Godric sat up with a start. His neck hurt and his back was sore. He had turned from his side to his back during the night; he had been so tired he had not removed his sword. He looked around, saw that the night was lyrically bright. Through the tree branches he could just make out a full moon overhead; Philip was sound asleep on his tree limb, his head tucked securely under his right wing. Godric smiled. Philip, he thought. An odd but good companion.
He reached for the leather belt holding the scabbard, slipped scabbard, sword and belt over his head and carefully placed them on the blanket beside him. He looked at Aspen also asleep where he had tied her. She nickered softly in the night, the moonlight shining off her dark skin. All seems to be well for a change, he thought, peaceful, quiet, the moon reflecting majestically on the water. He adjusted the saddle, leaned back resting his head on the cool leather.
Since the night had grown chilly, he pulled a smaller blank from his knapsack next to the saddle and drew it over his legs and chest. Lying on his back under the tree, he couldn’t see any stars, only dark leaves, and swatches of bright moon, now and then obscured by a passing cloud. Satisfied that all was well for the night, he closed his eyes again, briefly massaged his neck with his right hand, then dropped his arm to his side; once again he fell deeply asleep with no difficulty.
They came for him at 3 a.m. They rose from the moon-washed water as three dark figures, wearing black robes that covered them from neck to ankles, and they drifted towards his sleeping form as if blown by a gentle wind. They appeared to be three tall women of varying ages, one young and lovely with long dark hair gleaming in the moonlight. The second woman had shorter hair and appeared to be middle aged. Her eyes shown bright in the moonlight and her hair was covered with a dark hood. The third woman was, of course, seriously old and her face in the moonlight was seriously wrinkled. They could have passed for Macbeth’s witches, but they were not witches. They might have been the three Fates, the Norns from Norse myth, and in fact they certainly were functioning images of those three sisters, Urthr, Verthandi, and Skuld so named by Snorri Sturluson.
They were tall women, though the eldest, Skuld, was slightly stooped, a sign that gravity even affects supernatural beings as well as humans. When they reached the shore, they walked toward the ancient tree where Godric was fast asleep. Philip and Aspen shivered as the sisters approached, but no one awakened.
“Sisters,” said the youngest, “how shall we proceed? The same as always, youth to age or in reverse this time, age to youth?”
“Considering his youth and the nature of his concern here, age to youth. I do so enjoy these games! Set out the seven silver caskets.”
“All seven, Skuld?” Questioned Verthandi, the middle sister. “That’s a bit intense, don’t you think, and he’s so handsome and so young!”
“All seven. And do you see where he is now? Let’s waste no more of the night. It’s time.”
Godric opened his eyes and saw a tall lovely woman dressed in a black robe with hood, standing beside him in the moonlight. Her dark hair glistened, and the moonlight just brushed her nose and cheeks. Beside him and at her feet were seven silver caskets, each with different colored coin on its lid. The colors went from a dull brown, through yellow, blue, green, red, purple, and gold.
“Do you see the caskets, Godric? Choose one of the seven.”
“Yes,” he replied. “I’d have to be blind not to see them. Who are you? What are you doing here? Why must I choose one?”
“You may call me Raissa. Who, what and why will become clear as you do the choosing. Perhaps this is how the King of Ardor selects those worthy to be his daughter’s suitor. Or perhaps it’s just a game. Choose now. No more delay!”
Godric looked at the seven caskets beside him. “All right. Green.”
“Pick up the casket with the green coin and open it.” Godric did as she said. He opened the casket and peered within.
No sooner had he done so than he found himself in a bustling oriental market with booths filled with every conceivable product one could imagine. In his hand he was holding the green coin. A voice whispered in his head. You may buy one thing here, and only one.
Godric looked around in astonishment. There were booths with weapons of various kinds, oriental swords and daggers, katanas, throwing stars, weapons he had no name for, knives like the one the soldier he had knocked out carried. Brightly colored shields, which reminded him that he did not have a shield. He thought about trading the coin for a good shield, but then he looked around again.
Their were booths with women selling hearty hot meals. Booths with men hawking colorful blankets, leather knapsacks, considerably more substantial than his. Booths where sellers were offering fine metal armor or complete changes of fashionable clothes. Godric felt how shabby his own outfit had become, his leather shirt, vest , pants were worn. He thought how good it would be to have a fresh set of fine clothes for meeting the Princess. He looked at the green coin, obviously valuable.
He looked longingly at the suit, and was about to offer the coin when he heard a sound of someone weeping nearby. Godric looked around but couldn’t see the source. He walked down the market aisle, past the clothes, past the food, past the weapons. He stopped before a raised auction block; standing on it was a middle-aged woman dressed in what looked like a grey sackcloth dress that came just below her knees. The woman reminded Godric a bit of his mother; this woman was softly weeping, but trying hard not to. Her hands were bound in front of her; her cheeks were tear stained. She had a leather leash around her neck; a man standing near the side of the auction block was holding the end of the leash. Godric, it seems, had chanced upon another woman in dire straits. He started to reach for his sword, discovered he had no weapon but the knife on his belt.
He looked at the coin in his hand, gem like quality, obviously valuable. One thing! caromed through his mind. He looked at the man holding the leash. He looked back at the woman whose dark skin glistened in the intense light of day. Though he wanted to smash in the keeper’s face, he controlled his anger and offered him the coin. The man looked from the coin to Godric. “Isn’t she a bit old for you? You don’t have a woman your own age?” He bit the coin, tossed it up in the air, caught it and handed the leash to Godric.
Godric saw several of the man’s cronies moving toward the stage. “Come on,” he said to the woman who let Godric help her to the ground. He unsnapped the leash and dropped it on the ground.
“Hey,” yelled the slaver. “I can use that if you think you don’t need it.“ Godric picked up the leash and stuffed it inside his shirt. He found his knife on his belt, opened it and cut the ropes binding the woman’s hands. The woman had stopped crying; she smiled at Godric who decided she was really quite beautiful.
“Come on,” he said again. “Let’s find a way out of here.”
No sooner had Godric said the words than he found himself back on his blanket with six silver caskets beside him. Raissa was kneeling beside him.
“Choose again, young Prince, from the remaining six.” Her words came at him like a stern command.
“Blue.” Godric didn’t hesitate. He picked up the casket and opened it.
Image: Oops: hit the wrong button. Not unusual. Since chapter 11 showed up as “published,” I needed an image. This draft was the first and what I always call “rough.” So, who of all the women is she? All or none, doesn’t matter. If anyone got this far in the chapter, sorry about the draft, but at least I didn’t accidentally hit delete! I’ll work on the draft later, as it’s now 4:30 a.m. I should try to sleep a bit. The reason I couldn’t sleep earlier was that I was pregnant with the three sisters and the first casket. So to speak. Of course, the trees look as if they might be Aspen trees. Adriel?
Anyway, the chapter is now in its second draft, and, I hope, relatively free of obvious sins or errors. I had found a number of typos and other flaws that I had missed. Diction is always a concern too. In any case, it’s now off to twelve. Blue it is!
