After putting on the last of her clean clothes, Megan helped herself to a late lunch. She opened the door to explore the group of cottages, but found she only had the energy to sit in a pool of sunlight and munch the cheese and fruit. Lore promised eternal life for those who ate the apples of Avalon. A black, long-haired cat with wide yellow eyes and a splotch of white on his chest sauntered up, plopped down and turned on his back, offering his belly to be scratched. Megan obliged him, and after a while found her usual good mood restored.
While she sat with the cat, two women walked down toward the water where a small boat, much like the one the Druid ferried her on, waited. They gave her a friendly wave on their way. The woman in the boat was small, with dark hair and olive skin. She gave the women woven reed baskets brimming with fish and vegetables, then turned and poled away. This answered one mystery of Avalon.
When the sun had moved halfway down the sky, Thalana appeared. She pointed to the cat, which now lay in Megan’s lap. “I see Malcolm has befriended you.”
“Oh,” Megan scratched under the cat’s chin. “Is that your name?”
“The Lady will see you now.”
Megan put the cat down and stood, shaking out her skirts. In the last two weeks, she faced the Circle of Thirteen, the leader of the Crystal Matrix Chamber, the head of the Crystal Guild, and now the Lady of Avalon awaited her. This time she felt no anxiety. Was she getting used to this constant judging, this assessment of her abilities and flaws, or was it this place that made her drowsy and tranquil? She followed Thalana through the small cluster of huts and across a meadow full of early spring flowers whose names she did not know. Malcolm followed. They came to a stream splashing through rocks and followed it up the hill to a stone-lined pool in front of a long hedge. At one end, a horse drank; it lifted its head to look at them, muzzle dripping. A butterfly flitted by and Malcolm abandoned her to chase it.
Thalana opened a gate in the hedge and Megan followed her up a grassy slope to a flat area circled by yews. A tiny stone shelter huddled behind the circle in the midst of thicker yews. Behind it the hillside darkened, suggesting the mouth of a cave. Two streams ran on either side of the circle, murmuring amongst the roots of trees. An older woman sat on a mossy stone bench, a red shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Thalana stopped a few feet away from her and waited. The woman raised her hand and beckoned to Megan.
“The Lady of Avalon,” Thalana said in a low voice.
Megan hesitated, a sudden knot in her stomach.
“Go on,” Thalana whispered. “The Circle of Thirteen is much scarier than this.”
Megan jerked her head up to see Thalana smiling. This place was not so foreign after all. She walked across the expanse of needled forest floor and kneeled before the Lady.
“Sit.” The woman patted the stone bench beside her.
“Yes, my lady.”
The woman chuckled. “I see my niece has raised you properly.”
“What?” Megan gaped, forgetting her manners altogether.
A silvery laugh escaped the Lady of Avalon. She sounded much younger than the wrinkles around her eyes suggested. “Probably great-great-niece, but who can keep up?” She patted the bench again. She had the same curly brown hair and ocean blue eyes as Megan, only her hair was streaked with silver. “How is Pleione? I haven’t seen her in some time.”
“Good. Busy with healing. She says some new illnesses have appeared.” Megan realized she never really listened to her mother’s concerns about her work. She bowed her head. It wasn’t the first time in the last two weeks she was made aware of how little she paid attention to the affairs of the world when she was a child, not even three months ago.
The Lady took Megan’s chin in her hands and tilted her face up. “You were chosen for the Crystal Matrix Chamber.”
Megan met those eyes, which took immediate and thorough stock of her. She blushed under their scrutiny. How would she ever get used to these people who could look to the bottom of her soul in one glance?
“They’ve sent you to help with the Beltane ceremony.”
Megan looked around for a message crystal, but she saw no sign on Avalon of even this most natural technology. They heated the water somehow, but the cabin had no computer or communication devices.
“We use very little technology here. This spot must be kept clear of any energetic interference.”
“I see,” Megan said. She was already used to her mother picking up her thoughts. Her great-great-great-aunt clearly had the same gift.
“Tomorrow before dawn, we’ll fly to Avebury for Beltane. We must help prepare the site. Thalana will look after you.”
Megan found herself dismissed. Thalana met her outside the circle and led her through the trees to a small clearing with a circle of benches. Girls and one boy, all about her age, sat around. One priestess sat on a low stone in the middle, feet tucked under her. Once Thalana and Megan settled down, the priestess began her instruction. “All of you understand the outer mysteries of Beltane. It is the beginning of the warmer six months of the year, when fertility comes to all.” She pointed at some flowering honeysuckle that took advantage of a tiny nook between two trees stretching up for a small patch of sunlight. “On Beltane, male and female join to create new life and encourage that fertility in the world around us. For some of you, this will be the first time you will witness the Great Rite, yes?” A few raised their hands.
The priestess nodded. “It is quite dramatic and will most certainly sweep us all up in a wave of sexual excitement.” Two girls giggled and the instructor smiled. “This is good, it is as it should be, but we do more during the ritual than bring together male and female in the outer world. Our job will be to bring male and female together in the inner planes. We have the male and female energies here, yes?”
