by Kit Berry
She shook her head in exasperation and rolled over onto her front, revealing her lithe back with the ribs just nudging at her golden, downy skin. Her hair was spread over the hay, a tangle of tawny tresses glinting gold. Kestrel traced the whorls of blonde down that furred her back, so fine and soft, with the gentlest of touches.
‘Mmn, that’s nice,’ she purred, closing her eyes and flexing a little.
He gazed down at her and his eyes filled with tears.
‘Rainbow, if you really must leave, please say I can visit you? Or could I come to London with you tomorrow? I won’t be any trouble, I promise.’
She chuckled drowsily and wriggled in the hay; a shaft of sunlight now fell onto her skin and she glowed gold, like an idol.
‘Kes, you have no idea of my lifestyle in London,’ she murmured sleepily. ‘I’d be a laughing stock if I came back with an eighteen year old country lad on my arm, however gorgeous he might be.’
‘I’m almost nineteen!’ he protested. ‘And I’ve been at college for two years now – I know all about the Outside World!’
This really made her laugh and she rolled over again and gazed up at him, her sea-blue eyes heavy.
‘Kes, shut up. See if you can please me all over again, there’s a good boy. And no more whingeing about me leaving in the morning or I’ll ignore you when I do come back. You’re not the only good lay at Stonewylde, you know – there are plenty more fish in the sea.’
Yul and David, meanwhile, struggled up the great staircase with the canvas. They had to carry it over their heads to clear the newel post and balustrade, and then negotiate the half-landing very carefully. For a terrible moment Yul thought it wouldn’t fit through the huge doorway, but by using the highest point of the arch it just squeezed through.
‘Which wall will you hang it on?’ asked David, looking around the grand apartments with interest.
‘I have no idea!’ snapped Yul. ‘Just prop it up here for now.’
‘It would fit over there,’ said David, pointing behind the desk, ‘if you moved that other painting. Or perhaps if you hung the mirror somewhere else, it could go over the fireplace? That would—’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Yul. ‘Anywhere other than downstairs for all the world to see!’
David gazed at him in bemusement. Yul looked really rough today; blood-shot eyes, a crumpled shirt and he stank of alcohol. David realised he hadn’t seen Yul about at all since Sylvie’s birthday party at the Solstice, when he’d suddenly appeared in the Art Room. Had he been holed up in here ever since? It certainly smelled like it.
‘Where would Sylvie want it hung, I wonder? As it’s her birthday present,’ he said mildly and the look Yul gave him would have withered a lesser man.
‘I don’t give a damn where she wants it hung!’ he thundered. ‘It’s not to go on public display ever! How dare that boy paint my wife like this?’
‘Yul, I’m sorry,’ said David gently. ‘I had no idea you felt like that about it. I’m sure Magpie meant no harm. He didn’t realise that—’
‘I know that – but it’s not the point!’ Yul spat. ‘This moondancing at Hare Stone – it was something private, something precious between me and my wife. And now . . . just go, David! Thanks for helping me carry it up here, but just go!’
‘Yul, please – I’m sorry. Can I get you something? You’re not looking too good, and—’
‘Get out!’
Hazel had persuaded Yul to join her outside in the maze for a stroll in the late afternoon sunshine. He’d refused point blank to come to the hospital wing and didn’t want her in his rooms. Alerted by David, she realised as soon as she saw the wildness in his eyes that something was really wrong.
They walked now around the gravelled paths of the maze, surrounded by walls of deep green clipped yew. It was warm and peaceful, and Hazel glanced sideways at the tall man by her side. David had said he was in a mess, but he looked as if he’d just had a still forbidden shower and was wearing clean, fresh clothes. This made it harder for her to broach the subject of his health.
‘Hazel, I know you mean well but I’m fine,’ he said wearily, sensing her hesitation. ‘I haven’t been sleeping properly in this heat and I miss Sylvie. That’s all. And I was very upset by that damn painting and this afternoon I lost my rag with David a little.’
‘Okay,’ she said gently. ‘He was concerned about you. So how are you now?’
‘Absolutely fine other than, as I said, missing my wife and children.’
