I am here by your sweet side
As sweet, sweet dreams you weave.
Sleep, sleep, my darling,
Sleep, oh sleep, I sigh,
Sleep, sleep, my youngling,
Hush now, don’t you cry.
Across the intervening space crept Gwyd, and the serpent shifted slightly. Sweating, Gwyd froze in place and waited, and Liaze, her voice trembling in dread, sang on:
Your papa’s gone ahunting,
And maman makes the bed,
And lie you in your bunting,
Nought but dreams in your head.
Sleep, sleep, my darling,
Sleep, oh sleep I sigh,
Sleep, sleep, my youngling,
Hush now, don’t you cry.
The serpent made no further movement, and Gwyd crept onward. Finally he reached the monstrous snake, and cautiously he stepped over coil after coil to come to the trunk of the golden apple tree.
Liaze could hardly bear to look, but look she did, as she played and sang:
The stars begin to glimmer
And look upon your face,
While in your dreams you murmur
A song of sleeping grace.
Sleep, sleep, my darling,
Sleep, oh sleep, I sigh,
Sleep, sleep, my youngling,
Hush now, don’t you cry.
Up Gwyd shinnied to the first limb, where he pulled himself higher.
Liaze nearly choked in fear, and her fingers seemed stiff with anxiety. But she continued to play and sing:
Sleep, my child, and dream your dreams,
The moon sails through the night,
Bathing you in silver beams,
And rinsing you with light.
Sleep, sleep, my darling,
Sleep, oh sleep, I sigh,
Sleep, sleep, my youngling,
Hush now, don’t you cry.
Now Gwyd reached out, and cautiously, silently, with two hands-one to hold the branch and one to grasp the fruit-he plucked a golden apple from the golden tree and slipped it into one of the many pockets of his raggedy clothes.
The snake stirred not…
… and Liaze, the tips of her fingers now bleeding, scarlet running down the strings, continued to pluck and sing:
Gentle quiet lies o’er the house.
A distant owl hoots long.
Somewhere squeaks a little mouse.
A cricket chirps its song.
Sleep, sleep, my darling,
Sleep, oh sleep, I sigh,
Sleep, sleep, my youngling,
Hush now, don’t you cry.
Now Gwyd eased back down the tree, and once again the snake shifted, and once again Gwyd froze in place.
Day will surely come, my child,
The sun will rise again.
You will play in days so mild,
And sing a sweet refrain.
Sleep, sleep, my darling,
Sleep, oh sleep, I sigh,
Sleep, sleep, my youngling,
Hush now, don’t you cry.
Again Gwyd eased down the tree and down the trunk, to come to the ground, and once more he stepped across the great coils, as Liaze watched, her heart in her throat.
My baby’s gone afishing
Among her pleasant dreams.
And I sit here awishing
She’ll catch silver moonbeams.
Sleep, sleep, my darling,
Sleep, oh sleep, I sigh,
Sleep, sleep, my youngling,
Hush now, don’t you cry.
And as Gwyd stepped over the last coil, the snake twitched, and the tip of its tail slapped into the Brownie’s leg.
Up snapped the serpent’s head, and out flashed its tongue, and Gwyd fled.
Liaze screamed and leapt to her feet, and the serpent, mouth wide and gaping, fangs dripping, reared up and struck at the Brownie. But it was yet coiled about the tree and was jerked to a stop, its strike falling a scant inch short.
Twk shrieked, “Run! Run! Oh, Mithras, run!”
And Gwyd, his face twisted in terror, ran — but the huge serpent hurled itself after, its coils rapidly unwinding from the tree, and then, loose, it was swifter, much swifter than fleeing Gwyd — Liaze started to reach for her bow, but instead — “Oh, Mithras, run!” screamed Twk — Gwyd flew toward the wall — the massive snake overtook the Brownie and reared up to slay — Liaze snatched a burning branch from the fire and hurled it over the gate, praying to Mithras that — the flaming limb sailed between the striking serpent and the fleeing Brownie, and — the monstrous snake’s strike veered and hammered into the blazing brand — Gwyd scrambled up the stones — “Oh, Mithras! Oh Mithras!” cried Twk — and again the serpent drew back and struck — just as Gwyd tumbled o’er the top of the wall and fell to the ground — and the serpent’s strike slashed through nought but empty air.
Weeping, Liaze rushed to Gwyd’s side, wee Twk running after.
Gwyd lay on the ground moaning, for he had fallen twelve feet.
“Gwyd, Gwyd, oh Gwyd,” cried Liaze, tears running down her face as she dropped to her knees beside him, wanting to take him up, wanting to embrace him, but she knew not the extent of his injuries.
And just as Twk reached the Brownie, Gwyd opened his eyes and groaned and said, “I think some o’ ma ribs be broke ag’in.”
35
