A carriage with a bed carted Carum to the King’s Way where the forest still lay unbroken on either side.
“We are almost there, my love,” Jenna whispered to him when they had stopped. “Now we come to the difficult part. You must leave your comfortable bed and ride on the sledge.”
“As long as you are near, my Jen,” he said, his voice hardly audible with the wild caroling of birds around them.
She dismissed the men and women who had accompanied them, then turned to Scillia.
“You must make sure that they all return to the castle. No one”—she stopped, then repeated—“no one must remain behind.”
“Do you know what you are doing, Mother?” Scillia asked.
Jenna reached out and smoothed a lock of Scillia’s hair that had come unbound in the ride. “Oh, I do. And so do you and Jem and Corrie. You belong to now and your children to the future. It is another turning.”
“Riddles! You know I hate that kind of talk.”
“Ah, Scillia, I learned long ago that riddles hold their own truth. And the truth is that your father and I were the beginning, but …”
“Will I ever see you again?”
“When you look in the mirror, child. When you speak to your own daughters and sons. Kiss me now. I will be with you when you need me most.”
They embraced, and Scillia turned away, before her mother could see her tears, gathering the others to her. Jenna watched until they were out of sight, then tied up her braids atop her head like a crown. Picking up the ends of the sledge on which Carum was bound, she pulled it off the roadway and across the grassy field.
The Grenna met her halfway through the meadow. She could not tell if they were the same ones she had met before. They looked the same: ageless, with the translucent green glaze of skin over fine bones. They made a circle with Jenna, Carum, and the sledge in the center, but they did not offer to help pull. Carum watched them fascinated, often half sitting up until the motion exhausted him.
Three times the circle stopped that Jenna might make Carum more comfortable and give him a drink of water. For a while he tried to get them to talk, but they were silent. When the odd procession got to the woods, where even the shadows were green, one of the Grenna said, “Here.” That was the entire conversation. At the Grenna’s voice, Carum slipped into a kind of fitful sleep.
A new moon rose overhead, but Jenna had only intermittent glimpses of it through the lacings of the trees, and it was not until they came to the clearing that ended on the cliffside that Skada appeared. The moment she was visible, the Grenna faded back into the trees. But Skada only smiled wryly, and bent to take one pole of the sledge. It moved more easily then and they brought it quickly to the front of the black cave entrance framed by oaken doors.
Jenna touched one of the carvings, Skada another.
“Apple,” Jenna whispered. “Bird.”
“Stone, flower, tree,” Skada countered. “Jenna, you must choose.”
“I know,” Jenna said. “I have thought of nothing else since this journey began.”
“Alta said you can bring one other into the grove, Jenna. One.”
“And there are no shadows within.” Jenna paused. “I do not know how this will end.”
Carum moaned, then opened his eyes. “Are the Grenna gone, Jen? Are we there?”
“Almost there,” Skada answered him.
“Good, you are here, too, Skada. For we are all three, or we are none,” Carum whispered.
“Candle by the bed or not, I know you loved me well, my king,” Skada said.
“I loved you best for your true tongue,” Carum answered.
“You have been listening!” Jenna’s voice was suddenly accusing.
“A king’s privilege.” He tried to shift a bit on the sledge, and moaned again. “The trip was long. But I would not have missed it. Jenna, you do not have to choose between us. I am dead already. Let the stories tell what they will. Our children will rule wisely and well.” He closed his eyes again. “And whatever we do here matters not. It’s the stories told about it that will last.”
Jenna smiled. “I know that, my love. But still we must do what the heart reminds us. Sister? Are you ready?” She held out her arms.
Skada smiled, her arms out as well. “Ready, sister.”
THE LEGEND:
There are two tales told about White Jenna and how she returned to Alta’s cave. One is told by women and one is told by men.
The men’s story speaks of a sledge on the cliffside, where, years ago when the Wilhelm Valley was mined for gold, it was discovered before an entrance to a cave. The sledge held the long bones of a man bound to it with bindings of leather and gold. Still, the men say, on moonlit nights two women can be seen running naked through the glades, women compounded of starlight and water. They run through the glades, past the rocky cliff, step over the long bones, and disappear into the cave just at dawn.
But the women tell a different tale. They say that White Jenna carried her lover, King Longbow, in her arms through the cave to the grove where Alta greeted them. And there they were made young again, and hale. They wait there, with their bright companions, feasting and drinking, until the world shall need them again.
