Shaman of Stonewylde

by Kit Berry

  Hare was the first to hear the intruder. She was lying on the flagstones by the doorway in a patch of sunlight but suddenly raised her head and lifted her great ears. Immediately Leveret felt defensive; few knew that she had staked her claim to Mother Heggy’s cottage. She thought of the spell of protection she’d cast around the place and hoped it would be enough to repel people like Jay and her brothers. Her glance flicked around the tiny room – the old Book of Shadows was lying on the dresser, the athame was wrapped inside a cloth in a drawer, and the gathering knife was on the table.

  Just as Leveret was thinking that she couldn’t hide everything precious every time someone came to the door, she heard a familiar voice call her name and was flooded with relief. She had great faith in the ceremony she’d performed here at the last Moon Fullness, but how the spell would physically stop unwanted visitors she wasn’t quite sure. Hare loped outside to inspect the visitor, and the doorway darkened as Sylvie stood on the threshold and peered inside.

  ‘May I come in?’

  ‘Come in and welcome!’ said Leveret, and her sister-in-law came over to give her a quick hug. Their new-found closeness was still recent enough for this to feel slightly awkward, but both were anxious to strengthen the bond.

  ‘I popped into the tower earlier and Clip said you were up here. Wow – what a transformation! Do you know, I haven’t been here since . . . oh. Oh dear, I wish I hadn’t said that.’

  ‘It was you and Yul who found her dead, wasn’t it?’ said Leveret gently. ‘He told me about it once, long ago. He used to bring me up here when I was a little girl.’

  Sylvie shook her head sadly, and sat down on the chair at the table. Hare came over and Sylvie picked her up. She crouched down in Sylvie’s lap and laid her ears along her back while Sylvie stroked her velvet fur.

  ‘Yes, we came up here at the Winter Solstice, still in our ceremony robes, to tell her that finally her prophecy had been fulfilled. Poor Yul – he was absolutely devastated when we found her. She was sitting rigid on the floor – oh, it was horrible, really upsetting. I loved Mother Heggy too.’

  ‘I hadn’t realised you’d known her that well,’ said Leveret.

  ‘I didn’t really, but she took such an interest in me. She thought I was the girl she’d once adopted, Raven, because of my hair and my moongaziness. I’m not sure quite how much her mind wandered, but she was a truly wise old thing and she supported me and Yul long before anyone else did. In those days, any liaison between Hallfolk and Villagers was completely against the law.’

  ‘I can’t imagine how difficult it all must have been back then,’ said Leveret.

  ‘It was wonderful in some ways, of course, but very different. Mostly it was just unfair. Poor Yul – he suffered so much. I really must remember that. He had to fight so fiercely just to survive, let alone find happiness . . . Maybe I’m being too hard on him now. It was that steeliness and strength that first attracted me. I shouldn’t knock it now.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ agreed Leveret. ‘But Sylvie, it’s not just that. He really has changed. He used to be so kind, so loving – and now he’s mean and cruel. I once loved Yul so much, but I don’t now. He isn’t the same person.’

  ‘It’s very sad,’ said Sylvie. ‘I honestly feel at times that it’s Magus looking out through Yul’s eyes. He’s always been dominating but, as you say, he’s almost become a different person.’

  Leveret thought back to the journey where she’d seen Yul and Sylvie in the Stone Circle together as youngsters, so in love. Something had happened to blight their love and harmony, creating dislike and discord in its place. She recalled the words about taint, and wondered if there were something she could do to remove it and set everything to rights again. She sighed – making calendula tincture and distilling lavender oil was challenging enough for now.

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything other than spring water to drink,’ she said.

  Sylvie laughed and accepted a ladleful in a cold stone mug.

  ‘If this drought continues,’ she said, ‘your private spring water could be in great demand. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but in the Village the Bath House has been shut – no baths or showers at all. We’re all washing with a bowl of water – and pouring the slops onto the fruit bushes and vegetables. And once a week we can wash our hair using a jug of water! The Laundry’s really rationing water too and they’re saying not to change clothes so often – make things last a few days if possible. Poor Celandine is quite beside herself. You know what a particular little thing she is.’

  ‘Well, tell her it’s no better at the Hall,’ said Leveret. ‘Bowls to wash in and we must keep the waste for the Kitchen Garden. Martin patrols the corridors apparently listening out for the sound of running water! Marigold bakes everything now rather than boiling it to save a bit of water. Next we’ll be asked to lick our plates clean!’

  ‘It can’t go on forever though,’ said Sylvie. ‘It’ll have to rain soon. The river’s so low and an awful lot of the crops are just withering and dying. It’s very sad.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’ asked Leveret, changing the subject. ‘That Hypericum should be starting to work now, as it’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve been taking the tincture three times a day like you said, although I think I preferred the infusion. But I know the tincture’s more powerful and actually, I do think it may be working. I feel stronger in myself now, not so panicky and tearful. And certainly I don’t feel as depressed as I was. It may not be only the St John’s Wort of course . . .’

  ‘No, it may be a number of things, but I’m so glad you’re feeling less depressed. I think you should continue to take it every day in case it is the remedy that’s helping – it certainly won’t do any harm. My next batch is almost ready and I’ll add some honey to this lot to make it taste better.’

  ‘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 ey
es 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

  Sylvie 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.