Wanderer (Prologue)

1

We meet our heroine, Beatrix, rushing home one autumn day, along a tree-lined road in the suburbs of a town like any other.  2

Her head is down against the wind and the leaves and grit that rides upon it.  3

Her hands are deep in her pockets, because she has forgotten her gloves.  The church bells in the distance chime once; she counts, twice, three times, four, five, six, seven.  Stopping, she looks up and around for the clock tower, but it is obscured by housing.  Brow furrowed, she glances down at her watch, but it is stopped at half past one.  As a last resort she looks about her, at the sky and the position of the sun- low, yes, but in the right place for four o’clock in an autumn afternoon, not seven.4

Shaking her head to clear the confusion, Beatrix walks on.  But now she can’t help but notice the lack of people on the street.  Cars line the sides of the roads, but none have driven past in some time.  The streets,  that are normally full of children at this time of day, are quiet.  Beatrix slows her pace again, looking around for signs of life.5

Wind chimes from the house behind her sound in the wind.  Their call stirs a memory.6

"What’s your name?"  A voice so faint on the wind.7

"Beatrix Shaw The Wanderer."  She asserts under her breath, though she doesn’t know why.8

"And where do you come from, Beatrix Shaw the Wanderer?"  Beatrix turns to find the speaker.9

"Behind me." She replies. 10

"And where are you going, Beatrix Shaw the Wanderer from behind her?"  Spinning on the spot, certain that the speaker is /somewhere/ behind her Beatrix answers;11

"In front of me."12

The chimes have stopped, though the wind hasn’t.  If anything the wind has increased in ferocity- more leaves filled the air, swirling and eddying down the empty street.13

"Who are you child? Have you forgotten?"  Out of the corner of her eye Beatrix sees, between two trees, made of the reds, oranges and gold’s of the fallen leaves, the form of a woman, for the briefest second before it is gone.14

"What is this?  What’s going on?"  Beatrix whispers, fearing being heard and judged by someone in the deserted street.15

In answer, or perhaps of their own accord, or the insistence of the changing winds, the leaves rush towards her.  Encircle her.  Beatrix gets a strong impression of people crowding in on her; she raises her arms to ward them off.16

"He misses you."  A definite feminine voice sounds, from somewhere in the melee, followed by the kind of giggling that reminded Beatrix strongly of school girls talking about boys.  "And you have forgotten him."  The same voice continues.17

"How would he greet her, if she does not know him?"18

"He’d be mad…"19

"Perhaps he’d banish her!"20

"She already is banished."21

"You can’t banish a wanderer- it’s just not done."  Many voices- all female came from all around Beatrix now, some close, some not so close.22

"We have to take her now- just to see."23

"He would give up on her then- surely."24

"She’s forgotten him, of course he would!"  Something then began to tug at Beatrix, or at least many things did- like hundreds of tiny fingers pulling at her clothes.  Beatrix was panicking, flailing her arms at the leaves, but having no effect.  She was sure there must be a group of people just beyond the leaves, but her arms met nothing but more leaves.  And still the tugging continued.25

"You can’t take a wanderer where she will not go."  A male voice came now- and instantly the tugging ceased.  Beatrix suddenly had the impression of pouting, sulking faces formed out of the leaves before they swirled away to play along the street as usual.26

"We thought you were asleep here Pan."  Said the first female voice- much further away now.27

"What’s that got to do with anything?"  Pan’s voice was much harder to place.  Bells were ringing in Beatrix’s mind though, in a less literal sense than earlier.28

"Pan?"29

"Yes wanderer, you know me.  Though you abandoned me some years ago.  But surely you remember the wood where we first met.  And the taste of the wine that day?"  A ghost of a taste lay upon Beatrix’s tongue, a good, sweet taste, potent and enticing.30

"Follow my girls, and we’ll have some more.  And when we meet, we’ll discuss a mutual friend of ours."31

"Follow?  Follow where? Follow who? There’s no one hear but leaves."  Beatrix was shouting now, because she had the ever increasing sense that she was being left behind.32

