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Rated: 13+ · Book · Fantasy · #1398736
Novel about the demon who haunts Windsor Great Park, Herne the Hunter
Chapter 1
 
‘The Curse Of The Hunter’

The girl’s jaw protruded mulishly and her blue eyes narrowed to slits as  she glared  back at the man.  Her blonde hair fell below her shoulders  and  was unbound which accounted for the fact that she looked more like a wild  animal than  a  civilized  human being.  She pulled one of the fronds  of  her  hair around  to her mouth and began chewing it.  The man’s lips compressed to  a thin  line before he turned back to stare out of the windscreen.  The  woman at  the steering wheel surveyed the man quickly, her soft brown eyes  taking in everything that was being said, then flicked back to the road ahead. The  man  turned around to face the  fourteen year-old teenager sulking on the rear  seat.  “We’re  going  to  Windsor Great Park.  I’ve told you once  Cerian.  If  you continue to sulk we’ll leave you in the car.”
           The autumn air had turned the verdant green leaves to various shades  of brown, from a dull russet to vibrant ochre.  A wind whipped up the leaves covering the road and hundreds more cascaded onto the roof of the car like a benediction. Cerian shivered  and  the sense of unease that had begun  to  pervade  her consciousness  for  the  past year made the hairs on the nape  of her  neck prickle.  She  had  felt like this twice before, once when she  had  visited Salisbury  with  her father and the second, she swallowed hard,  the  second was  when the class had been on an expedition to Urconium.  Ceri had  been standing  some distance away from where the archaeologists had  defined  the boundaries  of  the town and she had suddenly known that  a young  Roman centurion had been standing in exactly the same spot and had stared down at the  black  water  of the Severn.  Those other times she had  been  able  to retreat from the places and the fear that it engendered in her, but this  time Ceri  wondered how she could break away from it. The feeling  of  uneasiness grew  as  she stared at the falling leaves to her it seemed  as  though  they were falling  in  a  salute, “As if - as if they’re falling  for  a  King!” She whispered softly.  She turned and gazed out of the rear window of the  blue Range Rover.  The wind seemed to have become even stronger and  the  trees were tossing their heads.  Cerian stared hard at one then slowly she  began to perceive the shapes of Dryads within the trees.  The oak she was  staring at  was  a large red-bearded man, who bowed solemnly, and then it  was  a  tree again.  She turned to the other side of the road, and saw a  delicate  silver birch. Before her astonished gaze the form of a young girl appeared.  She bowed  courteously,  her black hair obscuring her face, and then it  was  as before, merely a silver birch. Cerian whimpered suddenly afraid. 
          Her mother turned around, “Everything all right Ceri?”  Cerian  swallowed  hard and said, “I’m fine Mum, I was  looking  at  the trees.” 
         “They  are pretty at this time of year,” her mother agreed smiling  at  her daughter’s  reflection in the rear-view mirror.  Cerian suddenly felt  afraid as if a cold hand had squeezed her stomach as she realised that only she could  see  the Dryads within each tree. 
         She slid down on the seat until her head was below the  top  of  it and shut her eyes tightly.  I don’t like  this,    she  thought fiercely, I don’t like it!  After almost thirty seconds she opened them and sat up, the leaves  were still falling from the trees, but the wind appeared to have lessened and  Ceri no longer saw the  Dryads.  She breathed a sigh of relief. 
         When  the car stopped, Cerian pushed open the door and scrambled  out.  She walked to the back of the vehicle. Her mother opened the boot and began taking out coats; she handed Ceri’s to her. “Do you want to come and have a look around the chapel?” she asked.
         “No.” Ceri replied sullenly.
         “No, Thank you”  Her  father  rebuked her sharply, “don’t speak to your mother like that!”
         “She’s not my mother!” Ceri snapped, “just leave me alone!” Then she was running away across the field leaving two dumbfounded adults behind her.
         Ceri’s father put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “She didn’t mean it, Connie love, she’s just upset about something.”
         Constance smiled wanly at her husband, “If you say so, Richard.”
         “Let’s go and take a look at what needs restoring.” Richard squeezed his wife’s shoulder; “Ceri will find us. If she hasn’t by the time we need to leave I’ll contact the Park Keepers.”
