The Moon Spun Round (21 page)

‘Why, what’s wrong?’

‘Sick horse. Not one of mine, thank God. Belongs to some friends. They meant well as usual, let it out to graze in long grass, just what you don’t do in winter. But their son is a pupil of mine, so I feel sort of responsible.’

‘When it comes to any sick horse you’d feel responsible,’ says Ruth. ‘So what’s wrong with long grass?’

‘Causes low blood pressure, which in turn causes laminitis, inflammation of the hoof. I spotted something wrong when its owner came for a riding lesson, so I called in the vet. Needs careful medication to sort the blood pressure out and get the swelling under control, and there’s support pads for the feet that need changing regularly, quite tricky for the uninitiated. So McPherson suggested I take the horse in and back up his treatment with some of my own. There are some herbal liniments that are very effective. And the massage, of course.’

‘McPherson, isn’t he the new partner at the surgery? Young chap?’

‘Yes, he is. And very open-minded about alternative therapies. He’s like a breath of fresh air around here.’

‘This must all seem very strange to you, Sally.’ Claire sits down on her cushion again, making room for Sally on a chair beside her. ‘All this talk about herbs and healing.’

‘Yes it is, but somehow it’s not. I’m not sure about this ritual thing, though. I did look up something about the Winter Solstice on the web last night. I gather we’re performing some ancient ceremony of greeting the new sun. But aren’t you supposed to do it at sunrise in a stone circle?’

‘Already done that.’ Naomi ladles out a drink for Ruth, then crosses the room with a glass for Sally. ‘I couldn’t do the stone circle bit—there aren’t any around here unfortunately—but I was up on Wandlebury Hill at five o’clock.’

‘What, on your own? In the dark? Isn’t that a bit risky?’

‘Well, it was dark, but I certainly
wasn’t
alone. There were dozens of people milling about. Lots of would-be druids in white robes. There were even a few people poncing about in cloaks and swords. A couple of policemen in a squad car turned up to make sure there was no breach of the peace. People presented them with flowers and the Chief Druid shared his thermos of coffee with them.’

‘Sounds like quite a party. Is it always like that?’

‘It is nowadays. There always have been gatherings at the Solstices and on May Day morning, but in recent years there’s been this massive upsurge of interest in all sorts of neo-pagan stuff. If it goes on like this I’ll have to find somewhere quieter.’

‘You’re not part of a group or anything, are you?’

‘No, I work on my own. Lots of witches do. This is the one ceremony of the year I like to share with my friends. And I can’t really expect you all to get up before dawn, so I do my more personal work at the actual sunrise.’

‘And what’s it supposed to achieve?’

‘Well, the increase in the length of daylight is like a sort of turning of the tide. If you cast something out on a tide it gets carried into the universe throughout that phase of motion. So if we push out some positive thoughts about what we want to achieve over the next few months, the tide will carry it forward and give it a boost.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, I think I do.’

‘Don’t worry, this bit is just about sharing with friends. Relax and enjoy. It’s a holiday.’

‘OK, I’ll try. This punch is good. What’s in it?’

‘Actually it’s spiced cider. Traditional drink for Yule. I try to bring in as much of the old ways as I can, like the greenery to decorate the room. And the Yule log. That’s the big lump of wood at the centre of the fire. Fran provided that. You’re not supposed to cut it down yourself—it has to be given. Where is she, by the way?’

‘You know she’s always last,’ says Abbie. ‘Don’t worry, she wouldn’t miss this. In fact I think that’s her now.’

There is a clomping of feet from the stairway and a few muttered words. Naomi calls out hello.

A voice calls back, ‘Where do you want this bloody quiche?’

‘Yes, that’s Fran.’

‘In the kitchen,’ Naomi calls. ‘I’d better go down and drop the catch on the front door.’

As Naomi goes downstairs, Fran blusters into the room, struggling out of her poncho.

‘Merry meet, chaps. God, what a morning! Emergency meeting of the church flower-arranging ladies. Some silly argument over who’s doing what with the Christmas tree. Bloody women are a pain in the arse.’

‘Hope you’re not talking about us, Fran?’ Naomi is back and pours another drink for Fran. ‘Here, sounds like you need this.’

‘Has it got alcohol in it?’

‘Yes, lots.’

‘Thank God for that. Hey, come here, sweetie. Big Yuletide cuddle.’

