The Fear of Fairies - 2. Chapter 2

So Thomas began a divided life. By day, if anything, he worked harder than ever for Callan and for the village priest, trying to be godly, diligent and respectable. By night, he frequently slipped out of his sleeping loft and into the woods to dance in the fairy ring.

Much that he learned about fairies was unexpected. They were all born to human parents, for example. And they were all male; even those who appeared to be female were male fairies in female attire. There were other races of supernaturals, such as the river-nymphs, who were invariably female. And all supernaturals, not just fairies, also lived and worked among humans; it was rumored that many river-nymphs were in the Navy. And the variety of fairies bewildered Thomas. There were fat fairies and thin fairies, wise fairies and foolish ones, loud ones and silent ones, industrious ones and lazy ones, and the more one tried to define what they all had in common, the more elusive it became.

And Thomas felt a divided allegiance. Secretly he felt the fairies to be his friends, but in the village, he felt compelled to speak slightingly of fairies as everyone else did. His loyalty to the village priest was undiminished, though the priest often spoke of the Church's opposition to the supernatural.

The village held an annual ceremony called the Cleansing of the Fields, intended to drive evil and supernatural forces away. The priest chose Thomas to lead the procession, carrying a large wooden cross with goat's wool at the tip and sheep's wool at the base, to locate the ungodly. He showed Thomas how it would dip when pointed in the direction of a fairy. As the day grew closer, the priest grew angrier and more vehement about the need to rid the village of fairies. "Others think this is just a game, a holiday," he said intently. "Only a few of us, like you and me, recognize how real the danger is."

On the day before the Cleansing, Callan found Thomas standing idle in the workshop, unable to work.

Callan said, "What is wrong, boy?"

Thomas said, "I have to lead the procession for the Cleansing of the Fields tomorrow."

Callan said, "All the more reason to pick up the pace a little. I can spare you tomorrow if you get busy today."

"Callan," Thomas said, "have you ever hunted fairies? On horseback? Have you ever been blooded, dipped the green cloth in their blood, smeared it on your face?"

Callan paused a moment before replying. "I did, once, when I was young. I wouldn't again. It was a stupid nasty business. I don't see why we can't live and let live. If a man goes after the fairies too much, it says more about him than about them. The fairies have their place, and we have the village. I don't see what the big problem is."

"But what if there are fairies right here in the village? What if someone you know is actually a fairy?"

Callan said, "What is it you are saying?"

Thomas looked at the floor.

Callan said, "What is it?"

Thomas said nothing.

Callan said, "What are you trying to say?"

Thomas said, "I am not like you."

Callan fingered a piece of wood, examining its grain. "Not like me? Hm. I don't need you to be like me. You're a good apprentice. You're skilled. That's enough like me to suit me. And anyway, what am I like? Many people don't approve of me. They say it's because I won't marry, though it's probably because I won't marry their daughter. I like beautiful women and I'm not about to marry, and I don't care what people think or say. I decide what's right for me. No one else does. So, are you like me? Or not?"

Thomas distracted himself with work for the rest of the day, but that night he could not sleep. At last he slipped down from the loft and made his way through the woods to the twinkling fairy lights, as he had so many times before. He paused at the edge of the clearing and looked at the familiar faces of the fairies, one by one. There, among them, dancing with the assurance of long practice, was the village priest. Thomas turned and ran back home.

Early in the morning he went to the church to prepare for the ceremony. There was nothing unusual in the priest's behavior, and Thomas wondered if what he saw had been a dream. The priest spoke as bitterly as ever against supernatural creatures as Thomas helped him with his vestments and prepared the long wooden cross with its woolen tassels. Most of the village turned out with pots and pans and noisemakers to follow the priest and Thomas, who led the way into the fields surrounding the village.

Thomas saw nothing magical in the working of the cross. It dipped when his arms were tired. Then the villagers would rush forward, beating pots, laughing and calling. Sometimes a fairy would actually be seen running away, but not always. As the villagers became merrier and more disorganized, the priest grew angrier. Finally he called for silence and said, "This is not for fun! It is not enough to make a little noise and chase the fairies a few feet! We must show them that their presence will not be tolerated!" He ran into the field, swinging his staff, and flushed a fairy out of the thick bushes. He hit him once, drawing blood, before the fairy escaped into the woods.

Thomas heard a voice at his ear. "Dear me, the padre is getting a bit serious." It was Robert, the first fairy Thomas had met. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, and neither would any of my friends. Really it's one of the highlights of the season. And your cross, dear, it's just divine! But we were hoping things would stay non-violent. Something ought to be done."

Thomas, scarcely surprised at the presence of Robert, thought those last words to himself again and yet again: "Something ought to be done." Slowly, he swung the cross in a wide arc and let it dip, pointing directly at the priest.

The villagers began to giggle. "Father fairy," one said. Soon they were all chasing the priest round and round the field, then into the forest, crying, "Father fairy! Father fairy! Start a new church in the woods!"

Later, Thomas was walking with Robert toward the heart of the forest, saying, "Did I dream the priest was in the fairy circle?"

"Oh, no," Robert said. "He's been dancing with us for years."

"But I don't understand it," Thomas said. "How can someone hate fairies and be afraid of them, and be a fairy himself?"

"How long have you been afraid?" Robert said. "And how long are you going to keep slipping out only at night?" They had come to a small river, and beyond it was a castle--the castle Thomas' parents had stayed in so many years ago, the castle of which Thomas had made a model when he was five. "That is the castle that is meant to be your home, Thomas, your real home. You can slip out to the fairy ring at night, but you can come to that castle only by the light of day. The sun is bright, Thomas; there are no hiding places on this last stretch of road beyond the stream. Are you ready now?" Robert waded into the stream.

"Will I still live among people?"

Robert glanced back long enough to say, "Of course. We all do," then turned and continued.

Thomas heard voices behind him. A little girl and an old woman appeared. Thomas recognized them — they were his niece and his mother. "Look!" the little girl cried, pointing at Thomas. "A fairy!"

"So it is!" Thomas' mother said. “And a castle--a castle--"

"It's Thomas!" the little girl said.

Fear crossed the woman's face. "Don't be silly. Let's get back to the picnic. Right away! It's getting cold."

Thomas watched them go, then stood still for a moment. "Well, I've still got my job in town," he said at last, and waded across the stream, walking toward the castle.