Chapter 7

Kyra smoothed a stray hair from Luke’s forehead and smiled at him. He grimaced back. It had been two weeks since the duel with Cruthen and Cathryn’s botched attempt at murder, and many of the wounds received were beginning to heal, if a little slowly. Luke had only seen his father and siblings infrequently in the weeks since the clash, and the few times they had met it had only served to remind him of what he had come close to losing. Insufferable guilt racked him when he thought of how close he had come to dying, and the pain he would have caused by throwing his life away; his one constant reconciliation was Kyra – a reminder of what he had served to gain and protect by fighting. Today he was to face not just them, but the entire village at the start of his Rites.

He slipped a brown embroidered tunic over his creamy shirt and leggings, pulled leather boots onto his feet and stood by the door of his room in Griffin’s house. Kyra came to stand beside him, clothed in a long forest green gown, her long auburn curls free and hanging down to the base of her back, her woollen shawl over her arm. They ran together down the stairs and met Griffin at the bottom, from where Kyra sped off to join her parents, and Griffin and Luke headed towards the clearing behind the chapel.

As important as Griffin was in the village, two persons garnered more respect and consequence within the small community; the village elder and the high priest. The role of village elder traditionally fell to the eldest sentient member of the community, with highest standing within the village. As a result, the title was normally inherited, and had been in the same family for the past hundred years.

Jeptha, the current village elder, was waiting at the clearing for Luke and Griffin. The two old men exchanged nods, and took up positions on either side of Luke. All the villagers were crowded at one end of the green, Kyra’s parents standing proudly beside his father and siblings.

Seven of the villagers were standing away from the rest – they, along with Jeptha were to represent the Gods and Goddesses of their faith in the first of the Rites. Each would set him a short task to complete – designed to prove symbolically that he was suitable to become a part of the adult community in the village. Once he had completed and passed each task, he would be presented with a small token from each representative. These tokens were as important to the people of Elshaw as their identity papers were to the Commission.

Jeptha and Griffin led Luke to the separate group, constituting of Jeptha’s wife, Marie – representing Haia, the Goddess of fertility; the temple musician, Wuld – representing Wunjol, the God of music; Kyra – representing the Goddess of love, Hindri; Jeptha himself represented the God of fertility, Wejun; Luke’s aunt Helen represented the Goddess of family, Haisheth; Griffin’s daughter, Eloise, was representing Halil, the Goddess of health; Grayson, the village smith and weapons master represented Wahil, God of war; and the village look-out and resident weather know-all, Harold, represented Wokshan, God of weather. Griffin was there to ensure the tasks were carried out correctly.

Jeptha took his place in the line of representatives, and Marie stepped forward. She, along with Griffin, took Luke to another area of the green, where a woven screen separated them from the rest of the villagers. The Goddess of fertility was concerned with matters such as children and conception. Marie smiled gently.

“Before you worry, Luke, I’ve done as many of these ceremonies as I would care to remember, and my ma before me, and hers before her, and my daughters after me. There’s nothing I haven’t seen or done, so don’t go getting embarrassed either. Nothing to worry about.” Griffin stepped forward and stripped Luke of all his clothes. He smiled slightly as he saw Luke’s muscles tense in the effort to not cover his manhood. Luke stared at the top of the screen, relaxing only as Griffin muttered in his ear that he could dress. The three of them trooped out the other side of the screen, and Marie turned to the assembled villagers.

“I, and through me Haia, am satisfied that Luke is sound of body.” She dipped her hand into her apron pocket and produced a leather cord, and placed upon it a small wooden disc carved with a circle and an arrow pointing through it. This she passed to Luke.

They walked back to the group, deposited Marie in her space, and collected Wuld. He took Luke and Griffin to another area, where he had placed a stool and his own harp. He asked Luke to sit, or stand as he preferred. He stood, and Wuld took up position behind the harp.

“When you’re ready, Luke, begin, and I’ll follow on.” Griffin watched as Luke took a long, shuddering breath, and calmed down. He took another deep breath and began to sing one of the traditional Rite chants. The harp fitted its tune to his, and the threads of music wound their way across the village green and entwined themselves around the hairs on the back of the villagers’ necks. None of them had known Luke could sing. He came to the end of the chant, and Wuld stood up, walked Luke and Griffin closer to the villagers and spoke.

“I, and Wunjol through me, am satisfied that Luke is fit to magnify the Gods and Goddesses through song, and is fit to join the council of the temple.” He dipped into his pocket and produced a small wooden oval, marked with a symbol like a dot with a line sprouting vertically from the top of its right-hand-side. This Luke added to the leather cord round his neck.

