A Dark Night Hidden (20 page)

The remedies had always worked.

If she had stopped to think about it, Joanna would have said that Mag was still there in her memory, vivid, full of life, and that she was recalling instructions that Mag had given her in the past. But, now that the Domina seemed to be suggesting an alternative explanation, it occurred to Joanna that Mag hadn’t given her any instruction in the care of young babies. Meggie had been born – had been conceived – after Mag had died.

Joanna raised her eyes and stared into the Domina’s.

The Domina nodded, smiling her satisfaction. ‘Good,’ she murmured. Then: ‘You named your child after her.’

‘I did. She is called Margaret, but I usually shorten it to Meggie.’

The Domina’s smile had widened and now there was an uncharacteristically soft expression on her face. ‘We used to call Mag by the same pet name,’ she said softly.

Joanna was still trying to absorb the implications of that when the Domina said, in quite a different voice, ‘You wear the claw.’

‘Oh! Yes. I was given it at Yule. I was alone – too busy and preoccupied with Meggie to attend the festival – and one of the men came to see me. He was wearing his animal mask and cloak and he left me this.’ She pulled the claw out from inside her gown. ‘It was such a kindness,’ she said quietly, ‘to leave the celebration and pay me a visit. It made me feel that I was not forgotten. I suppose the festival must have been held quite close by but, all the same, he missed quite a lot of it for my sake.’

The Domina made no reply. Surprised, Joanna looked up from her contemplation of the claw. The older woman was staring at her. When she had assured herself that she had Joanna’s full attention, she said tonelessly, ‘The festival of Yule was held three days’ walk from where you have your forest house.’

‘But then—’ Joanna could not take it in. ‘But did he not attend the festival, then? Did he stay away too?’

‘Who do you mean by
he
?’ the Domina asked.

‘I – well, one of the forest people who live close to me, I suppose.’ She had not really thought about it before. ‘I have encountered a few of them. They have helped me out sometimes, and some of them have called by to show me something or teach me a new skill. I imagine it was one of them.’

‘Did you recognise him?’

‘No. As I said, he wore his bear mask. But—’

But what? She did not know.

After quite a long pause, the Domina said, ‘Do not assume, child. Keep an open mind.’

And, a few moments later, she waved her hand again and Joanna was dismissed. As she turned to leave the little shelter, the Domina spoke again. ‘You have been initiated as one of our people, Joanna,’ she said. ‘You have done what was required for this first step.’

A first step? Oh, did that mean there would be more? Joanna felt her heartbeat quicken in faint alarm.

‘Have no fear,’ the Domina went on calmly. ‘You will not be asked to do anything that is beyond you. When the time comes, remember that what you have done before, you can do again.’

Joanna waited to see if she would enlarge on this enigmatic piece of advice. But there was nothing; watching the Domina, she saw her close her eyes and sink back into her furs.

Back within the circle, somebody gave Joanna a drink. She gulped it down thirstily, and they gave her some more. Cailleach came by, dancing in the midst of a long chain of young men and women. Two of the men took Joanna’s hands and swept her up with them. Laughing, singing, she danced with her people.

The celebrations went on for a long time. Only as the faintest break in the darkness beyond the stone circle began to appear did men and women begin to slip away. They went in pairs, happily, joyfully together. They would, Joanna was well aware, find a quiet corner in which to lie together, honouring the Great Mother in an act of love.

Her body yearned to do the same. But she knew nobody, had met no man who was likely to seek her out and entice her to lie with him amongst his warm furs.

As the chain of dancers dwindled to the last few, she turned away. Heading out of the circle and towards her camp, her feet dragged. It was very dark under the pine trees and, as soon as she was away from the fires, also very cold. She shivered, wrapping her cloak more tightly around her.

The path back to the camp was longer than she remembered. Feeling the beginnings of alarm, she wondered if she had managed to get lost. Oh, surely not, she thought, how could I be so foolish? After all, it’s not far.

