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resources, generosity, power, giving responsibly
While Follin was busy learning the mastery of metal, Eve was busy studying with Mage Hermes and Hera, the High Priestess. Mage Hermes was forever delivering more of his precious scrolls to compliment his tutoring. They usually spent their day studying in Follin and Eve’s wild but cozy sunlit courtyard. It was also the favoured hunting ground for the rooster and his hens who had greeted them on their first morning. When Eve got bored with her lessons she could enjoy watching the hens scratching and pecking in the overgrown garden beds.
“My dear Eve, can you please get that scroll I’ve managed to drop outside the door? That’s it, thank you my dear girl. I’d hate to see the hens making nests out of my precious papers. If you’re not careful an entire collection of wisdom will make its way into a hen box, one never knows what wise chick might hatch from one of those nests. That reminds me, when I was just a boy I was apprenticed to Mage Willowtree. He now lives in a cave up in the mountains close by... I think... or was he the one who turned himself into a Willow tree... oh dear, I just can’t remember.”
The aged Mage often reminisced in the company of his young apprentices. Both Follin and Eve made Mage Hermes feel comfortable, alive, and useful. His journeys across the dimensions within to find the magic that poisoned the Empire, had sorely affected him. He now knew beyond doubt that his current incarnation was soon to come to an end. He wasn’t afraid, in fact he was excited in many ways. As a magician of high degree, Mage Hermes had crossed the border separating life and death, many times. He had wandered amid the beauty of the Elysian Fields, through the hellfire of Tartarus itself, he was no longer afraid of the Borderlands, the place between the worlds. What did worry him though was that he might not complete his task of training a replacement. And here he had two potential Mages, both with the potential to save his beloved Empire.
This was a rarity, only once before in the history of all the lands had a man and his wife carried the sacred burden of managing the magical responsibilities for the Empire - and beyond. A magician was not the property of any one kingdom, or Empire, their responsibility was to humanity and the land they held in trust. Hera, his sister in magic, was his shadow, his mirror on the other side. When he passed from the world, so too would she.
Theirs was the sacred task to train these two promising souls to replace them when their season of life was ended. But would they take up the task presented to them? Would they agree to end their relationship with this earthly existence to become one with the many other dimensions beyond consciousness?
Unaware of the Magician’s ruminations, Eve smiled brightly as she helped Hermes set up his scrolls, maps and documents on the bench as he continued to reminisce.
“At least I think Mage Willowtree lives in a cave in the mountains hereabouts. Or was that Mage Wormwood? Oh my goodness, I do believe it is Mage Wormwood. I wonder whatever happened to my old master, Willowtree?”
“You told me yesterday that Mage Willowtree had assumed his transition from this life to the next by entering a willow tree, remember? You said that you still talk with him in your dreams.” Eve was always trying to keep Mage Hermes on task, although it seemed almost impossible at times.
“Oh yes, that’s right, he crossed the borders of consciousness way before you were even born, my dear girl. But I do recall I spoke with him, yes, of course, it was on one of my journeys in the Borderlands. He said he was worried about your progress in learning the old earth magic. I reassured him that your magical studies are progressing smoothly. Old Willowtree does get excited at times but he’ll now settle back into his willowtree forest. There he’ll soak up the water from the soil, the sunshine from the skies and meditate some more before he contacts me again. I told him of what you and Follin felt here on your first morning. He said he needed to contemplate that before calling for me again.”
Mage Hermes carefully laid out his scrolls in their order and began the lessons for the day. Eve’s was a path of theory followed by practice. He well understood that her knowledge of practical healing was strong. She knew the herbs of the forest, the ways of their growth, the times to sow and harvest and their healing properties. What impressed him more than anything was Eve’s exceptional intuitive skill. She could determine the different healing properties of a herb grown in different locations or harvested at different phases of the moon. Only adepts knew a certain plant could heal one ailment when grown in shade but could worsen the condition when grown in full sunlight.
Mage Hermes had also tested her on several occasions by leaving various concoctions on her table, waiting quietly as she felt and intuited their properties. There were even times when she corrected him on certain aspects of a herbal preparation. On his return to his rooms he would ponder over his scrolls and manuscripts to find that she was always right. While Eve could intuit much of her knowledge she still needed to learn the basics - just as he was taught.
