Magus of Stonewylde Book One (11 page)

‘Come with me, Sylvie,’ he said gently, moving up close to her. She turned sightless eyes to him, listening. ‘I’ll take you to a special place where you can gaze at her in all her beauty. Come with me, Sylvie.’

She allowed him to bring her arms down and put a hand on her elbow, guiding her along the path.

‘Just a little way along here and then we can cut out of the side of the woods and climb to the hill-top. Just a little further, Sylvie.’

She walked silently with him and he felt a great joy in his heart to be so close to her. Within a few minutes they were off the main path and heading to the edge of the woods. Here the sky was a much lighter shade of blue than amongst the dark trees. They left the trees behind and stepped onto the grass. Sheep were scattered around grazing quietly in the slight mist
that rose from the warm earth. Yul and Sylvie made their way up the hill towards the top, skirting around the boulders. It was quite steep but Sylvie climbed with light feet, humming again under her breath. Yul felt the silken brush of her hair on his hand. He longed to feel it between his fingers and stroke down the flaxen length of it, but he couldn’t take advantage of her entranced state.

It was violet twilight when they reached the summit of the hill. A single standing stone rose from the ground, ancient and sacred. The grass here was cropped short by the nibbling of many teeth. It was the place of the hares. Yul led Sylvie towards the stone and when they reached it, he gently turned her around. They looked together across the purple folds of land stretching away towards the sea.

On the horizon floated the moon, pink and misty. A strange keening rose from Sylvie’s throat, a cry of mingled joy and longing. Yul still held her elbow and felt her body shudder. Her arms rose up again as if she spread her wings and he let her go. She needed to dance, to fly. She raised herself onto tiptoes, poised, and then she was off.

Yul slid down to the ground in his usual spot, his back against the tall standing stone, and watched her dance. She seemed to fly over the grass, skipping, leaping, arms reaching out in joy. She was as graceful and light as thistledown in a summer breeze. She danced around the stone in a great spiral, sometimes singing her strange song, sometimes silent. Her silver hair flew out and her white limbs flowed. Yul had never witnessed anything like it. She was joined by a trio of hares, speeding long-limbed around the magical circle. Yul had seen hares do this before but he’d never dreamt they’d dance with a girl, even one so moongazy.

The moon rose from her violet bed up and across the sky, turning first pink-gold, then gold, and finally buttermilk silver. Shy stars prickled through the darkening sky to take their place in the dance. Still Sylvie danced with the hares, more gently now. The silver of the moon gleamed on her hair and in her eyes; her skin glowed like pearl in the moonlight.

At last, her energy spent, she sank to the ground near the stone. She knelt with her head thrown back, gazing up at the moon. Yul watched her in wonder. The hares too had stopped and sat a little distance away, their long ears laid down against their backs as they moongazed. He hugged his knees as he watched Sylvie, his black serpent sleeping. The pain he’d felt all over his body since the brutal beating seemed to disappear as the silver magic of the night caressed him. Something deep within him started to awaken, to stir for the very first time. Yul closed his eyes and sighed, feeling tears peppery and hot behind his eyelids.

How long they sat Yul didn’t know, but after a time when the moon had sailed up high and become a small silver disc, he decided that Sylvie should get home. It was cold and she wore only a thin dress. He got up stiffly, feeling beyond hunger, and moved softly to where she knelt.

‘Sylvie,’ he murmured.

He touched her shoulder with light fingertips. Slowly she lowered her eyes from the moon and looked at him. Her eyes were far, far away, but he watched as she gradually brought them back into focus.

‘Yes?’ she whispered.

‘We must go back now. Your dance is over. You must go home.’

Obediently she rose and followed him as he led the way down the hill, then cut into the dark woods. The blackness was thick, but through the branches they saw the star-spangled sky and the bright silver moon. Sylvie stumbled, and remembering her bare feet, Yul took her arm. He knew every tree root and obstacle on this path, even in the dark. His hand tingled where it touched her skin and he trembled at her quicksilver. Her body was alive with it, almost glowing.