Sally sips her drink, breathing in the cinnamon and cloves. The aroma is quite heady, evoking memories of Christmases gone or those that never were but should have been like this. She feels warm and comfortable and very glad she came. Eventually a hush descends on the gathering, the women are glancing at their watches. Nearly noon. They all seem to be looking to Naomi, who nods and parks her glass on the mantelshelf.

‘Time for business. If you wouldn’t mind clearing the coffee table and pulling it into the centre.’ She leaves the room. As if pre-rehearsed, the women rearrange the space and draw the curtains, leaving only the candles to give them light. Naomi returns carrying a wooden chest, which she places on the floor beside the coffee table, then kneels down.

Sally looks around at the others for some clue. They are all watching Naomi, their expressions relaxed yet solemn. She unfolds a black cloth and spreads it over the table, then carefully lifts out a series of items, removing each from its own silk wrap. First, two thick candles, the creamy yellow of beeswax; one burned down, the other unused. Each is placed in a crystal holder. She then unwraps what looks like a polished wooden rod, about a foot and a half long and carved with symbols.

‘For Sally’s benefit I’d better explain about the tools. This is my Wand, which I cut myself from the branch of a living hazel tree, first asking the tree for its blessing. I place it in the East, its element being Air. It’s like an extension of my willpower and I use it to direct energy. My Cup stands in the West, the cardinal point of Water, which of course is ruled by the moon, so the Cup is made of
silver.’ On the opposite side of the table to the Wand, Naomi stands an ornate, long-stemmed goblet, richly decorated with vines and grapes. ‘Its function is to gather, hold and disperse energy.’

Then a leather sheath is unwrapped from which she draws a knife with a double-edged blade. ‘This is my Athame. Its element is Fire and it corresponds to the South. It is used for inviting and dismissing energies, invoking and banishing. Don’t worry,’ she glances up at Sally, ‘it is never used to draw blood. And lastly,’ placing a plate-sized disc on the table, ‘this is the Pentacle. It’s a five-sided star, a pentagram, drawn inside a circle, the same as the one I’m wearing, only bigger and made of copper set in clay. It’s a shield and a protector. It’s placed in the North because it belongs to the element Earth, although, strictly speaking, it holds all the elements in balance.’

Naomi closes the wooden chest and pushes it under the table. ‘I do have other tools, but this is a very informal ritual so I won’t be using them today. These are enough to create a balance and hold the energies in control. Sally, do you feel comfortable with all this so far?’

‘Yes, I think so.’ She gives a nervous laugh. ‘I was expecting a cauldron and broomstick.’

‘Well, as a matter of fact…’ Naomi grins mischievously. ‘But not today. Just to remind everyone, I’m going to draw an imaginary circle around us and ask for the protection of the guardians of the four quarters. Then I’ll say something about the Yule celebration, offer a prayer to the Goddess, and do the business with the candles. Then there will be a few moments of meditation, which you can join in if you wish. After that we’ll bless the bread and water and share those. Then I’ll release the powers and open the circle. And then we can all dig into the food.’

‘Bread and water, Naomi?’ asks Claire.

‘Oh, Lord yes, I’ll fetch them. Look, there’s a box of frankincense on the mantleshelf. Throw a handful on the fire, will you?’ While Naomi is out of the room, Claire sprinkles powder onto the burning logs. They hiss and spit, and a gush of fragrant smoke bellows into the room.

Naomi returns with a small loaf of bread and the water jug. ‘It’s from your spring, Sally, so perhaps you should do the honours. If you would fill the Cup.’ Until now Sally has never thought about the water being safe to drink, but it probably comes straight from a cavern deep in the Earth, and it does appear to be clean and clear as it splashes into the silver goblet.

As if on cue, they all gather in a circle around the table. There’s a moment’s pause while silence settles over them. Sally hopes against disappointment. She certainly doesn’t want to be involved in any questionable activity, the sort that
would make headlines in the Sunday newspapers. At the same time, she’s hoping it won’t turn out to be the sentimental, universal love stuff some of her friends have got caught up in. The thought of that sort of silliness makes her cringe. But another part of her feels strangely calm and accepting, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. And perhaps she feels the slightest tingle of anticipation, as if something is stirring inside her. Some memory. She’s conscious of the opal in her pocket. Her fingers momentarily flicker over the moonstone at her neck as she looks around the circle, the five other women, each calmly waiting. Abbie and Claire exchange a smile; Ruth brushes a fleck of cotton from her skirt; Fran straightens her shoulders in readiness, swaying onto her toes as if eager to begin.