⇔
Eve’s lessons didn’t stop when she finished with Mage Hermes in the afternoon either. Hera, the High Priestess, was her teacher in the quiet moments between consciousness and the unconscious in the evenings.
“My dearest girl,” Mage Hermes said soon after their introductions, “my task is to put the information into your head for practical applications on the conscious earth plain. My sister, Hera, will teach you how to use it in the spirit worlds beyond consciousness.” He hadn’t really said all that much more about the difference between their roles. In fact, Eve considered it odd that even though Mage Hermes and Hera were spoken of in terms of brother and sister, she just couldn’t quite reconcile them as siblings.
⇔
Since her conversation with Frailbones on their journey to the castle, Eve had opened up and was beginning to trust and bond with the Pentacles women of the castle and court. Over lunch one day Eve asked Page Alice what she knew of the two ‘magical ones’ as many of the Pentacles court called them in hushed tones.
“Eve, you should know more than me, I really don’t know much about them at all, I’m sorry. You could ask The Hierophant when he next visits, but we don’t know when that will be. And given it’s been so dangerous lately we don’t really expect him to be visiting soon,” was all Alice could offer.
“You could have asked me,” announced the Queen of Pentacles who was sitting a few seats further up the table. “I’ve been listening to you all through my meal and not once have you even thought to ask me a question.”
Eve’s face flushed bright red, she could feel the heat rising. She was so embarrassed at her error that it almost felt like steam was lifting off the top of her head.
“I am so sorry, Your Majesty, it never occurred to me to ask. I always thought you would be way too busy to even consider a silly question from the likes of me. I’m not royalty nor am I high born. My family are from forest and village, none of them have ever met royalty,” she stammered.
The Queen visibly balked, she shuffled her feet awkwardly beneath the table, then caught herself. “My dear, that is completely understandable. I myself aren’t of high birth either.”
She looked kindly at Eve and smiled, a warm smile. “I thought you were ignoring me, young lady. I did feel a little left out of the conversation, but now I do understand. Please, in future, you must come and sit opposite me, I think we may have a lot more in common than you think.”
Alice smiled behind her hand as she noticed several of the court ladies choke on their poached trout crepes and leek soup. One courtly mistress, Lady Holland, head of the royal household, spoke firmly to bring order to the dining table.
“Your Majesty, may I take this opportunity to remind us all of proper dining protocol. Our Kingdom is finely balanced between reckless abandon and cautious stability through thoroughly thought-out rules and protocols. These bring order and structure to a very chaotic world. Any tampering with table seating can quickly upset the order our kitchen staff have so carefully prepared for our dining harmony and compatibility.” Being careful not to look at the Queen, Lady Holland continued. “Why, promoting young Eve to the position opposite the heads of this Kingdom, as proposed, will mean Lady Mandorene will need to move one place to the left. And that will mean Lady Renault will be displaced to the corner seat.” She now looked at the Queen and her voice took on a teacher’s tone, explaining that the change could easily end in chaos.
“The entire table arrangement will need to be, well, rearranged. My kitchen and dining staff have already gone to considerable lengths to fit young Eve in at the table as it is, but to move her to a seat facing Your Majesty, why, that is simply...” she stopped speaking when she saw the Queen purse her lips and glare at her.
“My dear, Lady Holland, you have been the absolute cornerstone of my family and the royal court for many years. Your outstanding achievements have brought stability and structure in delivering our daily nourishment and entertainment. I really don’t know how I could have managed to survive without you.”
It was Lady Holland’s turn to now blush, her face broke into an enormous smile. Her eyes then began to flutter as she felt she might swoon bathed in the glow of her Queen’s praise.
“I know you will be able to come up with a suitable and just plan for our table arrangements by tomorrow. But for today we’ll pretend that we can change protocols and we shall take supper with our families in the garden.” The Queen noticed the other girls, handmaidens and ladies, brighten at the thought of doing something different. “Although us Pentacles aren’t known for our flexibility, once we make up our minds we can do anything. What do you think, Lady Holland, do you think your staff could manage a light supper by candle and firelight this evening?”
Once again Lady Holland blushed. “Oh, Your Majesty, it is my absolute honour to prepare whatever it is you wish. I’ll see to its management immediately.”