She was silent as they walked through the wood but seemed at peace now, her earlier strangeness and agitation vanished. Yul wondered if her mother was back yet and quickened their pace. The last thing he needed was a search-party of Hallfolk finding him alone in the woods with Sylvie. All was silent as they reached
the point where the path left the woods. Yul found her shoes and watched as she slipped them onto her bare feet, longing to take her in his arms and hug her goodbye. He shivered at the thought of holding her close to him.

‘Are you alright now?’

‘Yes! I feel wonderful. Thank you, Yul. I …’

‘There’s no time to talk. You must get home quickly, before your mother does. And if she’s back, you must think of something to tell her about where you’ve been. Please, I beg you, don’t mention me at all. I’m in enough trouble as it is.’

‘I understand. Thank you again.’

She gave his arm a little squeeze and slipped away, going ahead of him. The cottage was still in darkness. He breathed a sigh of relief and headed for home, hoping that his supper would be waiting and his father out.

T
he land had now truly awakened from its winter sleep. As the warmth of April settled over Stonewylde, the trees became smudged with a green hue. Sheep and well-grown lambs were taken up into the far hills for grazing, and cows were led to the water meadows now that the winter floods were drying out. Cartloads of beehives were driven up to the heath for the early blooming gorse and spring flowers, whilst the Village pond bobbed with ducklings and squirming slicks of tadpoles.

Villagers put away their thick winter clothes and woollens and shook out their lighter flax garments from storage. Cottages were spring cleaned, rugs thoroughly beaten, thatched roofs repaired after winter damage. Vegetables in the cottage gardens began to sprout in profusion. The dry compost privies at the end of each long garden were given a complete clean out, and the compost containers that caught the waste were exchanged for empty ones.

Senior students revised for their imminent exams, confident that they’d do well, as standards in the Hall School were high. Cherry was busy supervising the spring-cleaning of the great stately home; a massive job done by an army of regular servants and extra recruits brought in from the Village. She’d stopped visiting Woodland Cottage as Miranda and Sylvie took their meals in the Dining Hall with the other Hallfolk, and were happy to look after themselves.

Every day Magus left the stables at dawn, where Nightwing was saddled up ready for him, and rarely returned before dusk.
He rode far and wide all over the vast estate, visiting every field, every wood, every hill-top. He rode along the cliffs, the beach and even the caves. He rode up to the great boundary wall that kept the Outside World at bay and personally inspected its entire length, miles and miles of it. This month was his time to check all the land at Stonewylde and take stock.

Once this was done, he began to meet with each group of Villagers to put together his reports. He visited the dairies, looking at production of milk, cream, butter, yoghurt and cheeses. He visited the tannery, the slaughterhouse, the mill, the bakery, the butchers, the meadery and the cider press. He checked on the bee-hives, orchards, chicken-houses, cowsheds and pig-pens. He looked at the buildings where cloth was woven and wool produced, where fabric was dyed and cut, where clothes and boots were made. He visited the potters and coopers, the furniture makers and fence builders, the woodsmen and charcoal-burners. He checked on the blacksmiths, builders, brick-makers, flintknappers, stone-carvers, carpenters, thatchers and tilers. He called on the sewage workers who managed the recycled waste, the plumbers and the wind farm engineers, and every single farmer, labourer and herdsman.

In April, Magus visited every household for his annual survey and census. This was prior to the busy summer months ahead when so much of the work and production was done. He needed to ensure that everything was managed and run properly. He gathered information about the whole community from every member. He must look ahead and see where young Villagers could be trained, where more labour was required, and where inefficient methods were wasting valuable resources. He was an absolutely determined and dedicated master and nothing escaped his eye.

