Opeque Destiny

Thick fog dulled every footstep and creaks of leather. All sound became alien, trying to ignore the waves of fear that began to grip me! I turned my horse to face home.

 My idea was to follow her hoof prints. However, unable to see our feet made it impossible! Hopes of normal vision became forlorn, putting us in danger! Riding became impossible.

We stumbled for hours, following unseen paths that led us deeper, or towards dead ends. Desperation gripped us. We could not find the path-home!

Ice saturated my clothes! I tried to shake icicles from Jigsaw’s mane. Death by exposure seemed our fate. Praying seemed useless as the unrelenting cold sapped our energy. Did I have matches? Could I build a fire without them?

Jigsaw whinnied and reared! Near to us, a woman appeared dressed as a medieval peasant, or a Nun carrying a lamp, she shouted something inaudible?

My thoughts raced; can this woman help us?

“Is she going to start scalding us? Have we drifted on to her land? Is she a nun?

 Jigsaw began prancing while producing deep aggressive snorts! I did not calm her down; she never displayed anger! There must be a reason.

My horse became more agitated as we moved towards the light of the lamp. Froth flew from her mouth as she showed her teeth and shook her head violently.

 A sheet of fog rolled back, exposing a young woman wearing a hood and holding a lamp. Due to her unusual appearance, I did not know what kind of reception to expect?

 Waving beckoned us to come closer, forcing a smile, I could not understand her? The language sounded like Dutch mixed with German?

 She gesticulated towards Jigsaw, who was still prancing! Placing her lamp on a broken tree, a slender hand stroked rhythmically along my horses’ neck and flank; she stopped thrashing instantly.

Jigsaw chuntered! Then she released a deep snort. I issued an involuntary.

 “Oh, she likes that a lot!”

Ignoring me, the caped woman held Jigsaw in a steady gaze, while whispering.

My eye caught a deep rope burn on her wrists? She looked at me and spoke, “êow lôgian oncnâwan!” (you will understand me!) I felt spun like a top and lost consciousness for a second.

As I came around, I heard a heavily accented Country English voice saying.

“Your safe, now girl, don’t worry.”

 Followed by, “This here horse reminds me of the Cob’s that pulled our plow.”

Trying to hide my uncertainty and confusion, I began to small talk.

 “You have worked with horses.”

“Aye squire, since aye could walk, every day for years, brushing cleaning, feeding, and helping them birth.”

“That’s why this woman had enchanted Jigsaw in an instant,” raced through my mind.

 “Let’s Get yea nag out this here fog! does she like apple squire?”

“Absolutely!”

 Fell from my lips, with utmost certainty.

“Let us get the nag into me orchard so she can graze, I’ll cover her with a blanket, am as sure as “eggs are eggs,” she’ll find fallen apples.”

 Leading her adeptly, Jigsaw squeezed through the old gate and arch, into the cottage orchard.

The woman expertly tied Jigsaws rains instantly she thrust headfirst into deep lush grass; her snaffling mouth found a fallen apple, a loud crunch followed.

“You know horses, mam.”

“From being a lass, my Mam asked me to fetch dad's horses,’ I loved helping with the Shires they were gentle giants!” 

I tried to ask our location she ignored me and disappeared into the fog; I presumed into her orchard?

While she was gone, I tried to replicate the ladies stroking action it did not have a similar effect? 

Her hooded figure returned through thick wisps of fog carrying an antique wooden bucket with a rope handle containing half a dozen apples.

On return, she began stroking Jigsaws neck with one hand; her other held an impromptu wooden bucket nose bag. Minutes later, Jigsaws satisfied head cleared an empty container.

 She snorted, then nuzzled the lady for an extra treat.

 “That is all ma ’lady you have eaten most of my late fall fruit, as she placed her bucket near her cottage.”

 For a split moment, Jigsaw seemed to think, then shook her head to say no; we burst with laughter.

