Wynter's Tales

The Missing Crown

Daisys and buttercups scattered in meadows sway in summer breezes on summer days.

The Summer Equinox, often referred to as Midsummer is an exciting time in Gwaine Wood. In some respect, the longest day of the year is a sad day. Although the days grow warmer, the Summer Equinox signals the days are about to grow shorter. That the dark nights will come earlier and last longer. Summer is wanning. Soon Autmn will be here. A time when the residents of Gwaine Wood connect with their ancestors. Then the Winter Equinox will be upon them. A time when the days grow longer and lighter once more.

The residents of Gwaine Wood loved a celebration, and the Summer Equinox was no different

Jorge chuckled as he sat on a kitchen chair and pushed a cup towards Nattie. ‘Are you looking forward to the celebrations?’ he asked.

‘I am. But have you heard the latest?’ Nattie asked. Her eyes wide with relish over the gossip she had.

Jorge leant forward. The man loved gossip just as much as she did. ‘Heard what?’ he asked, pushing a slice of apple cake towards Nattie.

‘Ruby’s standing in as the Goddess, and the oak horned crown is missing.’

‘Who told you this?’ Jorge asked, dipping a cookie into his tea. His eyes wide as he waited for Nattie to divulge the latest titbit.

‘Molly. She and Nellie closed shop early. I know Nellie said we weren’t having a stall this year. In fact, I heard there were only a few stalls. And they’re mainly food and fireworks. But Nellie and Molly. Well, they volunteered to help set everything up. Why, Molly even made some cheese. – And it was while they were going through the inventory of items, they discovered the crown was missing.’ Nattie sipped her tea. ‘That’s when Lavender told them Ruby was to be this year’s summer goddess instead of Azura.’

‘Oh, and Azura made such a beautiful goddess at the winter festival. Why didn’t they ask Rosemund? She was a beautiful May Queen?’

‘Rosemund thought it best to give someone else a chance.’ Nattie smiled. ‘Nellie said, Lavender wasn’t happy when it was hinted Azura might have kept the crown. You know how she dotes on the cousins.’

‘Has anyone mention this to Azura?’ Jorge asked.

‘How can they when she’s visiting Robin’s Down. You know she was called away by the council. Trouble there as well.’ Nattie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘But what, no one’s saying.’

Jorge glanced at the clock. There was still plenty of time before the festival, and ceremony were expected to begin. ‘I think we should go help. The cakes are packed. We can take them with us.’

Nattie smiled as she pushed her empty cup and plate to the side. Jorge made a delicious cake. She had shared a slice lathered with butter, along with a couple of cookies. She did love cake. If she could, she would have it for breakfast, lunch, tea, supper, and in-between. ‘I thought that’s what you would say,’ she said. 

When Nattie and Jorge arrived at the ceremonial field, there was a heavy breeze, and the sun shone bright, and their arms and hands ached from carrying the baskets crammed with goodies.

Nattie smiled as she stepped through the open gate. ‘Thank goodness the rain has held off,’ she said, frowning at the wet grass.

‘You could have worn boots,’ Jorge said, proud of his blue wellies as he flashed a leg at her.

‘It wouldn’t have mattered. I’m going barefoot when it all begins. Now, where are Nellie and Molly?’ Nattie asked, glancing around the field.

‘Over there,’ Jorge said, turning from Nattie to wade, and jump in the odd mud puddle as he headed for a table laden with food galore.

‘Once you heard about the missing crown, Nattie, I knew you would turn up.’ Molly said.

‘Where’s Lavender?’ Nattie asked, scanning the area around her.

Nellie chuckled. ‘Left in a storm. Wasn’t happy with what was being said.’

‘Where have you looked?’ Jorge asked, tucking his baskets on the ground beneath the table.

‘Eabha searched her cottage. She’s sure Lucien returned it after last year’s celebration,’ Nellie said.

Molly smiled. ‘He was magnificent as the Oak King. Mind you. He always is.’

‘There’s Lucien. Unhappy as ever. You would think he would be enjoying himself. After all, he is the centre of attention,’ Nattie said.

‘It doesn’t look well on him. First, he lost Lucinda. And now the crown is missing. Earl is worried about this year’s harvest. But all looks fine to me,’ Molly said.

‘Earl is a worrier,’ Jorge said.

‘Well standing here gossiping isn’t going to find the crown.’ Nattie said.

