Rosa Crocea

In the spring, when babies were plenty, Ceridwen the midwife made abundant appearances about the village. The miller's child was due in late spring, and the bailiff's wife was pregnant with her seventh child. Farmers' wives trudged about in the fields, maneuvering awkwardly with their swollen stomachs. Like the world around them, they were bursting with the magic of life.

The tall, big-boned midwife had been bustling from one end of the village to the other, armed with oily goose grease ointment to ease aching bones, herbs and brews to prevent miscarriages, and curious trinkets of magic. Each day, Ceridwen began the day with a basketful of her remedies, and ended the day with it full of cheese, bread, eggs, or even a copper penny as her earnings. Sometimes, she was trailed by a small girl with solemn jade eyes, and a headful of springy auburn curls under a stiff starched wimple. She was Helga, Ceridwen's assistant, child of Ethlinn-- the disgraced daughter of the baron.

-----

Ethlinn, whose exquisite golden plaits once made farmer girls green with envy, whose handsome figure once made men red with lust. Ethlinn, whose tilted blue eyes was once as clear as morning dew, as blue as sapphires. Ethlinn, who was once a nun.

-----

Ethlinn was the seventh daughter of the baron, the most lovely of all of his children, and the most pious as well. Faithfully did she learn her Bible, and went Sundays to Mass without fail. Always curled around her fingers, was a string of rosary beads, with the carvings on the beads worn smooth from her fond stroking.

Tales of her sweet, virginal beauty and gentle benevolence spread afar, and suitors swarmed the Baron's court. Young barons, knights, and noblemen decked in dazzling gems or a silver-gilt armor offered rich dowers of vast land, fabulous jewels, and riches beyond riches. In the face of enticing temptations, Ethlinn was un-tempted. Firmly, she persuaded her parents to allow her to enter the cloister and become a nun. And so the baron and his lady gave consent reluctantly, and Ethlinn escaped matrimony into the arms of God of the cross. There she took vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience to her leaders; and there, she was happy.

---

Sadly though, it seems that innocence and purity is difficult to preserve, especially for the purist and most innocent individuals. No one escapes untainted.

---

As peaceful as the life in the cloister was, it was still rather insipid to an energetic young woman, as devout as she was. After a sleepy day of scripture copying, Ethlinn excused herself for a short stroll in the woods as the sun began to slide down westward.

The air that rushed to meet her was brisk and dry, like parchments passing against her cheeks. Quickly, she walked around the Monastery, careful to keep her long shadow in front of her. It was a silly superstition, that if her shadow were left unguarded behind her, the faerie beings would snatch her away. Ethlinn's lips curled into a wry smile, her fingers went habitually for her rosary beads. As she touched the loop of beads worn over her sleeve, she felt a prickle against the tip of her finger. At this she frowned.

When her beloved myrtle rosary beads broke, her father sent her a new string of beads, this time made of bay. It protected against witches, she remember being told by Erin, a fellow nun. A fine set you've got here love, and mayhaps it'll be useful one day.

At the last comment, Ethlinn had laughed shrilly against her hand. But in her heart, it gave comfort to her fear of the supernatural.

The new beads didn't replace her old set as they were supposed to, and she didn't take a liking to them. For every time she reached to stroke them, to knead a round bead between the soft flesh of her fingers, a sense of wrongness washed over her being. They didn't feel right against her skin, in contrary to the feeling of peace and calm with her old beads. At times when the beads were to offer calm, they gave disturbance, and when she sought reassurance, they inspired uneasiness.

"I should send for a new set of beads the next time Thomas comes about," she announced aloud to no one. Thomas was her parents' cheeky messenger boy, who came by once a month to ask of her doings.

With a deft eye, Ethlinn quickly sought out a narrow path in the dense undergrowth between the two slender elms. Gathering her skirt around her legs, she averted a cluster of prickly wild briars that reached out with long, snagging fingers, and pushed past some hazelnut bushes. Here she came by the small path free of brambly obstacles; cleared and stamped down by the passing travelers.

Except for her crackling steps over the carpet of leafy red-gold fire, the woods was quiet. The faint whispers of the wind trailed through the crisp, cool air. Leaves of every shade rustled overhead from the branches, and fell like a storm of graceful butterflies around her. Leaves that caught the slanted rays of golden sunshine glowed like fluttering miniscule fairies in her dreams.

