Magus of Stonewylde Book One (17 page)

‘Good.’

She grinned up at him, almost skipping beside his long strides.

‘You have the most amazing gift.’

‘It’s not mine. It’s the gift of the Earth Goddess and she’s chosen to bestow it upon me. I realise how honoured I am.’

‘Do you heal many people?’

‘None at all. I don’t believe that’s why the Earth Magic is given to me. I keep it for myself because without it I couldn’t run Stonewylde effectively. It gives me the energy I need to lead the community.’

‘So why did you heal me then?’

‘Because you’re very special and I didn’t like to see you suffering. You’ve been ravaged by all the poisons and toxins they’ve forced into you. Your body’s been damaged, and I don’t like to see beauty violated. You’d have recovered anyway living here. I simply speeded up the process.’

‘I feel as if I could fly!’

‘Maybe you could! Sometimes I feel like that myself. I’ve learnt
how to control the energy now, but I remember as a young man when it first came to me how I wasted it. I let it flood out of me at every opportunity. But not now. I’m careful now, like a dragon guarding its hoard.’

‘You certainly don’t look tired, even though you’ve been awake all night. Poor Rowan looked so exhausted.’

‘She’ll be asleep now,’ he said. ‘I’ll give her another hour or so, then she must come down to the Village for the festival.’

‘Did you have a nice time last night?’

He shot her a quick glance and his lips twitched with amusement.

‘Very nice, thank you.’

‘It must be fun staying up in the woods all night. A bit creepy though, I’d have thought.’

‘Creepy? No, not at all! The woods are beautiful at night-time, especially at Beltane.’

‘Rowan looked such a mess! What happened to her head-dress?’

‘It’s left under a tree as a sort of shrine.’

‘Oh, I see. Has she gone home now?’

‘No, she’s at the Hall. Actually, she was a little upset that I didn’t stay with her. It’s the custom for me to ride in the carriage with the May Queen and look after her at the Hall, especially if she’s a Villager. Rowan couldn’t understand why I needed to stay behind here this morning. But Cherry’s looking after her, running the bath and putting her to bed, so she’ll be fine.’

‘I hope so. I wouldn’t want to have spoiled it for her.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to her. She’s probably better off enjoying the luxury on her own.’

‘Oh yes! She’d be so embarrassed if you were around. That’s okay then.’

He shook his head and chuckled.

‘Sylvie, you are so sweet. You and I must have a talk at some point about the reality of Stonewylde and all that we do here. But not yet. And here’s your turning for the cottage. See you later on down in the Village. Wish Miranda a Bright Beltane from me.’

‘I hope I can take part in this next year,’ said Sylvie, as she and Miranda sat watching the Maypole Dance on the Village Green later that morning. She longed to join the girls who skipped and weaved around the great decorated pole, long hair and white dresses flying, smiles on their faces.

‘It looks incredibly complicated,’ replied her mother. ‘See how the ribbons and all the creepers and leaves not only get plaited, but how the plaits are then woven together?’

‘I’d really like to learn,’ said Sylvie. ‘It’s a beautiful dance.’

May Day was clear and sunny and the Green was full of people, Villagers and Hallfolk together. Everyone had breakfasted in the Great Barn and was now dressed in white or green. Magus still wore his Green Man costume and wreath of leaves. Although the pigment had been washed off his skin, traces of it lingered, giving him a leafy green tinge. Rowan the May Queen was beautiful in a fresh white dress and newly-made wreath of hawthorn blossom and bluebells. But she was somehow different today, if anyone had looked closely. Her sparkle had gone and her eyes were tired.

Sylvie should’ve felt tired too as she’d been up since first light, but instead she bubbled with new energy. She felt more alive now than at any point she could ever remember. The drips and doctors seemed like a distant nightmare today. She lay back on the grass next to her mother and gazed up at the forget-me-not blue sky. She felt the warm earth beneath her back and stretched out her hands, caressing the grass under her palms. She smiled with perfect contentment. Miranda glanced down at her daughter affectionately, happy to see her looking so healthy and joyful.