‘No point going to Eabha. I was there when she searched the cottage,’ Nellie said.

Nattie glanced around the field. Watching the villagers busy in their preparations for the celebration. The children, along with Tristan, her nephew, were building a bonfire that once lit would be kept alight for almost twenty- four hours. Then in the early hours of the morning, to help greet the sun as it rose on the longest day of the year, fireworks would be set alight.

However, the celebration would not end there. They would continue well into the night when more fireworks would be set off to say goodbye to the long days and short nights as summer began its journey to end, and hello to the short days and long nights. Confirmation, autumn, and winter were approaching.

Nattie looked further afield. The crops were doing well. The blackberries were flourishing. They should have a good harvest this year, she thought. Although the crown was missing and there was no news of Lucinda’s return, Nattie felt good. Because they did their best with what they have, their ancestors never let them down. ‘It’s strange, isn’t it,’ Nattie said.

‘What is?’ Nellie asked.

‘Lucinda has been gone, what, twenty-five, thirty years. And this is the first time one of the crowns should go missing.’

‘I miss Lucinda. And so do Fallon and Lucien,’ Molly said, coming to stand beside her friends. In the basket she held, were several bottles of wine. ‘Elderberry – Mrs Earl sent them,’ she said noticing Nattie’s glance.

‘They’ll go lovely with the cake,’ Jorge said.

‘As I’m bringing fish – We’ll throw them on the edge of the bonfire with the potatoes. They’ll bake quite well,’ Nellie said.

‘But in the meantime, we need to find the crown,’ Nattie said.

‘If it’s not at Eabha’s or Azura’s, I don’t know where it could be,’ Nellie said.

‘And Lucien says he hasn’t got it,’ Molly said.

‘No. Like Eabha and Azura, I searched the cottage,’ Lucien said, approaching silently. His red hair, and amber eyes the only clue to his other identity, Spessartite, the fox

‘I’m off to visit Violet. Maybe she can cast a location spell,’ Jorge said.

The three women, and Lucien, smiled deeply, knowing how fond Jorge was of the witch as they watched him retrace his steps, and headed back to the village.

‘Lucien and I will have a hunt around,’ Nattie said. ‘Try and retrace his steps from that night.’

‘That was six months ago, Nattie. I’m not sure I remember exactly what I did or where I went. My head was fuzzy for days.’

Nattie scowled at the young man. ‘You might not. But I’m sure Spessartite can. With his nose we’re bound to be able to retrace your steps. Find out where you wandered off to. And hopefully we’ll find your lost crown on the way.’

‘Molly and I have plenty to be getting on with here. There’s still the fire wheel to complete and the altar to decorate. And Drucilla and Pricilla have been practising the drum and flute all day,’ Nellie said.

Nattie nodded. Then turned to Lucien. ‘Go do your thing. I’ll meet you by the ceremonial oak tree.’

‘I’ll walk with you, Nattie. It’ll not take me but a moment to change,’ Lucien said.

Unlike Lucien who has the capabilities to change into a fox. Nattie had no gifts. She was one of the plain people. When they reached the oak tree, the oldest tree in the wood, Nattie took a deep breath as she touched the aged bark of the trunk. The power surging through her tingled her fingers. She may be one of the plain people, but she loved her village, and its residents. The brush of fur against her legs had her glancing down, and she scratched Spessartite under the chin. ‘Okay, Spessartite. Do your magic. Take me to the places Lucien visited last Winter Solstice.’

Spessartite shook his tail. Then ran towards the path leading deep into the wood. Nattie followed, breathing in the summer air. The sun was high, and warm. However, the thick canopy of leaves kept her cool. The leaves fluttered in the gentle breeze. Twigs snapped and branches bounced as squirrels jumped from tree to tree, keeping just out of sight of the fox. A rabbit or two scurried across the path, quickly hiding beneath the undergrowth from Spessartite, who had no interest in them as he snuffled the ground. Stopping occasionally to dig at the dirt. Nattie often stopped, pushing branches aside as she searched beneath them. But no crown was to be found.

As they wandered deeper into the wood, Nattie wished she never volunteered to go with Lucien, as his adventures of the Winter Solstice wandered further than she had thought. Occasionally, the fox stopped his sniffing, and digging to watch a frog hop on its journey. If the odd butterfly caught his attention, Spessartite would yip and chase it. As the afternoon progressed, Nattie grew weary from the long walk. Just as she was about to suggest they return to the field; a cottage came into view.