Clip also spent his days roaming Stonewylde, but on foot. He too would set off at dawn with his staff and a small bag of food and water. His robed figure could be spotted sitting deep in the woods amongst the trees, or striding along the skyline on the Dragon’s Back ridgeway. Sometimes he’d sleep out, finding
shelter where he could. Clip fed his soul with Stonewylde, immersing himself in the essence of growth all around him, and felt his own spirit growing too. He spent much time in solitary meditation, visiting and exploring other realms in his role as shaman of the community.

As the month progressed, the garden at Woodland Cottage was completely cleared and dug. Yul was then released from his daily punishment as Greenbough needed his apprentice in the woods from dawn to dusk at this busy time of year. The punishment had been beneficial in one way, for Yul was now stronger and more muscular. His boy’s frame was changing; he was taller and had far more stamina and resilience than before. This was what he desired above all else.

He saw little of Sylvie after their visit to the Hare Stone on the night of the April full moon. He no longer watched her walking in the woods every morning, for she’d started at the Hall School. She found that despite the large gaps in her education, the system at the school enabled her to join in at her own level. Sylvie did her best to mix, although the Hallfolk youngsters seemed to have a bond which she didn’t share. They were so steeped in the ways and philosophy of Stonewylde that she felt on the periphery, but she hoped this would change in time.

Miranda had started work and found the teaching style at Stonewylde very different to working in inner-city classrooms, where she’d been obliged to adopt military tactics in order to survive. She was happy, not least due to her increasing attraction to Magus. During April when he was out all day every day, she looked forward to the evenings and seeing him at dinner. He always appeared just before the gong, immaculately groomed and glowing after a hot bath, striding into the great Dining Hall to take his place at the top table. Several times he’d invited Miranda to sit by him and she found herself falling under his spell.

Magus was well educated, amusing and extremely good company. When he was in a room everyone was aware of him. He gave out an aura of energy even when exhausted from so
many hours spent out on the estate. After dinner he usually retired to his office as his April stock-taking created a great deal of paperwork. Occasionally he’d join some of the Hallfolk in the elegant drawing room where they sat chatting, reading or watching television or a film. When he arrived, the atmosphere changed subtly as people vied for his attention. Everyone was brighter and more energised, feeding off his compelling presence. Miranda was no exception.

One evening towards the end of the month, Miranda had taken her after-dinner coffee into the library. It was in a different wing to the drawing room, and very quiet and shadowy. She sat alone in a window seat of the vast room reading a book. The door swung open silently but she sensed someone approaching. She glanced up to see Magus smiling down at her. He sat further along the window seat, watching her as he sipped his coffee. He then placed the empty cup deliberately on a nearby table. Her heart raced at his proximity and their isolation.

‘Well, Miranda, at last I’ve found you alone. I wanted to speak with you, if you’re not busy?’

She put the book to one side and smiled back, her hands trembling slightly.

‘I was just re-reading a text to use tomorrow with the students.’

His mouth twitched at this.

‘Very admirable. But don’t work too hard, make sure you leave time for pleasure and relaxation in the evenings.’

His eyes gleamed and she wondered if he meant what she thought he did.

‘Teaching here isn’t hard work after what I’ve been used to,’ she replied a little stiffly.

‘I’m delighted to hear it. Sylvie isn’t the only one who’s blooming at Stonewylde. I’ve noticed how different you are too – how much calmer and happier. And how very attractive you are.’

She blushed under his gaze, feeling ridiculously tongue-tied and unable to think of anything clever to say. She held her breath, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

‘Do I make you feel uncomfortable, Miranda?’ he asked softly.

‘Yes you do! I’m sorry; it’s not your fault. You’re just so … so …’

She glanced at him in desperation, floundering out of her depth. He laughed quietly and moved closer to her on the long cushion, taking the rattling cup and saucer from her hands. She caught a waft of his scent and all her senses tingled. He was so assured, so much in control. She dreaded what may come next and yet longed for it too.