Shaman of Stonewylde (42 page)

‘You can miss the sunrise ceremony tomorrow,’ he said abruptly, as if reading her thoughts. ‘You need to be up very early to put our cottage to rights afore you leave for the Village, and you need to prepare our lunchtime picnic. I’ll be in the Lammas Field o’ course, for Swift will join the reapers this year. You can work at Mother’s cottage until ’tis time for you to carry the picnic up to the field for us, and after that you’ll return and continue your work at Mother’s. You must attend the sunset ceremony in the Stone Circle of course, and put in an appearance at the feast and dance in the Great Barn afterwards. ’Twill be a long day, Mallow – do not let me down by slacking, will you?’

‘No, Martin,’ she replied. She hoped he might give her a little praise for her efforts today as she’d worked her fingers to the knuckle with all that scrubbing. The cottage was indescribably soiled, the residue of a lifetime’s neglect, and many a time today she’d had to fight back nausea at the sheer filth that she’d been forced to deal with. Old Violet terrified her and always had done, but Martin’s wrath terrified her more.

‘Go back home now,’ he said, ‘and make sure my festival clothes are laid out ready for tomorrow. I’m staying in the Village a while longer. No dawdling along the way! Don’t wait up for me – you should be asleep when I get back. Remember, I can always tell if you’re pretending.’

As Martin and Mallow parted company in the Village, Sweyn and Jay were leaving by another path. Many couples were out on the Green tonight for the Moon Fullness, and many had gone elsewhere for some Blue Moon magic. Lammas was the traditional day for a boy to ask a girl officially to walk with him, and to exchange corn favours, ideally with both families’ blessings. Tonight on the benches and cobbled area outside the Great Barn there was a great deal of giggling and preening amongst the younger members of the community in preparation for this.

Sweyn and Jay, however, were not interested in such things. They’d both drunk a great deal of cider in the Jack, and after relieving themselves copiously in a bush, they resumed their mission: to call on Mother Heggy’s cottage.

‘Will she be there?’

‘Dunno, but if she ain’t we’ll still get inside the place and see what she’s been up to.’

‘What if Clip’s with her?’

‘We’ll wish ’em bright blessings and be gone.’

‘I still don’t see why she gets a whole cottage to herself when there are families crowded in the Village,’ said Jay. ‘Don’t seem right to me.’

‘I know,’ said Sweyn. ‘That’s what I thought when I heard
they’d
re-thatched the place for her. I went up to have a look myself but . . .’

He stopped at the memory of the unsuccessful visit, and involuntarily touched his forehead. It was still slightly tender to the touch but he’d reluctantly had it seen to by the doctor and was now on the mend. He’d conveniently forgotten that Leveret had shown concern; all he remembered was that she’d gained the upper hand when he’d attempted to visit the cottage. The thought of that abortive visit still made him angry; the magpie’s slimy droppings had proved very difficult to clean off.

‘Well, let’s hope she is there so we can make her see how wrong it is to hog the place to herself.’

‘Maybe she’s going to set up home with Magpie!’ sniggered Sweyn.

‘Don’t mention sodding Magpie!’ said Jay harshly. ‘I still can’t believe Uncle Martin made me and Swift go up the crones’ cottage the other day to sort out firewood and water and Magpie didn’t have to! Ain’t fair, that! And now the old boy says we have to go regular and do it.’

‘Magpie should take his turn,’ said Sweyn. ‘Swift told me about it and he weren’t happy neither. And he said you and him went up Quarrycleave with them models and photographers? What was all that about? I thought it were special to you, that place.’

‘Yeah, ’twere Swift’s fault. He told ’em about it and then they wanted me to show ’em as I’m meant to be the expert now. But it were a bloody disaster!’

‘What happened?’

‘There was a raven that dive-bombed everyone and pissed off Finn, who used to be Fennel when he were Hallfolk. One o’ the girls – Goddess, they were skinny bitches, weren’t they? – saw an adder and got hysterical, and then that Faun, she were showing off and she fell off a rock and hurt her leg. And Holly – Aitch – was upset about the dust. It were bloody stupid the whole thing.’

‘Did you sort out where you’re going to take a girl at the Moon Fullness? You said—’

‘Yeah, I can see now how to get through the place and up to the Snake Stone. There’s a way up to the top by all the boulders. It’d be tricky in the dark, but I reckon if it were a really bright moon or you had a torch, you could do it.’