Behind her hedge sheltered from the fog, wafts of alluring essential oil amplified her beauty. I accidentally muttered the Chanel advert.

“No elegance is possible without perfume.”

She was beautiful! It did not matter to me; she had grimy hands and sooty face framed by a halo-plait; it all added to her aura of mystery.

I held out my hand, “May I apologize?”

 Bewildered, she asked, why?

Her eyes looked into me- they had goat-like pupils! Surprise held me speechless! We shook, her hand was like ice!

Returning my hand to my side, I rubbed it on my hip for warmth; she needed to know my thoughts.

“I missed judged you, in all honesty, my first reaction was: You were crazy and wanted to scald us for making a nuisance near your house? We get shouted at all the time."

She placed a hand over her chest.

“Not, me squire! I wanted to save you from the fog you could have wandered in there for eternity. I see it as my fate to heal and rescue them that is lost."

I politely asked again, where are we, and why do so many get lost here?

“Squire you are safe- Describing this area to you is impossible, no routes or maps. That is why People lose themselves here once what is stopping you has disappeared? You will easily find your way.”

The woman stroked jigsaw while she grazed.

 “I love horses squire, in ma pap’s, time, they worked tirelessly in the fields all day and at weekends; they helped bury, and marry people, they were as part of our community, as ever was. That was before the arrival of, THEM!”

 A tear welled and ran down her cheek.

Pulling a tissue pack from my coat pocket, she just looked? Without waiting, I freed one and gave it to her. A slender hand dabbed tissue around both eyes. 

“I am’ being silly! What yea about Squire?

I replied with exuberance.

 “We were going to ride to Thornholme Priory through far-forest?”

I pointed in a direction that felt south east, pausing, waiting for some acknowledgment.

 She looked at me, her face dower, lightly her cold fingers gripped my upper arm.

 “Is not a good idea!’

“Why is it because of something you call, THEM?”

“You are new here, Lad.” I was a little shocked by her remark and folded my arms in defiance.

 “No! I’ve lived here for two years and rode my motorcycle many times to the old Priory. This statement perplexed her?

Is there something I should know?”

Both of her hands fidgeted across her rope scars. Smiling sweetly, she held my shoulder.

 “All I am trying to say, Lad, there is not a soul from these parts who’d go near that place alone, sun or set.”

I was angry and bumptious.

“Really!” Spat out, inappropriately.

Ignoring my rudeness, with her hands positioned in supplicative prayer, she spoke to me calmly. 

 “It’s a bad, evil place squire, as worse as yea could imagine!”

I smirked in disbelief.

“I’ve been there many times; I have fished in the old monasteries carp pond, nothing seen or felt!”

Her deathly cold hand touched mine.

 “You have a guardian boy! You have a spirit looking after thee.”

Puzzled, I stepped slightly back and challenged her last words.

“My friends also fish there alone? They never have any trouble. I am not lying.”

Again, her freezing hand clasped me, as her strange eyes met mine.

“All talk, lad, all talk, no one and I mean no one, from here goes tween.”

My curiosity pricked!

“Please tell me about the danger that lurks there I want to know."

Halting for a moment, she looked pensive; then her probing question came.

“How old are yea squire?”

 I snapped, “Fifteen, approaching sixteen this December!”

Sooty fingers held rose-like lips in a thinking gesture; removing them began her dialog.

 “What am gonna tell you, goes to naught not even, your kin, yuzus understand me? I could suffer death or worse.”

Held by her pensive stare, my head nodded solemnly.

Fetching her lamp, she welcomed me into her small cottage. On entering, rotting Thach, and smoke mixed with the smell of livestock, made me gag!

I heard a noise behind the byre. Over it, goats ate from piles of hay, as chickens scratched and clucked on a dirt floor, scattered with broken buckets half full of grass speckled water.

Her primitive cottage surprised me! It had windows as well as shutters, minus glass? White walls, marred by smoke, all held by black beams.

