Shadows at Stonewylde (12 page)

Although Yul knew the contents of the report, he listened with a smile as Harold spoke of
Stonewylde.com
. The Internet business had been set up to sell the surpluses produced at Stonewylde; it was the ideal way to make money without having to leave the estate. Their business had evolved from very humble beginnings, when a few jars of honey and bottles of cider had been advertised on a very basic website, to the huge enterprise that it was today. Customers could now browse through many categories and buy all sorts of lovely things: beautiful white nightdresses of finest Stonewylde linen, craftsman-built oak furniture, beeswax candles, handcrafted felt slippers and hats, wines and meads of every flavour, leather goods, patchwork quilts … the list was extensive.

Harold, the young lad who’d got Yul a copy of the key to Sylvie’s room all those years ago, and who’d secretly taught himself to read, write and use the Hallfolks’ computers, had a remarkable gift for retail and marketing. A large barn near the Gatehouse had been converted into a storage warehouse and it was from here that many of the goods were now packaged and despatched. Harold had commissioned a corporate logo and all Stonewylde products were branded; every item sold was of highest quality and aimed at the luxury market. Many people worked in the warehouse, both packaging the products and fulfilling the orders ready for despatch.

Harold gabbled to a finish, his ears burning. There was a silence.

‘Excellent, Harold! I’m sure everyone agrees that Stonewylde. com is a credit to your hard work and business prowess; you’ve demonstrated superb profits. I know you’ve prepared detailed plans for next year and some new lines you’d like to try out. Would you prefer me to tell the Council about this?’

Harold nodded gratefully and looked a little shyly at the circle of faces around him. He’d grown up a Villager, just like Yul, and was immensely proud of his work for Stonewylde. He glowed with pride at Yul’s praise and relaxed a little now his ordeal was over.

‘Harold’s been researching various different markets, to determine what we could sell and what profit we would make. So firstly, we’re going to launch a Stonewylde range of luxury organic toiletries using wild herbs and flowers, and that’s work women can do. We need our men for the heavier farming and production work, so enterprises that’ll employ women are especially welcome. Even the children can get involved, gathering flowers and herbs, and older members of the community can weave the tiny baskets we’ll need. There’s a lot of money in the cosmetic and toiletry market.’

There was a buzz of interest at this. Stonewylde had always made its own soaps and lotions, so this seemed a logical progression. Yul held his hand up for silence and continued.

‘We’re also looking into selling venison on a large scale to one of the quality supermarket chains who’re very keen to take our meat, thanks to Harold’s negotiations. We’re overrun with deer in the Wildwoods, and it’d be the perfect solution to that problem. Wild venison fetches a very good price. The same with our geese, ducks and game birds – we have a guaranteed market for all these. We heard earlier from Robin how well the dairies are doing, with a great demand for Stonewylde cheese. We sell a lot of it and we need to increase milk production to cope with demand. Rosie’s goat herd is doing splendidly as we know, and she’ll be expanding goats’ milk, yoghurt and cheese outputs this coming year when she increases the herd. We’re looking also at breeding a herd of llama for their wool. There are plenty of other excellent ideas, and I’ll make the list available for everyone here.
Stonewylde.com
is really becoming a—’

Clip sighed loudly and Yul stopped abruptly.

‘Did you want to add anything, Clip?’

‘No, not really,’ the older man replied wearily. ‘I know Harold has worked very hard and is doing his job well. It’s just that … I wonder about the ethics of the whole enterprise.’

‘The
ethics?
There’s nothing unethical about
Stonewylde.com
! Our quality control is second to none and customers return again and again—’

‘I meant the ethics of selling Stonewylde produce in this way for such profits. And the ethics of using our people to work in what amounts to a factory warehouse. Surely it goes against all the principles that Stonewylde stands for.’

Yul’s face darkened and he sat up very straight. Sylvie watched with a sinking heart as his eyes flashed; she knew the signs of Yul’s anger and wished that Clip had kept quiet. And yet she also knew that her father was right.