‘Should’ve gone tonight,’ said Sweyn. ‘It’s bright enough tonight and no clouds at all.’

‘Yeah, I didn’t sort it for tonight. I need to plan it carefully to make it work. ’Tis better if I wait till the autumn anyway . . .’

They’d finally reached the chalky path that led up towards the cottage. It was a ribbon of moonlight glowing white against the dull grey of the grass, snaking away up the hill. From here, the smell of the sea was stronger although they could hear no sound from it. In the heavy silence, as they stopped to catch their breath, they felt the eeriness of the night all around them. Both of them suddenly shivered, despite the warmth of the air and the heat from their exertion.

With slightly reluctant feet they continued up the path, going slower and slower. After a while, looming ahead of them, they saw the dark shape of the cottage with the paler thatch. The two small windows on either side of the door glowed softly. They stopped and gazed at it. Neither said a word, not wanting to admit to the feeling of dread that had seeped into their rather addled brains. As they stood there in the hush, the temperature suddenly seemed to drop. From behind them, a cold mist crept in and the bright moonlight became dim.

Alarmed, they both looked up and saw the moon rapidly disappearing behind a dark, swirling inkiness, the brilliant disc dulling and then fading as the light was blotted out. The mist eddied around their legs, damp and cold, and then it was all around them and they could see nothing at all. Neither had brought torches as the night had been perfectly clear, but even torches wouldn’t have penetrated this thick fog.

‘Bloody hell!’ hissed Jay. ‘That were quick!’

‘We better go back,’ said Sweyn. ‘If we just go back down on the path we’ll find our way, but we don’t want to get lost up there, do we? Not with the cliffs close by.’

‘Yeah, let’s go back,’ said Jay. ‘We’ll get her another time. It ain’t worth risking our own necks just to give her a seeing to. Anyway, I already got other plans for her.’

So having convinced themselves of the foolhardiness of continuing in the sea mist, they abandoned their mission. Carefully they retraced their steps back down the pathway to the Village, leaving Leveret and Magpie undisturbed in Mother Heggy’s cottage.

‘The little mites are worn out,’ said Maizie, as Yul and Sylvie came back downstairs, having tucked the girls into their beds in the cottage. ‘And they’ve to be up early tomorrow morning too, for the Lammas sunrise in the field. Have you two both got your robes ready for the morning?’

She picked up the felt slippers she was working on and continued embroidering.

‘Mine are laid out upstairs,’ said Sylvie. ‘I always love the Lammas robes. The headdress they’ve made me this year is as beautiful as ever, despite the awful weather.’

‘Cherry said she’d make sure my robes are ready up at the Hall,’ said Yul. ‘She says she’s got rid of all traces of the Aitch invasion, although I’m still sleeping in my office at the moment. It’s as if there’s still a whiff of Hallfolk in the rooms somehow.’

‘Well, you know what I think on that subject,’ said Sylvie. ‘For me, there’s always been a whiff of Hallfolk in there.’

Yul looked at her sadly.

‘You really don’t like those rooms, do you?’

‘No! I always said—’

‘Why don’t the pair o’ you take a turn around the Green?’ suggested Maizie, looking up over her sewing. ‘Seems to be a private conversation and you don’t want me being a cuckoo, do you? And ’tis a beautiful night . . .’

Grinning like a couple of liberated teenagers, Yul and Sylvie let themselves out of the cottage and back into the moon-silver night.

‘Will you be warm enough?’ Yul asked.

‘I’ve got my shawl,’ said Sylvie, and slipped her hand into his as they sauntered along the lane.

They gazed up at the sparkling dome above, whilst bats flickered around them in a frenzy of activity. A barn owl flew silently along the lane towards them like a great pale ghost, and veered off into the trees. And all the while, the Bright Lady cast her gaze over Stonewylde, peering into every nook and cranny, seeking out every dark corner.

They reached the Green where there were still people about. The Great Barn doors were open and a few people were inside, finishing off their preparations for the next day. The Jack in the Green was almost empty, but for a couple of men who sat over their game of dice. All the younger ones who’d been larking about on the benches had returned to the Hall, excited about the prospect of making it official the next day. A few older couples still strolled about and Yul and Sylvie joined them. Hand in hand they stepped into the ancient grove now known as the Village Green, where the Green Man magic was powerful and the Bright Lady danced for him in silver shoes.