Scattered everywhere in her cottage were primitive candles and corn dollies stuck into the supporting frames; interestingly, there were not any modern-day appliances?

Looking-around, food, and herbs hung from a low-celling in Hessian bags! Moreover, two buckets sat on the floor, one full of water the other brimmed with dirty utensils.

 Her home looked like an authentic wood-dwelling? I presumed this woman was a village eccentric? Or witch who shunned a modern world and its trappings. Or was this cottage a movie set or a living museum?

With a broad smile, she gestured me to sit opposite her; cautiously, I sat on the home-made looking bench and table, near a fire that billowed smoke everywhere!

 Over the flames, a metal frame held a charred cauldron emanating a musky smell; intense heat forced me to take off my coat’ I hung it over the bench.

She daintily placed her lamp on a beam, removing her unflattering hooded gown with one deft pull, placing it next to my coat.

Soft flickering candles accentuated an athletic-looking curvy figure; facing me in a black gown was a goddess!

Pulling a bucket full of water towards the fire, a film of dirt and soot that covered her face and arms vanished, exposing an exquisite visage that trigged a swirl of emotions.

Feeling vulnerable about showing any signs of a smitten demeanor, I pretended to rummage inside my bag, while clandestinely watching her move with a graceful Plier.

 She dipped a clay-beaker into a bubbling brew of god knows what? The brimming beaker warmed my cold hand, wafts of hard alcohol and meadows ensued.

“Before I drink this, what is it?” 

She checked my expression to see if it was a ruse.

 "Mead with herbs, Squire."

I Sat blankly; it was blatant that I had not a clue concerning the contents.

She Raised her beaker and announced, hot mead with herbs was all she drank through winter. Her beaker clicked against mine.

She Lent into me; wafts of heavy perfume captured me.

 “They call me Haunild, after ma Pa, what about your name?”

To evert her eyes, I feigned attention at the knife marked; and heat scored table surface, which I further exaggerated by tracing deep lines with my finger. In reality, embarrassment kept my head down.

 “It’s Brian, which is also the name of a snail who appears on the program Magic Round-about.”

 I Looked up, expecting to face some ridicule, but a bemused expression greeted me, prompting us to laugh!

We Drank the bitter-sweet intoxicating mead in several swigs. The rush of herbs and alcohol triggered a desire to watch Haunild lustily!

I tried to stay passive and calm; it was difficult, animal yearning possessed me; her natural beauty held me like a bird in a cage. Trying to hide, my wanton desire, banter spewed from me.

“I will not tell a soul your secrets.”

Her empty beaker hit the table with a thud! loudly with a slur-

 “Aye knows things, maybe things that should stay buried with me.”

 I dipped in genuflection with a flat palm against my chest.

 She threw a piece of rope at me.

“You’d better tie your horse; she is binging on apples!

I ventured quickly into the freezing fog, hastily my cold fingers fastened Jigsaws reins to the cottage, eager to rejoin beautiful Haunild.

On Return, Haunild had untied her flaxen hair releasing a powerful allurement!

 I fired a pertinent question to hide my feelings!

 “Are you going to tell me about the Abby, or do I go and find out for myself?”

Guzzling, the last remains of her drink mead ran over her lips provocatively, seductively wiping her mouth, she refilled our beakers. We clicked them solidly together and swigged the contents; her eyes met mine. A carnal yearning rose in me. 

Thank god, Haunild started to speak! I desperately wanted to kiss her!

“The Priory is not what yea think. Ask yourself why good folks burnt it down so many times? Do you think it’s just an old ruin? They still worship THEM there!”

She slugged back more mead. 

“From the start Squire, that place has been a den of evil and corruption. Things are lurking there that demand feeding!”

” You have seen how the land around that place is full of small hills and one big one.”

 Her hands gestured a large mound.

“The elders say, that’s were many an innocent was hanged.” Her voice dropped.

“Come the morning, no rope, body, or burial!” 