         Ceri ran, ran away as fast as her legs would carry her. Eventually she stopped, panting. She looked around, wondering where she was, the trees seemed to have closed in around her. She wiped the back of her hand across her nose and looked around. She didn’t recognise any of her surroundings,  and for a split second a wave of panic erupted in her and she nearly burst into tears again.  Suddenly a stag trotted out from between the trees. Ceri stood and stared at it, the stag regarded her quietly and then without any of the skittishness she would have expected bowed its head and knelt, it’s head bent so that its antlers were touching the ground. They remained like that for some moments, a strange tableau of child and animal.  Ceri stood, speechless and then she half-snarled, “What the fu – er flip!” she remembered just in time not to swear although her father did it all the time, especially when a book wasn’t progressing as well as expected.  The stag stood up, it was old by the standards of the stag world, Ceri could tell by the antlers which had had many seasons to grow and develop. It regarded her quietly for some moments, it’s dark liquid eyes seeming to look thoughtful and then it was gone, disappearing silently into the forest.
         Ceri stood watching the animal walk away, conscious that something unique had happened, and also strangely aware that she could never tell anyone.
She began walking again, more cautiously this time. As she passed the lake a figure emerged from the water, “Greetings, Lady.”
         Ceri rocketed backwards so fast she tripped and fell over, landing heavily on her behind. The creature laughed, a bubbly sound, like water running over stones.
         “What-what are you?” Ceri spat.
         “A Naiad,” the creature replied. “Don’t you know anything?” It added scornfully.
         “What’s your name?”
         “What’s a name?” the Naiad asked.
         Ceri frowned, “It tells other people who you are.”
         The Naiad smiled, “But this is who I am.” She raised a hand to gesture at the lake and Ceri realised that her arm was composed of moving water. There was a greenish tinge to it and Ceri saw small silver fish wriggling within the nymph’s arm. The sight made her feel quite ill. “But who are you?” she asked.
         The Naiad smiled showing sharp, pointed teeth, “I am the lake; the river, the stream; I flow from the mountains where water is solid, down to the rapids where the water bounces wildly off the rocks in its path and laughs its way to the great meandering river that flows through your valleys and down to the sea.”
         Ceri stared, the being’s voice had become suddenly deeper, the voice had taken on a new timbre and the woman’s eyes seemed to glow. “Come closer,” its voice bubbled, “come closer to the water. Rest your head on the moss that grows beside the pool and listen to the sound of running water.”
         Cerian’s head suddenly felt very heavy and she struggled to her feet and tottered across to the pool. She lay down on her side so that she could still see the woman. The Naiad smiled showing a long, bright red tongue and sharp pointed white teeth, and she began to speak again. Ceri felt her head becoming heavier and heavier until it was a relief to let her head fall until it rested on the soft moss by the side of the pool. She remembered watching the woman gliding towards her, her red lips slightly parted as if she was panting. Ceri watched a delicious feeling of excitement beginning in her stomach, as the creature bent over her, as if it was going to kiss her. Every fibre of her being seemed to quiver with anticipation.
         Suddenly it seemed as though the pool erupted outwards and a deluge of water soaked Ceri, jerking her into wakefulness. She wiped the water from her eyes and turned to the mere to see what had caused the explosion. Then she stopped. Another Naiad was in the pool, an old gentleman and he was holding the female as if she was a puppy. Ceri noticed absently that the weed that had been floating on the surface of the lake had now become his beard.
         “You were banished from here!” he snarled, “I forbade thee to enter this place when I came here. Why hast thou returned?” Then he saw Cerian, “I see why thou hast returned. So the prophecy has come true – but thou hast not succeeded. Return to thy masters, Dark One. Tell them that she is protected from such as thee. Now begone!” He threw the creature out of the pool and Ceri watched as the Naiad lost all shape and form and slowly vanished into the ground. The man turned to Ceri and offered her his hand, “My Lady.”
         Ceri turned to look behind her for the person he was talking to and then realised that he was addressing her. “I am sorry you were attacked. It was my intention to offer fealty to you when Tethys did, but I offer it now wholeheartedly and hope that you will forgive the outrage perpetrated on your person.”
         Ceri didn’t answer, her mind reeling. The Naiad nodded, “I see. Perhaps you are right, it is hard to forgive such an affront. Very well. Mayhap in the future you will find it within your heart to forgive the assault.” He began to sink back into the pool, his form vanishing as he merged with the water. Just as the top of his head was about to disappear, Ceri said suddenly, “Please don’t go!”
         He rose again until just his head was above the water. “You will forgive the Naiads of these pools for the affront?”
         “There is nothing to forgive.” Ceri said, and wondered where the words came from. “You did not allow the other- ” she tried the unfamiliar word on her tongue, “Naiad into your pool. I do not consider the fault yours.” How do I know what words to use, she thought.
         “Then my people shall serve you whenever you call us.” He replied. “I must leave you, my Lady. Your destiny awaits.”
         “I thought that to see a water-spirit would drive me mad,” Ceri said slowly.