Griffin and Luke accompanied Wuld to his place, and were joined by Kyra. It was traditional for the young men of the village to propose on the first day of their Rites, and they were no different. Luke took Kyra’s hand, and led her to a small shaded copse in the middle of the green, sat her on a bench under a small willow, and knelt before her. He produced a slender gold ring set with a small sapphire from a pocket in his tunic and presented it to her.

“Kyra, daughter of Stephen and Matilda, will you accept this ring as a symbol of my love for you and my wish to join with you in matrimony?” Griffin was standing watching them from a close distance.

“Luke, son of John and Miranda, I accept this ring as a symbol of your love for me and your wish to join with me in matrimony. I present you with this kiss of peace as a symbol of my willingness to enter knowingly into this contract.” They kissed chastely, and Luke slipped the ring onto the heart finger of her right hand.

Together they walked back towards the villagers, their respective parents stepping forwards to join them halfway.

“I, Matilda, mother of Kyra, do agree to this marriage.”

“I, Stephen, father of Kyra, do also agree to this marriage.”

“I, John, father and sole parent of Luke, do agree to this marriage.”

Griffin stepped away from the family.

“I hereby declare that I am satisfied, and through the bodies of Kyra and her daughters that Hindri is satisfied, that the match is fit, and the betrothal binding.” The parents stepped back into the group of villagers, and Kyra re-took her place in the line-up. Jeptha stepped out of line to join them.

He walked them back to the copse, but round to the side where a farm labourer had dug through a patch of ground. Luke’s father strode up, bearing a tray of seedlings.

“I declare that these plants were reared by the hand of my son.” Luke plucked each sprout from the tray, and planted them well in the finely churned soil. Jeptha took his arm, and declared to the amassed community:

“I, and through me Wejun, am satisfied that Luke will provide for his family, and is capable of caring for the land he lives on, and I also hereby present Luke with the land his parents bought for him when he was nought but a babe, the land behind the farm of Jared and Jared’s sons, and the house which used to be that of Jared’s eldest son’s wife’s mother before she died, may she rest in peace, and which is on the afore-mentioned land is now officially that of Luke, Kyra and their family.”

For the fifth time, Griffin and Luke ferried back to the group of representatives, and came away with Helen, Luke’s aunt on his mother’s side. She cut a small slit in the side of her left hand, and so did Luke. Griffin held the cuts together, as Helen proclaimed:

“The blood which runs though mine veins runs in Luke’s and will run in his children’s. I am satisfied that Luke will be an exemplary husband and father, and will do his utmost to care for his family.” Griffin moved their hands apart and bound them with thin linen strips. Helen dipped her bandaged hand into her pocket and passed Luke a wooden circle, marked with a droplet shape.

Griffin and Luke took Helen back to the others, and collected Griffin’s daughter, Eloise.

She walked them to a flat piece of grass on the green, and asked Luke to perform a series of movements, bending and stretching, to test his balance and flexibility. Having completed two levels of the Priest’s Dance as the movements were called, she made him stop. She turned to the villagers and spoke.

“I, and Halil through me, am satisfied that Luke is healthy.” She dropped a rectangular token into his hand, carved with an anatomically correct image of a heart.

She preceded them back to the small group, and they collected the second to last person, Grayson Smith. He led them back to the flat piece of grass, and threw Luke a new blade. They sparred for a short while, and then went to the archery range on the far side of the green. Grayson passed Luke three arrows and his bow. He had three chances to hit the bulls-eye. He took the first arrow, notched it, and drew back the string until the fletching ticked his ear. He focussed solely on the bulls-eye and released the arrow. It shot straight and pierced the target in the centre of the bulls-eye. He repeated this with the second and third arrows, each time hitting the centre of the target. The villagers were impressed but not surprised; Luke had an incredible reputation as a flawless hunter. Grayson also spoke to the villagers.

“I, and through me Wahil, am satisfied that Luke is competent and capable of defending himself, his home, his family, his village and his Gods and Goddesses.” He went back to the sparring area and picked up the sheathed sword, and slid it onto a sword belt. “I hereby present Luke with his own sword, scabbard and sword-belt, and a new quiver of arrows.” Luke fastened the belt around his waist, the sword hanging at his left hip, and slung the quiver across his back. He un-strung his bow and fit it into the quiver along with the arrows.

The three of them went back to the small group, deposited Grayson and picked up Harold. He presented Luke with a weather vane and barometer and asked him to interpret their behaviour for him. This he did and passed.

“I, and through me Wokshan, am satisfied that Luke is competent in weather prediction and will be able to face whatever is thrown at him.” He passed Luke the weather vane and barometer with a grin. They yet again trooped back to the small group and left Harold there. Luke, Kyra and Griffin went to the villagers and collected their parents and Luke’s siblings, then went to the chapel.