‘You stick to chanting and trances, Clip, and we’ll deal with harsh reality,’ Yul said coldly. ‘We might seem self-sufficient but we most certainly are
not
. You’ve heard about the extensive repairs needed to maintain the Hall and the Village, and the acute shortage of housing for all our young people. We
have
to make money somehow and there’s nothing unethical about using our abundant resources.’

Yul continued to glare at the older man, who bowed his head and shrugged. Many of the Council members looked uncomfortable.

‘I realise that,’ said Clip. ‘I only meant—’

‘What my father meant,’ said Sylvie coolly, surprising even herself, ‘is that whilst it’s fine to sell off our surplus produce and use the money for those things we can’t grow or make ourselves,
Stonewylde.com
has gone beyond that. We’re now actually looking for money-making ideas rather than selling what we don’t need. You’re suggesting that we grow and manufacture things specifically for the Outside market and not for Stonewylde at all, like this llama herd and toiletries all packaged up prettily. Do we really want to slaughter our wild deer and put them on supermarket shelves? Do we really want the folk to become what amounts to factory workers, sitting all day at production lines to churn out stuff for rich Outsiders?’

‘Sylvie, we weren’t—’

‘Hear me out, Yul.
Stonewylde.com
is great and the profits are very welcome. But we mustn’t forget the principles of Stonewylde itself, our values and our whole philosophy. Mother Earth provides for us, but she’s not there to be exploited and neither are our people.’

There was a stunned silence and then Miranda clapped slowly.

‘Bravo, Sylvie – well put. I agree with you.’

Maizie nodded vigorously.

‘Sylvie’s right! The business is taking over. It comes before us Stonewylders. Just last week I went to get a new pair o’ boots for winter, and Larch the cobbler told me I’d have to wait till after Yule because they were all busy making boots and shoes for the warehouse orders! I can’t wait seven weeks with holes in my boots. I did wonder what were going on.’

‘Aye,’ said Edward. ‘My wife was told we couldn’t replace our old bedstead till Spring Equinox at the earliest as they’re rushed off their feet in the furniture workshop making four-poster beds for the Outside World. I’ve mended our bed as best I can but it’s done for, and we’ve never had to wait so long before when something’s broke. So I agree too – Stonewylde first, then
Stonewylde.com
. Not the other way round.’

Yul glared at them all, a flush staining his cheeks. Sylvie watched detachedly as he calmed himself down and smiled coldly.

‘I’m sorry to hear about your problems, Mother and Edward. If anything like that ever happens to anyone, let me know and I’ll deal with it personally. Of course our folks’ needs will always come first. Thank you, Sylvie, for so eloquently explaining the point that Clip was attempting to make. In fact this leads me on to the final thing I wished to say. I’m sure we’ve all had enough today and need to conclude this meeting. What I’m about to tell you is of great significance to all of us in the community.’

Everyone sat up and focused on Yul, the ethics of
Stonewylde.com
now completely forgotten. He smiled again, scanning the faces until he had everyone’s total attention.

‘Yesterday Clip told me that after this Samhain, in the new year, he intends to stand down from leading the community. He’ll be signing everything over to me – and to Sylvie of course – as he feels the need for rest after all these long years.’

There was an instant babble of noise. Sylvie stared across at Clip, a sharp prickle of hurt in her throat. Why hadn’t he told her first instead of letting Yul announce it to the Council? But then she saw Clip’s expression and it was clear this wasn’t what he’d intended. As she wondered what’d been said before, Yul continued.

‘When Clip retires he’ll be leaving Stonewylde for good so he can extend his travels. He told me that he has full confidence that I’m ready to lead the community. With the help of my wife, of course.’

He smiled across at Sylvie, who was surprised by how annoyed she felt.

‘This is not confidential so please feel free to spread the word throughout the community. It is, after all, what Mother Heggy predicted.’

There was a buzz of approval at this.

‘Oh – and one more thing. This’ll be the last time that we build the labyrinth in the Stone Circle. You all know how much I despise the custom, and why. In future any Stonewylders who wish to meet the Dark Angel at Samhain may hold a private ceremony at the Yew of Death. It’s a more appropriate place than the sacred Circle, which is a place of life and energy. Please explain this to the folk.’

