“Aye, it will be a bad day for anyone who dares to set out today.” The scruffy seaman squinted out to sea, looking at the bright sunrise.
Moira stopped by the edge of the footpath, tilting her head to one side in puzzlement. Then she realized what the sailor meant...the sun was rising red, coloring the waves the color of blood. She remembered the poem she’d been taught since the cradle.
Red sky at night
Sailor’s delight
Red sky in morning
Sailors take warning

“Aye, it will be a bad day for anyone who dares to set out today.” The scruffy seaman squinted out to sea, looking at the bright sunrise. Moira stopped by the edge of the footpath, tilting her head to one side in puzzlement. Then she realized what the sailor meant...the sun was rising red, coloring the waves the color of blood. She remembered the poem she’d been taught since the cradle. Red sky at night Sailor’s delight Red sky in morning Sailors take warning Every child in the village who could speak could chant it. The village lived by it. If there was a red dawn, no man would set foot in his fishing boat or even in a merchant’s ship. “The ruler of the seas won’t look kindly on any man who dares to try his wrath,” said Hirven. He hunkered down beside his son, the man who had first spoken. “He’ll suck them down in a vortex into his ever-hungry belly.” A crowd had gathered by now, ragged and red-eyed with lack of sleep. The fish had been spawning, and it had meant long hours and easy catch for many of them. Another fisherman spoke up. “Well, at least we can catch some sleep today.” Hirven cut down the idea. “Best spend the time you have boarding up your house and preparing for the storm. The sea-ruler has been lenient the last few times.” Moira was ready to move on. She’d been hearing this blather all nine years of her life and was bored with it. Then she halted. Coming down the path from the village on the cliff was a tall, broad-shouldered figure she recognized. It was her older brother’s friend, Gavrin. Gavrin smiled at her, his sea-blue eyes flashing humor. He waved and she timidly waved back. He was something of a mystery in the village. Two years ago he’d left, discontent with the slow fishing village life. He’d wanted to make a name for himself. Six months later he’d come back, completely changed. He still went to the tavern, but Moira’s father and brother reported that he never drank any ale, nor did he speak much. He was always in the background, listening. Moira could hear seagulls screeching overhead as Garvin strode down the path toward them. “Good morning, Hirven!” Gavrin said cheerfully, walking onto the pier where all the men were clustered. Hirven looked at him balefully. “Why are you so cheerful?” “It’s a beautiful morning. Look at that sunrise! It’s one of the prettiest I’ve ever seen in the village.” “Look at it? Boy, that’s what we’ve been doing. It’s red!” Hivren growled. “It means the sea-god is going to throw the sea into a fury and we’d best stay away from it!” Gavrin pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants. There was a hole at one knee that he stared at for a moment, seeming to find it of great interest. Slowly, he looked up from it to the sky, watching the seabirds wheel and swoop. The men had already gone back to muttering when he said, “Do you really believe that?” “Believe what?” Hirven’s son asked. “Believe that the sea-god is going to punish anyone who dares to sail out today.” Hirven’s eyes bulged out of his leathery, dried-apple face. “You...you...” he sputtered, and finally spit it out. “You blasphemer! Do you seek death, Gavrin?” “No, only life.” “Then don’t speak such things! Of course we believe in the sea-god. Don’t you?” Gavrin shook his head. “No.” Babble broke out on the dock. The men drew away from Gavrin into a tight ring, staring at him, some with blatant horror and others with envy. Hirven rose, pointing at the young man with a bony claw. “Blasphemer! You could...no, should...die for such words, Gavrin!” “The sea-god isn’t real. He’s just a creation of man to explain why we have storms many times after the sun rises red. We’re like little children, playing with our fantasies. We say he creates the whirlpools that we loose ships to by sucking water through his teeth because he’s hungry. We say that when the sun rises red that he’s cut his hand in a blood-oath to kill any fools that venture to sea that day.” Hirven’s hands shook with rage. “It’s that...that thing around your neck!” he hissed. “That cross!” Moira tilted her head to the side again as she drew closer. Yes, Gavrin wore a cross, a plain, unadorned one on a leather cord. What did it matter? “It can’t protect you! Your precious metal trinket means nothing to the sea-god, who is so holy he doesn’t even have a name!” Gavrin smiled. “My God is stronger. He’s real, not the sea-god. It’s Him I serve, and none other.” “Prove He exists,” someone else demanded. “I can’t. I’m still a young believer myself. You’ll just have to take me at my word. It’s called faith.” “ ‘Faith!’ ” Hirven sneered. “You ask us to follow your head-in-the-clouds god while we’re struggling to eke out a living! The last thing we need is to anger the sea-god so he’ll destroy us all.” Gavrin was getting irritated. “The sea-god doesn’t exist! Why do men like you, whom I trust and respect, not give me the same trust and respect? Why do you insist on following something...” “You’ve given us no proof, lad,” Moira’s father said quietly. “But there’s no proof...” Gavrin broke off and looked around him, making eye contact with each man. Then he gave a strange half-smile. “I see. You think I’m a madman, or worse, a heretic.” “You are a heretic!” Hirven jabbed at his necklace. “This symbol around your neck says you’re a heretic!” “All right! So I’m a heretic!” Gavrin walked past him, down the pier where his one-man fishing boat was tied. “What are you doing?” Hirven’s son asked. “I’m going out today. I can’t afford not to. My mother’s sick and if I make a catch today, we might be able to afford medicine for her.” “You’re going to die,” Hirven’s son said. “If God so wills it, then I’ll die. If not, then you’ll see me tonight.” “Eh, let him go.” Hirvin spat on the dock. “Let him see his folly when his ship is in pieces and he’s drowning.” Slowly, the men started away. They had preparations to make for the coming storm. Gavrin ignored them, working quickly to prepare his ship to go out. Moira slipped forward until she was close to him. He straightened and stared at the rising sun, then chuckled. “Gavrin?” He whirled around. “Oh, it’s you. Hello.” “That’s it? Just hello?” “I’m busy, Moira.” Gavrin bent down and began unfastening the rope around the dock. “I’m getting ready to go out.” “I heard.” Gavrin stopped at the tone in her voice. He looked up. “You too? You think I’m crazy for doing this?” “I don’t know.” “Moira...” Gavrin put his hands on her shoulders. “I believe my God is stronger and more powerful than anything in the world or out of it. I’m trusting my life to him today because I have to go out. My mother’s very sick, and without the medicine she may die.” Moira nodded. “And you’re not afraid?” Gavrin smiled. “A little. It’s not easy being the first man to go against centuries of tradition.” He turned back to his work. “I think I’ll be fine.” “What if you’re not? The whole village will call you a fool and you’ll never convince them that you’re right.” “I know. Do you believe me, Moira?” “I don’t know what to believe.” “Will you think it over?” Gavrin stood up and tossed the rope into his ship. “Yes.” “Thanks.” He stepped down and raised the sail. A breeze caught it as he steered it away from the dock. “I’ll see you tonight, Moira!” She smiled and waved as he sailed around the cliff and out of sight. Gavrin never came back. Hirven had accurately predicted that the storm would be a bad one. They never even found pieces of his boat. Someone, feeling guilty, bought the medicine for his mother, but she never did fully recover. Moira grew up quickly after that. At first, she always felt upset when someone ridiculed him. Gradually she grew used to it, and even more gradually talk died out. Moira forgot about her promise to think about what Gavrin had said. One morning after her eighteenth birthday, the sun was rising red. The men hadn’t even bothered to go down to the dock. Hirven had predicted it would be another bad one and they wanted to be ready. Moira slipped away from her chores that morning and walked down to the beach. As she walked, Moira thought about a lot of things...the village gossip, the upcoming festival, the fishermen’s luck, and a certain green-eyed young man with wavy copper hair who had already asked her to dance with him at the festival. Something glittering in the sand caught her eye. Curious, she bent down and brushed it free, then lifted it. Her breath caught and her heart quickened. In a rush, she remembered another day, long ago, when she’d promised a friend to think something over. There, in her palm, with remnants of a leather cord still strung through the loop at the top, lay the beaten, battered metal cross.

copyright 2007 by Magical Ink (magical-ink.blogspot.com)