In her visionary admiration of nature, she turned dazedly on the spot, letting her pale skirt flare out around her ankles. As the tilted sun shone full in her face, she felt a sudden jerk round her navel. At the blink of an eye, the world around her twisted into a swirl of dazzling colors, stabbing painfully at her eyes. Ethlinn clutch her stomach tightly as a wave of nausea washed over her. The air around her thickened and a tremendous force crushed against her overwhelmingly, as if she was being squeezed through a tiny space.

Ethlinn gasped, or tried to - there was nothing to inhale. She tried again, harder, straining her lungs until they felt as though they were being ripped up. Her fingers scrabbled fervently against her throat in anguish, until quite abruptly, her feet hit solid ground and a gush of air surged through her nostrils.

Unbalanced, she fell back. Instinctively, she swung her arms in the air to regain her footing, and found with alarm that there was no need; it was impossible. She was falling, yet she stood still. Tentatively, she looked down, yet what was down? What was up? All there was, was an infinite stretch of grey; there was no telling of distance, making it feel like there are walls around her, yet untouchable and faraway. Dizzily, she stumbled over her shoes and pitched stiffly forward, only to find herself upon her feet still, gazing ahead into the grey.

"Welcome Ethlinn," said a voice, like the richest gold, coated with the coldest ice. Ethlinn spun, and saw the blue figure of a tall man in a distance.

Hands clammy with sweat, she gathered her skirts and ran at the blue clad man - or demon, whatever he may be. But as she scrambled on, her feet connecting to what felt like smooth, flawless glass, she gained no distance. Her hair lay still against her neck, for no air blew against them, yet she ran still, through endless, infinite space. Eyes large with fright, she came to a halt, and groped for the wooden cross resting over her heaving chest.

The man was suddenly before her, smiling elusively at the recoiling girl. He had a pale, sharp face with tall cheekbones. His pair of deep set jade eyes unlike anything human, full of abstruse knowledge and powers. Those eyes fixed themselves upon Ethlinn's blue ones, radiating with overwhelming authority and arrogance. Dark rivulets of red hair flowed like smooth, viscous liquid, shinning dully like long, bloody gashes down his bare chest.

"Be not afraid," his voice was deep and resonate, yet his lips barely moved. Ethlinn looked into his inhumanly beautiful eyes, and felt uncertain foreboding within her breasts. He was a rare, exotic creature; rather like the foreign artifact from a faraway and strange land, full of unaccustomed beauty and magnificence. His gaze, like strong, unwatered wine, filled her with metallic, intoxicating heat. With difficulty, she tore her eyes away from his, and spotted a pair of pointed ears poking through his red hair.

A faerie! She was captured-

--for she left her shadow unguarded as she gazed in the direction of the sun. But why now? Of all the times she looked into the sun without consequences? Why her? Of so many incautious people who leave their shadows unguarded?

An icy finger slid down her spine, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. She crossed herself three times with quavering hands.

"What do you want with me?" Her voice came out as a raspy squeak, scraping against her dry throat.

"Everything," he said calmly, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He smiled coyly into her eyes; she looked away once more, only to find that he was before her in a flash. Firmly, she closed her eyes and crossed herself over and over, muttering a fervent, incoherent prayer.

"We are destined to be together," said the faerie man a little more forcefully, his voice sounding vaguely hurt, as if he was offended. Ethlinn kept her eyes shut and made no acknowledgement to his words; painfully, her heart drummed against her ribs like a trapped animal.

Anxiety caused her breath to come out as short bursts of gasps. Sweat gathered on her forehead, and fine strands of her golden hair stuck across her brow.

Suddenly, she felt a smooth, cool object slide softly over her collarbone. It was a hand; slender fingers curled in the curve of her neck, sending squiggling needles of icy heat all down her back. Involuntarily, a small moan escaped her lips. Against her better judgements, Ethlinn reached up to touch the slender hand under her chin. She felt her rosary beads make contact briefly before her hands, and the pressure against her collarbone disappeared from her skin along with her rosary beads.

***

An owl hooted softly; Ethlinn's eyes snapped wide open. She was lying flat on her back in the forest, now unfamiliar and cold in the silky darkness of the night. Across the dry flakes of leaves, her long tresses spread in all directions, shining like a silver aureole under the milky moonlight. Groggily, she sat up and shook her head to rid the leaves in her hair. It took only seconds for her to remember all that happened - or seemed to have happened. She reached automatically for her collarbone, caressing the soft skin of her neck. Perhaps it was all a dream-

"Ethlinn! Ethlinn! Where the devil are you?" Ethlinn recognized this voice to belong to Heidi, a very influential woman who carried a menacing switch everywhere she went. Through the bushes, she could be seen, carrying a lamp over her head while waving her switch in front of her.

