The Tessellation Saga. Book Two. 'The One' (6 page)

‘Yer know the
wood all comes from the forest lad,’ said his grandfather as Gideon
walked around the cottage for the first time, exploring and feeling
the strength and quality of the wood and marvelling at the feeling
of peace and home the cottage gave him, his headache had lessened
considerably and he felt alive again.

‘I’ve brought
the pieces we’ve made ‘ome over the years, an’ sometimes yer Da or
I bring raw wood back from the forest, after a visit. Yer gran
thinks’ I should use the local wood but I don’t think it would feel
the same, there’s sommat ‘bout the wood from ‘ome that’s special,’
he added quietly, reverently, and almost speaking to himself.
Gideon smiled at his grandfather knowing exactly what he meant and
knowing that he himself liked nothing better than to walk about the
trees in the Green Home Forest with Blue and his father, in the
forest, he felt at home. Gideon senior, if he could have, would
also have lived out his days among the vast trees of the Green Home
but circumstance and love of his wife had made him move away,
though it had never stopped him pining for the woods and trees he
loved.

‘Yer Da made
some of these pieces ‘isel’ afore ‘e were your age,’ Gideon’s
grandfather grinned, as young Gid studied every joint and turn in
the beautifully made furniture, slowly running his fingers across
the wood and enjoying the silky smoothness.

‘That were ‘is
first ever piece,’ the old man said, proudly pointing to a large
rectangular box sitting under a window. Gideon walked to the
window, sat on the sill and splayed both hands on the box, seeing
in his mind, his stubborn but methodical father as a boy slowly
working the wood with his knife. He smiled and marvelled at the
box’s intricate design. The carvings on the sides of the box were
functional and solid whereas the top consisted almost entirely of
latticework.

‘It’s a blanket
box; it can be taken apart and moved flat, each plank slots into
the next. Yer Da worked fer weeks on it,’ his grandfather said as
he opened the lid showing Gideon the cunning latches and clasps
that held it together.

Gideon thought
about his own attempts at woodwork and smiled shyly. ‘Well, I be
whittling too grandda but somehow…well, the wood don’t ever flow
fer me like it does fer you or Da,’ he said taking his latest small
wooden figure from the pocket of his jerkin and offering it to his
grandfather for inspection. The faceless figure was tall and
smooth, each fold and crease in the carefully carved robes flowed
like silk; just waiting for a breeze to make them sway and ripple.
The figure felt alive, full of passion and vibrancy just needing a
face to finish it off before it could begin its work. One hand lay
against the robes its fingers spread and finely detailed each nail
and joint carved to perfection.

‘I did think at
one time ‘e were ‘olding sommat in both ‘ands!’ Gideon said
quietly, almost granting the wooden carving choices about its own
design, his grandfather smiled at the statement knowing it meant
his grandson understood the nature of the wood. He studied the
carving once more, in its other hand the wooden figure held a book
tightly,
it must be an important book, ter be ‘eld so
, the
old man thought. Just looking at the piece in his hands Gideon
senior had the feeling he had seen this person before, knew him
well despite the fact the figure had no face.

“Oo be this
then boy?’ He asked his grandson, who waited quietly for appraisal
of his own piece of woodcraft.

‘No-one gramps,
it’s just a figure, I can never finish it though, I’ve made loads
of ‘em an’ they always end up the same, I jus’ can’t seem ter get
the face right, I can’t ever do the face...’ Gideon smiled
apologetically at his grandfather whose skills with a knife and a
piece of wood were second to none.

‘Lad,’ the old
man smiled kindly at the boy, ‘tis not ready ter be finished tis
all,’ he placed the piece between Gideon’s palms and clasped his
own hands around his grandson’s. ‘Close yer eyes boy,’ he said
adding, ‘feel the life in the wood, find its soul...,’ Gideon
closed his eyes and concentrated, he could feel his grandfather’s
rough and callused hands on the backs of his own and inwardly he
smiled believing he would never have the same affinity with wood
the way his father and grandfather did.