Naomi has her eyes closed, concentration setting her expression. Taking a deep breath, she raises her hands, palms either side of her shoulders.

‘Blessed be all who are gathered here.’ She takes up the knife from the makeshift altar and begins to move around the edge of the room with the knife blade held at shoulder-height, drawing an invisible circle. Sally is aware of the rhythm of Naomi’s voice, and the fall of her footsteps as she paces three times around them tells her something of what is happening.

‘I create sacred space.’ The phrase is repeated.

Yes, that makes sense. It’s as if the world is cut away and only this room and the six of them remain. Sally is aware of the firelight and the trails of incense on the air. And when Naomi returns the knife to the altar and takes up the Wand, it’s as if she has sealed them in a vault. She then moves to the four compass points in turn and intones, her voice deep and vibrating, using strange-sounding words, as if she’s addressing powerful beings who are to guard the four quarters and is summoning them by name. Air, Fire, Water and Earth; the words ‘safe’ and ‘protection’ are repeated. It does not matter that Sally cannot understand the rest. Like the others, she stands unmoving until the co-ordinator of this rite returns her Wand to the altar.

‘I create this circle of light to be a temple between the worlds. In the name of She who is Astarte and Isis, I do consecrate and bless this place. So mote it be.’

Naomi looks around at the group, then turns to Sally and winks. ‘OK so far?’

‘Yes. OK.’

‘Right. I’m going to call upon the Goddess now. I think you’ve already encountered her, haven’t you, Sally?’

Sally remembers the moon that first night, the power that forced her from her bed, the gentle light that later summoned her to dance.

Naomi is speaking again. ‘Lady, you who are the beauty of the Earth, and
the light of the sky,’ she lights a taper from the Yule log, ‘we invite you to come among us and attend this rite.’ As she bends to touch the flame to the used candle it comes alive with a gentle glow, throwing glints of gold on the cup and knife. ‘Since our beginning, our ancestors have gathered at this season to celebrate the rebirth of the sun. Like us, they watched the dying orb and knew it would no longer warm the Earth. The trees lost their leaves and bore no fruit. The beasts ceased to bring forth their young. Even the birds deserted the land. They shivered around their fires as the ever-encroaching night stole the light from the skies. And they prayed to their Goddess. Until, on the darkest of nights, She became the Great Mother and once again gave birth to the sun. Now, as then, She begins the yearly cycle anew, bringing light and hope to all the world.’

Naomi again takes up the taper and lights the new candle from the old.

‘We join the Goddess in greeting the new sun. A new year and a new beginning for us all. And so we welcome the new light within ourselves. The old solar year has run its course and completed its cycle. The year is dying, let it die.’

She extinguishes the old candle, and as she does so it seems as if the new flame leaps high and lights the room. ‘We give welcome to the new sun.’

‘Welcome,’ they each murmur, and Sally does too. They look around to each other and smile. There is a shifting, a relaxing, as if a change has taken place, a task has been completed.

‘Now we’ll just take a few minutes in silence to contemplate what we’re leaving behind with the old year and what we may encounter in the new. Don’t force any thoughts. Just leave your minds open and listen to what the Goddess is telling you.’

Again a stillness falls over the group. Sally isn’t sure what to do or how to do it. Listen to the Goddess? She remembers that night beside the pool, the voice inside her head, so she tries to visualize herself there again, beside the water with moonlight pouring down on her. But all she can think of is the opal in her pocket. Perhaps I will remember, she thinks, and her thoughts go back to that morning and the walk across the fields and beyond…

Suddenly she’s back in the room. Naomi is breaking bread and holding her hand over the cup.

‘This food and water is the blessing of the Goddess to our bodies. Let us share it freely and remember those who have nothing. Sally, it’s your right as Guardian of the spring. Will you be Cup Bearer, take it round the circle?’

So Sally goes from friend to friend, passing the cup for each to drink from while the bread is passed from hand to hand. Then Naomi is thanking the Goddess and bidding Her farewell. The Guardians of the quarters are dismissed and released. Naomi retreads the circle around the room in the other direction.