“The White and Red Dragons,” one of the giggling girls answered.
“Correct. They are the two energy flows that make up the three worlds. Avebury Circle has stones that channel male energy and stones that channel female energy. The Lady will appoint you to stand with a stone—a female stone, obviously. You will keep the energy of that stone flowing evenly during the ceremony. During the Great Rite, we will all come forward to the central altar, but when the people break to do their own private rites, you will not follow them.”
This put an end to the giggles. The two girls frowned at each other, obviously disappointed.
“If this is your first Beltane,” the priestess continued serenely, “your job will be to meld with the male energy on the subtle planes. Next year, you may partake completely.” She smiled at Thalana, who brightened. “Allow your awareness to connect to the three worlds if you know how. If not, meditate for a few minutes. You were all instructed in meditation?”
Everyone in the circle nodded.
“Then simply allow the power of the stone to fill you. As this happens, be sure the energy is flowing on all dimensions. During the ceremony tomorrow, the flow will become quite intense, so this may require all your attention. We will practice with the stones on the Tor this afternoon.”
They climbed the Tor. Megan’s calves burned as they neared the top, but she was too busy looking in all directions at the expanse of marsh, trees, and water to mind. The priestess assigned each a stone. Megan’s squat one drowsed in the afternoon sun, showing her dim pictures of past ceremonies, a bonfire, glimpses of gleaming crystals sleeping beneath the earth, an expanse of still clear water. Satisfied they mastered the basics, the priestess dismissed them, and Megan meandered around the coiling pathway to the springs, taking her time. She arrived at her cabin content and full of sleep. She napped until dinner.
The Lady did not appear for the evening meal, which was served in a communal dining hut next to the round kitchen. Malcolm appeared along with several other felines and demanded his share of fish. While she drank mead—which tasted som
ehow like trapped sunlight—and picked the bones out of Malcolm’s fish, Megan listened to the gossip of the priestesses and students. They talked of their homes and of the stories they heard of this isle as children. Some told how they were chosen to serve. The students stayed a few months or a year and a day, depending on their need and what they wished to gain in their time here. Only a few were chosen to become Priestesses of Avalon.
“Does everyone come here?” Megan asked.
“Only the girls for any extended time,” one of the priestesses answered, “and a few boys whose energy is distinctly feminine.” She smiled at the boy Megan noticed that afternoon. “Everyone comes for special ceremonies during their lifetimes.”
“What do you study?”
The answers came from around the table. “Herbology.”
“The ceremonial cycle.”
“The basics of childbirth.”
“Before that, how to handle the energies of our own bodies. Sacred sex.”
Several girls raised their mugs. “To the God.” The same two who giggled through the lesson that afternoon started up again.
“Which brings us to tomorrow,” one of the older priestesses said. “We leave way before the God has risen in the morning.”
“He’ll be rising tomorrow night,” said a throaty voice.
“Yes, and you will want to be ready for him,” the priestess answered. “To bed.” She clapped her hands as if she were herding geese.
The group gathered their plates and cutlery and returned them to the kitchen on their way back to their cottages. Malcolm followed Megan to her cottage, hopped up onto the middle of the bed, and proceeded to groom himself. She had to push him over to get enough room. “Goodnight, my lord.” He regarded her out of his round yellow eyes, then turned his attention back to his bushy tail.
* * * *
“Megan, wake up.” Thalana’s voice reached her in her room in her mother’s house, where she sat in the window seat listening to the call of the sea. She opened her eyes, and the sound of the surf gave way to the gentle swoosh of water leaving the estuaries at low tide. “We’re leaving soon.” The black of night hid the hill outside her window, but she remembered she was in Avalon. “There’s porridge in the kitchen,” Thalana said, “if you hurry.”
Megan threw water on her face and finished her morning routine, then grabbed her bag. She didn’t even know if she’d come back here. She looked around for Malcolm to say goodbye, but he abandoned her in favor of hunting field mice, she imagined.
After a quick bite of breakfast, a group of priestesses and students set off across the meadow toward the east. They skirted the shoreline, then crossed a narrow neck of land. “We can walk across at low tide,” Thalana explained. The group climbed through the alders up to another meadow. They stopped at the top of a gentle slope. The Lady sat and closed her eyes. The group stood away from her, waiting.
“What’s she doing?” Megan whispered.
“We’re far enough away from the Tor,” Thalana said, as if this should explain everything.
Megan frowned.
“We don’t use crystal-driven technology close to the Tor. She’s calling the flyers.”
The Lady opened her eyes and stood.
“She mentioned something about not using much technology. Why is that?” Megan asked.
“The Tor is full of crystals, and crystal-driven machines tend to over amp the frequency,” Thalana explained.
Megan frowned. “I’ve never heard of that before.”
Thalana didn’t have the chance to say more on the subject. She pointed to the sky. “They’re here.”