‘It must be hard. But it’s not permanent, is it? I thought they’d just gone down to stay with Maizie to keep her company for a while, now that Leveret’s left home and she’s all alone.’
‘Between you and me, Hazel, that’s only the half of it. I don’t want to discuss it, but there’s more to it than that and I want her back. How do you think she is herself, health-wise?’
‘Actually, Yul, I really think she’s a lot better than she was. She’d lost weight and was looking very careworn, but in the past month or so she seems to have perked up no end. I know that doesn’t sound a very professional diagnosis and I haven’t given her a check-up yet, but that’s how it seems to me. She’s brighter and chirpier and putting on some much-needed weight. Obviously Village life and Maizie’s cooking agrees with her.’
He nodded at this.
‘I thought the same. She looks a lot better lately and although I’m very pleased, I can’t help but think it means she won’t want to come back to the Hall.’
‘Why don’t you go down to the Village then, just temporarily? If you were staying in the cottage too . . .?’
He gestured towards a bench tucked into an alcove and they sat down. A tiny wren soon appeared and hopped around on the gravel before them, flicking her wings and tipping her tail. Hazel glanced at Yul and saw the dejection and despair on his face. He gazed at the little bird without seeing her and his face was hollowed, full of angles and shadows. His dark curls were long, having dried in the sun in a tangle around his face. Hazel felt a twist of sympathy for him. Whatever their problems were, Yul’s love for Sylvie wasn’t in doubt.
‘I don’t think she’d have me.’
‘But you don’t know that, Yul. You must try, if you’re to be reconciled. I can’t speak for Sylvie of course, but I do know that she loves you more than anything. She’s found you . . . over-dominating in the recent past. And you know this, I’m sure. So start again – woo her, bring some romance into your marriage, win her back. I don’t think you’d find her unreceptive.’
He leant forward and put his head in his hands.
‘Oh Hazel . . . if only it were that simple.’
The pert little wren had flitted over the wall of yew into the alcove behind, and perched on the bench arm. She didn’t notice someone already seated there, silent and completely still, listening to the private conversation. A smile spread over the boy’s handsome young face and as Yul and the doctor stood up to leave, he flicked the blond fringe from his eyes and quickly rose too.
Swift knew the maze better than anyone at Stonewylde, for he’d grown up nearby and had spent many an hour playing in here whilst his mother wore herself out trying to get the cottage up to his father’s exacting standards. As he sped out of the maze ahead of Yul and Hazel, he thought about all he’d just heard and filed it away in his archive of eavesdropped information. Nobody knew for sure why Sylvie was living in Maizie’s cottage, although speculation had been rife. But now, Swift felt, he knew more than anyone else. It also explained why only the night before, when he’d just been casually passing Yul’s rooms, he’d heard harsh sobbing.
Leveret lay on a sofa in the tower with Hare on her lap, and Clip sat opposite in his chair.
‘We need to get back down to the Village in a minute,’ he said. ‘We must be in very good time for this evening’s Story Web. It really doesn’t do to arrive late or in a fret about the time.’
‘I’m ready to go when you are,’ said Leveret. ‘I’ve got the outfit
and everything ready.’
Clip smiled at her fondly.
‘You were very good this afternoon,’ he said. ‘The children loved you and you have a natural gift for performance. The adults this evening will love you too.’
She wrinkled her nose at this.
‘That’s kind of you, Clip, but honestly I don’t have a gift in that area. I was terrified the whole time and I was shaking terribly.’
‘Well, it didn’t show and you handled it all beautifully.’
‘And as for my wonderful Asklepian wand – wow! That was such a lovely surprise.’
‘I had it carved for you a while back. Every magician needs a wand, and every healer needs a Rod of Asklepius. You know it’s the ancient symbol of medicine, don’t you?’
She nodded.
‘This Asklepian was carved from rowan, the tree of healing, and it’s your medicine wand. Before I leave, I’ll have a shaman’s staff made for you too. That will be ash, like mine, as it’s the tree that links our realm to the other realms.’