The priest was waiting behind the main altar, and as the two families approached, he came and stood at the altar rail. They all knelt and received a blessing. There was a conspicuous absence from the group, as Emily had not fully recovered and as the year was rapidly descending into winter it had been decided it might be better for her not to attend and to hear about it later. Luke was invited to step beyond the altar rail, where he was tested by the priest in matters of conscience, morals, and standards. As before, he passed, and the priest gave him a small bag of gold coins with which to set himself up a trade and business.

“I hereby declare Luke clean of spirit and mind, and present him with the means to carve himself a notch in our community and to forge himself a future.” He also passed Luke the key to his new home.

Luke rejoined the families at the altar rail, and they all went outside to assemble the rest of the village to a feast on the green.

They fell to happily, and as mead and ale were drunk, and a hearty roast consumed, laughter and song rang out across the village in the gathering dusk. As darkness began to fall properly, the village disbanded, each heading for their own home. Kyra hung back for a moment with Luke, her hands resting on his upper arms as his hands wrapped possessively around her waist.

John watched his son and future daughter-in-law talked quietly to each other and felt a sense of peace filter over him. He only had to go through this once more – girls had less of a ritual about coming of age, and it was generally much simpler – and that was in four years time. He smiled as Luke and Kyra kissed gently, then more passionately and let go of one another. Kyra ran after her parents, and Luke turned to him.

“Come on, Luke. Home.” They grinned widely at each other, and as Perry and Bess ran up to them, they turned and headed back to the mill.

Once over the threshold, John sent Perry and Bess to bed, and drew Luke into the living room. He made his son sit down in the big armchair while he built up the fire and lit the candles.

“Now the official part of the Rites is over, son, I can give you something your mammy left you. As soon as she knew she was dying she wrote you a letter, and set about finding a gift for you for your Rites.” John went over to the big chest beside the fire and unlocked it. He threw back the lid and rifled through the contents – pieces of paper and small trinkets mainly. He finally surfaced clutching a slightly-yellowed envelope, with ‘Luke’ written across the front in faded blue ink. He passed it to Luke.

"Look after it. It’s all we have left of her.” Luke nodded absently, and reached for the paper knife on the mantle-piece. He carefully slit the envelope, and pulled out the pages from inside, and pulling with them a small portrait. He slipped the portrait back into the envelope, and drew the pages closer. He glanced at the page and a half of the familiar neat flowing script and felt a lump build in his throat. He leant closer to the candle and began to read.

To my darling boy,

By the time you read these words you won’t be a boy anymore, but a man. It’s hard to imagine my little boy being so old! I suppose it is only four years, but what a difference those four years will make.

It won’t have been easy for anyone, and I’m so sorry you had to grow up without me there. But I had you for fourteen of your years, so I was lucky in that respect. I never stopped loving you, my eldest son. Perry, Bess, and Emily could never compare to your birth. But you could never compare to theirs either. Each of you is so special; it hurts to think about you.

I miss you every day, even though I’ll be dead when you read this. I hope you think about me, but not too much. You’re still living, and you have a life to lead.

It’s hard to know what to say. I’ll have missed out on four years of your life; you won’t be the boy I know, though you’ll still be the boy I love. All I can say is I hope they haven’t been too bad, not too hard. And I hope the future gets better. I hope you’re well, and I hope you stay that way.

By this time you will be betrothed. I wonder who to? I hope you love her, Luke. Look after her and treat her well. Make sure you never scorn, spurn or hit her – women are considerably gentler and milder than men, and you’d do well to remember it.

Oh my boy, I wish I could be there to be your mother, but I seem to have the same weakness of the chest as my mother, and her mother before her. These things seem to run in the women in our family. It’s a worry really, considering the fact I have two girls. Look after them. I know your father will try, bless him, but he was never much good at letters and numbers, and sometimes they come in more handy than more...physical attributes.

Things will never be simple in this life, Luke, but remember things will always have a flip-side. What seems hard now will make the things you have to face in the future that much easier. I don’t expect you to agree now, though. I know how hard it is to take advice when you’re young. I just hope this stays with you for longer than I did, because that means my work here is done.

I have very little time left in this world, my boy, so I leave you with a heart full of love and best wishes for the future.

Your mother

He looked up and sniffed, wiping the tears as they trickled down his face. His father perched uncomfortably on the arm of the chair.
“I never got to grips with me numbers and letters,” he said sadly, shaking his head, “and I wish I had. There’s nought left for me but fading memories and sadness.”