A little unsteadily, Ethlinn climbed to her feet and stumbled toward the light. "Here Heidi!" She cried, fighting her way through the bushes, not caring that branches tore rips in her skirt. The old nun raised the lamp high over her head, and saw Ethlinn pushing toward her. An ugly expression crept across her face. "Where were you girl? Where the hell were you?" in her fury, Heidi's voice was like the vicious howls of a mountain lion, her eyes bulged in their sockets.

Under the feeble lamplight, Ethlinn saw the muscles on Heidi's face shuddering as she shrieked hoarse. To make her point, she yanked Ethlinn down by the collar, and boxed her ears in rapid succession, shouting profanity that was surely be too vulgar for a plump little woman.

"I was-Ow!" Ethlinn struggled out of Heidi's iron grip and swept a cloud of tangled curls out of her face. "I was taking a walk in the woods!" Crossly she declared, folding her arms and looking away. And I had a dream that I was abducted by a faerie man, who wanted to marry me. She added silently, God knows why I dream about these things.

"From afternoon to well after supper? WHAT THE DEVIL WERE YOU DOIN'?" Heidi bellowed, outraged at Ethlinn's disrespect. "Remember that you swore to chastity, girl." She leaned close to the young woman and hissed menacingly, blatantly proclaiming her suspicion. Eyes narrowed to malicious slits, Heidi pulled her thin mouth into a firm line. The swinging lamplight threw her fat, creased face into sharp relief, twisting her otherwise homely face into an image of a demon from hell.

Ethlinn drew in a sharp breath, and stopped in her track. She turned to confront the short woman beside her full in the face, and met the pair of hawk like golden eyes sharply. "Sister Hooch!" She breathed indignantly, drawing up to her full height. "Surely you don't think that..."she made a horrible face, "...how utterly ridiculous and scandalous to suspect me of such...such..."" Ethlinn trailed off, heaving roughly from her outburst. No one ever accused her of such things. Never.

"Surely not?" Indifferently, Heidi turned her face away, and leered sidelong at Ethlinn out of the corner of her eyes. Her voice clearly stated that she was far from convinced, only more suspecting than ever.

Feeling hurt, Ethlinn gazed down at the torn hem of her skirt, "Oh Sister..." she muttered with a meeker tone, barely audible over the crunching leaves beneath their feet.

Without a word, Heidi hastened her strides down the trail.

---

"What in God's name is that?" Asked Erin one morning as the nuns rose for their morning prayers. Her eyes were round with curiosity as she gestured vaguely at Ethlinn, who was sleepily pulling on her dress.

"What's wha--what?" Ethlinn said through a yawn, twisting her hair into a braid. It was becoming cold, and leaving her warm bed and blankets was growing to be an increasingly vexing pet peeve. The curious 'dream' of the faerie man was no longer much of an issue, and lie forgotten in the back of her mind, nagging her only on occasions.

Erin touched her own neck right at the base with a fingertip, "There."

Frowning, Ethlinn reached up and touched it, "There?" She echoed. It felt nothing out of the ordinary, only warm, smooth skin of her own.

"It's red!"

"Oh dear," feeling vaguely worried, Ethlinn rubbed her hand over the patch of skin. "Not an welt is it?"

With a brisk hand, Erin pushed Ethlinn's hand out of the way and bent over until the tip of her long nose brushed Ethlinn's earlobe. Cross-eyed, she examined Ethlinn's neck solemnly. "A hand mark! How curious! Who hit you there?"

"It was Heidi," rolling her eyes, Ethlinn slipped her wimple over her head. "I spilt soup on her skirt and got a clobbering with that foul switch of hers."

With good nature, Erin grinned, showing the large gap between her front teeth. "Aw," she waved her hand dismissively, "I figured." With a final pat at her hair, she left the room.

Still in the clutches of sleep, Ethlinn watched Erin go in a daze, and touched her neck again, tentatively. It was where the faerie man touched her - should it have ever happened. How well she remembered the arousing sensation of his touch, the thrill of shivers. Without effort, she could conjure his image, the handsome, godly man-or faerie with inhuman jade eyes. The whole thing felt more like a memory, lacking the blurry, visionary qualities of a dream.

But it was a dream indeed, after all, she thought.

---

It was when her monthly bleeding ceased to come when Ethlinn became worried. Over and over she brooded over her peculiar and frightening encounter - no, dream (she kept having to reminded herself) of the faerie man. After a while, this fantasy became so vivid, that she began to believe (dubiously) that it had, perhaps, truly occurred. Try as she might, she couldn't get the eerie cool green eyes out of her mind.