‘So, Lucien, likes to spend his time with Laurel Lovage, does he,’ she said to herself.

Spessartite twirled his tail as he bounded towards the gate. When Nattie reached the open door of the cottage, Lucien was sat at a table, pouring tea.

“Do come in, Nattie,” the caretaker of the wood said. 

Jorge whistled as he approached the cottage. Blue hydrangeas filled one corner. A gooseberry bush another, and primroses and poppies, filled a pot by the door. A cat missing an ear, lay beneath a hazelnut tree. With a jolly. ‘Ahoy, Violet. It’s me. I’ve brought you a gift.’ Jorge ambled up the path.

From the side of the house, a face appeared. Violet’s smile bright when she spotted her guest. ‘Jorge, how delightful to see you. Come, I’m in the back.’

Jorge followed Violet to the back garden. Another cat, this one with both his ears, lay on a garden seat. He was old, and grumpy, and glared at their visitor. ‘Ho, Buttercup,’ Jorge said, thinking who wouldn’t be grumpy with a name like Buttercup. The old ginger cat stretched, turned, curled, then went back to sleep.

‘What’s this gift you have for me?’ Violet asked. Her deep purple eyes twinkling as she accepted the elderberry wine Jorge had sneaked from the bounty Molly hid beneath the table. ‘My favourite. And I bet it’s one of Mrs Earls?’ she said.

Jorge chuckled as he accepted a glass. ‘She does make an exceptional wine,’ he said.

‘Is this a social call, Jorge, or have you come to escort me to the festival?’ Violet asked.

‘Why can’t it be all three?’ he asked.

‘What’s the other reason?’ Violet asked, enjoying the wine slithering down her throat like the purest silk.

‘Have you heard the gossip? The oak horned crown is missing. Eabha and Lavender have looked in the most obvious places, but with no luck at finding it.’

‘What about Fallon?’

‘He hasn’t got it either.’

Violet leant back in her chair and stared at the sky. ‘Oh dear. And we don’t have time to make and bless another. So, what can I do?’

Jorge smiled. He was rather fond of Violet. She may be a little absent minded. But she was good company. Especially when it came to playing cards. He might have lost more games than he had won. However, he could spend the day in her company without a care in the world. ‘I was wondering if you could cast a spell or something. Maybe provide a clue to where it could be,’ he said.

‘Enjoy the wine, Jorge. I’ll go fetch my map and pendulum.’

Jorge was just topping up Violet’s and his glass when the witch returned. ‘Be a dear. Make room on the table,’ she said, unfolding and placing the map on the table just as Jorge pushed their glasses out of the way. Then she hung the pendulum above the map of the village and wood, letting it swing and twirl for several moments. Then it stopped and dropped. ‘Why, it’s at the field. Let’s go,’ Violet said. 

As Jorge and Violet arrived at the ceremonial field, a crowd was gathering. It was late evening. Soon the sun would set. The bonfire would burn, and the dancing would begin. Time would be lost as the hours passed in a hazy blur of bliss. Jorge glanced around. ‘There’s Nellie and Molly. Maybe they can help find the crown.’

‘Are you sure, Violet?’ Nellie asked after Violet informed everyone what she had discovered in her scrying.

‘We searched the field thrice with no luck.’ Molly said.

‘That’s what the map says,’ Violet said looking around her. ‘’It’s here in the field.’

‘Maybe if Lucien turned into Spessartite. He might have more luck this time in finding it,’ Nattie said.

‘Look. Look, what I have on my head,’ said Tristan, Nattie’s nephew, as he danced across the field.

‘Where did you find that?’ Nellie asked as everyone stared at the boy.

‘Amongst the fireworks. It was at the bottom of the chest.’ Tristan twirled. ‘Can I be the Oak King?’ he asked. ‘And dance with the dryads, nymphs, and wood fauns.

Lucien chuckled as he removed the crown from Tristan’s head. ‘When you’re all grown, you might,’ he said. ‘For now, this must go to Eabha. And as for your find. I grant you one wish. What will it be?’

‘It’s in my head. I’ll never tell. Can you guess?’ Tristan asked, dancing around the crowd.

©Wynter B Aodh 24

The Owl Toad Mole Publishing House™

BT66 8EY 2024 ©