As the full moon rose above the ground, the wolf howled. Or did she keen?
As crab apple leaves sighed in the breeze, the wolf howled. Or did she keen?
As the cist was lowered slowly down, the wolf howled. Or did she keen?
*******
“You’re awful *crabby today,” Sabine had said to him, three days before. “What’s *eating at you?”
“My gut feels like it’s twisting up inside me.”
“You’d too much of that mead. I told you not to drink from that batch nor out of that tankard.”
“Ah, will you *whist! I’ve no mind *to be listening to you *harping on at me now.”
They kept walking in silence. The full moon would rise in three days. They needed to reach Mount Leinster before dawn on that day.
Sabine stayed silent for a time, watching Faoil out of the corner of her eye. Instinct told her something was wrong. Suddenly, he let out a roar loud enough to rouse the birds from the trees and send the deer scarpering through the forest. His knees buckled under him as his body started to convulse.
“No, no! Not now. Please not now!” Sabine yowled.
*************
At the rise of the full moon 7 years before that day, she’d found him, writhing on the battlefield. She'd dragged him to safety in the stillness of night, when battle ceased, and soldiers slept. He was too delirious to notice her features. For a month, she'd nursed him, keeping the fever down with a mix made of apple bark, and drawing his wounds clean with ribwort.
At the dawn of day before the next full moon, he'd sat cured, enamoured by the woman curled up on the mat before him. While he stroked her hair, she stirred with a low whine. It was time to tell him her story.
"I am the daughter of a man known as Ossory."
At this, Faoil’s eyes widened. He’d heard tell of a family called Ossory, but he kept his *trap shut and let her speak.
“For centuries, our family has risen and fallen alongside the *Cú Allaidh. We are the *luchthonn.”
“You mean the legends are true?” Faoil said, mouth agape, a *wee tingle of caution climbing up his spine.
“They are true in part,” Sabine said. “At the rise of the full moon, I will turn until it sets. You will see all that I was one month ago when I dragged you from beneath that wretched pile of death to safety.”
“But you didn’t eat me?”
“I did not. Not all legends are true. Some are twisted and *crabbed like the boughs of the crab apple to make space for the men who would change the courses of history for their benefit.”
“Of what do you speak?” Faoil pressed.
“Of the stories of the Good Shepherd Christ whose flocks of sheep are said to be devoured by the devil wolf. It is the work of the wolf to balance the land, to protect and guide, to cull and cure, both animal and man. When the howl of the wolf goes silent, so the balance of the land is lost.”
Faoil sat in silence for a time, tender eyes gazing at his saviour. He knew he loved her. He knew there would not be a day of his left on the earth without her by his side.
“I will keep your secret,” he vowed. “You have nurtured me back to health. My life is now yours.”
He’d kept her secret since that day, roaming the forests of Ireland, at times entering towns, always careful no human would near her at the time of the full moon.
“I can’t *be letting those *hooring humans find out about you. They’d *have my guts for garters, and yours *to boot.”
******
As his body convulsed, she knew she’d have to risk taking him to the village on the outskirts of the forest they were in. Sabine scooped her lover into her arms, carrying him as far as she could before human eyes would spy her strength. She would drag him then until someone ran to help her.
“He’s poisoned,” the doctor said. “Did he take mead in pewter?”
Sabine sobbed and nodded.
“There are no days left for him. Say your goodbyes now and we’ll lay him out for the viaticum. I’ll call the priest.”
Sabine moaned, trying to stifle the low growls that were forcing their way up her throat. It was too early to change, but the wolf within her was powerful. She knew she would have to leave him. In the silent, absent moments, she held his face one last time and rested her lips upon his brow.
As if death were there to gift her, Faoil's eyes opened, reaching through the depths of hers. Breathing his final breath, Faoil thanked his Sabine.
******
Nobody in the village knew who they were. The woman had left only a note and some coin. Enough to cover the doctor and priests’ fees, to pay for the laying of his wrapped body on the hollowed out bark of a tree, and the markings of his life to be lowered into the earth in the local graveyard as close to the crab apple tree as was possible.