‘
Feel the
wood with your heart boy, not with your mind’,
he heard the
whispered message in his head and tried to comply, shutting out his
grandfather’s warm hands and the ambient noises of the house around
him. Almost immediately, he saw the great forest of home and felt
the peace within it. His mind wandered familiar paths and walkways
and all the time the forest seemed more alive than he had ever felt
it. He could feel the sunlight, warm and bright on his skin as it
filtered through the dense overhead boughs.
It’s warm fer
winter,
he thought as his journey into the wood progressed. On
and on he travelled into little known parts of the forest until at
last he was deeper than he had ever ventured. Besides an old ruin
in a large glade sat Blue, his blue eyes burning into Gideon’s
despite the fact Gideon knew his own were closed.
‘Do I know
this place?’
Gideon asked himself, thinking he had seen it
somewhere before, still the wolf stared.
I’ll be home soon
enough boy,
Gideon thought, realising how much he was missing
the creature. Its piercing blue eyes seemed to fill Gideon’s mind
until there was nothing else, nothing but the deep, deep blue then
suddenly Gideon felt as if he were falling, falling into a
bottomless well and one from which he would never return.

A hand shot out
from nowhere and grabbed him, stopping his endless fall and
steadying him allowing his feet to touch the forest floor. He could
smell the rough rich peaty earth and the particularly curious pine
smell he had known all his life. In his dream, Gideon looked into
the face of his rescuer, an old man in long grey and dark blue
robes. His hair was white, thick and glossy with a black streak
running down one side and Gideon thought he had the bluest eyes he
had ever seen.

‘Surr, do I
know yer?’ Gideon asked as the old man smiled at him and laughed
his eyes full of love and concern.

‘You obviously
know me well enough to listen,’ he replied as Gideon tried in vain
to recognise the voice, it was hauntingly familiar but he just
could not place it. ‘You should be careful boy,’ the old man said
as he pointed at the floor of the glade and a deep well full of
water before him. ‘We don’t want to lose you,’ he added as he
stepped back from the bemused boy and the edge of the well. Gideon
looked at the deep blue water and then up into the smiling face of
the old man. In silence, the man extended his arm, his fist tightly
clenched toward Gideon. Gideon instinctively raised his own hand,
palm up and underneath the old man’s closed fist. ‘This is who you
are my boy,’ he said with a sad smile. Gideon closed his hand over
the object that seemed to tinkle as it dropped into his palm. It
was warm from the old man’s touch. Once more Gideon looked into his
eyes.

‘I do know yer
surr, I be sure of it,’ he replied leaving his fist closed.

‘Open your hand
when you are ready young Gideon,’ the old man smiled warmly and
added, ‘but do not leave it too long, we have work to do, work that
has waited long enough already.’

‘I don’
unnerstand…,’ Gideon began, feeling rather confused.

‘Un
der
stand.’ The old man said, correcting Gideon’s speech,
‘you have much to learn before you do but you will though boy, when
the time is right.’ He turned his head and seemed to focus on
something far away.

Gideon opened
his mouth to speak but the old man placed a hand on his shoulder
forestalling him.

‘You must go
back now, your grandmother is calling, we’ll meet again and soon,’
he said. Gideon opened his eyes to see his grandfather smiling at
him.

‘You were miles
away boy; you found the heart of the piece did yer?’ His
grandfather asked. Gideon did not reply, he looked at the warm
wooden figure lying between his hands and realised something was
different about it. It still needed a face but the figure had
changed, with one arm, it still held the book against its chest but
the other now stretched out before it with the fist clenched.
Gideon opened his own palm, a little surprised to find it empty, he
smiled to himself.

‘Dreaming I
think gramps,’ he replied putting the figure back quickly into the
pocket of his jerkin and making a mental note to look at it again
when he was alone.

‘Gideon dear,’
called Gideon’s grandmother for the second time, ‘tea’s ready, come
an’ get it while it’s hot,’ she finished, as both Gideon and his
grandfather went to answer at the same time,’ the two closed their
mouths and grinned.

‘Gideon!’ His
grandmother called again, the two Gideons’ looked at each other and
grinned again finally laughing aloud.

‘Coming,’ they
answered as one and still laughing loudly together, made their way
back to the small parlour where they found Jed and Sonal tucking
into a feast of tea and cake.

‘Go find Mayan
fer me dear, an’ tell ‘er tea’s ready, she were exploring the
garden,’ his grandmother said as both Gideons’ were about to sit
down.

