Shaman of Stonewylde (23 page)

‘Thank you, Leveret. I appreciate your care.’

‘It’s what I want to do,’ said Leveret. ‘I’ve been making quite a few things, and Hazel’s started using some of my cough remedy for the old folk in the Hall, which is such an honour. Marigold has my calendula ointment in the kitchen for burns, and the witch hazel water for cuts. There’s loads more I’ve started to make.’

‘You’re turning into a proper healer, aren’t you?’ said Sylvie, gazing around the tiny cottage. ‘You’ve made it really cosy in here. I bet when Mother Heggy was a young woman, it looked just like this; all bright and welcoming. I even saw a crow sitting on the roof as I came up!’

‘You mean the one with a white tail feather?’

‘Yes, most unusual. He watched me coming up the path.’

‘He seems to have adopted me, which is wonderful.’

‘Very unusual to have that white feather . . .’ Sylvie glanced around. ‘Raven grew up in this cottage too – I wonder where she slept?’

‘Mother Heggy slept on the settle and Raven had a cot by her side. When she grew too big for that, she had a pallet on the floor.’

Sylvie looked at her in surprise.

‘Really? How on earth do you know that?’

‘I just know it – I’m not sure how. Just as I know that things will work out between you and Yul.’

‘Will they? Are you sure? Oh, Leveret, that’s what I want more than anything in the world! What’s going to happen?’

Leveret frowned. She’d had dreams and seen things in her head, but was never quite sure what was simply her imagination and what was a shamanic vision.

‘I’ve seen a fiery phoenix,’ she said slowly. ‘A phoenix rising from its own ashes. That makes sense, I guess. And . . . a dry, dark place – I think it’s the yew on the Village Green.’

Sylvie nodded excitedly.

‘That’s our special place!’ she said. ‘What else?’

But Leveret could say no more. How could she tell Sylvie of the very strange sight she’d seen with her inner eye: a tiny toad crawling out of a small bag to sit on the grass at Hare Stone, his golden eyes staring out unblinking? What on earth was the significance of that?

The Summer Solstice sunrise ceremony was over and people were trooping back to the Hall or the Village. As it was still so early, many slipped back to bed for an hour, for a long and busy day lay ahead. Others went off for breakfast, but Yul stood behind the Altar Stone as the glittering sun rose higher and higher in the bright blue sky. Another glorious day, although for once everyone wished it had been cloudy and pouring with rain. Sylvie was helping to clear up the remains of the cakes, beautiful in her gold Solstice robes, and Yul stood watching her. He wore the huge robe that Magus had always worn, with the high collar framing his face and hundreds of embroidered golden suns glinting in the sunlight. His dark face was closed, his deep grey eyes narrowed as he watched his wife gracefully clearing the Altar Stone.

As he watched her, his mouth bitter, he felt a huge throb of desire for her. How long was it since they’d made love? And how long since they’d made love properly, with their old abandonment and passion? Today was her birthday and with it the anniversary of their magical union under the yew tree. He almost groaned at the thought of it. Why had she left him? Yul hadn’t accepted their separation in any way; they belonged together and this was all so wrong.

Earlier this morning he’d flown into a rage as he prepared for the sunrise ceremony. It upset him that he must get ready in the Hall, in that great bedroom, all on his own. He and Sylvie had always helped each other dress for the ceremonies, and some of the robes and headdresses were difficult to manage alone. It had been depressing and lonely waking up yet again in the enormous bed without her there, washing without her flitting
in
and out of the bathroom. Even pulling on the heavy robes that Cherry had laid out for him the night before without Sylvie there felt wrong. They should have been laughing together and reminiscing about previous festivals. The Summer Solstice was always especially poignant – why wasn’t she with him, by his side?

Today, Yul vowed to himself, would be the day that he and Sylvie were reunited. This ridiculous estrangement had gone on for too long – since the Equinox in fact. He missed her and the children dreadfully, and he missed their intimacy too. He was a man in his prime; it was torture to have his desirable wife always so close at hand, reminding him of all he was going without. The whole situation was wrong and today it would be put right. Tonight was the Dark Moon and Yul made a solemn promise that by tonight, he’d have his gorgeous wife back in his arms, where she belonged.