‘Clip, I hate it when you talk of leaving. You don’t have to leave this autumn, do you? I mean, if you could stay a little—’
But he shook his head.
‘Leveret, we both know that I have to.’
‘But I won’t be ready! I don’t know enough!’
‘What you don’t know, you’ll learn. We spend our entire lives learning, Leveret, and you’ll never feel that you know enough. Now, let’s prepare ourselves for this evening. We’ll need all our strength and concentration if we’re to lead the whole community in a story. Magic takes its toll and we need to be both strong and at peace with ourselves.’
They closed their eyes and Leveret stroked the hare in her lap, her own magical creature, sent to her at the Spring Equinox when light and darkness are balanced. She tried to attune herself to the energy all around, and also align her spirit with Clip’s. He’d already told her they’d be working very closely together tonight and must trust each other completely. Leveret just hoped she’d be worthy of assisting him in this Story Web for the community. She had no idea what he’d planned.
When they arrived in the Village the Great Barn was empty but for a couple of musicians; everyone else was at home eating supper. Clip rearranged the stage a little, relaying the fire-cauldron with fresh wood and replenishing the supplies. Leveret was despatched to a small side room to get changed into her costume, which included her shaman’s headdress that had so delighted the children earlier in the day. Hare was safely nesting in her closed basket on a bed of hay, happy to snooze quietly.
Leveret slipped on the outfit of short brown tunic and brown leggings with pointy toes. Clip had told her she was echoing a famous illustration, published in a book in Antwerp in the early 1600s, of a Saxon hare goddess. She found it a little bizarre, but he insisted that she adopt this style of dress, saying it had important cultural and mystical significance. She covered up the outfit with a plain brown cloak, and for now kept her headdress tucked into the big pocket inside. Her other prop was a large pewter plate that had been burnished until it shone – Clip said this represented the moon and was also part of the magical illustration she must recreate.
When Leveret re-emerged into the main body of the Barn, she found Clip fiddling about with bags of herbs which he strapped to his belt.
‘You understand why and how we use herbs for effect,’ he said. ‘But it’s important that they’re to hand, and that you don’t muddle them up. Otherwise they can’t be used properly and could actually be counter-productive. So, when you do this alone for the first time, keep it simple.’
She nodded, terrified at the very thought of standing on this stage with Clip, let alone by herself.
‘I don’t have to do Story Webs though, do I?’ she asked. ‘Shamans can just be there to consult on an individual basis, can’t they?’
‘Yes, but putting on a performance to a crowd – nothing beats that,’ he said. ‘The Shaman is the only one who can travel easily between the realms. People want to be led to places they can’t reach themselves. They want to be shown truths they couldn’t see alone. A really successful shaman can hold the entire community spell-bound and take them on a magical journey to other places. This is what we’ll do this evening, my Leveret. We haven’t had a Story Web for so very long and I don’t suppose you even remember the last one.’
‘No, I don’t. I wish I knew exactly what we’re going to do tonight,’ she said, quaking inside. Despite the afternoon’s success in front of the children, she was now suffering from stage fright. She also couldn’t help but remember the last time she’d stood in the centre of the Great Barn in front of the entire community.
‘I don’t really know myself,’ Clip replied, and putting his arm around her shoulders gave her a hug. ‘But don’t worry – it will be wonderful, I’m sure. I’ve never had a disaster yet.’
The air was hot and heavy with the scent of so many people crammed in tightly together. The tiers were packed solid and even the aisles were full. The musicians sitting cross legged near the stage had been drumming for a while and the magical sound of the flute drifted around. Leveret sat on one of the logs on stage, small and hunched up in her brown cloak with the hood pulled up over her headdress. Hare lay quietly inside her covered basket on the floor; she seemed to sense when she must stay still.
Clip wore his cloak of black feathers and held his staff. The fire crackled and flared different colours as he added various herbs. He spoke in the language of the storyteller, his resonant voice soft but compelling as he carried the audience away on a magic carpet of words and images. Again, he spoke of a land that had been put under a spell, but now his story was more complex and much darker. The audience shivered and trembled as he conjured images of evil and death, and nameless beasts that stalked the realm.