Two sleek crafts flew over the hill and set down close to the group of women. Megan felt a surge of relief when she saw the familiar conveyances. One of the pilots approached the Lady, shouldered her bag, and escorted her toward the closest craft. The group followed. The first vehicle filled up, so Megan and Thalana headed for the second one.
“Megan,” called a voice from inside the craft. “Is that really you?”
The dome light shone on a familiar face. “Demos. What are you doing here?”
The young man smiled. “I could ask you the same. I’m helping with the henges, learning how to sail the stones.”
“Surely they’re already built,” she said.
“I’m building a new henge, this one for the highest initiation.”
“Are you?”
“I’m an assistant.” A smile lit his angular face. He was almost as handsome as her father. Megan relented, holding out her arms for a hug. “It’s good to see you.”
Thalana stood to one side, watching them with a bemused look. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Megan said. “This is Demos, a cousin from my father’s family. This is Thalana. She’s showing me the ropes at Avalon.”
Demos kissed Thalana’s hand and she glanced quickly at Megan, who mouthed, ”showoff.” “My pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he murmured, looking into her face. Thalana blushed under his scrutiny. “To think such a beauty lives so close and I was not informed.”
Thalana took her hand back slowly. Megan rolled her eyes.
Demos turned back to his cousin. “You’re studying at Avalon?”
“Not really. They sent me up to help with Beltane. I don’t know where I’ll go after that.”
“Your first Beltane?” He raised an eyebrow suggestively.
Govannan’s powerful shoulders, the roped muscles of his forearms, the incongruously delicate chime of the shells in his hair when he turned his head, all flashed into Megan’s mind. “I don’t expect to partake.” Her tone was prim.
“Why not? Don’t you want the crops to grow and the herds to multiply?”
“I have other work to do.” Megan chuckled at his pretend indignation. “Besides, you’ll probably participate enough for both of us.”
“I certainly hope I am that fortunate.” He looked at Thalana, who blushed again. The older priestesses chuckled.
“Ladies.” Demos bowed them into the craft with a flourish. The others settled into the back. Megan and Thalana got in next to him. He took off and Megan sat back, wishing the sun were up so she could get a proper glance of the Isle of Avalon from the air.
The horizon pinked as if in response to her thought, and in just a few minutes the golden head of the sun began to crown in the east, but by then they were already gone from Avalon. The ship had been airborne about ten minutes when Megan spotted their destination. The chalk banks of Avebury dazzled white in the rays of the rising sun, visible for miles, then the stones appeared. From the air, they looked like small dots. Two avenues curved out from the henge, also marked with Saracen stones, making Megan think of a womb with two fallopian tubes.
As they drew closer, stone circles appeared within the enormous outer circle. Just as Megan put her face to the window for a better view, the world turned upside down, then righted itself before the women in the back could get out good screams. Demos steered the craft in a tight roll.
“Demos.” Megan clutched at a handlebar. “Honestly.”
He made the craft wobble, which elicited more screams.
“Stop it!” Megan scolded. She saw a wide smile on Thalana’s face, so she doubted he would behave. Surprisingly though, Demos set the craft down beside the first one without any more shenanigans. They disembarked, the priestess scolding him half-heartedly, the girls undaunted. Thalana seemed to be taking a long time arranging her shawl, so Megan walked to the group gathered around the Lady, who was giving instructions.
“Who is here for the first time?”
Megan and another girl raised their hands.
“We will be using Avebury as a lunar temple during this ceremony. Although we celebrate the movement of the sun, it is the lunar world that governs the ongoing creation of life—the fertility of the land,
the animals, and the people. This, of course, is only one aspect of its function. Like all sacred spaces, it connects to all three worlds. The priests will prepare the fire. Our first task is to cleanse the henge and balance the energy for the ceremony.”
“It’s always balanced,” Thalana whispered in her ear. Megan looked around for Demos, but the crafts had taken off again on another errand.
The Lady turned in their direction. “The energy of this temple was set perfectly when it was built, but we mustn’t become complacent.” She fixed Thalana with a look.
They spent the better part of the morning walking the outer circle sunwise, tuning to each stone as they came to it. Swirls of energy rose from the earth or sluiced down from the sky, modulated by the great Saracens and were then channeled out to the ring. When the sun stood straight above them, they reached the spot where they began and walked outside the circle to a stand of beech trees whose roots wove together in an intricate net, where a light lunch was served. Megan’s whole body thrummed like a tuning fork, and she only took a few bites. Thalana insisted she drink water.
In the afternoon, they visited the stones in the northern circle. The cove called out for her to curl up and leave her body safe inside, to journey in spirit. “Later,” she whispered. Another stone showed her a hand fasting, the bride’s head festooned with flowers. Megan began to lose the boundaries between herself and the standing stones. She felt the wind blow against her stone body, the rain drench her sides, the claws of ravens scratch when they landed on her top, a herd of deer nibble at her base. When the priestesses finished their work, Megan stood in the field.
Thalana found her near the last stone they cleared. “The Lady has withdrawn to prepare for the ceremony. She asked that we go down and accompany the local women when the time comes.”
Beneath the Hallowed Hill Page 12