‘That’ll be difficult,’ muttered Martin, shaking his silver-grey head. ‘Many of the old ones feel very strongly about the Dance of Death. They hold on for months to die at that special time.’

‘They can still die at that special time,’ replied Yul. ‘Just not in the Stone Circle. That’s all – the meeting is now closed. Bright blessings to you all for Samhain. These are exciting times for Stonewylde and I know it’ll be a very good year ahead.’

L
everet sat rocking in Mother Heggy’s ancient chair, her woollen cloak wrapped tightly around her against the cold. She’d been looking forward to this special day for so long, ever since she realised that the Dark Moon would fall at Samhain. She’d always felt drawn to the magic of the Dark Moon, always felt a thrill of power shiver through her when the stars glittered in a moonless sky. She didn’t know that she shared this affinity with Yul, as he had always been secretive about it too.

The day had started auspiciously when she’d been woken by a crow cawing in the trees outside her bedroom. She’d smiled as she dragged herself from the world of sleep and dreams and had greeted the spirit of Mother Heggy. Leveret was convinced that the old Wise Woman was watching over her and that tonight, when the veil was at its thinnest, the crone would make contact with her from the Otherworld.

She planned to journey for the first time after she’d walked the labyrinth in the Village Green. The Fly Agaric, harvested the week before, would take her on this journey. She knew what to do and had secretly prepared the mushroom’s scarlet cap as instructed in the Book. Even without the hallucinogenic effects of the mushroom Leveret was already a little light-headed as she’d been fasting for three days. It had taken some doing with Maizie breathing down her neck, and she’d had to feign an upset stomach to avoid her mother’s hearty meals.

Not everyone was so delighted that the Dark Moon fell on the day of the festival. The Great Barn was needed for the children’s drama this afternoon and the dancing that would continue for most of the night. If the weather turned wet, the feast would be eaten in there too. But this was also the day when most women of Stonewylde began menstruation. The first couple of days, at least, were spent in the Great Barn and usually the Dark Moon nearest to Samhain was spent knitting long woollen socks; a pair for each member of the community. These dark green stockings were for Yule and would be filled with small gifts for each person.

But today menstruation had to take second place; not such a hardship as it would have been since the compulsory contraceptive implant had been introduced, making women’s periods lighter and less uncomfortable. The women were busy preparing food for the feast and putting the finishing touches to the decorations in the Great Barn. Leveret should have been in there now, helping to arrange the carved Jack o’ Lanterns and attaching the papier-mâché crows and skulls and the elder twigs to the walls and rafters.

Instead she sat in the battered wooden chair, its back scarred from years of assault by the crow’s scrabbling claws, clutching her stomach. She ached from the onset of her period, for she was too young for the implant, and she felt hollow from lack of food. Although everyone else was fasting today as part of the Samhain rituals, this was her third day and she was very hungry. But the Book was clear; fasting was important before Samhain and especially before a journey. She also knew that Fly could induce severe nausea, so a completely empty stomach was best. Leveret sighed and thought grimly that becoming the Wise Woman might be tougher than she’d imagined.

Yul stood under his special tree on the Village Green hidden beneath the dark green foliage. From this shelter he surveyed the people of Stonewylde – his people. He felt the familiar stirring inside, a heady cocktail of pride and power. He breathed deeply of the earthy scent and threw back his head, shutting his eyes. Swirls and eddies of magic threaded around the ancient bole and wreathed him in their enchantment. This yew tree held many memories for him and he visited it regularly, especially when he wanted to think about Sylvie.

They’d shared their first kiss here on the Summer Solstice of her fifteenth birthday, while Magus was at the Stone Circle performing his rituals. They’d snatched forbidden meetings here during the December Dark Moon, whilst Magus held her captive in his rooms at the Hall. And the most vivid, electrifying memory of all – here, on the soft earth where nothing else grew, he and Sylvie had first made love.