‘She means you
boy, yer got younger bones,’ the older man chuckled as he patted
his grandson on the back and eased himself onto a chair next to his
son. Gideon smiled contentedly at his family and opening the
parlour door stepped out into the sunshine.

Mayan was
sitting on a garden bench fashioned from the same wood as the
household furniture and Gideon sat down next to her feeling at
peace for the first time in three days. The wooden figure in his
pocket poked his ribs painfully as he sat, he moved it so it no
longer stuck into him and he wondered whether to tell Mayan of the
strange vision but before he could decide, she spoke, preventing
him.

‘I can’t
believe this is the first time yer visited ‘ere,’ she said as she
snuggled into his embrace, ‘I’ve always loved this cottage so.’
Feeling content, Gideon decided against mentioning the old man and
the strange things he had said, he was just happy to be here and
alone with her. He closed his eyes and together they lapped up the
remains of the sunlight, the sky grew red as the sun sank down over
the trees and filled the woods with shade. Mayan shivered as the
shadows lengthened quickly, engulfing her but leaving Gideon in a
small but fast disappearing patch of sun.

‘Yer been so
grumpy lately Gid,’ Mayan said referring to their journey up from
Green Home; she watched her fiancé from beneath her lashes.

‘Not all the
time May,’ he answered, ‘fer half o’ it I were sleepin’.’ He
grinned and lightly punched Mayan on the arm; her infectious
laughter joined his as she pretended to rub a painful wound.

‘I see, now not
only abandoned whilst yer sleep but battered an’ all,’ she threw
back as she jumped up and ran quickly to the house laughing as she
went. Pushing the door open, she laughed and slammed it in Gideon’s
face as he ran lightly behind her.

An evening of
fun and laughter followed, eventually though the friends and family
went to bed, Mayan to sleep alone in a small spare room and Gideon,
to sleep on one of the warm cushion filled sofas in the living room
directly below the room offered to Sonal and Gideon’s father. Their
room had two of the most exquisitely carved single beds Sonal had
ever seen.

‘These
bedsteads are truly beautiful,’ Sonal offered, admiring the rich
carving.

‘Nice and cosy,
just the way yer like it lad,’ Gideon senior said to his son as he
and his wife both carrying spare pillows entered the room two men
were sharing. ‘Was s’posed ter be our room but we never ‘ad much
cause ter use it as any noise travels straight down through the
floor,’ Gideon senior added with a wink.

‘Gideon!’
Gideon’s grandmother called in horrified embarrassment, her face
suddenly a deep scarlet; she threw her pillow at her husband and
left the room as Gideon senior pretended indignation.

‘What woman...,
I didn’t say owt!’ Gideon’s grandfather exclaimed as he smiled at
his son and growled at his wife as he too left the room. Jed
himself smiled wryly
, too much information Da
; he thought
and grinned again as he heard his mother berating his father
upstairs. He felt warm and comforted; his parents had finally
become the parents he had always wanted them to be.

‘Goodnight.’

‘Night,
‘Journeys Grace’ keep yer….’

‘Journey keep
yer,’ numerous voices across the little house called out as the
company settled down to sleep.

‘Gideon seems a
lot better now Jed.’ Sonal began quietly as he and Gideon’s father
also settled for the night, he intended, against his own advice to
ask about Gideon’s mother.

‘Yeah, he does
that.’ Jed replied.

‘He’s a good
looking lad; does he get his colouring from his mother?’ Sonal
began again.

‘Yeah.’ Was all
Jed offered, then, just as he began to drift off, Sonal spoke
again.

‘Jed, just who
was
Gideon’s mother?’ This time, Jed said nothing but once
again remembered the pale and beautiful blonde child who had died
giving Gideon life. He had thought about her a lot over the last
few days, he did not know why but thoughts of her had been with him
as the small company had journeyed toward Branton and he had felt
her as if she had truly travelled beside her son and calmed his own
worries.

The wind began
to howl and whine, whistling noisily through the rafters of the old
cottage effectively stopping any kind of whispered conversation and
for that Jed was grateful. He lay awake in the handcrafted single
bed, he remembered the piece well, how he and his father had honed
the wood and made it shine, revealing the beauty-hidden underneath
the bark. His father had been extremely pleased with the finished
product.