Beltane Fires

“Ian, love, can't you do it?” He glanced up at his wife. “I'm doing the best I can.” He went back to trying to strike a spark from the two pieces of flint. “Oh, I know, my angel, I know. It's just that, well, they are really hungry, I think.” Skye rested one hand lightly on Ian's shoulder. “This might get ugly if you don't start that fire soon.” From around them in the dark murmurs could be heard, broken occasionally by a loud roar. “It's these damn flowers.” He pushed the wildflower crown back from his forehead, and then struck the two pieces of stone together again. “And I think this tinder is damp. Must be from the ocean."

"We're a half mile from the beach, love. Ian, I'm appalled. Ian Blackthorn, famous warrior, who survived living alone in the woods for a winter at the age of twelve …"

"Sixteen, I was sixteen."

"…whatever, and lived off killing hedgehogs…"

"Groundhogs.” He smacked the stones together harder.

“Same thing. They're both rodents."

"Try eating a hedgehog and you'll know the difference.” He struck the stones, a spark flew into the dry grass and he blew gently on it until the tinder began to glow. “And why are they yelling?"

"They're counting. Timmons bet them you'd do it in less than ten strikes of the flint. That was number nine.” Skye laughed. “And don't you dare blow that out!”

Ian grinned, fed the now burning tinder with wood shavings, and when there was a good-sized flame, lit the nearby torch from it. A roar came from the crowd, and taking hold of Skye's hand, he walked over to the two piles of wood and set them ablaze. Then he threw the torch into one of the fires and hand in hand he and Skye walked aside as the first of the local farmers drove their cows through the open space between the fires. Charlemagne and Ashe started playing a merry tune, and a third figure joined in; Sir Poet seemed to show up for such occasions and then just as suddenly be gone. But at least the Beltane fires had been lit, and now the feasting, among other things, would begin.

Blackthorn leaned over and kissed Skye. “There. Our first Beltane here."

"The first of many, Ian.”

********

It had taken several years to build the manor. The land had been Skye's to begin with, an area of long meadows that rolled down the hillsides to meet the ocean, and bordered on two of the remaining sides by deep woods. The other side faced towards Camelot and held several villages and some farms. Construction of the main buildings had taken longer than either Ian or Skye had thought, but there was no way to have foreseen wars with orcs and mercenaries. They had persisted, though, and finally, this spring had seen their move into the manor house with their children.

So, this Beltane was also a celebration of the arrival, and in honor of that, the villagers had made Skye their May Queen and Ian her King. And so early this morning, Ian Blackthorn had stood laughing at the door of their new home and watched as Skye led the women in washing their faces in the dew from the grass to retain their beauty, as if anything could ever make his lady-wife lose hers. Then after their breakfast, the whole family had gone out and walked the border of the estate, stopping to visit with neighboring villagers and tenants as they “beat the bounds”.

By the time the Blackthorn family had returned home, the household staff had loaded up a wagon with the food Skye and Arista had helped prepare earlier, and the family set off for the Beltane celebrations. Ian began to relax. He'd prayed there would be neither a mercenary raid nor another brutal murder to mar a day that his wife and children had looked forward to so eagerly for weeks, and as the day went happily on, it appeared his prayers had been answered. It had been a day of wrestling matches, archery contests, and a madcap chase of a greased pig by laughing pursuers. (The pig, as it happened, was a grandchild of the redoubtable Daisy, and did his grandma proud.)

There had been a long line of dancers that stretched around the meadow following the newly crowned Queen and King the May, and then games for the children. It had been a day of sun and joy, of music played by musicians of all ages and classes, of stolen kisses and murmured promises of what the night might hold. And also, Ian noticed, of shy glances at Arista, and whispers exchanged about Shane. He'd have to watch that pair more closely at next years Feast, he decided.

********

But now the fires of oak had been lit, the cows taken through for the blessing before they were driven to summer pastures tomorrow, and food that had been cooked over cook fires began to be served. Ian exchanged some jokes with Marcus and with Timmons, then walked back over to slip an arm around Skye's waist. They'd both dressed all in green in honor of Beltane, and his breath caught in his throat as it did whenever he saw how beautiful a wife he'd somehow won. She threw her arms about his neck and he lifted her off the ground, whirling as she laughed. “Come and be my greenwood wife…” he sang along with the tune Sir Poet had begun. “and be my love for all my life!"

"Your greenwood wife I'll gladly be, there is no other love for me.” She kissed him. “But I'll not jump the fire with you first, Ian love. There'll be enough singed backsides from leaping sky clad on the morrow without adding ours to them."

"Well enough then. We'll skip the fire and go right to the enjoyable part.” He exchanged nods with Timmons and Ashe; they would see the children home safely this night. Then, to the cheers of the crowd, he scooped Skye up into his arms. They smiled at their new neighbors, called out some farewells, and then Ian walked away from the firelight into the dark. That night, beneath the stars, they lit another sort of Beltane fire.