         “Not you.” The creature replied shortly and then something like a smile appeared on the mouth. “You must go. Seek your Destiny.”  He began to slowly merge with the pool, becoming liquid again. “Seek your Destiny, my Lady.” And Ceri realised that the voice came from the lake. Slowly, still somewhat afraid she stared at the water and thought she heard the voice gurgle, “Your Destiny awaits, Lady.”
         Something like delight seemed to take hold of Ceri and turning she ran away from the water and into the main park her spirit singing. She reached the crest of a hill and stopped to catch her breath, and then she really did catch her breath as she raised her head and stared down at the mass  of woodland below her.  It was a blaze of colour.  Copper, crimson and chestnut leaves combined  to  make the forest look as though it was  on  fire. 
         She walked down slowly.  A group of visitors had halted to read a plaque set  up beside  an old gnarled tree.  They departed, laughing, as Ceri approached.  The  tree  was ancient and yet somehow Ceri felt waves of  power  emanating from it.  She turned her attention back to the plaque, ‘Herne’s Oak’ it  read, ‘Great Windsor Park is reputed to be the haunting place of Herne the  Hunter who  is supposed to appear when the thoughts of man turn to dark  desires.’  On  an impulse, Cerian slipped beneath the rope that cordoned the tree  off, keeping it away from the inquisitive hands of youngsters.  Carefully she  laid a  palm against it.  To her surprise, the tree felt as though it was vibrating slightly beneath it,  and although Ceri could never explain it later, it was as if  the  tree itself  welcomed  her.  Suddenly a voice said “Don’t put your hand  into  the holes  - I got tired of nasty little boys poking around my home  and  carving words on my property, so I installed a family of ferrets.”
         “Does it work?” Ceri inquired her blue eyes laughing.
         “Sort of.” The voice was gentle, “I’ve had no more problems. That’s  why  they cordoned the tree off.  Couldn’t risk any more people being bitten.  Not that I mind.  If they stay away nothing will happen to them.”  Cerian turned to face the speaker and saw a tall figure with antler horns jutting  from  his head; he appeared to be wearing a long fur garment  She  smiled tentatively and then she saw his eyes, the irises were golden and suddenly she was afraid.
         “Greetings,” he said, “may I be permitted to introduce myself?”
         Ceri opened her mouth to reply just as one of the park wardens came into view.  He  spotted  Cerian and walked across to them,
         “Get  away  from  the tree!”  he  yelled when he was within earshot, “you shouldn’t be  under  the barrier, come out at once!”
         Reluctantly Ceri slipped back beneath the rope, “I was only looking,” she tried to explain.
         “Yeah?” the sneer in the man’s voice was unmistakable, “and when I came back in ten minutes there’d have been another set of initials carved out of the tree, or another heart with an arrow through it!”
         “I was talking to someone,” Cerian stood her ground.
         “Yourself?  There’s  no-one  else here!” With that  the  warden  seemed satisfied and stalked off muttering to himself.
         Ceri’s  face blanched and she wheeled around to face the  figure, 
         “They can’t see you!” she spluttered.
         “Correct,”  the  figure replied, “I was about to introduce myself -  I  am Herne the Hunter.”
         Cerian’s  eyes widened and she finally whispered, “The man who  hanged himself on this tree!”
         The  figure  inclined  his  head and then  replied,  “Not  quite,  I  was murdered.  The only reason it is said that I am allied to the Dark is  because I appear when murder is in men’s hearts.  I lead The Wild Hunt that  forces that  Dark  Powers beyond the boundaries of Time, I could not do that  if  I were truly evil.”
         Cerian’s  eyes  narrowed speculatively, “You’re neither  Light  nor  Dark though, you are part of the Old Magic, which serves itself.”
         To her surprise Herne laughed a rich, full sound, then he gazed down at Ceri, “They  chose well when They chose you.  Tell me thy  name,  Lady.” The tone of his voice had become strangely formal and archaic.
         “Cerian  Aurelia Prichard.” she  replied making a small curtsy.          
         “A  Welsh  lass!”  The smile that played about the  firm  mouth  became broader. “Lady,”  to Cerian’s horror, Herne suddenly knelt before  her;  “I have been waiting for you for a long time.”
          “Please  get  up,” Cerian implored, then she said curiously, “how  could you know of me? For that matter how could anyone know of me?”
         “You have seen someone else?” Herne rose to his feet with one fluid motion that made Ceri envious.  “ Tell me who, Madam.”
         “Someone that called themselves a Naiad.” Ceri replied. “Well two actually.”
         “Tell me what you saw,” Herne took two quick steps across the ground and took both Ceri’s hands in his own, “Tell me!” he demanded.
