Ides of the May (Children of the May 2 - updates weekly)

Chapter One: The Hermit of Avalon

Most days I went swimming. In the months of that first winter it was a necessity.

I would wake freezing in my hut on the top of the bald hill, my small fire long since burned out. The wind would whistle through the gaps between the hut’s stones, cutting through the poor blanket that was my only source of warmth. I’d stagger to the open doorway. If the sky was clear I could see all the way down to the grey castle on the cliffs, which had been dark and empty since Mordred broke its mistress’ power. I could have stayed in the castle if I had so pleased, but the place held too many memories. I had lived there with my friends for a time, before they sailed away from me.

I would climb down the rough steps I’d repaired in the hillside, and at the bottom turn right down the shadow of a path that ran beside the fast-flowing river. I would pass into the forest, and go down the steep side of the waterfall to the pool that marked the heart of the island. From there I followed the path all the way up the wooded valley, to the plain where the wild horses huddled together against the cold. That winter was hard on them, they lost their leader to the cold that year. The path ended at the foot of the wind-blasted stone cross, which nestled between the dunes facing the expanse of grey sea. Here I would leave my clothes, cross the cold sands, and plunge into the freezing waters.

The fish in the Lake – my mother’s lake – had been my friends, almost the only creatures in my life that did not judge me inferior. I had loved their simple thoughts – they had instincts only for food and safety. That is a special gift of my family, shared between my mother, my sisters and me – the ability to connect with the thoughts of other creatures through water. In the cold seas off the coast of Avalon, however, my gift became a curse.

By this time my magic had increased. I had learned to place suggestions in the minds of the creatures of the cold sea. I encouraged the fish towards my open hands, and when they swam between my fingers I squeezed the life out of them.

There is little as horrible in this world as being within the mind of a creature as it dies. Experiencing the panic and pain as the light of life disappears. But the fish never learned the lessons I taught them; each morning they would come to me, never remembering the mistake their brothers and sisters had made the day before.

I would shrug my clothes back on and return to the hut. There I would cook old friends on new fire, saying the one prayer to the Lord Jesus that Hilda, the previous owner of my hut, had taught me. In the n-n-n-n-n-name of the F-F-F-F-Father… I would say in my stuttering voice. I did not properly understand the words.

The longer I remained on island without sensing the evil I had stayed behind to fight, the more I thought my decision to become the hermit of Avalon a terrible mistake.

* * *

The opening storm of my first spring on the fortunate isle was a bad one. It raged for three days. On the third night I woke to find myself buried under the mossy roof of my hut. I struggled from under the wreckage, and discovered that the hut’s rough-hewn walls had collapsed. I shivered out that next day in the forest, and when the rains abated climbed back to the rubble of the hut. I paid my last respects at Hilda’s grave, marked by the rusting hilt of a blunted sword, and then I returned to Castle Eudaimon. I truly meant to rebuild the hut when the fine weather came, but I never did; I was not as committed a hermit as Hilda had been.

I crossed the remaining rotten planks of the castle’s drawbridge, and went through the gatehouse, into the huge yard between the outer and inner walls. Without the lady Bertilak’s power to keep it clean, the castle had become dirty from the birds that nested in its towers. The walls had cracked in the winter freeze. I could sense only a ghost of the lady’s magic in the fabric of the place; but even if she had all of her powers I knew I was safe from her. The island had wrapped her heartstring around me, giving me the same protection it had once given Hilda. I was Avalon's possession, just as the lady was. We balanced the island’s scales: she the Pagan, I the Christian weight.