The Green Magic had come to him a little today, snaking around the arena until, at the moment of sunrise when the Herald lit the spark to set the fire alight, it had shot up through the Altar Stone into his waiting body. He’d felt his hands tingle and his hair stir slightly – it was an improvement on last time, and at this rate it may even be near normal by Lammas, especially if he and Sylvie were reconciled. She straightened up and turned around, her silver hair flowing down like a heavy veil from beneath the golden headdress, her body so tall and elegant in the shimmering robes. He longed to grab her, to twist her hair around his wrist and kiss her, very hard and very long, over the Altar Stone. But . . . that sort of behaviour had got him into trouble and now he must tread so carefully and act so correctly. He scowled and turned away, missing the way her eyes had softened and her lips had parted as she’d looked at him, also feeling echoes of that glorious Summer Solstice so many years before.

Down on the Village Green, the celebrations were in full flow. Everyone wore their straw sunhats in the blazing sun, and many sat under the trees around the Green in the shade. Inside the
Great
Barn every door was wide open in an attempt to catch a draught. It was cooler in here than outside and Starling was enjoying herself. Life in the cottage had become difficult lately and it was good to get away from the old ones. Even Starling now found the stink in the stifling cottage unpleasant; the two crones were superstitious about open windows and doors and, as the hot weather continued, the stench increased. Vetchling’s cough was worse than ever and kept them all awake at night, and she complained constantly about the heavy pipe smoke in the air. Violet could no longer stand up straight and was finding it difficult to hold even a spoon or mug in her twisted hands, let alone make it to the privy at the end of the garden. She moaned bitterly about her aches and pains and was becoming more helpless with each passing day. So Starling now had to bear the brunt of running the place and caring for them both, and with Jay visiting less and less, her life was no longer easy.

Starling waddled around the Barn, dark compared to the bleached-out brightness visible through the massive doors that stood open, looking for any left-overs. Lunch had finished a while ago and, although most of the dishes had been cleared away, some remained on the trestle tables. Due to the extreme heat, the food had been served in here rather than outside, though many had taken their laden plates and sat under the shady trees. Starling had eaten well at lunchtime but the lure of left-over pastries and sausages was too strong. She knew she should put some in a bag to take home to the two old ones. They’d be rocking by the dead fireplace, grey and grumbling in their discomfort, with the foul odour of dirty plates, rotting scraps and incontinence all around them. Starling really couldn’t face them, so instead of stuffing food in her bag, she stuffed it into her mouth.

She let out a bellow of indignation like a startled heifer when someone came up from behind and gave her a resounding whack on the rump. The flesh wobbled and undulated, sending shock waves all around her body. She turned, her greasy hair flicking into the plate of sausage rolls, to find an enormous gingery man standing behind her with a grin on his face. It was Cledwyn,
younger
brother of the late Alwyn, and Starling leered at him in delight.

‘Cheeky bugger!’ she said through a mouthful of meat and pastry.

‘You got an arse and a half there, girl!’ he exclaimed, rubbing his tingling hand. ‘A man could drown in that there slurry o’ fat.’

‘Oi! That ain’t very nice,’ she said. ‘I could say the same about you, Cledwyn! I seen less meat on a prize bull!’

‘That’s not all you seen less of on a prize bull, my maid,’ he replied with an obscene gesture, and they both roared with laughter.

He sidled up even closer and laid his hand on the giant shelf of her bottom. He smelt high but then so did many people in this heatwave with the restrictions on washing and laundry, and Starling wasn’t so sweet herself. She rubbed herself against his bulk, delighted at this unexpected attention from a man she’d long admired. Cledwyn shared his deceased brother’s looks and colouring, right down to the ginger bristles on his fat fingers. He had a ruddy face and the same pugnacious under-bite, and Starling wiped her greasy fingers in the folds of her dress and gave him her full attention.

‘Don’t you let your goodwife see you getting up to tricks with me,’ she said. ‘I had a run-in with her once and she’s never liked me since, miserable old cow.’

‘Aye, you’re right there, m’dear,’ he muttered, running his hand over the never-ending expanse of her backside, as a farmer might examine potential stock. ‘She is a miserable old cow and I’m well done with her. She ain’t my goodwife no more.’

‘What?’ Starling almost screeched. ‘I never heard! Nobody in this bloody Village tells me nothing!’

‘We was hand-loosed a good six-month ago,’ he said. ‘She kicked me out and now she’s with that old goat Woodruff, in my cottage and all! Most o’ the brats are gone up the Hall now, only two left at home, but she got to stay in the cottage because of it and I’m back with my old ma.’

