It was the Twentieth of June, and Kelly Ann and Jane were
enjoying the cool lakeside weather at Piney Point.
“You know how Samantha and Julia stumbled through a thin
place between the worlds and came out in the fairy realm?” remarked Kelly.
“Yes,” replied Jane, “and they escaped from Faerie by the
skin of their teeth.”
“It occurred to me,” went on Kelly, “that the circle of
standing stones that Bailey and I found may be another thin place between the
worlds, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was connected by a ley line with the
other-worldly cave that led to Faerie.”
“What are you getting at?” asked Jane, uneasily.
“The fairies know we’re here and that we know about them. If we don’t propitiate them somehow, they
could work serious mischief on us.”
“Like making our cow
go dry?’
“Exactly! So it’s a
good thing we don’t have a cow.”
“Tonight,” said Jane, “is Midsummer’s Eve. Back home, on this night, householders would
leave bowls of bread and milk to feed the fairies in an attempt to stay on
their good side.”
“So that’s what we should do.” Kelly declared, “and leave it
in the stone circle. This is a night
when some thin places open up completely.”
“But we’d better have some iron about us,” said Jane, “as
protection against fairy magic.”
“I’d thought of that, and some salt, too!”
“Salt?!” exclaimed Jane, “That’s protection against witches,
not fairies! Lands sakes! What do they teach children these days?”
So, brandishing the largest, sharpest kitchen knives they
could find, the girls set off for the high meadow where stood the standing
stones.
“Back home,” said Jane, “above the village of Poppets Revel was
a hill called Poppets Halistane, and at its apparent crest there was a circle of
standing stones very like this one. No
one ever went there, for ‘twas said it was a fairy haunt. Those who did go there without iron on them
were either never seen again or went mad.”
She tightened her grip on her knife and held it high.
“At dawn on Easter Sunday” Jane went on, “it is said that
the tallest stone bows down to the rising sun.
Since no one ever went there, it could not be proved, but I am willing
to believe it. I wonder if something like that happens here”
They had brought with them a basket with a bowl, a fresh
loaf of bread, and a bottle of milk.
Kelly tucked her knife into her waistband and opened the bottle while
Jane cut slices from the loaf.
They set the bowl on the offering stone at the base of the
central stone.
“We should summon the fairies,” suggested Kelly.
Jane drew in her breath.
“Be careful how you call them.
They are not to be trusted, especially this evening.”
Kelly spoke loudly and clearly, “People of Peace! Come hither this night and accept this our
gift of bread and milk!” She turned to
Jane. “How was that?”
“Jes’ fine, but let’s skedaddle home while we still can!”
The girls left hastily.
The instant the sun set, the fairies appeared.
“Those mortal maidens have called us,” said one, in her
high, squeaky voice.
“And left us a bowl of bread and milk,” said the other,
equally shrill in tone, “Not very original, I must say.”
“No one has offered us anything for hundreds of years.”
“It’s not like the good old days when Tom of Bedlam fed us.”
They laughed a high, silvery, tinkling laugh, tinged with
menace.
“This bowl was sincerely offered, and we are duty-bound to
accept it. Let’s sit and eat.”
The fairies satisfied their appetites.
“Now we are also duty-bound not to molest them in their
homes for at least the coming year.”
“So we can’t make their cow go dry?”
“They don’t have a cow.”
“Well, that relieves us of that responsibility!”
They flew off into the gathering dusk.
On Midsummer Morning, the girls returned to the circle,
knives well in hand. They found an empty
bowl.
“Happy Midsummer, Jane,” said Kelly, “I hope this has helped
us to befriend the Good Folk.”
“Watch what you say!” Jane was stern. “They are never your friends! The best we can hope for is that they are not
our enemies.”
Tom of Bedlam
