“To Blackwell… J digging his late Docke, he did 12 foot underground find perfect trees over-Covered with earth – nut trees with the branches and the very nuts upon them their shells black with age and their Kernell upon opening decayed but their shell perfectly hard as ever….”
From Samuel Pepys diary, 22 September, 1665
The fragments of this strange vision were revealed to me in the binding of the second volume of the original Pepys diary.
The old hag Alene I imagine was dying.
Drust must have called a meeting in the village to discuss what to do. He told them a Poison was working its way through the old woman’s body; they had to burn the huts and leave.
Then Drust in that certain and dramatic way of his began to speak about the Journey they would undergo.
Although there were young children and no one really wanted to move on, no one spoke up. Drust’s lust must have been Insatiable; his eyes looked from one to the other in Challenge. The Hearts of the villagers sank. They would do what Drust said. (As people do now under the Yoke of Parliament)
All these things were going through Map’s mind when Illica came in secret to their Trysting place.
Map put his arms around Illica; Illica rested her head on his shoulder. – Illica! Illica has lovely flaxen hair, just like Mrs. Martin!
“Why didn’t you speak up?”
Map shrugged.
“Drust will not act until the next Full Moon.”
Map and Illica lay on the mossy floor and held each other. Illica! Illica has lovely white skin, just like Betty Michell and formerly Mrs. Tooker! When they had finished making love, Map confided in Illica.
“Alene has spoken to me,” he said. “She has told me where to look.”
Illica went pale in the dark, just like Mrs. Lane sometimes does when I abandon you there. “Tell me you are not leaving,” she said. But she already knew the answer.
Collecting his bundle from the hut, Map left before first light broke over the hill behind the village. Drust might follow him, but Map counted on the villagers not having the heart for the chase, especially they knew he was crossing the Bog Lands.
Once he had done it with Alene. He crossed it now – summoning his memory of the Track and the words of Alene who spoke to him still, even from beyond. And he knew that he must not look into the waters or stop to drink from the Stagnant Pools. For Alene had told the spirits of these water were evil and worked for Drust.
Map pressed on till the dew was dry and the Sun broke through the clouds. When he came to the Forest, he followed a Track that had been made near its edge.
Map plunged deeper into forest till he had gone as far as he had ever gone with Alene.
The Forest itself was old. When the trees began to speak, Map knew he must not listen to what they said lest he would come under their Spell and fall into a Sleep from which he would never wake.
Alene must have described the Tree with the Hollow in its heart. “Near that tree,” she had said, “you will find the pool. Cup the water in your hands, and drink three times.”
Map listened to the trees around him. Some spoke in whispers, others whined and screeched. And he thought there were bad trees among them. “Close your ears,” said Alene from beyond. “Do no listen to the bad trees. When you hear them screech, do not be afraid. But puff out your stomach with a long breath. Breathe long and breathe deep.” – Ah, yes! Please, Mrs. Tooker! Please, Mrs. Lane!
Thus, guided by Alene, Map came to the part of the journey that he greatly did fear. For he saw the Hollow Tree rising up out of the forest. It reached beyond the roof of all the trees to touch the sky where Mimer lived.
The Hollow Tree was great, and he was desirous to be within its embrace, though he knew that from all things that came to it with desire it would extract a terrible price. As did Betty Michell!
When he came to the pool, fear was in him. For who knew what price Mimer would exact?
Map drank three times from the pool and fell into a sleep. In his dream Mimer came to him and spoke these words:
“Truly it is a great gift that you seek, and one which many have sought before, but who when they knew the price of it, turned back.”
Recalling Alene’s advice, Map must have been ready with his reply:
“I will give my right hand to know what it is I seek.”
Laughter was in Mimer’s eyes as he spoke. “It is not your right hand, but your right eye you must give.”
Map’s head seemed to lift; his body moved as if in a Trance through the trees. Guided by Mimer, he came to the Edge of the Forest.
Before him was the River. There, on its banks, he saw the Alder. This was – as everyone knows who reads the Norse myths, the tree of Mimer, the old earth tree whose roots sprang from far and wide, from Jotuneheim, from above, and out of Nifliem.
Looking upon its worn and knotted fibres, Map beheld the Serpent and his Brood.
One by one, Spectres – the very Spectres of Helheim arose from the shore. They staggered, before him, pale, naked, nameless and without home. (How they make me shudder, ladies!)
Undeterred, Map began to climb the Alder Tree. Map hung onto the branches as he climbed and put his foot where he thought it was solid and safe. Feeling a branch break from under him, he tried to hang on.
Map must have fallen.
When he awoke, he had cause to remember Mimer’s words as Alene said them. And so he fashioned the Idol from the Branch that took his right eye and become his cursing Tool to destroy Durst.
But now he had Mimer’s sight, would Illica still love him, as I do you, Mrs. Lane, Mrs. Martin, Mrs. Tooker and Betty Michell?