         Slowly, haltingly Ceri told him what had happened and saw Herne’s eyes harden and his lips thin, “So it begins. Sooner than I had anticipated.”
         “What begins?” Ceri screwed her face into a frown and stared up at the creature.
         “Your Destiny.” The creature’s features softened and he smiled down at the girl, “I am glad you have come.”
         “What tried to stop me? And what would it have done to me?”  Ceri asked quickly.
         “That I can’t tell you.” Herne smiled sadly, “if you choose to help me you will know soon enough.”
         “Oh. Great!” Ceri turned and looked around for the park warden. No-one was in sight. “What are you?” she demanded.
         “A creature.” Herne replied, “Not subject to the same space and time laws that you are, but a creature nevertheless. It is you that I am concerned with.”
         “That’s bad grammar,” Ceri replied automatically, “you should say ‘It is with you that I am concerned.’ Why?”
         “My Lady,  prophecies have been made of you and tales told of you - it has  been written that when you came you would lift the curse of man from me.”
         “How?” Ceri stared at him, “I’m just an ordinary person.” She realised what she had said as the words landed in the empty air.
         “Are you?” the creature smiled, “I rather think that you are anything but ordinary.”
         “But you could be a hallucination,” Ceri spluttered. “Saint Bernadette had them all the time.”
         “Have you ever had hallucinations before?”
         “Not that I’m aware of.” Ceri smiled sheepishly.
         “Then I would venture to say that what you’re experiencing at the moment is not a hallucination.”
         “But why now? Why here?”
         “As soon as you reached your tenth birthday you were chosen.” The  creature smiled again, “and the moment you came into the park every creature within these environs would have known who you were. You must have seen the dryads.”
         “I saw something. People. Within the trees.”
         “Yes.” Herne smiled, “the dryads. They showed you their fealty. Every creature of my world has known of your existence from the moment of your conception. It was written that when you returned you would lift the curse of man from me.”
         “Then the writing is false,” Cerian eased herself around the other side of the tree and fled.  She was certain that she did not follow the path yet wherever she walked a  path opened up for her, the trees seemed to uproot themselves  and  move for  her as they would for a sovereign.  Then they began to  change  shape.  It was like watching a ghost appear within each tree.  Cerian stopped  and stared  in amazement, the trees were dancing!  That wasn’t quite  true,  she reflected, the trees weren’t dancing. Instead each dryad had moved from  its respective tree, and now formed a corridor in front of Cerian.  She could see their solidity before her eyes and yet she knew that if she tried  to  touch them her hands would pass through them as if they were smoke.
           At the  end of  the  gathering of Dryads, another figure appeared that of Herne, Ceri almost sobbed with relief.  Slowly  she  began  to  walk past the  row  of creatures  and  was absolutely disgusted when as she passed, each dryad dropped to one knee as if giving  homage to a Queen.  As she reached him, Herne  took  her  cold hands  in his own and his golden eyes looked into Ceri’s blue ones  and  he said, “They offer you their fealty - to reject it would be unworthy of you.”
         How can I accept it when I am not virtuous?” Ceri demanded.
         “Because  you have been chosen,” Herne replied, “Lady, you must accept this - turn and speak,  the words will come.”
         Cerian  swallowed  hard and then turned and faced the assembled  tree-spirits behind her, for a moment panic threatened to overwhelm her and then she  felt the light touch of Herne’s hand on her shoulder.  She took  a  deep breath  and opened her mouth; “I thank you for the honour you  give  me,” Ceri  smiled,  “for you are more worthy of honour than I, for  I  have  not earned it.  But I thank you.” The  wood seemed to revolve and Cerian suddenly felt  dizzy, she  felt Herne’s hand on her elbow, “They will celebrate your arrival, our business is elsewhere.” The  dryads parted for them as they  left  the circle. 
         Once outside the group of spinning wood-spirits Herne bowed again and offered her his arm, “Come, daughter.”  When  they were halfway down the path Herne said, “You’ll have  to  get used to their allegiance, you will probably find that it happens wherever  you go.”
         Cerian winced perceptibly and howled, “But I don’t want to be different!  Well I did, but not this different!”  Her voice ended on a wail.
          “I trust you will cope,” Herne responded, “but you will have little time at present,  there are others whose wish it is to be allowed to give  thee their fealty.”
         “Oh,” Cerian said slowly, the air about them suddenly felt taut and  then they were walking through a pair of what seemed to Ceri to be familiar gates. She turned to view them more closely and said, “This is Hyde Park!”
         Herne nodded without stopping, “Yes, my Lady.  The creatures who offer you their allegiance have come here.”
         “More dryads?” She asked quickly, and a little colour came into her  pale face.
