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CELTIC ROMANCE 10/24/2004 9:44:42 AM
LONG SWORDS AND HOT HEROES Web site of the week:
ANCINET IMAGES
Greeted by the ancient image of a 7th century Pictish fish carving. Click onto headings from the left hand menu to view The Making of ancient images' designs which, with clear words and vivid photos, follows the transformation of an original carved stones into the calico cotton images on the website. At the Gallery and Shop click onto your choice of Pictish, Scotish, Irish, Viking, Prehistoric, Miscellaneous, Wall Hangings, and table mats to fill up your shopping cart. Then click on Send A Postcard and e-mail an ancient image of your choice to a friend at no cost. http://ancientstoneart.users13.donhost.co.uk/
LONG SWORDS AND HOT HEROES COMING TO CLEAR LAKE
Houston Texas area, Celtic Romance Author, Cornelia Amiri, celebrates Samhain/Halloween at the Clear Lake Celtic Music Festival, Saturday, October 30th. Writing tales of ancient gods, long swords, and hot heroes, Ms. Amiri has three published books with titles taken from Celtic clan war cries, Danger Is Sweet, and One Heart One way, as well as The Fox Prince whose sequel The Vixen Princess will be released in 2006. She will sign her books October 30, 2004, from Noon to 10 PM, at the Clear Lake Celtic Music Festival, Landolt Pavilion at Clear Lake Park NASA RD 1, for directions and more information on the festival go to http://www.celticmusicassociation.com/
The Fox Prince (Samhain excerpt)
By Cornelia Amiri
A gust of wind rattled and shook the oaken kitchen door. Aelfrida sat at Nesta's side by the crackling fire, warm and snug. Vapory gray smoke curled upward from slender tallow candles and billowed outward from the large kitchen hearth. The enticing aroma of apple tarts danced in the air. The little Saxon girl, Githa, petted the purring
black cat as the three curly headed boys wrestled in mischief and fun.
"Lads!" Nesta clapped her hands hard. "The tarts are almost
done."
"Come, get your face painted for Samhain," Aelfrida called to the boys. Firmly, she cupped the tallest lad's chin in one hand while brushing a chunk of crumbling charcoal across his cheeks. He shut his eyes tight and she blew the excess soot away. Aelfrida looked at his sooty face and clicked her tongue. "I do not know if you are a spirit of the dead or a dirty faced lad."
He raised his arms and curled his fingers like claws then moaned loud enough to be heard in the otherworld.
"Oh!" Aelfrida laughed. "Spook you are then!"
"Paint my face," the youngest lad called as he bobbed up and down.
The charcoal was dry and powdery in her fingers as she sketched the outline of a skeleton on the little urchin face.
"You are a true haunt," Aelfrida declared.
She smudged the third lads face with black charcoal and
pronounced, "The spirits are sure to think you one of them and pass you by." She stood back and grinned. They are so cute. Not a one is a terror as they are of a wont to be. "Let me paint your face, Githa," Aelfrida called to the little girl.
"Nay." Githa shook her head and scampered toward the wall.
Aelfrida burst out in laughter. A pounding noise sounded at her back, followed by a creak, and a chill gust of wind. She swiveled to her left. The door was open, but no one was there. The children suddenly grew quiet. Their wide eyes were fixed upon a spot to her right. Slowly she turned.
"Boo!" Tryffin stood there with a huge grin on his soot-covered face.
Aelfrida flung her hands aside her head. "You are a sight." She dropped her shoulders and burst out in giggles.
"I am a spirit come to find a live body for Samhain." With a
seductive gleam in his eyes he said, "I think I shall take yours."
"I think not," she quipped. With a more serious expression she stated, "Nesta said you were called to the hall by a messenger, 'tis strange on Samhain."
"You found me out." He grinned mischievously. "Happens it was a messenger of the dead."
Aelfrida shoved him in a playful manner. "Tell me Tryffin, who sent the messenger?"
"Vortimer."
She flinched. Oh No! War . . . but nay . . . the Saxons
left. "Peace reigns does it not?"
He looked bewildered as if he did not know the answer. "Vortimer feels that you could avert impending doom."
"Me?" She raised her hands in an inquiring gesture. "Why?"
His mouth curved in a mischievous smile. "Happens I told him how brilliant you are?"
"Ye jest Tryffin."
"'Tis time." Githa piped up.
"Come we shall speak of this as we bring treats for the dead." Aelfrida gave a basket of sweets to Tryffin and took Githa by the hand.
Tryffin reached into the wicker basket and pulled forth a golden-crusted apple tart for each child. The four soot faced children munched away and strolled from the smoky kitchen into the Samhain night as Tryffin and Aelfrida lagged behind.
"Here, here," the children squealed at the foot of a great oak near the forest edge.
Aelfrida took a warm, cheese tart from Tryffin's basket and
stooped down to place it at the foot of the tree. "The spirits will have a treat this night," she said to the children.
They giggled and ran on to the next tree deemed a worthy spot for treats.
"We leave on the morrow," Tryffin said to Aelfrida as they followed the children into the woods.
"What say you? The morrow?" How dare he fathom that I shall aid Vortimer . . . and to leave on the morrow.
"'Tis a long way to the high king's palace," he answered.
"I have no wont to go to the king's palace. What means this
mission?" She stooped down and placed another pie at the trunk of a tree, then looked Tryffin straight in the face, knowing that even in the dark he could see the distrust in her eyes.
"Ye are Saxon and my loyal wife. Vortimer wants ye to try to get close to his stepmother Rowena, Hengist's daughter. We have word that she may be brewing up some trouble. We must find out. She is cable of anything."
They followed the children into a small glen. Aelfrida turned to Tryffin. "He wants me spy on the woman because she is Saxon?"
"He wants my sword arm to defend him," Tryffin said in an even tone as Aelfrida turned and strolled toward a small creek. "He wants you to befriend Rowena." Tryffin tried to justify the request. "What harm could there be in that?"
She tossed her hair across her shoulders. "I am no spy. I shan't do it." Her temple began to throb. I am supposed to hate him, yet I can't, and I hate myself for that weakness. Yet, I shan't turn traitor to my people. "Nay." Aelfrida sharply turned, stomped over to the creek bank, stooped down, and left an apple tart.
"This way we shall be together," Tryffin said as he followed her to the creek bank.
Aelfrida shunned him, gazing at the trickling water that shimmered in the moonlight.
"You are with child and I shan't leave you behind."
Though she meant to ignore him the words touched her heart. Why does he affect me so? She couldn't nay say his devotion to her and the babe. At the end of a long sigh she said, "I will not be Vortimer's spy. But I will do what I can to keep you from danger, for the sake of the babe."
"You will hearten at the beauty of the palace," Tryffin said in a seductively charming tone.
"Aye." She boldly met his eyes. "I shall come." With a sudden frown she snapped, "But not for Vortimer's sake. I go to Queen Rowena to see that she fairs well." May my parents and the gods themselves forgive me.
Aelfrida, Tryffin, and the children strode to the blazing bonfire in the outlying field. Where they reveled and feasted deep into the night. For that short time, Aelfrida forgot her parents' death, and gave no thought to Hengist, Vortimer, Vortigern, or Rowena. But with the setting of the moon, her short moment of peace ended along with
Samhain.
