Shaman of Stonewylde (41 page)

‘Aye, my lad, and you must fight for it. Pah! I don’t see nothing now – ’tis gone!’

She thrust the bowl of water at him and he rose to take it from her, placing it carefully on the scrubbed table. Vetchling stirred and moaned, and Martin ensured her blanket was still in place, despite the warmth of the evening. Neither Violet nor Vetchling had been persuaded to wash or change their clothes yet, and Martin was at a loss as to how this could be achieved. His aunt groaned and whimpered in her sleep.

‘She needs more tincture, but ’tis almost gone,’ said Violet sadly. ‘I couldn’t make no more this summer and now ’tis too late – the poppies have died.’

‘Is there nothing else she can have in its place?’

‘No, ’tis my poppy syrup she loves, for it makes her sleep and eases the pain.’

‘Mother, I don’t want to distress you, but maybe . . . should we call in the doctor from the Hall? Perhaps she—’

‘Don’t you dare!’ cried Violet, her filthy face darkening further. ‘I don’t want nobody poking about my sister in her last days!’

‘Her last days?’ said Martin. ‘But . . . do you mean—?’

‘Aye, don’t be a half-wit! Can’t you hear how bad she is?’ said Violet furiously. ‘I done my best for her but her time is over now and the Dark Angel is nearby. Can’t you feel him?’

‘But there may be some medicine that—’

‘NO! Stupid boy! There’s a time for cure and there’s a time for care, and our Vetchling has reached the end o’ her days in this realm. We must let her go quietly, let the Dark Angel lead her soul into the Otherworld. We’ll see her again, right enough. No interfering, Martin! And the same for me, when my time here is over too. Promise me that, boy!’

‘I promise, Mother.’

‘And now you get abroad, my lad, and take the mouse-wife with you. Make sure she brings more meat in the morning, mind.’

‘I will, Mother. She’ll be taking care of you every day now, so don’t fret. And the boys will bring wood and water. We’ll talk about a wash another time.’

‘You might, I shan’t!’ she snapped, glaring at him. ‘Now be off, but don’t rest easy in your bed tonight. ’Tis the Blue Moon – see what’s afoot on the Green. I feel . . . something is there, something we should stop, but I know not what. He that we summoned is still with us, but now he ain’t so strong and we need to give him strength. We must get ‘un through this year.’

The beautiful moondancing on the hill was done. The moon magic had been drawn down again and danced into the spirals of Stonewylde, buried inside the sacred hill marked by the standing stone. Sylvie and Celandine both knelt in the grass, the little girl with her mother’s arms around her. The hares had boldly approached to sit all around them, their ears laid down on their backs, gazing up at the glorious Blue Moon. She rode the clear skies in her silver chariot, large and bright, stealing all
the
starlight to make herself even brighter. Bluebell had fallen asleep in Yul’s arms and he held her tight, gazing at his wife and eldest daughter through a blur of tears.

He thought back to that night of the Summer Solstice, the Dark Moon, when he’d wantonly destroyed the trust, so sacrosanct and inviolate, that held every true partnership together. Nothing could ever be the same again. He’d sacrifice anything that was his to give, in order to rewind the days and nights since that terrible betrayal. If only he could relive that night, but this time make the right choice and turn his back on Rainbow and her lure. Why had he succumbed to her? He’d asked himself this a million times since, and there was absolutely no answer that made sense. He’d known, the second he turned Skydancer’s head towards the path leading down to the beach, that he was on a fatal, headlong plunge into self-destruction. He’d known that, and yet he’d still gone ahead and done it.

Tonight, for the first time in months, Sylvie had been so warm and loving that Yul felt maybe he had a real chance of winning her back. But what about his foul act of infidelity? He felt dirty and soiled and didn’t want to taint her as well. Should he confess all and hope she’d forgive him? Or should he continue with this lie – pretend it had never happened, and hope that Rainbow had told nobody and would keep the secret for evermore.

The moon was high, and, thinking of Celandine still kneeling in the grass, he laid Bluebell down and went over to rouse Sylvie from her moongazy trance. She smiled up at him and he realised that she wasn’t under the same kind of spell that she’d once been at the moonrise. Together they gathered their things and Yul carried Bluebell, whilst Celandine walked quietly by their side. They made their way down through the tussocks of grass, past the rocks and boulders into the field below, and through the archway of branches into the woods.