         “Not  this time, Lady,” Herne escorted her along a woodland path  where great  trees grew on either side, Cerian watched with a sort of numbness  as each  bowed its leafy head in acknowledgment.  They emerged onto a  green carpet of grass, ahead of them the afternoon sunlight sparkled on an expanse of  water,  Ceri turned  to  Herne, a  quizzical  look  in  her  eyes, “The Serpentine?”
         Herne  gently  released her arm and bowed deeply, “Lady, I must  leave you  for a short moment, for one comes who is as great as I; without  whose allegiance you will never succeed.”
         Cerian turned, the water began to bubble alarmingly and as Cerian stared at  it  she  saw a group of young men break the surface  bearing  a litter, Cerian  saw a tall imposing figure, caught sight of the circlet of gold  bound around the brow, and immediately dropped to one knee her eyes firmly  fixed on the water.
         A low laugh broke from the figure and it said, “Up, child and let me look at you.” Cerian  rose to her feet and found herself gazing at a  handsome, dark-haired  woman;  her dress appeared to change colour from blue to  green  to grey, undulating all the time.  Like the sea, Ceri thought.
         “I am Tethys,” the woman said, “you have heard of me?”
         Cerian’s  face  shone as if a lamp had been lit within her,  “Aye,  Lady.  You are Empress of the Deeps and when the wind is high and the waves leap to touch the sky the children of Adam fear you.”
         “They  have good reason.”  The woman smiled warmly.  “Many  fear  me.  Yet -” she paused while the grey eyes, cold and calculating, surveyed Ceri, “yet you do not, you are in awe of me but there is no fear in you.”
          “Madam,” Cerian curtsied, “I have loved you almost since I was born -  I have  loved you when the waves beat upon the boat and the  wind screamed past the ear like a ravening demon.  I have embraced you wholly to me every time I dived from the boat and I have felt your embrace as the waves leapt so that I was drenched with spray.  Why should I fear you?”
         Tethys gazed at her for a long moment and then flung back her head and laughed,  her  eyes focused  on someone behind  Cerian, “A  wise choice, Cernunnos.” Herne bowed, “Empress, I was merely the servant, the gods chose her.”
         Tethys nodded thoughtfully, her red lips curved in what might have been the suggestion of a smile, “You have my blessing, Cerian, for all things  that dwell  in the waters beneath the earth are bound to me - but they  will  now also serve you.  If you need mine or any of my servants’ aid, you have only to call.  May you succeed, Princess.” A true smile touched the grim mouth and she looked up at the being standing behind Cerian, “she has the mark of a struggle upon her Lord.”
         “She has already encountered the Dark, Madam.”
         “And?”
         “And  Thy husband vanquished the creature.”
         Tethys looked hard at Ceri, “Did she touch you child?”
         “No, Empress.”
         “But I see her words did. Would you let me touch you to see if I might identify her?”
         “I will.” Ceri stepped forward slowly into the lake, instantly the Naiads were either side of her, holding her up and guiding her towards the woman seated on the dais. Tethys knelt so that their faces were inches apart and then said, “My companions will dip you in the water that I might see your mind. Take a deep breath now.”
         Ceri inhaled as hard as she could and felt the cold waters close over her head, then she was raised so that she lay on her back, looking up at the sky. Something, or rather someone was holding her up, although she couldn’t see anyone she could hear the laughter of the naiads all about her. Tethys bent over her and raising her hand water dripped from the ends of her fingers into Ceri’s eyes. Ceri blinked as the salt stung, “Sleep.” Tethys intoned softly, “sleep and dream of what you saw today.”
         Ceri’s eyes opened very wide as her pupils dilated to an enormous size and then they closed again, Tethys watched her for an instant and then nodded to her court. With one motion, the girl was drawn down into the limpid depths of the lake, Tethys smiled at Cernunnos, “She will be safe, Horned One, I promise thee this.”
         “I know that, Lady,” Herne smiled and the smile seemed to soften his stern features, “you would not harm her. But while she has no awareness of who she is and what she is, she is vulnerable.”
         “Not in my realm.” Was that laughter Herne heard in Tethys’ voice, “she will be as safe as if she were in the Mother’s hand.”
         “Then I wait, Empress.”
         “So be it, Lord of the Trees.” Then Tethys herself had disappeared into the lake.
         To Ceri it seemed as though she moved through a green mist. She was aware of others holding her and then darkness took hold of her and she dreamt.  She was back in Windsor Great Park walking along the path, yet she was also acutely aware that she was an observer, she smiled wryly as the stag bowed again and then felt suddenly afraid as she remembered what was about to happen. As the Naiad began to cast its spell, she began to struggle, to try and reach out to the child about to be maimed or killed.