THE MYTH:
Then Great Alta took down her hair, both the golden side and the black, and lifted the dark and light sisters out of the abyss of the world, saying, “You have come at last to the end of this turning. Whether you go forward or whether you go back, whether you go left or you go right, whether you go up or you go down, the end is the beginning. For each story is a circle, and each life a story. The end is the beginning and only I am the true end and only I can begin the circle again.
Here Ends Book 2:
White Jenna
THE WISDOMS OF THE DALES
The heart is not a knee that can bend.
Telling a tale is better than living it.
Fish are not the best authority on water.
When a dead tree falls, it carries with it a live one.
Wood may remain twenty years in the water but it is still not a fish.
If your mouth turns into a knife, it will cut off your lips.
Miracles come to the unsuspecting.
Spilled water is better than a broken jar.
There is no medicine to cure hatred.
Does the rabbit keep up with the cat?
Words are merely interrupted breath.
The sun moves slowly but it crosses the land.
You must set the trap before the rat passes, not after.
Better the cat under your heel than at your throat.
No tracks, no trouble.
Three are better than one where trouble is concerned.
Spring berries are for dye and dying.
Downy head and thorny spine/On the roots you safely dine.
Hunger is the best seasoning.
A foolish loyalty can be the greater danger.
Wicked tongues make wicked wives.
Laugh longer, live longer.
Sleep is the great unraveler of knots.
Not to know is bad, but not to wish to know is worse.
The day on which one starts out is surely not the time to begin one’s preparations.
Do not measure a shroud before there is a corpse.
In the wrong, in the Rest.
Better in the Rest than in the battle.
They stumble who run ahead of their wits.
Sisters can be blind.
Sleep is death’s younger sister.
The heart can be a cruel master.
A cat who boasts once is a cat who boasts once too often.
No blame, no shame.
It is a fool who longs for endings, a wise woman who longs for beginnings.
It is best to eat when the food is before you than go hungry when the food is behind you.
In a flock of black birds, t’would be harder to miss one than find one.
The gift horse is the swifter.
A cro
w is not a cat nor does it bear kits.
The swordsman dies by the sword, the hangman by the rope, and the king by his crown.
An hour can spare a life.
A man’s eye is bigger than his belly and smaller than his brain.
In war one takes quickly and saves regrets for the morning.
Stand in the way of a cart and you will have wheelmarks across your face.
If a man calls you master, trust him for a day; if he calls you friend, trust him for a year; if he calls you
brother,
trust him for all ways.
Perfection is the end of growing.
First up, first fed.
First up, finest fed.
Experience is rarely a gentle master.
Stories feed the mind when the belly is not full.
Kill once, mourn ever. (Kill twice, mourn never.)
If you have no meat, eat bread.
Belief is an old dog in a new collar.
In the council of kings, the heart has little to say.
To kill is not to cure.
A stroke may save a limb.
You cannot cross the river without getting your feet wet.
A warrior has no conscience until after the war is done.
In a fight, anything is a sword.
Forever is no distance at all.
A dream is worth a little sleep.
Every end is a beginning.
No one stands highest when all stand together.
If you rise too early, the dew will soak your skin.
One is not a multitude.
The grape brings slow death.
The mice may have the right but the cat has the claws.
Women’s promises are water over stone—wet, willing, and soon gone.
Measure a cook by his belly.
Better to be safe than buried.
THE MUSIC OF THE DALES
The Ballad of Langbrow
2. When Langbrow first was made the king,
Proclaimed by all his peers,
He opened up the prison gates
That had been closed for years.
He opened up the prison gates
With just one little key
And all the men condemned within
Straightways were all set free,
Straightways were all set free.
3. When Langbrow first was made the king,
He killed the callous crew
That tortured many a fine woman
And slaughtered not a few.
That tortured many a fine woman
And brought them many a shame
Till Langbrow came to rescue them
Returning their good name,
Returning their good name.
4. When Langbrow first was made the king,
The country did rejoice
And sang the praises of the king
With cup and wine and voice.
We sang the praises of the king
And of his Whitsom Jen
And of the men who followed him,
And also the wom-en,
And also the wom-en!
Anna at the Turning
2. Sweet in the springtide, sour in fall,
Winter casts snow, a white velvet caul.
Passage in summer is swiftest of all
And Anna at each turning.
3. Look to the meadows and look to the hills,
Look to the rocks where the swift river spills,
Look to the farmland the farmer still tills
For Anna is returning.
4. They laid her down upon the hill,
Rosemary, bayberry, thistle and thorn,
And took her babe against her will
On the day the child was born.