"*Why on earth the crab apple?" the doctor had puzzled.
"Husband, there are times I wonder what made me marry you," his wife sighed with a smirk, patting his shoulder in the patronising way only the woman he loved could.
"Wife, you know this is exactly the reason. When the medical and the magical are mixed, there is no spell strong enough to separate them. Tell me the story."
******
"The crab apple (crann fia-úll - Noble of the Wood), is the tree of both love and death, harmonising the two in life and the afterlife. On the day we wed, I split an apple and shared it with you to signify the offer of my heart to yours. In every graveyard, the crab apple is planted as a symbol of new life in the afterlife. As the soul departs, it is said the spirit of the crab apple tree helps the departed feel more connected to nature, and calmer along the journey into the afterlife. To bury the man beneath the crab apple is to gift him safe passage into the afterlife whilst honouring the love his lady held him in."
"We will do it," the doctor said.
******
Men of honour, they wrapped him with care and set about arranging for his burial. The following day, as Faoil's body was brought to the burial grounds, as was custom in that time, they laid him on the earth at the entrance to the graveyard.
“May your scent deter the wolves and let your body find rest.”
The dusk chorus sang for Faoil as he was lifted gently and walked to his resting place beneath the gnarled branches of the crab apple tree.
************
As the full moon rose above the ground, the wolf howled. Or did she keen?
As crab apple leaves sighed in the breeze, the wolf howled. Or did she keen?
As the cist was lowered slowly down, the wolf howled. Or did she keen?
************
At the edges of the forest, lay Sabine. She was in her 16th year, a rare age for a werewolf. When the men were finished and gone, and the dead of night had fallen, she made her way to the graveyard and began to dig. In no time, her claw scratched the edges of the hollowed bark Faoil had been placed upon. Clearing enough dirt away for her body to rest upon his, Sabine lay down, pulling the hollowed bark of a tree over her.
The next morning, when the priest was taking his early walk, he noticed a disturbance to the grave. "The wolf went in anyway, cursed beast." He called the gravekeeper to cover over the hole and clean up the mess. As they leaned over the pit, they were surprised to see the bark of a tree.
"Lift it," the priest ordered the gravekeeper.
Both drew in a sharped, shocked breath. Under the bark lay the lady they had met in the surgery not three days previous. Her lifeless body lay curled over her lover's. "But how did she get to it?"
"Last night was a full moon," the doctor's wife said, a little later. The priest had called her to come. "Many years ago, I heard tell of a man and she-wolf roaming the forests. It was said she'd saved him from the battlefield, but no trace of them could ever be found."
"You mean man and wolf lived a life of love? But how could that be?"
"Not all legends are true, Reverend. Some are twisted and crabbed like the boughs of the crab apple to make space for the men who would change the courses of history for their benefit. It is the work of the wolf to balance the land, to protect and guide, to cull and cure, both animal and man. When the howl of the wolf goes silent, so the balance of the land is lost.”
"Cover them well and mark the place as sacred," said the Reverend. "I have much to learn."
*********
He’d kept her secret all those years, hidden away from human fears, his wolf bride. Now their bodies lie together as their spirits live forever in the afterlife.
**********
Hiberno English Glossary:
- Crabby: angry / annoyed / moody.
- Eating at you: annoying you
- To be + ing: A Hiberno English form coming from Irish. Like the present simple state in English. I've no mind to be listening - I'm not able to listen.
- Whist: Verb. Be quiet.
- Harping on at: to complain at someone, usually in annoyance.
- Keep your trap shut: stay quiet.
- Cú Allaidh: Wild dogs. A term used to refer to wolves in Ireland years ago.
- Luchthonn: Irish - Wolf Warriors.
- Wee: small (there are many meanings and uses of wee. This is one example).
- Crabbed: growing closely together. (also means angry).
- Hooring: used in a cursing sense. "Those bloody idiots / those fucking humans."
- Have someone's guts for garters: punish someone greatly.
- To Boot: also.
- Why on earth +auxiliary/modal?: Used to express extreme confusion or surprise, sometimes annoyance.
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