         Peace, the word was soft and all at once the image dissolved, and with the word came so many images of rest and sleep that she was powerless to resist them and darkness took her once again. She opened her eyes slowly. She was warmly wrapped in blankets and from the corner of her eye she could see bright tongues of flame licking the chilly air.
         “What-“ she sat up and as she did so, realised she was completely naked. A movement to her left caught her eye and she hurriedly pulled the blanket over her again. Herne knelt beside her and almost as a father might he wrapped another blanket around her front.
         “Your clothes are dry,” Herne said more gently seeing the fright in her pale face. “But I thought you might like something hot to drink first.”
         Ceri nodded, still not trusting herself to speak, Herne handed her a pewter mug and she carefully extended a white shaky hand from the blankets to take it.  Herne smiled and moved around behind her, for a moment Ceri thought she was alone and then she felt him kneel behind her and wrap his arms around her. Warmth slowly crept into her frozen frame. She sipped the drink and was surprised to find it was hot, rich cocoa. “How long-?” her voice cracked and she tried again, “How long was I unconscious?”
         “A little over ten minutes of your time.” Herne said softly, “Tethys apologises, she forgot that it might cause you distress to relive what happened, but she saw enough within your mind to know that you only encountered the Dark, it did not taint you.”
         “Good.” Ceri smiled, “If the ritual of purification was anything like that experience, I’m not sure I could go through with it.”
         “Lord Cernunnos,” a gentle voice interrupted them.
         Both turned to see that Tethys had risen from the lake, with her retinue. “How are you, child?”
         “Well, Empress.” Ceri replied.
         “Good. I returned to apologise. Our methods must seem strange to you. I perceive that this creature of the Dark had no lasting effect. Therefore, to you I pledge my support and that of my friends and allies.”
         Cerian smiled up at the female, “Thank you, Empress.” The waters bubbled again and when Cerian looked up, Tethys and all  her retinue had disappeared back into the lake. She grinned up at Herne, “I’d better get dressed, my parents would have a fit if they saw me looking like this.”
         “Aye,” Herne nodded, he turned his back and waited until Cerian said, “You can turn around now.” He smiled when he saw her running her fingers through her wet hair and produced a comb. “May I, Lady.”
         Ceri nodded and as Cernunnos touched her tresses with the comb, they dried instantly, she felt Herne take another handful of damp hair and heard him say, “Well done, Lady, you have behaved with dignity and courage. Tethys approves of  you.  You  have proved yourself worthy, Lady.”
         Cerian  stared dumbly at him and then snapped, “Instead of speaking  in riddles, Master Herne, perhaps you would care to explain what I’m supposed to do for you.  You might also care to explain why these Naiads and  Dryads keep bowing to me and why in Heaven I should be so honoured!”  While  Ceri had been speaking the scene around them shifted until they stood facing one another in the middle of Windsor Great Park.
         Herne  turned away from her, “I cannot even begin to explain that  until you agree to help.”
         “And  I’m not sure that I want to help unless you tell me a  few things!”  Cerian retorted, her anger threatening to overwhelm her.”
         “We  seem  to have reached stalemate,” Herne sighed, “Very well.  If  it will  help  you  choose  I will tell you a little  and answer  some  of  your questions.”
         Cerian  waited silently.  Herne looked out across the park and  began  to speak.  “Many writers and historians assume that Artus, Second True  High King  of All Britain appeared just at the right moment in order to  unite  the warring Saxons - they were wrong.  Artus was prophesied about long before King  Uther Pendragon lay with Igrayne, Duchess of Cornwall.”  He  paused, Cerian  was listening quietly, “and there are also prophecies that relate to you, Lady, that were written many centuries before you were born.”
         Cerian swallowed hard, her blue eyes wide, “Would you tell me one?” She pleaded softly.
         Herne  smiled, the stern mouth relaxing under Cerian’s gaze, “I will  tell you  the one I remember, it runs something like this; The Hunter’s days  are drawing to a close.  For a girl has been given freely, a child born, and  she shall be called, Much Loved, Princess, Keeper of the San greal and with  her birth the Salvation of the Hunter is nigh.”  He stopped and then turned his gaze onto Ceri, “I believe that you are the one, I have appeared to others, but none of them accepted my presence the way that you did.”
         “No.”  Cerian said suddenly.  She began walking purposefully away  from him,  the  trees bowing to her as she passed.  Cerian  kept her  head down and looked neither left nor right, If I don’t admit anything’s happened, nothing will, she thought firmly.  She emerged from the forest and  took  a deep  breath of the sharp, but not yet cold, air.  Relief swept over  her  as she recognised her parents walking towards her. 