As she stood, Lady Renault spoke, “Your Majesty, if I may suggest a fireside sing-a-long? Guitars, trumpets and drums? I daresay, that would be so much fun.”
That brokered some light chatter among the staff and the men and ladies at the royal dinner table.
“And why not! Let’s do it, thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, we shall collect our partners and gather around the camp-fires in the keep for supper and a sing-a-long this evening,” announced the Queen.
Turning to Eve she asked, “Do you sing?”
“Your Majesty, indeed I do, but I don’t know any court songs. I’ve but songs of the forests and the fields. If that be your pleasure then I shall be honoured to sing for you,” replied Eve, smiling at both the Queen and Alice, who was barely able to sit still with excitement.
With their meal over, Alice leaped across to escort Eve to her rooms. She was so excited she couldn’t stop herself.
“Eve, do you know, this has never happened before, not in my lifetime it hasn’t. No one has ever been asked to change seats at the table before and we rarely go outside to have supper in the gardens. And, what’s even more amazing, Lady Renault has never suggested we do anything different, she’s a first class stick-in-the-mud. Just think of it, a sing-a-long and a campfire!” Alice held Eve’s hand and squeezed. “It’s as if a depression, like a gray cloud, has been lifted from weighing down on our shoulders. You’re coming here has been such a grand thing!”
⇔
That evening it seemed like the entire kingdom was at the gardens in the castle keep. There wasn’t just one campfire either, to accommodate so many guests, the court staff had many camp fires - with seating. A troupe of singers and musicians wandered from fire to fire, wine was served and beer swilled. It was the rule of the Kingdom that when a singing troupe stopped at a table the people there had to sing for their supper. The entertainment was diverse, rude, raucous and often the group would deliver lines from a famous speech, play, poem or even sing a famous Pentacles ballad. Sometimes all present would gather around the performers and join in.
It was said to be the best evening of entertainment the Kingdom had ever had. Just as the sun broke above the edge of the world to announce a new day the revelers began to head off to bed. Both the King and Queen of Pentacles participated in all events and provided awards for those who sang or played their instruments particularly well.
Arm in arm Follin and Eve walked to their room. On their way they saw Captain Bleecher bellowing his orders for the day. They had seen him do this once before and knew not to miss it. They stopped with other late revelers to watch the final performance.
“Sergeant-of-the-guards!” roared Captain Bleecher. Sergeant Rollin walked over, his knees stiff with arthritis, and saluted his captain. “Sergeant, have you sent a section of men-at-arms to run the perimeter to ensure nothing untoward has occurred while our people were busy entertaining?”
“Sir, it’s done, sir. I‘ve sent out two sections throughout the night and all is well, sir.” The aged sergeant remained at attention.
Captain Bleecher nodded, he already knew of this but he liked to give his senior non-commissioned officers the opportunity to announce their achievements to the castle audience. “Nice work, Sergeant. You and your men may retire to bed, and a well-earned rest it is. Please send me Sergeant Lards, I believe he is Duty Sergeant for today?”
“Yes, sir, he is. He’s on his way now, sir, just coming up beside you. And thank you, sir, we shall now take that well-earned rest.” He saluted once more, dismissed his patrol, then limped to his home where he knew his wife would have a hot bath, oils and herbs for his aching bones.
The Duty Sergeant saluted stiffly, his platoon aligned smarty behind him.
“Captain Bleecher, Sergeant Lards and morning watch, ready as ordered, sir!” Sergeant Lards snapped another salute that was just as smarty returned.
“Sir,” Lards continued, “we respectfully request a parade inspection, sir. It has been a full week since our last inspection and we’re smartin’ and sweatin’ for a proper parade. Thank you, sir.”
“Of course, Sergeant Lards.” Captain Bleecher knew that Sergeant Lards loved parades. His platoon, no matter from which section of the city they came from, were always the best dressed, marched the smartest and were drilled to perfection.
Turning to the platoon the sergeant bellowed, “Platoon... attention!”
Thirty pairs of feet snapped to attention, drawing a light ripple of ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ of admiration from the gathered crowd.
“Platoon... stand at... ease!”
Again, thirty pairs of feet snapped into place as hands swept into place; spears held tightly in one hand, the other hand pointing straight down their trouser seams.
