New second version of Wild Woman with Mushrooms in Her Hair for Thursday May 11 2023 Jill
jill stockinger
Wild Woman with Mushrooms in Her Hair by Jill Stockinger
Why, I’m glad you stopped by! I guess I am famous in these parts
for my story about the wild woman wearing mushrooms
in her hair and her cub and the stone bottle.
Do have some tea! I always start by explaining a passing dragon had warned me
to watch out for this wild woman, but foolishly, I had paid no attention.
I was gathering herbs in the garden, with one ear cocked for my baby’s cry.
Suddenly, there was this wild woman running at me, swinging a bottle
on a leather thong like it was a weapon. I shouted at her to stop. I waved my hands
frantically. Here, dear, do have a slice of this cake I baked this morning!
She stopped short not more than two feet away, almost as close as you are to me,
and she leered at me. Her teeth were sharpened to points. She showed me she had no ears
under her garland of white mushrooms perched on her bushy, unkempt brown hair.
Loudly, she screamed meaningless guttural syllables
and swung the stone bottle in great wide arcs
in the air above her head. I noticed a wolf cub beside her.
I thought, how can I talk or reason with a woman who has no ears,
who has sharpened teeth, who is swinging a stone bottle
and will probably kill me with one strong swing?
Seized by some strange impulse, I pulled down my blouse
and bared my breasts. I squeezed milk from both of them,
telling myself my death would probably be quick, so I’d hardly feel any pain.
No, I don’t know what came over me! Do have more cake! Sometimes
I think I must have fey blood in me, the way things often turn out. Maybe I was
hoping motherhood might be considered sacred, even to a wild one like her.
To my surprise, she put down the flask, embraced me and showed me
her breasts that streamed with milk. She lifted the wolf cub who greedily nuzzled
and suckled from first one of her breasts, and then, the other.
Fearing she might try to have me feed her cub, I beckoned her into
my small hut, where I lifted my one-year-old babe to suckle from my breasts.
Quiet and content, he did so, still caught in a state of drowsiness.
She retrieved the flask, came inside and placed the cub on the warm hearth.
I went to lay my son back in his crib, but she snatched him from my hands and laid
him on a rug against her cub, in front of the fire. My son used her cub as a pillow.
I offered her water to drink and a bowl of stewed meat from the pot hung over the fire,
but she rejected my offerings. She took mushrooms from a small cloth sack which was tied
to her belted garment of leather; her dress was adorned with bones and soft feathers.
She offered mushrooms to me, but smiling, I lifted my cup of stew and took a noisy gulp.
After chewing two large mushrooms, she lazed back in the chair. She accepted
a woven blanket to warm herself and proceeded to fall asleep, snoring loudly.
I finished eating but feared going to sleep, not knowing how much I could trust
a wolf cub to not harm my child. Gingerly, I tiptoed over, stroked the cub lightly, slowly
lifted my child and, quiet as a mouse, sidled back to the crib, and laid him down to sleep.
I wrapped myself in another blanket and sat back in my chair, trying to stay awake, but
I must have slept. I woke to bright sunlight streaming through the open door. The woman
and her cub were still inside; dangling from the woman’s hand was a beautiful amulet.
It was made of bright quartz crystals, eagle feathers and knotted, colored twine.
She offered it but pulled it back from my outstretched hand. She made gestures to her heart
and then her head. She performed these gestures three times, then pointed to me.
I copied her gestures, placing my hand first over my heart and then my forehead.
I did this three times. She put out her hand as if to say, “Stop.” She pointed at my son,
and then, with a scooped palm, it looked like she pretended to throw water on him.
I raised my hands to show I did not understand. She pointed at me and did her round
of gestures again, hand to heart and head, three times, ending by pointing at me again.
I felt seized by loud wind, heard chanting and knew, somehow, I had made a sacred vow.
I nodded in agreement but wondered what I had promised. She happily placed
the lovely amulet in my hand and hugged me one more time. She bowed deeply and I
curtsied back. After pointing to the sky, she and the cub walked grandly out of my poor hut.
I hung the amulet from the lintel of the doorway, marveling at its intricate design.
The crystals cast lovely rainbows when the sun shined through the quartz.
I did not see the wild woman or her cub again, but the dragon did stop by.
We often take tea together; his name is Gerald and he’s a proud great-great-great-great-
(well, I’m not sure exactly how many greats he claims)-grandfather and boasts of the brilliance
of all the dragons in the family that he has. And rightfully so, I tell him.
And he tells me stories of how many knights he’s fooled and the princesses he’s saved,
and we pass the time in friendly laughter. And this time, he tells me that my amulet
will increase my good fortune and that of my son’s and tells me I should treasure it.
When I tell him I had been seized by wind and had heard chanting, and I describe
the gestures we had both made, his great eyes blinked, and he stated, gravely,
I had vowed to do the bidding of that woman, and that the price might prove too great.
And it came to pass that every plant we planted grew and yielded harvests of great note,
the cow we purchased gave prodigious amounts of milk, our chickens laid the largest eggs, and
my son married well and had children. Our lives rolled on this way, peacefully, for many years.
But I warned my son, his wife, and my seven grandchildren about the sacred vow I had made,
a promise that might be claimed from any one of them or me. I reminded them periodically,
and I had troubled dreams about what might be asked of us and what we’d have to give.
One day, with the sun at its zenith in the sky, the wild woman returned and met with us.
My dark hair had turned gray, but she looked no older, and her cub had become a large,
handsome wolf with powerful muscles and a luxuriant black coat.
She laid her hands on my seventh grandchild, young, sweet Lily. In my head, I heard, like a
trumpet blaring, “It is time.” She spun Lily round three times, and Lily blossomed suddenly
into a grown woman, covered in finery; the wolf reared up and Lily gently kissed his lips.
To my shock, the wolf transformed slowly into the most beautiful man I had ever seen;
his countenance was dazzling. He held Lily’s hand and said, “At last, the wicked spell is broken.
I am King Gadriel and I beg the boon of Lily’s hand.” My son was dazed but nodded in assent.
Gadriel had come from a kingdom that is far from here, accompanied by his mother who is
skilled in simple earth magic. A terrible witch placed this spell on them that could only be
broken by a kiss from the descendent of one who had offered them food and accepted a vow.
Lily became the wife of Gadriel and queen over the bounty of his lands. He agreed
to have the rites of marriage in our village but said he and Lily had to hurry to restore the health
of his land; life had been draining out of it since his absence which was so prolonged.
Everyone around was invited to the wedding, which was held in one week’s time. The bride and
groom exchanged their loving vows, and the priest gave his blessing. The village fiddlers played
fine tunes, and we danced, feasted, and made merry, and soon after, Gadriel rode off with Lily.
Why a wolf? Gadriel’s crest has a wolf on it, so the witch thought it amusing to turn Gadriel into
a wolf, and make his mother, renowned for her gentility, look like a savage from ancient times.
Bereft of human speech, the witch thought surely they'd never escape their altered states.
We have visited Gadriel’s lands now, many times, and rejoice in Lily’s good fortune.
Their kingdom abounds in health and wealth, and Lily’s born twelve good children.
They press me and my son to move there, but we refuse to abandon our home.
I always say, if you come to the edge of the forest and see our house, now large and fair, and spot
the amulet which is still hanging there, drop by! And just as you and I are doing, we'll drink tea
and eat lovely cakes. Yes, do tell me all about your grandchildren, and I will tell you of mine!