Read The Awakening for Free Online

playing one night. Big, he was, broad shouldered and heavy-set. He stood in the doorway and shook himself like a bear. Spray and salt scattered around him and he threw his cloak towards the barman.
    “‘Who’s the best minstrel in these parts?” he bellowed at us all. With my usual charm and grace I stood up and bowed deeply.
    “‘It is I; I cannot lie.” That did not impress him. He looked me up and down and snorted at me.
    “‘Perhaps you can learn some humility as well as some new tunes.” With that, he produced the most wonderfully made harp I have ever seen. It was not big, about so wide, by so high,’ Adam gestured with his hands, showing a size slightly smaller than usual for a travelling harp. ‘It was made from a single piece of driftwood, bleached white by the sea and decorated with the most intricate scrollwork imaginable. And when he played, it was like no music I have known. It flowed like the tide, sweeping over me, taking me away. I begged him to teach me but he laughed, and shook his head.
    “‘Oh no, my young minstrel. This song is not for you. It has a destiny all its own. But I shall teach you many others. Come.” He held out his hand to me and I followed him out of the inn. For the next twoyears I followed Feargus as he wandered far and wide across the land, singing and playing his magical harp.’
    ‘How did you know it was magical?’ asked Hwenfayre, eyes wide.
    ‘I don’t think it was actually magical, but when he played it, it seemed to take on a life of its own. He told me it had a name, but he would never tell me what it was. He’d always just say, “She’ll tell you herself, one day.” He always referred to it as a woman, and he would hold it gently, lovingly, as one would hold a child. I remember at night, when we were on the road, we’d sit by the fire and he’d spin the most wonderful tales about life on the sea, and how he and his people would travel by the stars, crossing and re-crossing the seas. It was a very special time for me.’
    ‘But what does it have to do with me?’ asked Hwenfayre.
    ‘Does this tune mean anything to you?’ Adam whistled a few bars of a complex melody. She felt a chill. She hugged herself tightly and stared at the minstrel. Despite her initial feelings of being able to trust this man, she found herself shaking her head.
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t know it.’
    The tall minstrel’s face fell. ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘It was a foolish hope anyway.’
    They continued to talk for a while, and he played a few songs and sang a little. He taught her some songs and they sang them together, but all the time she could sense that he was restless and wanted to leave. All the time, Hwenfayre wanted to call him back, to tell him, to ask about her father, butsomething stopped her and finally she watched him stand and take his leave. He walked away without looking back.
    When she went home to her mother, she told her about the strange encounter and was dismayed to see her face cloud over with the first signs of anger she had come to know so well. It was these sudden surges of strong emotion that preceded the bouts of bitterness that finally led her into the ill health that claimed her happiness and eventually her life.
    ‘Nonsense,’ she scoffed. ‘A magical harp carved of driftwood? Whoever heard of such silliness? Now, be off to bed with you!’
    Hwenfayre’s lip trembled with the onset of tears, but her mother would not gather her in her arms to comfort her, so she sadly tucked herself into bed to listen to the sounds of her mother’s slow descent into a troubled sleep.
    At night Hwenfayre sometimes cried herself to sleep as she lay in her narrow cot. Frequently she would reach out and touch her bleached white harp, tracing the delicate, intricate scrollwork that adorned its surface.
    When Hwenfayre’s mother died, not long after the meeting with the minstrel, she started to make the jewellery that she sold in the marketplace. She rose