The moonlight was bright, finding chinks in the canopy of leaves where it peeped through and pooled onto the ground below. Celandine was enchanted and began to skip ahead on dainty feet. To both her parents she was a woodland faerie with
the
moonbeams dusting her silver curls and pale limbs. If Yul hadn’t been carrying Bluebell, he’d have liked to take Sylvie in his arms and thank her for such a magical evening and such special children.

‘Celandine’s moongazy, isn’t she, but not destructively so, as I was,’ said Sylvie softly as they walked through the moon-dappled wood.

‘Yes – perhaps because she’s Stonewylde born and bred, rather than stifled in an urban nightmare as you were from birth,’ he said. ‘You seem a lot calmer now than when you were younger.’

‘I am – I’m fully aware of everything going on. It’s so much better.’

‘You seem better in yourself anyway, health-wise,’ he said. ‘I know you always said you weren’t ill, and I was wrong to go on about that, but honestly, Sylvie, you weren’t looking very well for a while.’

‘I was at low ebb and depressed, but that’s gone now – thanks to Leveret.’

‘Leveret? Why, what’s she done?’

‘She made me some special tincture that cures depression. I’ve been on it for a couple of months or so now and it’s really done the trick. In fact I can probably stop taking it now.’

‘But it is safe, isn’t it? I mean it’s—’

‘Yul! Don’t start fussing please – it’s a lovely natural remedy, a beautiful golden tincture. It’s as old as the hills and it’s made from bright yellow summer flowers. It’s cured my depression and stopped me feeling so tired and run down. Leveret’s been making quite a lot of herbal remedies – you must go and see. She’s set up in Mother Heggy’s cottage – Clip’s had it renovated for her. She’s really good and she has a natural talent for healing.’

‘I’m so out of touch with everything,’ he said. ‘I hardly know what’s going on at Stonewylde any more, and certainly not what you’re up to.’

‘Well, let’s think about a fresh start, shall we?’ she said. ‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow maybe – or perhaps after Lammas when it’s quieter. Things feel different now, and we all need to start
again
. Certainly you must mend your relationship with Leveret. She’s such a lovely girl – we all adore her. Will you try?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘You’ll see what a different man I am now.’

Clip carried Hare’s basket down the path from the Dolmen to the Hall as she was quite heavy now. Leveret took Clip’s drum and her headdress, and was quiet on the way back. Her mind was still in the magical place where they’d journeyed, trying to make sense of what they’d experienced. So much of her journey had been in blackness, which was unusual. Raven had failed to explain why, other than telling her to learn to use her other senses as sight wasn’t the only one, and a true seer had vision even in darkness. Leveret was slightly disappointed as she’d hoped for more insight at the Blue Moon. Clip seemed a little despondent too. He’d said something about making a sacrifice – killing the wolf and feeding the serpent – but Leveret got the feeling he didn’t really understand what he’d been shown on the journey either.

When they got back to the tower, he handed the basket over to Leveret.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come up to Mother Heggy’s cottage?’ he asked. ‘I could carry Hare and then leave you in peace?’

‘That’s really kind, thank you Clip, but I’d intended to get Magpie to help. I mentioned it to Marigold earlier and she was okay with it. If you are, of course?’

‘Oh yes, Magpie’s an excellent companion. I’ll see you in the morning then. Bright blessings for the Blue Moon, my little Leveret.’

Unexpectedly he stooped and kissed her cheek before leaving her by the courtyard. Leveret took the heavy basket and her hare headdress and looked along the row of terraced cottages. A light burned in most of them, as it wasn’t very late, and at Marigold’s she found Magpie waiting. He beamed at her and waved goodbye to Marigold and Cherry who both sat knitting.

‘I’ve put some sandwiches and a drink in his bag, Leveret,’ said
Marigold
. ‘Have a blessed Blue Moon, and take care of our lad, won’t you?’

As they walked up the long path towards Mother Heggy’s cottage, Leveret reflected on the recent difference in everyone’s attitudes towards her and Magpie’s friendship. She recalled Maizie’s outrage when she’d gone into the woods with him at the Moon Fullness less than a year ago. She remembered all the taunts and teasing in school at her championing him, when others bullied and mocked him. Yet here were their adopted carers – Clip and Marigold – letting them go off together completely unsupervised at the Moon Fullness. Leveret guessed it was because they now thought of her as the Shaman; normal rules didn’t apply any more. She’d chosen the life of the celibate, so presumably nobody saw Magpie as a possible partner – he was now merely a friend. That was all she’d ever wanted him to be anyway.

