The Glade

Meg wept. There was no sighing, or gentle tears sliding down her face in a picturesque way. Not this time. Meg sobbed and wailed until her eyes were raw and her throat was hoarse.

People skirted around where she had collapsed onto the edge of the street. The busy bustle of a workday lunch all around her, Meg was oblivious to everything but her sorrow. Feeling as though her heart would burst, she eventually ran out of tears.

There was one person who had sat near Meg during the hours of her sustained anguish. This was a small boy, barely tall enough to see over the counter in a shop and still in short pants. The boy shuffled a little nearer to Meg on the low, stone wall that she was sat upon, and handed her a grubby handkerchief.

“There you are, now, Miss. Maybe you’re feeling a little brighter?” Asked the boy, gently.

Meg barely acknowledged the skinny, outstretched arm that was offered her. The boy sighed and put the handkerchief back in his pocket. “Now, I know it’s none of my business, Miss, but I think I may be able to be of some help.”

Meg looked at the boy for the first time, through eyes red and bleary from her grief. “What could you possibly do to help me?” She whispered. “You don’t know me.” Meg hung her head back down to her knees, her arms wrapped around her head, shutting out the world once more.

“Begging your pardon, Miss, but I might know more than you think.”

Meg raised her head and looked at the boy again, more carefully this time. As she looked into his eyes, something shifted. A gentle wind ruffled through Meg’s auburn hair and the boy’s eyes darkened.

“Who are you?” Meg asked, softly. “How do you know me?”

The moment passed and the boy was just a boy again, sitting on a wall in the early summer sunshine. He stood and offered Meg his hand. “Will you come, Miss?”

Meg looked around her at the busy marketplace. Not one of the villagers had stopped to help, or had even stopped to see if she needed help and now here was a boy, barely more than a child, offering to help ease her torment.

“Where shall we go? Where will you take me?” Meg lightly placed her larger hand in the boy’s small, grubby paw, thinking that she had clearly taken leave of her senses. She stood.

“It’s not an easy path, Miss, but it’s one that might help you. I don’t mean to be cryptic, but there’s a place, you see, a place where you can find your answer. Find your truth.” The boy gently tugged Meg’s hand. “You can trust me, Miss, honest. I won’t steer you wrong.”

There was something in the boy’s voice that made Meg feel that he was right in what he was saying, although she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Do you have a name, boy? Something I can call you?”

A shadow passed over the boy’s face. “I’m sorry, Miss, but there’s power in names. I cannot give you mine.”

He brightened. “But you can give me one, if you like?” He grinned a cheeky grin and Meg could not help but mirror a little bit of his cheerful expression. She gave a small smile, showing dimples that had been hidden for a long, long time.

“Hmm.. How about… Tom?”

The boy pulled a funny face and stuck out his tongue in disgust. Meg smiled, a little wider than before. “Not Tom, then. William? Robert? I know! How about Robin? You look like a Robin.”

The boy grinned again. “Perfect, Miss. You may call me Robin. Pleased to meet you.” Robin took off his cap and bowed politely in the middle of the street, oblivious to the horses and market stalls around him. A child with a wooden top had to steer around his sudden change in direction.

Meg curtseyed in reply, a parody of a lady meeting her beau. “Very pleased to meet you, Robin. Now, please, where are you taking me?”

Robin gestured towards the Church at the top end of the village. “Up towards the churchyard and then on a bit. You’ll see, Miss.”

Robin led Meg through the stalls and up the wide street towards the church. There were streamers still attached to the Maypole from the Mayday festival two days earlier and children were playing happily in the dust as Mothers watched indulgently on; gossiping at the water pump. No-one paid any attention to the red-eyed Meg and the small boy as they made their way to the church. At the gate, Robin skirted to the left of the church yard and over to the narrow farmer’s track that led to the copse on the outskirts of the village.

“The woods? We’re going to the woods?” Meg stopped walking and backed away from Robin slightly, shaking her head. “I can’t, Robin. You don’t know what it’s like, here. I can’t go into the woods.”

Robin walked back towards Meg. “You can, Miss, with me. You can go with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Meg’s voice was beginning to raise and a flash of panic crossed her features. “Who are you, really, Robin? How is it that you appear like a small child, yet you speak with words of wisdom that make you seem far older? Why is it that I’m trusting you? Where did you come from and why are you here?”

“It’s okay, Miss, I promise,” Robin reassured. “Please remember that you can trust me. I’m not entirely as I seem, but that doesn’t mean I’m anything bad, Miss. You’ve got a question and I can lead you to the answer, that’s all. And you can turn back at any time. Honest, Miss, I’m here to help.”

Robin’s earnest expression cleared the doubt from Meg’s mind and she sighed. “Okay, Robin. Let’s carry on.”

