Chapter 3

Rowan and Leif had been, at least it seemed to Kristabell, expected by their family, and many happy loud people awaited them in the courtyard which was lined with apple trees and hip laden rose bushes. The late afternoon sun and the slightly turned leaves gave the scene a gilded surreal fairy tale quality, like a picture from one of her story books. Lief lifted her down from Rowan's horse and held her hand for a moment to make sure she had her balance while Rowan dismounted. The two men were swamped by three women, two teenaged boys and two older men and there was, for several minutes, a loud rush of chattering and hugging. Kristabell tried to hide behind a tree. She listened to the talking, paying attention to the words, and realized that, if she concentrated hard she could understand about three in every ten words that they spoke. Rowan however, hadn't forgotten about her and he pulled her out from behind the tree by her elbow and brought her over to what Kristabell guessed, based on the resemblance, must be his sister. They were joined by the other two women who eyed her with not unfriendly curiosity.

Rowan nodded towards a brown haired woman in her late thirties, “Kristabell, this is my mother Bronwen, and these are my sisters Fenna and Nessa.”

Kristabell smiled at them and nodded shyly. She wanted to be polite, she really did, she didn't want to be rude to these people, but right at that moment she wished that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Somehow Rowan made everything okay.

He looked at the smaller of his two sisters, the one who resembled him, and said, “I think Kristabell is very nervous right now. I found her in the forest today and she doesn't understand much of what we say, although she does understand me. I need you to take care of her for me. Set her up in one of the good spare rooms and find her some clothes that fit so that she has something more to wear while she's here. Make sure she gets to dinner.”

Fenna made a comment that Kristabell felt she should have been able to understand but couldn't quite grasp. Rowan laughed and told Kristabell, “My sister says that I'm treating her like an incompetent child and that she knows how to take care of a guest. I'm leaving you in good hands. I need to get this armour off and take a bath. I'll see you at dinner.” And off he strode.

Kristabell felt a moment of panic as he walked away but it faded the moment Fenna turned to her and smiled. Fenna was like a female version of Rowan. She said something to her mother and Kristabell picked out the words “trunk” and “east room”. Bronwen nodded and smiled, then Fenna took Kristabell's hand and said, “Come.”

First Fenna brought her up to a room that Kristabell understood to be Fenna's own bedroom. There was some general clutter, a pile of clothes, a hair brush lying on the bed, a tangled wad of jewellery on a dresser. For a moment or two Fenna fussed at the messy regions of her room as if embarrassed and then abandoned the fussing with a shrug and a grin and rummaged around through drawers and chests until she had found an extra brush, a comb, a small mirror and a few other oddments that she thought might be useful like hair ties. Then Fenna took Kristabell to the room next door which was, apparently, the east room. She indicated, grinning and fluttering, that this would be Kristabell's room. It was a simple room with the same adobe type walls as the outside of the castle, stone floors, wood beams and wood window frames in the thick walls. The furniture was simple, well made, beautiful, and there was a fireplace with a wonderful carved mantle full of Kells-esque tangled beasts. Fenna placed the toiletry items on the dresser top and Kristabell hung her shoulder bag from a hook next to the door.

It was good when the realization came, of how much worse things could be, that what Rowan had said about his family was true. She was not being forced into slavery or eaten or any of the other more painful or violent scenarios that Kristabell had imagined, and though it had been sheer fluke that she had appeared in this world when and where she had, so far, she seemed to have fallen into good hands. Even communication was not as big a problem as it could be, and as Fenna prattled on, keeping up an almost constant flow of words, Kristabell found that she usually had at least a vague sense of what she was saying. Fenna reached out a hand and again said, “Come.”

She lead Kristabell up to a nearby attic and began opening trunks and then closing them again. When she found the one that she was looking for she motioned to Kristabell to come help her move it and together they carried it back to the east room. Fenna was still talking. Kristabell was listening intently. She was pretty sure that Fenna was trying to tell her that the trunk was filled with Fenna's own old, out grown clothes, and that while Fenna didn't think that the colours would suit Kristabell as well as Nessa's would, she didn't think Nessa's clothes would fit. Once back in the room Fenna began taking the clothes out of the trunk and hanging them in the wardrobe. They had been packed with lavender in a cedar trunk and the comforting smell of herbs and wood billowed around the room as Fenna shook out the fabric. There were a couple of dresses but mostly it was filled with tunics of varying lengths and styles and loose linen pants, some ankle length but most about mid calf and everything was in earth tones. Deep reds, russets, creams and browns which, while not perfect, would suit Kristabell well enough, assuming she was even there long enough to need any of it. After the clothes had been hung and the trunk set aside Fenna, once again, with a smile, extended her hand, “Come.”