         She turned and saw  Herne behind her, “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “but this is scaring me more  than you  can imagine.  I cannot help you; I don’t know why you thought I  could.  Goodbye.”  Cerian was conscious of Herne’s eyes upon her as she  plodded towards her parents.
         “Did you enjoy yourself, Ceri?”  The woman asked.
         Ceri  smiled,  ”Yes thanks, Mum.  I got a bit lost in the  forest but  a very kind man found me and brought me back here.”
         “Your  father’s been into the chapel and had a look at some of the remains of the tapestries that were destroyed by the fire.” her mother said,
         “Can some of them be restored?” Ceri swept her fair  hair  back from her face and surveyed her parent with clear blue eyes.
         “Possibly.”  Her father remarked, “but I must write up the notes I made and contact the Society. If we undertook the restoration it would be a six-month long project here.  I’d be away most of the time.”
         “Could I come with you?” Ceri asked quickly.
         Her father shook his head, “No, love. You’ll be back at school when we start work. If you’re interested in the history of this park then I’ll bring you back here after Christmas. I’ve some books on it at home.”
         “I’ve read one.” Ceri said, “all about Herne the Hunter. Do you think he exists?”
         For a moment Ceri saw something indefinable pass across her father’s face, like the shadow of a cloud across the land, then it was gone and he replied, “Get in. That particular book was really about a King who couldn’t resist a pretty face, and who had he reigned this century would have brought the monarchy down. Want to sit in front?”
         “Please!”
         Cerian clambered into the front seat car and fastened her seat belt.  About  five minutes later both her parents climbed into it.  “Home, James,” her father said slipping the car into gear.
         “And don’t spare the horses!” Ceri and her mother chorused.  He started the vehicle and gingerly eased  it  out  of  its parking place.  Leaves covered the road ahead of them and coated the roof of the car and continued to fall as it beetled down the drive.  Cerian cringed on the seat and felt like a traitor.
         “I presume you know about Henry VIII,” her father began.
         “The one with six wives?” Ceri nodded, “I learnt about him at school. I thought he was just slightly eccentric.”
         “Henry started off as the Golden Prince, the world was at his feet.  But his desire to have a son above all things ate away at him until he became a monster.”
         “But he had Elizabeth,” Ceri said puzzled, “and she was one of the greatest monarchs of the age.”
         “But he would not have seen it that way,” her father replied, “Woman never had the same status as men – Henry would have sent his daughters to the wolves if it would have given him a son.”
         “So he murdered two of his wives because he could?”
         “I wish it were that simple.  Certainly he sent Anne Boleyn to her death on what most people believe are now trumped up charges.  Catherine Howard was a foolish sixteen year-old who flirted with men and didn’t seem to realize that because of her status as Queen it would reflect badly on her.  Catherine Howard was a stupid girl, Anne Boleyn was more than likely set up.” her father paused, “Herne the Hunter only appears, or is supposed to appear when there are people around who have thoughts of murder. Windsor was home to Henry VIII”
         “Grim,” Ceri said, “but do you think the Hunter’s evil?”
         “I don’t know,” her father replied, “perhaps not evil, but dangerous all the same.”
         “Why?”
         “Because he commands neither the Light nor the Dark and that makes him very dangerous, because he’s unpredictable. But-” he turned briefly to Ceri, “you’ll have to make your own choices, if you ever come face to face with the Hunter.”
         “And I’m likely to do that,” Ceri hoped that she put the right amount of sarcasm into her voice and felt a great tide of relief as her Dad’s face relaxed. She relaxed letting the seat support her tense muscles and gradually the motion of the car made her eyelids heavy and lulled her to sleep.
         She woke just as the Range Rover was turning into their drive, “I’ll shut the gate, Dad,” and she was out of the car before Dad could protest. Once closed she leant on it for a moment looking out across the landscape, and thought again that she lived in one of the most beautiful places in all of England and that nowhere could compare with it.
         As she walked up to the house the wind plucked at her eyelashes and hair and the trees seemed to have gone wild, “I’ll just  take  Rufus out for a run,” Ceri said quickly as she stepped into the kitchen.
         “Don’t  let  him  escape into next door’s garden,” Mum  warned  as  Ceri slipped out the back door. She trudged up the garden, Rufus bounding at her heels.  The wind  whipped at the cerise jacket she had pulled over her  jeans and blue sweatshirt.  She  watched the trees numbly as they bent almost  double  in the  wind and again she saw the dryad within each one  bowing to her.
         Herne  materialized beside her, “I did try and tell you,”  he said  quietly,  ”Unfortunately, your Destiny  has  already  been made.”