5. They left her on the cold hillside,
Rosemary, bayberry, thistle and thorn,
Convinced that her new babe had died
On the day the child was born.
6. She wept red tears, and she wept gray,
Rosemary, bayberry, thistle and thorn,
Till she had wept her life away,
On the day her child was born.
7. The sailor’s heart it broke in two,
Rosemary, bayberry, thistle and thorn,
The sisters all their act did rue
From the day the child was born.
8. And from their graves grew rose and briar,
Rosemary, bayberry, thistle and thorn,
Twined till they could grow no higher,
From the day the child was born.
Ballad of the Twelve Sisters
2. A handsome sailor one did wed,
Rosemary, bayberry, thistle and thorn,
The other sisters wished her dead
On the day the child was born.
3. “Oh, sister, give me your right hand,”
Rosemary, bayberry, thistle and thorn,
Eleven to the one demand
On the day the child was born.
The Long Riding
The Trees in the Forest
Sister’s Lullay
King Kalas and his Sons
2. The Hound was a hunter,
The Hound was a spy,
The Hound could shoot down
Any bird on the fly.
The Hound was out hunting
When brought down was he
Alone as he rambled
The northern countrie.
3. King Kalas had three sons,
And three sons had he,
And they rambled around
In the northern countrie.
And they rambled around
Without ever a care.
And they were the Bull
And the Cat and the Bear.
4. The Bull was a gorer,
The Bull was a knight,
And never a man who would
Run from a fight.
The Bull was out fighting
When brought down was he
Alone as he rambled
The northern countrie.
5. King Kalas had two sons,
And two sons had he,
And they rambled around
In the northern countrie.
And they rambled around
Without ever a care.
And the names they were called
Were the Cat and the Bear.
6. The Cat was a shadow,
The Cat was a snare.
Sometimes you knew not
When the Cat was right there.
The Cat was out hiding
When brought down was he
Alone as he rambled
The northern countrie.
7. King Kalas had one son,
And one son had he,
And he rambled around
In the northern countrie.
And he rambled around
Without ever a care,
And the name he went under
Was Kalas’ Bear.
8. The Bear was a bully,
The Bear was a brag,
His mouth was brimmed over
With bluster and swag.
The Bear was out boasting
When brought down was he
Alone as he rambled
The northern countrie.
9. King Kalas had no sons,
And no sons had he,
To ramble around
In the northern countrie.
Though late in the evening
The ghosts are seen there
Of the Hound and the Bull
And the Cat and the Bear.
Death of the Cat
2. It was early, so early
In the graying of the morn,
When we sang of the days
Before the Cat was born.
And how from her mother
She was so swiftly torn,
As we laid her in the earth
So long and narrow.
3. Come all ye young fighting men
And listen unto me.
&nb
sp; Do not place your affections
Upon a girl so free.
For she’ll take the mortal wound
Another meant for thee,
And you’ll lay her in the earth
So long and narrow.
The Heart and the Crown
2. Her horse was pure white
And his horse was gray.
She wanted to go
But he asked her to stay.
She gave him her heart
And he gave her his crown.
But they never, no never
Went down deny down deny down.
3. Her eyes were pure black
And his eyes were so blue.
She wanted him strong
And he wanted her true.
She gave him her heart
And he gave her his crown
But they never, no never
Went down deny down deny down.
4. Come all ye fair maidens,
And listen to me,
If you want your young man
To be strong and free
Just give him your heart
And he’ll give you his crown
Just as long as you never
Go down deny down deny down.
Well Before the Battle, Sister
Turn the page to continue reading from the Great Alta Saga
one
Rivals
THE MYTH:
Then Great Alta took the warrior, the girl with one arm, and set her in the palm of Her hand.
“There is none like you, daughter,” quoth Great Alta. “Not on the earth nor in its shadow. So I shall make you a mate that you might be happy.”
“And why must I have a mate to be happy?” asked the one-armed girl. “Do you, Great Mother, have a mate? And are you not happy? Perhaps I could be your blanket companion.”
“To reach too high is to fall too far,” Great Alta replied.
THE LEGEND:
When the White Queen Jenna was still alive, she brought her three children to the town of New-Melting-by-the-Sea where she still, herself, had cousins.
The children were twin boys and a girl whose short cropped hair and leather trousers led her to be mistaken for a third boy.
The queen planted a rowan by the old Town Hall, the boys each planted a birch. But that night, the girl sneaked out from the encampment and broke off the tops of her brothers’ saplings, leaving only the rowan standing whole.