"Are you coming?  This way!"  The voice sounded in her right ear, Beatrix swung round and began to hear other voices flitting away down the street.33

"Wait!"  She called, and began running after them.34

It was beginning to seem to Beatrix that this was a day for losing track of time.  She had no idea how long she had been running, nor where she was going, but they kept on; through streets, past houses.  Once they had left that one street, they began to encounter a few people, but not many, and none of them seemed particularly interested in the girl chasing the leaves.  After a while the houses ran out, the roads were only roughly tarmacked and ragged fields of grass lay on either side, punctuated by the odd tree, hedge or fence.35

Several times she had had to call for them to stop- her lungs were on fire.  And while she bent over, trying to catch her breath leaves swirled about her, though not in the intense profusion they had been in on the street.  The leaves chided her, called her names, coaxed her on, and called her on.  Until finally Beatrix felt ready to start running again- they seemed to know almost before she did and were scattered and away before she had straightened up.36

More than once she found herself wondering what she was doing- chasing autumn leaves in pursuit of a mythological god figure.  More than once she found herself wondering at how normal and right this felt.  She didn’t bother wondering why it felt so good, to be moving, to be running out and away along some unknown road.  It just was good.37

The road began to rise ahead of her and Beatrix’s eyes followed it and saw at the top of the rise, the beginnings of a group of trees, only a small copse at the most, but she knew that was where they were heading.  As they approached the copse, the leaves she had been chasing flew back, and past her, many of them touching her, and then dispersed, fell to the ground or simply disappeared.38

Beatrix slowed.  Cautiously she drew nearer to the trees, which she saw now was more a ring of trees set about a clearing of sorts, in the middle of open land.  She pushed her way past the first tree- music caught her ear.  Her foot kicked away at some bramble and she heard a stream, water falling on loose rocks.  As the obstruction of undergrowth gave way Beatrix fell through into the clearing and looked around her.39

Behind her she could see nothing but trees, built into a dense wood that encircled the open space before her.  By the stream a young man, loose jeans and curly hair sat playing a Beatles tune on some odd pipes, a guitar lay at his side, a fiddle at his feet and a flute was across his lap.  He was ignoring her presence, obstinately playing on as though offended by her interruption.  There was a wineskin by his elbow, something Beatrix was shocked she could name.40

She stood and stared.41

This was Pan?42

He looked like a bum musician, not a god.43

"Beatrix Shaw, the Wanderer.  It’s been a long time."  The song finished and Pan tucked his pipes away in a breast pocket.44

"We didn’t mean to take so long."  A girl said from the left.  "But she kept stopping."  About fifteen young women walked into the glade, some carrying silvers platters filled with meats and mushrooms, some carrying more wine skins, others just carrying themselves- they made it look like an art just to walk; their hips flowing fluidly from side to side.45

"That wasn’t what I meant."  The nymph shrugged her shoulders and put her platter on the ground.46

"Where is everyone?  You can hardly call this a party with just us."  One of the nymphs pouted.47

"Late."  Shrugged Pan.  "There’s nothing momentous in that."48

"But there’s how many of us?  And only one of you.  That’s hardly going to be any fun for us, now, is it?"  She continued.  Pan flashed her a grin.49

"There’s some more coming, don’t you worry.  This is just a hard place for some people to get to."50

"Not that hard Pan, don’t flatter yourself so much."  A male voice called from behind Beatrix.  What might have been a hunting party entered the glade then, though the majority held wineskins, two of them had hung between them a skinned deer.  They all had the ears of horses, and swishing behind them, horses tails.51

As they entered the glade the Satyrs stared openly at Beatrix, their stances seemed half predatory and half weary- as though Beatrix was their natural prey, but her presence here seemed more of a trap than a gift.52

"What’s this Pan?"  One of them asked suspiciously, nodding toward Beatrix.53

"A girl."  Pan shrugged, taking some food.54

"A girl?"  Another said, sounding eager.  Beatrix took a step away from them.55

"What’s she doing here?"  The first asked, just as suspicious as he was before.56