As the farmer’s track dwindled into countryside, the pair approached the small wood as the sun was beginning it’s evening descent. They carried on walking. The woods were dark and deep, but the cool air seemed inviting after the sunshine of the market square. Meg’s eyes, that had been sore from crying, began to feel a little better as she gazed into the softening gloom. Suddenly, she became aware of the quiet. There was no bird song, no scuffling and shuffling of animals. Nothing.

“Where are we, Robin? Why is it so quiet in here?” Meg’s voice seemed loud in the quiet stillness of the trees.

“Don’t worry about it too much, Miss, but we aren’t exactly in your woods anymore.” Robin cleared his throat and there was a subtle change in his voice. “But I think you know that, don’t you, Meg?” He said tenderly as he looked up into Meg’s eyes. She gasped as she caught sight of the old soul that resided there.

“Yes, Robin. I know that now, thankyou.” Meg took a deep breath and followed as Robin continued to lead Meg slowly into the depths of the wood. Too soon, they reached a small clearing, a glade.

“You know where we are?” Robin asked, gently, turning to Meg.

“Yes, Robin. Thankyou.” Meg bent down and planted a kiss on Robin’s cheek. “I mean it. Thankyou.”

“You are most welcome, Miss. I must leave you now, but I shall be here when you need to return, whenever that may be. Do not worry about time. Find what you need and I shall be here to lead you back home again.” Robin tipped his cap and disappeared once more into the gloom.

Taking another deep breath, Meg stepped into the glade and into the soft, glowing light.

-------------------------------------------------

“Ahh… there you are. I’ve waited a while for you, Meg. I knew you would come.” The man was tall and dark, with piercing blue eyes. In his hands, a golden key, ornate and beautiful. The glade was bathed in soft sunlight, impossible after the amount of time Meg had walked with Robin through the woods.

“I didn’t know that this was real!” Meg breathed as she gestured around her. “Everyone has heard the stories, of course, and heard the tales, but no-one has ever known how to find it. How to find you. And yet,” Meg shrugged, “here I am.” She laughed a little, despite her sorrow.

“And yet here you are. I am the Keeper, Meg, and Robin brought you here because you need something. He brought you because you need a secret.”

Meg’s composure crumbled as she fell to her knees on the soft, mossy ground. Tears she didn’t know she had still within her tumbled down her face once again, her heart breaking with both the knowledge and lack of knowledge held in her breast. An empty chasm.

The man listened, and comforted, and wiped Meg’s tears away until for the second time that day, she had no more tears left to give. Softly, gently, the man spoke.

“I can help you, Meg. But there is a price. There is always a price. You know this.” The Keeper said, carefully, pointedly.

Meg sniffed and nodded, looking down at her hands, playing with her ring. “Yes, I know. I know about the cost. Am I allowed to know the price before I make my choice?”

“Yes, my dear. You are allowed. But I need to warn you; the cost is steep and the price is dear. You need to be sure it is worth it.” The Keeper gently helped Meg to her feet, wiping a strand of hair off her face. She straightened and stood tall, brave and courageous in the Memory Glade. “Tell me the price, Keeper, and then I will tell you my answer.”

“As you wish.” The Keeper bowed and took a deep breath. “One thousand years in the Glade. That is the cost.”

Meg staggered back. “A thousand years?” She breathed. “But everyone I know will be gone!”

The Keeper nodded. “This is the price for the secret you seek. You now need to ask yourself; is the knowledge worth the price?”

Meg looked dazed. “How long do I have to decide, Keeper?”

“As long as you need. Robin will be waiting for you at the entrance to the Glade, whether it takes a minute, a week, a year or a thousand years to conclude your business here. Robin will always be waiting for you.” The Keeper smiled at Meg, sadly.

“I have to know, Keeper. You understand that I must know, right?” Meg frowned, looking for reassurance.

“Yes, Meg. I understand. The secret you wish for is no small secret. It is indeed a secret worth one thousand years. An important price for an important secret.” The Keeper smiled, sadly. “It is no trifling matter you bring to the Glade today.”

“Then that is my answer.” Meg shook herself and looked the Keeper directly in the eye. “I choose the secret. I choose to know.”

The Keeper smiled, sadly. “Yes, Meg. Of course you do. This moment was foretold. As I have said, I have been waiting for you.”

Epilogue

It is a surprising thing, that the world keeps turning. The grass keeps growing, the leaves still fall in Autumn, the sun rises and descends each day with its dance with the moon, the rain falls and returns to the Earth, aching to find its way back to the mother ocean…

And yet. And yet.

And yet there are some places in the world where everything stops. Sometimes, for up to one thousand years. Because some secrets are worth the price.