“Platoon, ranks of three.. and step lively now, you’re on parade... Platoon! Order, three ranks for the captain’s inspection... march!”
The platoon immediately rearranged themselves from two ranks into three with a precision that Follin and Eve found impossible to follow.
The crowd cheered with a joy that was infectious. Follin and Eve found they too couldn’t help but cheer along with their friends. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sergeant Lards or Captain Bleecher, nor even the troops themselves. Several of the young soldiers fought back smiles of pride.
Sergeant Lards now swung smartly to his captain and together they inspected their platoon.
“Dust particle on that boot, private,” announced Captain Bleecher, as he walked slowly past the first line of soldiers.
“Wipe yon foot on yon trouser leg and thee’ll get two weeks latrine duty, Private Hoggs!” bellowed Sergeant Lards. The poor private quickly dropped his heel back down and almost lost the grip of his spear.
“Is that a whisker I see on your chin private? I do believe it is...” Captain Bleecher loved these little displays, and so did his troops. “Ah, my mistake private, Private Twomby, isn’t it? Hero of Haddens Gap last year? Held off seven Wildlanders while our boys built a defensive perimeter for the wagons? Nice work that was too, Private. No, it seems that is a bit of fluff blown in by the wind.”
Private Twomby puffed up his chest with pride, any larger and his chest would have burst.
“And what is this?” bellowed the captain. “Is that a razor cut? Did you cut yourself shaving in the dark last night, Corporal Anders?”
“I’m very sorry, Captain Bleechers, that be a wound from an arrow from yesterday’s skirmish in the hills. I’m very sorry, I’ve not quite healed yet, sir.”
The captain knew Corporal Anders was wounded, his arm was still stiff from an earlier skirmish with the Wildlanders and this was an opportunity to praise him. His preferred method of ensuring respect for the Kingdom’s soldiers was to praise them at these impromptu inspections in front of their appreciative community.
“Sir, if I may explain,” bellowed Sergeant Lards, who was also a knowing participant in this game. “Corporal Anders and three troops were sent to escort one of our wounded back to the wagons. On their way they were ambushed by a group of Wildlanders. The corporal sent his troopers to carry the wounded fellow while he held the Wildlanders off with his sword. Sir, he was able to withstand several rushes by the enemy while injuring several of them for their discourtesy. An arrow grazed his face, as can be seen, but he is Pentacles born and bred and he’ll heal soon enough. His leadership and behaviour was an outstanding example of heroism, and his men were all safely returned to the wagons. Corporal Anders did not retire until he had seen the Wildlander’s backs when they returned in haste to the forest.”
“Hmm, seems you have here a platoon of outstanding Pentacles soldiers, Sergeant Lards,” announced Captain Bleecher loudly. He was pleased to hear the applause and cheering from what was now almost a hundred spectators.
“Yes, sir, an outstanding platoon but only one among an outstanding army of heroes, if I may suggest, sir,” said Sergeant Lards just as loudly, again to cheering and even louder applause.
The display over, the platoon was sent to their posts, their chests aching and their walk strong and proud.
“Captain Bleecher,” called Follin as he led Eve across the make-shift parade ground towards him. “Sir, thank you, that was a most remarkable parade we just witnessed. Is this a Pentacles thing? You know, being so supportive, genuine and nice to each other?” asked Follin with a look of amazement in his eyes.
“Son, we are at war, it is a nasty war too. We can’t tell who are the Wildlander fighters and who are the peaceful Wildlander villagers, they all look much like anyone here in our own kingdom. Many of us in the Kingdoms are of mixed blood. The Wildanders are simply trying to survive like we are.” Noticing the fatigue in their faces he started to slowly walk the two newcomers to their rooms.
“Over the past twelve months we have lost more than fifty soldiers in ambushes. What is worse, we’ve lost dozens of families that work their farms outside the city walls. The Wildlanders are being pushed by other clans and peoples moving into their lands. The only direction they can escape is through us. Either they conquer our Kingdom and make it their own, or they perish. I’ve studied their ways and they aren’t all bad, but they certainly aren’t going to walk through our lands thinking it their right to take what they want.”
“But why don’t they just talk to you and make some sort of peace?” asked Eve.