"That is nothing to do with you- though I’m sure you’ll find out in good time, along with the rest of us."  He drew his legs up and rested his elbows on his knees.  "Now, what exactly is stopping you from having a good time?"  The Satyr looked Beatrix up and down, then looked at the nymphs, and back to Beatrix, finally he returned his gaze to Pan and shrugged.57

"Now, as I was saying," Pan shook his head "Welcome Beatrix Shaw, come sit by me and we’ll see what we can do about getting you wandering again."  Beatrix looked around, some of the Satyrs had begun to play on pipes, mostly similar to those in Pan’s breast pocket, but there were drums and fiddles too.  The nymphs had begun to dance.  The deer had been placed to roast slowly over a fire already roaring, although Beatrix was sure that it had not even been started moments before.58

"When you were asked your name, you said you were a wanderer.  Do you know why?"  Pan asked once she’d sat down.  Beatrix shook her head.59

"You were given the title Wanderer, some fifteen years ago.  Do you remember?"  Beatrix shook her head.  Up close she could see two twisted horns poking through the mass of curls upon Pan’s head.60

"Do you remember when you first met me?"61

"This afternoon?"  Beatrix guessed, though she knew that wasn’t what he meant.  Pan shook his head.62

"Before that."63

"Then no."64

"You found me, on a day very much like this one, in a place very much like this one.  As far as I know you were wandering through the woods and found yourself in my clearing."65

"Which woods?"66

"I don’t know, the woods, it’s all the same wood to me."  He shrugged.  "Anyway, you found your way into my clearing.  Don’t you remember?"  Beatrix shook her head again.  "Don’t you remember anything that happened after that?  Do you remember what happened before you came to the clearing Beatrix?"  She shook her head, confused now that he was stretching her lack of memory beyond this bizarre world.  "Do you remember what you were doing yesterday?  Do you know where you were going?  On the street this morning, before we found you?"67

"Home, I was going home…"68

"Where do you live Beatrix?  Can you remember that?" 69

"I… I want to go home.  Pan, now.  I don’t like this."70

"Where is that Beatrix?"  His young brow was rumpled in confusion and concern.71

"I don’t know." Beatrix admitted in a quite voice, more to herself than to Pan, and definitely not to the nymphs, how could she admit it to them?  Even though several of them had gathered around her and Pan now, listening to their conversation.  The urge to go home overwhelmed Beatrix and she became certain that if she just stood, and started walking, she’d know then.  She always had a direction when she was walking; she was always heading home.72

She stood up.73

"Do you remember the wine?"  Pan reached out to her, a smile upon his face as he mentioned the drink.  "Everyone remembers my wine.  When I mentioned it earlier, could you taste it? Could you smell it?  Do you remember the wine?"74

"I don’t know, I thought… something, I could taste… something."  She shook her head to try to clear the memory.75

"Here, taste it again- it might bring back the memory.  It’s the only thing I can think of to do.  And if that doesn’t work, we can always just keep drinking."  He handed her the wineskin that had lain by his elbow and uncorked the top for, wiping the edges as he did so.76

Beatrix lifted the skin to her lips, her brow furrowed at the strangeness of this.77

The nymphs held their breath, awaiting the outcome of the experiment.78

The satyrs ceased their playing, to watch what was happening.79

It was golden, and sweet, light, so light it almost touched the heavens and it left a joy in her of harvests and feasts, of dancing and singing.80

But there were no memories in that taste.81

"What do you remember, Wanderer?"  Pan asked, his eyes searching for her answer before she spoke it.82

"No more than I did seconds before."  Beatrix answered.83

A ripple went through the crowd, the satyrs shrugged, the nymphs preened and Pan sighed.84

"Not to worry.  Why should we worry when we have good wine, good food, good company and good music?"  Pan shouted, and with that the satyrs took up their instruments again and the nymphs all got up to dance.  Pan gave Beatrix a grin before jumping up with his fiddle to dance and play with the rest of the assembly.85

A satyr came and handed Beatrix some wine, invited her to dance, and soon she was dancing, eating and drinking just like everybody else. 86