Leveret came out of her reverie slowly. She wondered if she’d actually fallen asleep inside the pentagram as she felt that quite some time had passed. Hare was sleeping in her lap and the fire in the cauldron had burnt down to a few smouldering embers. The small candles marking the five points of the pentacle had gone out, and, looking across, she saw that Magpie was asleep. His folded arms cushioned his head on the table, whilst the crow had vanished, presumably through the door that still stood slightly ajar.

A little stiffly, Leveret rose from her cushion and stepped outside the circle, not bothering to dismiss any energy, as she could feel it had long gone. She carefully put Hare in her basket, and rolled out a heavy rug and blanket onto the floor next to the settle. Magpie would have to sleep on the rug as he was too tall to comfortably stretch out on the settle. Before she awoke him, Leveret stepped outside the cottage and stood gazing at
the
night. It was perfectly clear, the moon a brilliant white disc high in the sky, the sea a distant gleaming strip on the horizon. Leveret breathed deeply of the Blue Moon magic, her heart heavy.

She remembered nothing of her time in the circle. She recalled trying to reach Mother Heggy. She’d tried to picture the crone she’d seen in that brief vision in the Stone Circle back in January, when Magpie had taken her hand so desperately and shared with her what he’d been lucky enough to see. But Mother Heggy had not appeared to her tonight, nor sent any message or revelation. Leveret knew that the shadows that had shrouded Stonewylde for so many months were still there, blighting people’s lives. She felt it her responsibility to help lead the community from the darkness, and yet darkness was all she’d seen tonight, both in the Dolmen and here in the cottage. Why wasn’t Mother Heggy honouring Leveret with her presence? Didn’t she approve of Leveret being the new Wise Woman?

With a sigh of sorrow, Leveret gazed up at the Blue Moon.

‘Mother Heggy, please help,’ she whispered. ‘I want to do your bidding – please show me what to do.’

She returned to the cottage and closed the door. She roused the sleeping Magpie, who didn’t wake up properly at all, and guided him over to lie down on the thick rug. She put a cushion under his head and covered him gently with a blanket, stroking his hair tenderly. She loved this boy so much and felt the deep connection between them that had always been there. It went beyond love and friendship – it was as if their souls belonged together, side by side, through eternity. He murmured in his sleep but no words came, and Leveret knew they never would. But this no longer mattered, for now he could read and write a little and he could still communicate with her in their special way.

‘Sleep tight, dear Maggie,’ she said softly, and went over to blow out the candle on the table. She glanced down at what he’d been drawing in their Book of Shadows whilst she slept in the circle. She was surprised and then amused to see he’d
over-written
her handwriting with his neater and better-formed lettering. Maybe she should get him a book on calligraphy, she thought, rather than simply concentrating on teaching him the basics of writing. He seemed to appreciate the artistry of fine lettering.

She leafed through the pages, turning the heavy parchment in the great book that Clip had bought for her. She saw the work they’d added yesterday, when she’d made a decoction for stomach gripes and a gargle for bleeding gums. The old folk at the Hall loved her remedies, and Hazel was happy to recommend them. Leveret noticed the list they’d made of the herbs gathered this evening, before she and Clip went up to the Dolmen, when the moon was waxing full. Magpie’s spelling was definitely improving and he’d learnt how to use the pocket book of herbs and plants to check how to write a word. She was so very proud of him and the way he’d applied himself to learning. She’d always known he wasn’t stupid; it was just language he had a problem with.

Leveret turned the last page, surprised that he’d added something after the Blue Moon harvest list. What else had he needed to draw? The sight that greeted her on the next pages made her heart leap in her chest and all the air burst from her lungs. Her throat constricted with the shock and her eyes filled with scalding tears.

Magpie had used his watercolour pencils and a big double page spread to draw a scene from this very cottage. The full moon shone in through the window, patterning the floor. A small figure wearing hare’s fur on her head sat on the flagstones, a hare in her lap and five small candles burning around her on the circumference of the circle. She glowed with a magical aura, giving off a strange green light. In the rocking chair nearby sat a tiny woman, her face ancient and wrinkled. She wore a battered hat and boots, a shapeless old dress with a shawl wrapped around her. She was watching the girl in the circle, and in her gnarled hand she held the athame, whilst the crow with the white tail feather perched on the back of the chair.