“Good question, lass. We’ve tried, the best Swords negotiators and even the Emperor himself has tried. For years we’ve seen this coming and not once have the Wildlanders tried to engage us in peace talks. Instead, the more pressure they’re under from the Outsiders north of them, the more ferocious they are against us. It’s not just the Pentacles, it’s all four Kingdoms, the Wands, Cups and Swords - we’re all under pressure. We’ve had quite a few years of fighting, vicious fighting, against the various Wildlander tribes, and sometimes we’ve fought Outlander tribes way beyond our borders... but don’t get me wrong, they’re right tough sods. They fight and they kill and they want our lands and our castles. The magic their mages have is different to ours. And their mages are proper evil swine, believe me.”
The captain stopped and nodded to the two Mystic Islanders. “Their magic is a bit like yours, that’s why we’ve agreed to open our hearts and our homes to you. Even though we know that you are Mystic Islanders, to us Pentacles, you’re wild, you’re strange to us. We know so little of your Isle, everything about it is shrouded in mystery. I don’t know a single person who has ever visited, it’s too frightening to even consider.”
“Captain Bleecher,” Follin felt a little awkward with where the conversation was heading, he wished to change the subject. “I can see some of the Emperor in you, I saw it this morning in how you address your men. I admire that and I would like to be like you one day. I wanted to say that to you, thank you.”
Eve wasn’t as squeamish as her husband and drew the captain back to the topic. “Follin and I have both witnessed the bad side of these Wildlanders. I lost my family to them and Follin lost his brother, and his father left because of them. He has managed to avoid any direct conflict with them though. I guess you could say Follin was guided to avoid them.” Eve paused, she then yawned. “I’m sorry, Captain, we’d better get to bed, we’ve got our lessons in a few hours. Mage Hermes and Old Pew are both as savage with latecomers as any Wildlander.”
The captain left them at their door and bid them to ‘sleep well’.
‘Those two sure know how to charm. They’ll go a long way in life,” the captain thought to himself, and with a chuckle, he went back to his soldiering.
⇔
Follin’s meditation – Six of Pentacles:
Follin’s sat with the picture of a merchant with a set of scales in one hand and with the other he handed out coins. Of the two people in this image one was dressed in rags and had what appeared to be a bandage around his head - perhaps he was a soldier returned from service protecting the Kingdom? The other was also in rags. Both rejoiced at receiving their gift, or was it payment?
‘That’s interesting,’ thought Follin, ‘he’s a bit like Captain Bleecher.’
Setting the image in his mind’s eye he found himself inside the picture. Follin was standing to one side listening to the conversation between the man and those he was gifting.
“Your efforts are well noted and rewarded. Accept these few coins as a token of our Kingdom’s respect and gratitude. I know that you will use them wisely,” he heard the man say.
‘So this might mean payment? Perhaps giving coins as a reward for doing good deeds or doing a good service to someone?’ Follin thought about it. When he saw the merchant about to walk off Follin called out and walked over to join him.
“Kind sir, I saw you handing money over to these people. I was wondering if you would tell me what your act might mean?” he asked politely.
The man studied Follin carefully as though he were about to place the youth on the scales he held in his hand.
“Young man, the meaning of my activity was to demonstrate that one needs to understand what it is to ‘give’. Gifting is not necessarily of money, it is done in many guises: a handshake, a welcome, a kind word - perhaps just as your friend, Captain Bleecher, rewards his men.” The man considered what to say next, then continued. “A man or woman gives for many reasons. Some give to alleviate their own burden of guilt but that is not my way, my gifting style seeks to maximise positive outcomes that will benefit my community in the long term. We have little control of what people do with our gifts, however, a gift given in the right manner and for the right reason, to the right person at the right moment on their journey through life, has the greatest potential to be used as it is intended - honourably and respectfully.”
The man tipped his hat in goodbye but before the image faded he turned to say one more thing. In place of the merchant stood the smiling figure of the King of Pentacles.
“Follin, ‘giving’ is an enormous responsibility both to the receiver and to the giver. For some, to receive a gift of value is a responsibility too great for their strength of will – it becomes an unwanted burden thrust upon them. In some situations it is the withholding of the gift that is the most responsible course of action.” The King of Pentacles now held up his scales for Follin to see. “See these scales? Have you pondered the meaning of why I hold them in one hand as I give with the other? It can also measure the value of the gift, not just the person receiving it.”