Concentrating, trying to peer into the darkness of the trees for a familiar sign, she thought she recognised the track. Relieved, she set off confidently down it.

Only to realise, a little later, that it could not be right after all. If it were, she should be at her camp by now.

What to do? Go on? Turn back?

Go on.

She did not know where the command came from. Nevertheless, she obeyed it. Moving now as if in a trance, she followed the path. Her feet fell with a soft thud on the aeons of fallen pine needles that made up the ground; she seemed to feel a warmth emanating from them, as if the very ground was magical.

Then she came to a tiny clearing. A space had been made right in the midst of a thicket of bramble and bracken, and within it burned a little fire. Beside the fire was a dark shape lying in a den of fur.

She knew who he was.

The great head was raised in greeting, and she saw the smile of the man within the mask of the bear. Without a word being spoken, she knew that he had heard her silent yearning and called her to him.

Quite unafraid, she went through the bracken and knelt down beside him. He welcomed her into the circle of his warmth and she felt the soft bear fur brush against her skin. His breath smelt of the forest. Pulling her close to him so that she could feel the slow, steady, powerful throb of the great heart that beat within his breast, he bent his head and kissed her.

She would have expected to feel very cold without her cloak and her gown but he had heat enough for them both. Wrapped in his arms that were at the same time human and animal, she gave herself to him and he surrounded her with the essence of himself. His strong aura embraced her and, in total trust, she surrendered into his care. He was a bear, he was a man; he was both. Yet, when at last the moment came and he entered into her, it was, as she had all along known it would be, as a man.

They lay there in the light of his fire and she relaxed, utterly spent, into him. She felt his large hand gently stroke her sweat-damp hair from her face and turned her head a little to look at him. She saw both images, the bear mask and the human smile. Returning the smile, she pressed her breasts into his pelt. She felt the claw that she wore around her neck digging into her skin.

‘Thank you for the gift,’ she murmured. ‘I treasure it.’

Inside her head she heard him reply.
You will never be alone now
.

‘I know.’ She caressed the strong, heavily muscled shoulder. ‘I feel . . .’ She wanted to tell him that what he had done for her made the difference, so that now she felt at home in the forest where before she had been merely visiting.

While she was still fumbling for the right words he answered.
It is understood
. A pause, then:
It is right
.

Relaxing, feeling sleep overcome her, she knew there was no more to be said.

She awoke to thin daylight. The fire had all but gone out but, snugly wrapped in furs, she was warm.

She was alone.

Stretching luxuriously, she felt the kiss of the pelts against her naked flesh. Memory came flooding back, and she felt again the violence of her climax. Oh, but she had needed that! And she had not even suspected her need; it was only when the dancers had begun to creep away that she had felt the stirrings of that primal hunger.

He had known. And he had called to her.

Smiling, she turned over, curled up and went back to sleep.

When she stirred again, it was a different sort of hunger that woke her. Blinking in the sunshine filtering down through the pine trees, she tried to think when she had last eaten. Unable to remember – and quite sure that it was far too long ago to be good for her – she got up, dressed and made her way back up the track towards the stone circle.

It occurred to her when she was only a short way up the path that perhaps she should roll up those beautiful furs and make some attempt to return them to their owner. He had quietly left her to sleep, and it seemed a little ungrateful just to abandon their bed. She turned and went back along the track.

She could find neither the furs, the dead fire, nor the thicket of bramble and bracken.

Shaken, for the first time afraid and suddenly desperate to get back to Meggie, she ran away up the path.

Back in the cheerful company of the young women’s camp, she soon forgot her fright. Many of them, it seemed, had had strange experiences during the night just past, yet none was perturbed. On the contrary; they appeared to regard the occasion as one for which to be deeply thankful.

Suckling Meggie – who, according to the women who had been watching the babies, had taken a small feed from her and then slept soundly for the rest of the night – Joanna felt her feet slowly return to Earth. When, a little later, Cailleach returned to the camp with a deep purple love bite on her neck, Joanna had to suppress a giggle.