The brilliant moon rinsed them in silver as they made their way to the ancient cottage. It stood dark and solid on the silvery grass and, as they approached, Leveret was delighted to see Crow roosting in his favourite spot, tucked in where the chimney met the thatch. As she opened the door, which, since casting the spell of protection, she no longer locked, he lifted his head from beneath his wing and gave a great
CAW!
He was an intelligent bird and had recently become very tame, helped by the titbits Leveret fed him. If she were at the tower he’d fly onto the crenellated roof loudly announcing his arrival, although he never ventured inside. Whenever she visited Mother Heggy’s cottage he’d usually appear, and recently he’d begun to hop inside the cottage to join her. His favourite spot seemed to be perching on the back of the rocking chair, which made Leveret smile. He had to scrabble to hold on if the chair moved and it seemed such a funny thing for a crow to do.

They entered the cottage with its lovely aroma of dried herbs and wood-smoke, and as the air inside was altered by their presence, Leveret thought she heard a sigh. They released Hare from the basket and she hopped over to her favourite spot by the settle against the far wall. As Leveret lit a candle inside the lantern,
Crow
strutted in through the open door, his white tail feather gleaming brightly. Magpie opened a drawer in the dresser and found his sketch pad and pencils.

‘I shall sit quietly inside the pentagram, Maggie,’ Leveret explained. ‘I’ve already had a journey tonight, so this will be more of a quiet meditation. I’m still hoping to make contact with dear Mother Heggy somehow.’

Magpie nodded and smiled at her, settling himself down on his chair at the table.

‘Shall we get out both Books of Shadows?’ asked Leveret. ‘You can make sure ours is all up to date with the illustrations, and I’d like to have the old one in the circle with me. Maybe it’ll help summon Mother Heggy.’

Carefully she removed the ancient leather-bound book from its cloth and placed it inside the circle marked out on the stone floor. She set it all up as usual, with small objects representing the elements at the five points, and lit the sticks inside the little fire-cauldron in the centre. She placed Mother Heggy’s sacred tools – the athame and gathering knife – on the old Book of Shadows, which formed an altar of sorts. There was no mead or cake, as she’d already had those with Clip, but Leveret had come to realise that all ritual was flexible, and it really didn’t matter if she deviated from a ceremony. She knew her most effective experiences with magic had been when she’d completely abandoned the formal ways and followed her own instincts.

Magpie took the new Book of Shadows and opened it up, leafing through some of their entries. He was proud of his illustrations next to Leveret’s writing, but he frowned at her untidiness. Now his reading and writing were progressing so well, he’d started to find some of her work a little sloppy. He lit his own lantern and pulled it close so he could see the Book more clearly. Taking up an ink pen, he began to tidy some of her script by over-laying it with his own careful, artistic writing.

Leveret sat in the circle ready to still herself. She pulled on the hare headdress, knowing that Mother Heggy would approve. Hare stood up in the corner, shook herself as a dog might, and
lolloped
over to join her. Leveret stroked the creature who climbed into her lap and settled down. Crow perched on the back of the rocking chair, his feet gripping the snarled wood, and blinked at her. Leveret sighed and threw a handful of herbs into the cauldron. Quietly she began to call on the elements and the forces of Stonewylde to enter her circle. She hoped with all her heart that tonight, Mother Heggy would finally join her.

Martin and his wife left the ramshackle cottage at the end of the lane and walked up the track towards the heart of the Village. Mallow carried a basket containing empty dishes and many dirty rags, needing to be boiled clean. Tomorrow she must bring down more soap and cloths, and she’d have to pick up a new scrubbing brush from the Village Store on her way past. Then she remembered it was Lammas in the morning. They’d all be up at the Lammas Field at dawn and celebrating throughout the day, with a ceremony in the Stone Circle at sunset; the Village Store would be closed tomorrow. She wondered if Martin would want her to spend Lammas cleaning the cottage or joining him at the festival; whatever he decided, Mallow knew she must take food to the two old women in the morning. She was exhausted tonight and longed for her bed. She was worried about how she’d keep their own cottage up to Martin’s exacting standards if she were down at his mother’s all day, every day, and she fervently hoped that he’d make allowances at home.