Chapter Text
The lighthouse stands a hundred feet above the crashing waves of the ocean which spreads out farther than any ship can travel. They say that there must be land, somewhere in the beyond, past Eire, out where the sun sets. Mother always said that was where the dead went. Now, I am not so sure. I think perhaps our dead go into the land.
The lighthouse does not shine any longer. We have not had a lighthouse-keeper in over twenty years. I was a very tiny child when the old man died, who had a long white beard and no hair on his head and glittering studs in his ears and brown weathered hands. He left the earrings to my mother, who gave them to me. I have never worn them. They are said to have come all the way from the East, imported into Northumbria and then to Rheged, which means they must be very valuable. I will save them for my wedding day – if that day comes. It may not. We are lost, on this island. The lands in the east burn, swarming with the invading north-men in their long boats. Sometimes they land on our eastern beaches and shout in their foreign words and cut down trees to strengthen the longships before sailing back to the mainland.
I hope we will get another lighthouse-keeper soon. The island needs to be protected. The lighthouse which used to be visible, where they say a saint once landed hundreds of years ago, no longer shines in the night, and we have had no traders from Rheged or Eire in just as long.
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A man washed up beneath the lighthouse. He speaks no words of ours, nor does he speak the words of the northmen, and the priest tried the Latin and got nowhere. He says that no man washed out of the sea can answer to any Christian tongue, but I think he forgets that Christianity is a new faith. My people lived here long before any saviour was born in the far kingdoms beyond the eastern horizon. I think the stranger must feel very alone.
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I went to visit the man today. He keeps wandering up to the lighthouse and standing at the foot of it, staring out into the waves. I think perhaps he may be the next keeper. I unlocked the door, and he walked right in. He has a large tattoo on his shoulder of a creature a little like a dog and not quite a cat, and I can’t imagine what it might be. I wish I understood him when he speaks.
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He picks up Manx very quickly – almost like he has a gift for it. He tried to explain that his tattoo is of a creature on the mainland, called a fox. He says that is his name. Fox. They are known for being very clever and their pelts are often used by the nobility to edge their cloaks and gowns.
I asked if he would find me a fox pelt for my gowns, and he went very quiet and turned from me. He lit the lighthouse light early. The rain comes down so heavily each night.
Maybe I have offended him. Tomorrow, I will ask my mother for a jar of honey, and I'll teach him how to make mead.
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Fox tells me of his brothers. Sometimes a detail slips loose from his narratives, which leaves me wondering. How far has he travelled? What is kar , and manda , and nau ? What do his words mean, and where do they come from?
When he speaks, he talks like a river flows. He has never missed a lamp-lighting; never failed to signal us to rescue a drowning soul. I wonder why, when some of the people we have saved are not from our neighbour-lands at all.
He says they are alone, and he doesn’t wish that on anyone. I answered that he is not alone – he has me.
He looked at me and his eyes shone like gold in the firelight.
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When I am with you, he says tonight, hand in my hand and the fire burning strong above us. When I am with you.
What? I ask. I don’t look at him; he doesn’t like to be looked at when caught by a strong emotion.
He turns to me. He kisses me. When I am with you, I am no longer alone, and the solitude of passing beyond the sun will not be solitude, and it will not be dark, because I always will be with you.