Fenna began showing Kristabell around the castle, naming things as they went. Kristabell tried to pay attention to what Fenna was saying but the castle itself was too beautiful and all she could do was stare, amazed, at her surroundings. The entire castle was elegant, simple and homey but it also had a grandeur to it, and a golden glow that made it feel humble and exalted both at the same time. It didn't feel primitive. It felt idyllic, like a fantasy concocted by Victorian Arts and Crafts enthusiasts or like storybook pictures from the Golden Age of Illustration. Kristabell couldn't even begin to imagine what it would feel like to call a place like this home. Fenna brought her to a window high in a turret. The view of the lake was dazzling. With the sun low in the sky it looked like a divine accident involving a very large vial of gold glitter. A bell sounded and Fenna's hand was extended, yet again, like the hand of a friend. Kristabell took it and Fenna smiled and said, “Dinner. Come,” and pulled Kristabell off through the castle.

The dining hall, Kristabell couldn't bring herself to think of it as a dining room, was just as comfortably magnificent as the rest of the castle, with carved chairs and a long table that was being filled with simple wholesome food. Cheese, rye bread, apples, some kind of meat, stew with lima beans, and a salad with spinach, more cheese, and nuts. Bronwen and Nessa were there already, as were the two younger boys—Dunstan and Gareth, Fenna said their names motioning to them—and then introduced her to the two older men, Mark and Nels. Kristabell was pretty sure that she had understood correctly that Mark was Fenna and Rowan's father and Nels their uncle. Within moments Rowan and Leif appeared. Free of their weapons and armour, clean and in comfortable looking linen and wool clothing, Kristabell was able to get a better impression of them. Though Leif looked a bit lankier than he'd seemed in armour he was still massive and imposing, and Rowan was lean and lithe. She also realized that they were a bit younger than she had first assumed. She'd figured that they were twenty-six or twenty-seven but they were probably closer to twenty three. Rowan sat down next to her so that she was between him and Fenna with Leif across the table from them next to Nessa. Rowan reached for the bread basket and selected a thick slice for himself then passed the basket to Kristabell.

“I trust Fenna's got you properly settled?” he asked, smiling.

“Yes, very properly. Thank you.”

“Do you eat meat?” he asked her as the platter was passed by.

She shook her head.

“Yeah. Didn't think so. You'll want some of the stew then?”

“Um, yes please,” she replied, briefly wondering how it was that he knew that she didn't like meat. He motioned for her bowl and she passed it to him as he stood and ladled stew into both their bowls.

Kristabell was much hungrier than she'd realized and bread and cheese had never tasted so good. The apples were delicious too. They were a variety that she wasn't used to. She turned to Rowan, “Thank you . . . For bringing me here. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't.”

“It's nothing. It's what any good person would do, and you really are welcome here.”

“In my world people aren't so quick to invite strangers into their homes. I really do appreciate this,” she told him very seriously.

“You're safe here in any case. You wouldn't have been, alone in the forest,” he said, still serious.

They seemed like happy well rounded people, Rowan's family. There was a lot of talking and laughing as they ate. It was a relaxed atmosphere. No one stood on ceremony. It didn't seem like a repressed feudal society. Kristabell sat and listened to the conversation, picking out familiar words in this strange evolution of English, because that's what they were speaking. She could hear that it had grown out of more or less the same group of languages as the English she had grown up speaking. She picked out several words she knew: goblin, fork, turnip, arrow . . . Rowan would turn to her and explain what they were talking about. A battle, Gareth's archery practice, Nessa's goats. As they ate Rowan and Fenna would lean behind her and exchange whispers and gestures. They almost sounded like they were bickering and it ended with what sounded like a refusal from Fenna, and a resigned sigh from Rowan, after which he somewhat tentatively asked Kristabell, “Do you have a husband or . . . an understanding with anyone?”

“Oh, no,” Kristabell answered shaking her head vigorously, taken aback by the question. No one had ever enquired after her relationship status before. “I um . . . I'm only eighteen and that's well . . . It's seen as a bit too young, where I'm from. Or, rather . . . well what I mean is, not too young to . . . have someone, just too young to be married to them. And I, I don't . . . have anyone, that is.” She blushed.

Fenna reached over Kristabell and wacked the top of Rowan's head then snapped something at him. He grinned ruefully then and told Kristabell, “My sister tells me that I'm being rude. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” But he didn't stop smiling. Kristabell blushed some more then turned her attention back to the rest of the table.