Shocked, I took a long drink, she followed suit, gulping more mead it started to affect her.

Swooning slightly, while smiling at me, her alluring fingers played provocatively with her depleted beaker.

 I coughed.

After a drunken pause came more information-

“For centuries, those hills have been the last place for thousands of dead bodies, mainly children! 

Her voice sounded hoarse with anger.

 “Back then, If the people had nothing, they gave their babies to the church, thinking they would be in good care. They never were seen again; because they became food for, THEM!”

 Pensively, an awkward question squeezed through my lips. "Is that what happened to what remained, of those little mites?" 

" First they were burnt on pyres during the night squire! The Nuns and Monks said they had to, as they had Satan’s mark!”

My mouth dropped… she looked frightened, as half muttered words recited her horrors.

“Unless you want to meet- THEM! You keep well away! Some fools around here still worship those creatures!

 “You can still hear the babies scream as they are thrown on the fire, or down the well!”

The mix of mead and herbs was potent. Haunild noticed I succumbed to its potency; as reality started to drift, gentle arms wrapped around my shoulders.

 The heavy fragrance amplified my intoxication; her beautiful moist lips parted slightly. We locked passionately! Our bodies began gyrating in unison; desire forced me to pull the string on her bodice, a firm voluptuous body revealed its self.

She grabbed me, pulling me into her panting- “squire, stay with me! I’ll teach you things you could never learn. I’ll give you the best children!”

Her sentence bit like ice. I backed off, physically and mentally.

“What is the matter squire, don’t you want me? Don’t you want to be together for eternity?”

 You are the most beautiful woman that I have ever met!

 I Pushed her away! And snapped-

“I am too young for kids!”

 She reeled, turning emotionally cold, diminishing all eye contact while fastening her bodice; this rebuttal extracted feelings of guilt that fired my longing to seduce her.

My choice of not having children with a stranger became a pyrrhic victory for common sense, as it crushed my ardor and left me alone with a woman who could no longer look at me.

 I sat despairing, looking into the fire.

 She aloofly covered herself with the unflattering winkle and hood. Without speaking, I felt her sit next to me she held my face.

“Wise, strong Brian, your parents choose your name well, in the heat of drunken passion, you understood your mind.”

 Her eyes glazed with tears.

With quelled emotions, we kissed and hugged, she was deathly cold.

Haunild switched back to behaving indifferently, pulling my arms away, coldly she got up to stand near her door. Her hand quickly wiped her moist-eyes with my gifted tissue.

 “I can help you back, Squire.”

“How Haunild? The fog is impenetrable!”

Striding outside, she began leading Jigsaw.

“Let’s go, quickly squire, before I change my mind and keep yea here.”

 I followed them along the forest tracks.

 She walked like I, and the fog didn’t exist. Within what seemed moments? Haunild stopped.

“It’s as far as we go.”

I gasped for breath with a shrill inhale! Coming around, the stark realization that my body lay at the side of the road hit me. The world of fog had vanished!

A pair of hands stopped pumping my chest as I laid covered in dirt, oil, and blood on a hard-plastic stretcher, reality slowly assembled around me.

 Everywhere, there were strumming engines, blue lights, the smell of diesel, and crackling short-wave radios. The medic felt my neck pulse.

 “We thought we’d lost you!” 

Sitting-up, thick blood ran out of my nose and mouth, every breath aggravated a swollen and taught chest, my clothes were torn and ripped.

 I continued gasping for air as a blurred white uniform started to come into focus. My hand subconsciously felt the back of my head, blood-covered my fingers.

I implored the medic.

 “My horse, where is she?”

His eyes unconsciously flicked to the right. Following his glance, a group of police and firemen, using a tow truck, tried to release Jigsaw’s life-less body from under a lorry.

Heartbreak yoked to shock, dragged every last feeling of consciousness out of me.

All I could remember thinking was. “I didn’t say goodbye.