‘Look, darling, it’s the boys’ turn now. This must be the Morris dancing you asked Magus about when we first arrived here. Do you remember? Oh don’t they all look lovely! It’s like stepping back in time.’

Sylvie sat up on the grass as a large group of young men trooped into the centre of the Village Green, replacing the young women who’d now finished their dance. Dressed in green
trousers and jerkins, with white ribbons tied in fluttering bunches around their wrists and knees, the boys milled about in readiness for the next event. Sylvie noticed Yul immediately, his thin dark face serious as he tightened the ribbons and accepted his wooden staff from the leader. Buzz was also there, laughing and joking with his group of Hallfolk friends as they waited around for everyone to get into place.

‘Oh – look, Mum, there’s someone with a black face!’ said Sylvie.

They both stared at the young man, a Villager dressed in a strange, tattered costume, whose face had been blackened. He wore a tall hat spiked with pheasant tail-feathers and his ragged outfit was decorated with many brightly coloured ribbons. He stood inside a woven hoop of wicker that had been placed flat on the grass, in the centre of the group of men. They all now took up position around him, forming a huge spoked circle.

‘How strange,’ said Miranda. She turned to a plump woman sitting close by, surrounded by a clutch of young children, and asked her about the man. The woman laughed, delighted to talk with the Newcomers.

‘Why, ‘tis our Jack in the Green!’ she said. ‘You watch, my dears. See how he gets caught up as the dance goes on.’

‘But why’s his face been painted black?’ asked Sylvie.

‘He’s in guise!’ said the woman. ‘’Tis all part o’ the dance and the mumming. ‘Tis only soot and grease. We have ‘un at Yule too, with the Bone Horse. But at Beltane ‘tis Jack in the Green – you’ll see how he’s trapped in the branches.’

The musicians sat together and re-tuned their instruments as a large crowd gathered to watch. The music began and the men were off, leaping over the staffs, banging wood with other young men and kicking high in the air. The dance was intricate, with potential for injury as the thick staffs cracked together up high and down low. Yul was supple and graceful and Sylvie enjoyed watching him dance. He caught her eye and flushed with pleasure at her attention. Being heavier and larger, Buzz wasn’t so light on his feet, and the previous night’s antics had taken their toll.
Several times he stumbled and cursed, and Yul had to bite his tongue every time he came close. Buzz noticed his mocking glance and his face flooded scarlet.

‘You wait, you little bastard! I’m going to get you today.’

The dance moved round and Yul was unable to reply to this, so contented himself by making a flicking sign instead. At Stonewylde this dismissive gesture was the ultimate insult, a contemptuous flick of the open hand towards the earth implying ‘Go to the Otherworld!’. The music increased in tempo and the lone figure in the centre, so incongruous in his jaunty hat and tattered clothes, began to skip and hop on the spot. Then he lifted the woven ring of wicker from the ground and held it around himself at chest height.

The dancers crashed their staffs hard together and uttered cries of ‘Hey!’ as they leapt about. Sylvie noticed that the Jack figure now stood still within his wicker hoop. One by one the dancers stepped forward and propped their staffs upright on the ground against this circle, gradually forming a kind of pointed pyre of wood around him. More and more branches followed, the empty-handed dancers leaping around the figure now rapidly disappearing inside his cage of wood.

Finally every dancer had placed his staff to form the central cone. They circled fast with many kicks and skips, and the wild music reached a crescendo. The Jack could no longer be seen at all behind his framework, and suddenly the music stopped and all the dancers leapt high in the air and shouted, ‘Jack – ho!’ Sylvie jumped, quite shocked at the suddenness of the noise and the way the man in the centre had apparently vanished.

‘There, see what I mean? ‘Tis powerful stuff, our Jack in the Green dance,’ said the woman, a baby now suckling contentedly at her great breast. ‘They do say, some of the old ‘uns, that back in the past, they’d set the Jack afire now.’

‘Really?’ exclaimed Miranda. ‘How extraordinary!’

‘Aye, burn him as he stood there trapped in his cage. And afore that, they’d poke him through the branches with knives, so as he couldn’t run.’

‘Ooh – but not nowadays?’ said Sylvie, horrified.