They were a big bustling family in a way that Kristabell's family never had been. She and her parents had had good times together. They were a loving family but Kristabell had been raised by solemn parents and she had grown up to be a quiet person. After a time the conversation turned to Kristabell and the story of how she had been found unconscious in the forest. They took turns asking her questions and everyone seemed to be of the same opinion, that she had come through from another world. “There are many stories of this from the old country. They also say that the fairies could walk from one world to another with ease, but that the other world, the one that is closest to ours, probably your world, is hostile now, and difficult to navigate.”

After Mark, Rowan's father, had said this, and Rowan had translated for her, Kristabell had looked at him with big eyes. “Please tell me that the fairies aren't evil?” she asked, realizing that they seemed to speak of the fairies in a way that was quite distinct from the elves.

He laughed. “They are nothing like the elves. Some of the Fay are good. Some are ambivalent. They are all non-interventionist or neutral when it comes to our war with the exiled prince. There is a long mistrust between human and fay.”

Kristabell nodded, satisfied with the answer she had received. She had read too many books about fairies to have expected them to be good in a black and white sense, but at least they weren't evil. “Unicorns, fairies, elves, and goblins are all things that people tell stories about in the world that I came from, but no one sees them. Some of us hope that they're real, the unicorns anyway, but most people are convinced that they're just stories.”

Rowan translated and his family sat nodding and discussing until Bronwen turned to Leif and asked, “Play us some music?” Kristabell understood the whole sentence. Leif nodded, rose from the table and sat behind a large beautiful harp. It was an incongruous image. It was easier to imagine Leif wielding an axe than playing a harp, however, play the harp he did, and beautifully. Fenna sang along sometimes in a beautiful rich alto, as did Dunstan harmonizing with her in his boy soprano. Their music was beautiful and its delicate style reinforced the impression Kristabell had that these people must be at least in part descended from the Celts, or whatever they called the equivalent to the Celts in this world.

The evening was passing. It was getting late. Lief played one last song. A slow one. “This is a lullaby,” Rowan whispered to her. The melody made her feel very small, very young, and she wondered if the melody was one that existed in her world as well. It made her miss her parents. Everyone sat quietly for a moment after the music stopped and Rowan's mother said something that Rowan translated as, “Time for bed.” Fenna held out her hand and said, “Come.”

“I'll find you in the morning,” Rowan said to her, “and take you to see Gwydion, our Druid. He will be able to explain things to us a little better, help clear up your situation a little. Okay?”

Kristabell nodded and smiled hesitantly.

“Goodnight,” Rowan smiled, and then Fenna lead her away in the opposite direction.

Once up in the east room Fenna opened the wardrobe and pulled out a night gown. She filled a basin with hot water from a pitcher that she had filled in the kitchen on the way up, then closed the window shutters and pulled the heavy curtains over the windows. She went to the door and smiled a goodnight.

“Goodnight,” Kristabell said to Fenna.

Fenna's smile deepened. “Goodnight,” she said and softly closed the door behind her.

Kristabell looked around the room unsure, for a moment, of what to do then she realized that she really would like to lie down and went about the business of getting ready for bed. She took off her clothes and hung them up, took out the little moonstone earrings she'd been wearing and removed the chain with the ring on it from around her neck. It had belonged to her mother and she always kept it with her. She brushed her hair out then braided it, tying it with one of the grosgrain ribbons Fenna had given her, and went over to the basin and washed her face and hands in the herb infused water with the creamy soap that Fenna had also left for her. She towelled off her face and neck, brushed her teeth with tooth brush and tooth powder, then pulled the nightgown over her head and replaced the chain with its ring on it around her neck. She climbed into bed and blew out the beeswax candle that Fenna had left on her bedside. It was then that the enormity of all that had happened hit. She was not at home. She wouldn't be in her bed when her parents got home from work in the wee hours. They might never see her again. She might never see them again. She could leave her world behind easily enough, Kristabell had always found it an overwhelming assault to her senses, but to disappear from the people who had loved her and raised her without a trace? The idea of them not knowing where she was or if she was alive made her eyes water up. They were stoic people who would cope with her death, they would miss her if she was far away. She wasn't a small child, she was independent and mature and was used to the freedom that afforded her, but she knew her mother and father, and not knowing if she was okay would be the hardest thing of all. Kristabell rolled onto her side and snuggled into the big soft bed. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and let them close. Maybe this was all just a dream. Maybe she would wake up in her own bed in the real world, but she felt guilty for not wanting to. Maybe she was lying in the woods dying in the real world. Maybe she was already dead. At least someone will find my body and my parents will know that I'm dead.