The two of them talked for a while, teasing one another, and some of the other young women joined in. To begin with, Joanna was quite surprised at their ribaldry, but then she thought, why should I be shocked? What possible evil can there be in men and women lying together in the Great Mother’s name, giving and receiving pleasure and, for a time, love?

But as she thought on this, something occurred to her. She had borne two children and knew herself to be fertile. Meggie was her delight, and she would not be without her for the world. But to bear another child, that was another matter. What if it should be a boy? Life in the forest was not the life for a young man.

Or was it?

This morning, after all that had happened, she found that convictions which she had formerly held so rigidly were taking on an air of uncertainty.

Nevertheless, she beckoned Cailleach over to her and asked in a low voice, ‘Do we – I mean, do any of the girls become pregnant after the festivals?’

Cailleach laughed. ‘Of course! It is the same act of love, Joanna, even if it comes at the Goddess’s bidding. Children born of the festival nights are especially blessed because we believe they have Her kiss on their brow.’

It was a lovely concept. But still Joanna was not entirely happy. ‘Do we – that is, what if we think that it’s not actually the right time for a baby?’

Cailleach regarded her kindly. ‘We put our trust in the Great Mother,’ she said. Then, a smile breaking out on her face, ‘Although there are steps that we can take if we are not ready for a pregnancy.’

‘Are there?’ Joanna was amazed.

Cailleach laughed delightedly. ‘You have lived in the old ways for a year and you do not know?’

It hasn’t been relevant until now, Joanna thought. But she merely said, ‘No. Please tell me, Cailleach.’

Cailleach sat down on the ground beside her and told her of the workings of her body. Then she explained how to make conception more likely, and how to make sure it did not happen at all. She told Joanna of the mysterious cycle that kept pace with the Moon, how to calculate which were the most and the least fertile days.

‘You wish to know whether you conceived last night, I would guess,’ Cailleach said when she had finished the lesson.

‘Yes.’

Cailleach studied her for a moment. ‘No. You did not.’

‘How do you know?’ Joanna burst out.

Cailleach grinned. ‘You are about to have your courses. Tomorrow, perhaps even later today, the blood will flow.’

‘But—’

From close at hand, another of the women laughed. ‘Is that Cailleach working her magic again?’ she said, eyes on her child feeding at the breast. ‘You believe her, young Joanna, she is never wrong.’

Joanna gazed at Cailleach. ‘How do you
know
?’ she asked again, whispering now.

‘Experience,’ Cailleach said modestly. ‘Anyone can do it with practice.’

Watching her as she gracefully got up and wandered away, Joanna thought, there has to be more to it than that. She’s only my age, if that, so just where has all this experience come from? She hasn’t had the time!

And, as if in confirmation, the woman who had laughed said, ‘She’s a midwife in a hundred, is Cailleach. They nickname her Mab because they say the fairies taught her.’

Then, as if her remark had been nothing more than some mundane utterance about the weather, or the plans for the next meal, she calmly returned to feeding her baby.

There was one more day of celebrations – far less exuberant than the one before – and then the gathering began to break up. One by one groups set off from the hilltop, seen on their way by the singing of the others. Joanna, busy with tying up her pack, felt a tap on her shoulder.

A young man stood there. He had thick auburn hair, smoky grey eyes and a shy smile. He said, ‘I’m a silversmith. I heard tell you were looking for one.’

Too much had happened in the last two days for Joanna to ask who had told him or how he had found her. She simply said, ‘Yes, I am. Thank you for seeking me out.’ Then, pulling out the claw on its thong, she held it out to him. ‘Could you set this in silver, with a ring on the top from which to hang it?’

He was staring at the claw, his eyes wide. ‘Yes, I can,’ he said slowly. ‘It’ll be a rare test.’

‘Is it a difficult task, then?’

He looked up at her, smiling briefly. ‘Not difficult, no. It’s the honour, see.’

She thought she did see. ‘I do not know how I can pay you,’ she said. ‘I have some skills, so perhaps if you name your price?’