It was almost as if they were watching her.

Not for once did she recall the legends her nurse told her long ago, how faerie men can plant their seeds within the womb of a woman with a mere touch...

Surely this isn't true, it is but silly old wife's tale. But still, she grew moody and fretful. O, such beliefs are impure and inappropriate for a nun, they shouldn't even cross my mind...

The nuns noticed that Ethlinn smiled and talked less, and spent much time gazing into space with a forlorn expression upon her face. When they asked, she only shook her head and looked away. Only Heidi seemed to know what was going on. During the day, when she encountered Ethlinn in the dreary cold corridor of the monastery, a sneer was always across her face. Her looks of taunting scorn seemed to frighten Ethlinn; this appeased the old nun to no ends. As days went on, her hostility augmented; Ethlinn shrank away and grew docile and taciturn.

She was but a shadow of her old self.

---

"Thomas just came, Ethlinn dear." Erin touched Ethlinn lightly on the shoulder to get her attention, not wanting to startle her. It did anyway, causing Ethlinn to jump in her seat.

Ethlinn stood woodenly from her bench and drifted from the room without a sound. Erin watched her leave with a frown; she didn't like how thin and pale her friend was becoming, how little she ate and how scarcely she spoke. Vaguely, she sensed that something was wrong...

Thomas was waiting impatiently by the front door when Ethlinn came strolling out. He was a small boy of nine, son of the Beira (the baron's chambermaid). Like most boys of his age, he wore a coarse linen tunic over his lanky, dirty body. His matted brown hair was cut crudely at the base of his neck, surrounding a sly face.

"How do you fare this fine day m'lady?" He bowed over with exaggerated, mocking courtesy, waiting for her to laugh. She always did laugh.

But this time, she remained silent and distant with misted blue eyes. Thomas straightened and puffed out his cheeks with dissatisfaction. "Say, you lost weight. Are you ill?" He asked bluntly.

She gave him a forced smile, "Oh, no, I'm fine--", at this Ethlinn choked suddenly and fell against the doorpost, clutching her stomach with one arm. A wave of soft gold hair fell over her face; she gagged loudly.

"Lady!" Thomas exclaimed in alarm; what beating he'd get if the baron (or anyone) knew he had something to do with Ethlinn's illness! He hesitantly reached out to steady her, the jumped back as bile poured forth from her mouth.

"Here, have some ale," Thomas pulled out a leather flask from under his shirt reluctantly, uncorked his flask and wiped the mouthpiece with his sleeve. It was for stolen from the alehouse earlier that morning himself to enjoy, but he kept in mind that it's a nobleman's job to aid a lady in distress. A future nobleman, thought Thomas, remembering his ambition.

Ethlinn grasped the flask and gulped at the cheap, watered down ale, putting out the burning in her throat. She wiped her mouth wearily with her sleeve, disgusted at the acrid aftertaste.

Thomas twisted his feet awkwardly. "Y'know, you were just like my mum when she was carrying my brother just now." He said in a small voice, not knowing what he was trying to get at. It was all he thought of to make Ethlinn feel better. She looked quite ill crouching low on the ground, with her fair head bent over, heaving heavily.

"Oh..." Ethlinn raised her head to look into his eyes, and saw that he was earnest; her eyes filled with dreaded despair. Her lips fell open, but no sound came out, like she was in the middle of a silent scream. Slowly, her head shook, first just slightly, then harder in disbelieving denial. A deep, guttural sob emerged in the back of her throat (Thomas was shocked of such inelegant sound coming from a lady). Her hands balled into white fists; there was a strange, savage glint in her crystal eyes.

Thomas backed away, and was about to flee when the front of his tunic burst into a sheet of orange flame. He let out a high, terrified whoop and fell upon the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. As he rolled and writhed wildly on the ground like a fish out of water, Ethlinn laughed. It was a loud, ongoing sound; a twisted, perverted version of her bell-like laugh that was so loved by many. She mouth was wide open as she delivered howls of maddened laughter, laden with bitter irony. She laughed until her breath came short, and stopped to draw ragged breaths.

Thomas climbed to his feet, trembling in his charred tunic. With one last frightened glance at the hysterical young nun, he took off, stumbling in his rush to put distance between himself and Ethlinn. She watched as the boy ran off, and her laughter became merged with hiccuping sobs.

From the window, a short, squat figure watched her through venomous eyes; tense and giddy, like a hawk circling in the sky, ready to swoop for the kill.