‘Never!’ exclaimed Starling. ‘Why hadn’t I heard? So you’re a free man?’

‘I am that, my little birdie,’ he chuckled, ignoring the sausage-grease that glistened on her chins. ‘So if you fancy a trot round the Green, and maybe a wander into the woods . . .’

At this, Starling abandoned all thoughts of more food and favoured him with an alluring look that promised much. She smoothed down her stained and crumpled dress and gave a little provocative wriggle.

‘Can’t think of nothing I’d like better,’ she said. Her heart thumped with pleasure at her good fortune. ‘I’ll just use the privy and then I’m all yours.’

12

S
ylvie sat under the shade of a great horse-chestnut tree on the Village Green sharing a rug with Maizie, her daughters, her mother and Rufus. They’d enjoyed the picnic, bringing plates of food and drink out from the Barn, and were now relaxing in the drowsy afternoon heat. Although the usual Summer Solstice games were scheduled, nobody had much enthusiasm for them this year as it was so very hot. The tug-of-war over the river had been a waste of time as there was now only a trickle of water down the middle, and the mud banks had baked solid, fissured with great cracks. Instead, most of the young people had gone down to the beach to swim in the sea, leaving those still on the Green and under the shady riverbank willows in peace and quiet.

Nearby, on their own picnic rugs, were other members of Maizie’s family: Rosie and Robin with their children, and Geoffrey and Gregory with their wives and babies. Sylvie was thoroughly enjoying herself and feeling, for the first time, like a true Villager amongst her family. Celandine and Bluebell played with other children, including their cousins Snowdrop and Edrun, Rosie’s pair, and Rufus was good-naturedly giving piggy backs and lifting children up into the trees to perch in the branches. He too was having a lovely time as a Villager; like Sylvie he’d always lived at the Hall and had missed out on this experience. His and Miranda’s deep red hair shone out amongst the other heads, but for once he didn’t feel like an Outsider.
Miranda
was relaxed too, lying on the rug with her eyes shut, listening to the happy sounds all around her and unwinding after the mad bout of exams. There were still a few to go, but mostly the students had finished and she could now have a break from the relentless duty of being headteacher at Stonewylde.

Sylvie looked lovely in her dress saved specially for this occasion – one that she’d made by herself almost from start to finish. With Maizie’s guidance, she’d woven the thread into fine linen and then prepared dye from sorrel, which had coloured the cloth the softest of pink. She’d cut out the dress from the length of material and had sewn it herself in a simple sleeveless Village style, then attempted a little embroidery around the neck. The result was a pretty dress that perfectly complemented her silver hair and fair skin, bringing out her natural delicate colouring and showing off her slimness to best advantage. She was extremely proud to have made it herself, though aware that most women in the Village did this all the time for themselves and every member of their family. She’d decided to make similar dresses for the girls next, and then maybe she’d make something special for Leveret.

Sylvie wondered where Leveret was today; surely not down at the noisy beach with all the other teenagers. She’d find this difficult of course, not sitting with her mother and family, so Sylvie thought she was probably out somewhere with Clip, who was also nowhere to be seen. He’d never enjoyed the heat and was perhaps up in the Dolmen, always cool and dark, or else in his tower. Sylvie was just speculating where Yul could be when he appeared down by the Jack in the Green, emerging from the low-ceilinged pub with a group of young men. She hoped he wasn’t the worse for cider; they’d barely spoken yet today, although after the sunrise ceremony he’d wished her a happy birthday and said he’d join her later. She knew he tried to mix with everyone at the festivals, and, given all the recent difficulties, it was more important than ever for him to do so.

He stood in the bright sunlight and was clearly trying to get his bearings, gazing around at the crowds of families all tucked
under
the trees. The browning grass of the Green was almost deserted save for a few green woodpeckers searching for ants. Sylvie had been really looking forward to spending the day with him after his promise earlier in the Stone Circle. She’d been thinking lately that she must try to make more allowances for his need to be in control. It was only in reaction to his terrible upbringing and all that he’d gone through to reach manhood; recently she’d forgotten why he’d had to develop those hard and dominating qualities. She knew there was a wonderful, loving and gentle side to Yul as well, and it was up to her to bring this to the fore and help him to get the balance right.