‘But behold, there came amongst the people a hare goddess. No ordinary hare, no ordinary goddess, but a strange and powerful mix of the two.’
The drums had started to beat again and Clip moved around the stage with the staff pointing into the audience and attracting all the attention to himself. This bit they had agreed on, and Leveret knew she must now climb onto the highest of the up-ended logs, which she managed without mishap. The headdress was secure under the hood, and in her hand she clutched the huge polished pewter plate. At a signal from Clip, she undid the ties at the neck and the cloak fell to the floor. It revealed her standing motionless, dressed in the hare headdress, brown tunic and leggings, and holding the silvery plate in front of her stomach. Clip looked up at her and shuddered; she was an exact replica of that famous alchemical woodcut depicting the goddess – it was uncanny and felt almost archetypal.
The story progressed as he told of how the hare goddess had come, with the full moon rising in her belly, to break the wicked spell. The drum was insistent and she heard the change in Clip’s voice – the moment when he stopped merely telling the story and started to weave the magic. He spoke of the hare goddess and her powers, her ability to heal and cure and make whole again that which was broken.
He created more coloured and aromatic smoke and began once again to circle, whirling so that the black-feathered cloak flew out around him. This was Leveret’s cue to climb down from the tree trunk, where she’d surely lose her balance eventually, and start to engage with the audience. Carefully she stepped down and looked out at the rows and rows of faces all around her, the firelight flickering on those near the front, all of them glistening with sweat. She could see they were spellbound, their eyes fixed on Clip as he moved and spoke. Nobody seemed to notice her at all, as if she were invisible now she’d climbed down from the stump.
But then the drumbeat changed again as Clip signalled to the drummers to stop. He’d picked up his own shaman’s frame-drum and now created a single, insistent beat that calmed the nerves and soothed the senses. He stood still, at the side of the stage, and seemed to melt away into the shadows so only his voice remained.
‘Behold!’ he
cried again, ‘The Hare Woman of Stonewylde is come in our midst. She is here to heal, here to cure, here to work her magic. She will lead us all now into a magical, faraway realm . . .’
He stopped speaking, but the drum continued its monotonous, compelling beat. He nodded to Leveret and she realised with a sharp jab of terror that this was her cue. She must now perform. She took a deep breath and felt the fear tingling in her fingertips and her heart thumping in her chest. Still the drum beat: boom, boom, boom. It called, it summoned the people to follow . . .
‘Come close, my folk of Stonewylde! Come follow me towards the wood,’ she said in a soft, clear voice. ‘We are ready to travel on a journey, a journey that will take us far and deep, to a place not of our normal realm but to another, magical realm. I take your hands and lead you there safely. I will let nothing harm you. No fire-breathing dragon, nor flesh-eating vulture will come close, for I, the Hare Woman, will protect you. Come, come with me through the archway of trees, through the archway into a new and strange land . . .’
And there was Raven, huge and glossy black, waiting for her in the bright place. They greeted one another. He told her to climb on his back, for first he was taking her to the Upperworld, a place of clouds and dreams. And when she told him of all the folk who were with her tonight he opened his great beak and let out a mighty CRUK! of welcome.
They flew through a crack in the clouds, to a place of great beauty and possibility. They flew up to where all was soft and sparkling, where colours were brighter and everything seemed to be newly washed. In this beautiful place they wandered a while, exploring the wonderful land and marvelling at the fantastical creatures that roamed there. And when it was time to leave, they spoke with the queen. She was old and wise but still beautiful, with sky-blue robes dusted with stars and long white hair that reached her waist. She touched each traveller with a wand of crystal, telling each that they might take back with them one small token from her lands.
And then the queen turned to the Hare Woman and said that, as Shaman of Stonewylde, she might ask one question. Although nobody else would hear what that question was, they would all hear the answer. When Hare Woman had asked her question, the old queen nodded and replied that yes, there certainly was reason to fear and they must all beware of the snake that sheds its skin only to return in a different one. With that, they flew back down through the crack in the clouds, and Raven said they must now enter the Underworld, the place of darkness and labyrinthine passages.
