?"
"Harlot bitch," replied Maya. The once-fast movement of her eyeballs under her eyelids was now slowing. Beatrice repeated the question.
"Margaret, sister to Earl Edgar, who was once a king."
Beatrice looked down at Maud’s scribble and then whispered, "Who came with them on the cog?"
Maya was snoring. Her eyes were motionless under her eyelids. She was asleep and no longer dreaming.
"I'll stay with her," Beatrice volunteered, as she did every night. "Did you understand all that?"
Fiona laughed with glee. "In the memoirs, we just finished translating Saint Margaret's account of her family's flight from London to get away from William the Conquer. They traveled on a cog chartered by her bother Earl Edgar, and accompanied by Earls Edwin and, and... I forget the rest of the names."
"Oh," said Beatrice red-faced, suddenly feeling dejected. "So you knew all this already. Sorry."
Maud gave Beatrice a hug, "Sorry? Why, this is marvelous. Don't you see? Not only do the crystals contain actual memories from the past, but they are the memories of a peasant girl. The gaping gap in all of recorded history is that no one ever made a record of what the peasants thought, especially not peasant girls."
Fiona spoke up. "That crystal. I guess we can call it Anske's crystal. Keep Anske's crystal separate from the rest, and be sure to let Maya know what just happened. She will want to dream with it again. I can't wait for her to read the pages we just translated from Saint Margaret's memoirs."
Maud was sitting on the bed lost in thought. So this could all be real. This man Raynar was Hereward's man. Was he Margaret's lover. Did she give the ring to him? She looked at Fiona. "Remind me to research the death of King Harald of Norway."
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA'S AURA - The Crystal Witch by Skye Smith