‘No, maid!’ chuckled the woman. ‘Not nowadays! Not at Stonewylde!’

The dancers turned to the audience sitting all around and bowed. Everyone cheered and clapped, and then they all took their staffs and revealed the hidden man still standing holding his wicker ring. The audience cheered again and the Jack made a great bow as everyone started to disperse. Yul grinned across at Sylvie, pleased that she was still watching him. Miranda caught the look and glared at him.

‘Don’t encourage him, Sylvie,’ she warned. ‘You know what Magus said about him.’

‘I’m not!’ retorted Sylvie indignantly. ‘He only smiled. There’s no law against that.’

‘You know what I mean. That boy’s trouble, I can tell.’

‘I don’t see how you can say that, Mum. You don’t even know him.’

‘No and neither do you, so let’s keep it that way. If you’re starting to take an interest in boys, there are plenty of nice Hallfolk ones. Look over there – one’s smiling at you now.’

She nodded towards Buzz, hot and sweaty from the dance, and Sylvie grimaced.

‘No thanks!’

The Naming of the Babies, held later in the morning, was a lovely ceremony. Sylvie and Miranda were amazed at how many little bundles there were, from newborns to babies almost a year old – all the children born during the year since the previous Beltane. The babies were carried in turn up to the dais where the Green Man and the May Queen sat together on their thrones. One by one, mothers handed their babies to Magus. Holding the baby aloft, he announced its name, kissed it and blessed it with Bright Beltane Blessings. Rowan then presented the mother with a small silver charm on a ribbon for the child to wear. The charm represented the festival nearest the baby’s birthday, the same symbol that would be embossed on the silver disc presented at
the Rite of Adulthood ceremony in years to come.

The babies were well behaved and the ceremony went smoothly. Clip, standing nearby and smiling indulgently, chatted as they watched the procession of mothers and babies circling the Green.

‘Don’t they look sweet!’ exclaimed Sylvie. ‘They’re all adorable and none of them are crying.’

‘The Villagers have such enormous families,’ said Miranda. ‘There are a few Hallfolk babies and mums, but it seems most of them are Villagers.’

‘Since Sol became the magus he has great plans for expansion. There’s plenty of fertile land to grow enough food, but we’ll need a lot more labour.’

‘That sounds a little cold-blooded and calculating,’ said Miranda, watching Magus’s smiling face as he kissed each baby in turn, with a word and a hug for every proud mother too. ‘I can’t believe that’s the only reason behind this incredible … brood of babies.’

‘Well, Sol’s actively encouraged all Village women to have more children and he tells everyone they’re the future of Stonewylde. He’s made it desirable and praiseworthy for a couple to have a huge brood, to the point where it’s now become the norm. Seven or eight children in a family isn’t uncommon, and there are a couple of families, I believe, with more than ten.’

‘Ten? That’s crazy!’

‘Regardless of Sol’s motives, it’s lovely to have a big family knowing the children will grow up in a happy community and want for nothing. Plenty of good food, clothes and shoes, a warm cottage and lots of space to roam free. And we have a wonderful Nursery here in the Village, so every mother gets all the support and assistance she needs.’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ agreed Miranda, looking at the rosy-cheeked babies dressed in delicately embroidered white clothes and decorated with garlands of flowers. ‘It makes me feel quite broody.’

Clip smiled a little slyly.

‘Well, doubtless it’ll be your turn soon.’

Miranda went pink.

‘No chance of that,’ she retorted.

‘Don’t say that, Mum! You never know … you’re still young enough and I’d love a little brother or sister.’

‘You’re being ridiculous, Sylvie,’ said Miranda sharply.

‘Do you have any children, Clip?’ asked Sylvie. ‘I don’t even know if you’re married or not.’

‘No, I’ve never been blessed in that way.’

‘Maybe one day,’ said Sylvie.

‘No, there’s no chance of that,’ echoed Clip. ‘I’m the shaman and must live a life of solitude and aestheticism. I tread a lonely path and leave the riotous living to my brother.’ He glanced at Miranda’s expression and smiled. ‘Only joking, of course.’