         “I  always  believed that my Destiny was in  my own  hands,” Cerian replied.
         “I  wish,” Herne replied.  He laughed harshly and then  said, “I  told  you, you were prophesied about when  this  country  was being torn apart by the Saxons.”
         “But  by all rights it is up to me whether I help you or  not.”  Cerian’s eyes flashed blue fire.
         “Of  any  normal being that would be true,” Herne’s  citrine eyes  held  Ceri’s, “but there are some who because of the  time they  were born, or the day they were born, have no choice of Destiny.”
         “Are  you  telling  me that I was born  on  a special  day?”  Cerian asked softly.
         “You  were  born  on midwinter’s day,  when the  sun’s  rays touched  the altar stone.  It is the shortest day of the year and one of  the Great Festivals.”  Herne’s voice was gentle, “when the Giant’s  Dance  was first erected on midwinter’s day the sunlight poured through the arch to  fall in  a sparkling pool of light on the altar stone and one of our  noblest  gods was revealed.  Mithra.”
         “You’re talking about Stonehenge!” Ceri said delightedly.
         Herne  looked  outraged, “That Circle  was constructed  long after  the first Giant’s Dance, most of that stands at the  place you  and  your fellow men call Stonehenge.”  Herne seemed  to be looking inward his eyes faraway.
         “Who was Mithra?”
         Another  smile enhanced Herne’s features, “Your books will tell you  that he  was  a good spirit who attended on the Lord of Life, Ahuramazda.  Our legend is one that tells of Mithra as the same, a good spirit, It is said  that in  the  gardens of the Lord of Life, there dwelt a white  bull,  Ahuramazda wept because this bull’s blood could bring life to the barren and wasted earth yet the only way that this could be accomplished would be if one who served Him would  become    human and suffer at the hands  of  Evil, Mithra  volunteered,  and Ahuramazda created him a soldier, and bade him take  the  bull  to a Holy place and sacrifice it.  Ahriman,  the  Power  of Darkness, sent plagues to drive the White Bull back, so Mithra tethered the bull and went out to fight Ahriman.  Ahriman set a plague of boils upon him.  When this failed to stop Mithra he sent fire to burn him.  Badly wounded now,  Mithra brought the bull to the Holy place, the first  living  creature.  When he arrived, he forced the bull to kneel while he sacrificed it.  From the bull’s blood sprang all life on earth and Mithra too died at the White Bull’s feet.  Legend runs that the Sun himself came down and dressed the  wounds of Mithra, then he laid his hand upon him and restored him to life, they shared a meal together and Mithra ascended into heaven.  He stands on  the right hand of the Invincible Sun.”
         “Sounds like the God my parents believe in.”
         “It doesn’t matter what men call the Light, Mithra,  Artus, Christ.  The Light has had many names over the ages and if men do  things that are right  for  right’s sake, then they follow the Light.  But  I  am digressing.  I need your help, please?”
         Cerian shook her head again, “I’m just an ordinary person - I mean - I always felt different - but-but-”
         Then Herne did something that unnerved Cerian completely, he took  both her small hands and said, “Lady, Tethys, Queen of the Springs and  Neaps,  Empress of the Tides would  not offer her fealty  to anyone.  That she gave  you permission  to command beneath  the  waters is almost proof positive that this  is your Destiny.”
         “That  old  chestnut  again,” Cerian whistled sharply  and Rufus  came bounding up to them.  Ceri patted him absentmindedly and the bearded collie leapt up at her planting its paws on her chest, nearly knocking Ceri off  her feet.  Herne snapped his fingers and Rufus dropped back on all  fours  and licked Ceri’s hand.
         “Will you help me?”
          “You’re immortal - why on earth do you need my help?”
         Herne  looked  away from her and for a  brief second  Cerian thought  he looked ashamed, “I am under a curse,” he said finally, “I  have haunted many places but the last time was about four hundred years ago.  I appear  when murder is in the air.  I am so weary of this curse. I was told that  one day a girl who could see beyond the visible world would  come and release me from it. Please?”
         In the grey blue twilight of an Autumn evening Herne saw  the shine of tears in Cerian’s eyes, she took both Herne’s hands and said, “If it is within my power to grant you rest and peace I shall do so,” she smiled,  “I can promise no more than that, Master Herne.  If as you say I am the key to your salvation I shall help you.”
         Herne bowed formally, his antlered head just brushing the top of Ceri’s hair, “Your truly deserve your name, Cerian.  I thank you, Lady.”  The  cold nose of the collie made Cerian start and when  she looked  around Herne had disappeared and there was only the  wind in the trees and the white face of the moon gazing down coldly on the young girl and the dog. 



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