Shaman of Stonewylde

by Kit Berry

  They found a tiny cave mouth, like a foxhole, in a bank of earth. Above it grew purple foxgloves, their little trumpets freckled inside with deep magenta spots. By the side of the foxhole was a great oak tree, and looking up they saw mistletoe growing thickly where the branches met the trunk. On the other side was a slender rowan tree with delicate leaves that seemed to wave them on, into the dark hole that awaited them.

  They passed through the earthy entrance, avoiding the roots of trees and plants that hung all around them like vines, ignoring the stones that pattered from above, down onto the path. After a while, it grew brighter ahead and they were out of the tunnel and had entered the Underworld. It was a strange place, and the folk gathered closer together behind Hare Woman, fearing what might come. Raven led them all along, telling everyone to beware where they trod, for there were dangers underfoot.

  After a while, they came to a clearing in a great forest where the moss grew emerald green and was rippled with faerie rings. There were brilliant red and white Fly Agaric toadstools around, and on one of these sat a strange little creature, part elf, part moth. He told them all to eat of the tiny mushrooms in the faerie rings if they were hungry, and they fell upon the sweet golden fungi, devouring the lot. Frowning, he offered them acorn cups of fresh dew, which they gulped down. He frowned again and told them that they were greedy folk, who should take care not to destroy with grasping avarice the bounty they had.

  ‘Only take a little – just what you need, and no more,’ he said. ‘For when everything has been consumed, you will wish you’d shown restraint.’

  And, like the wise queen before, he told the folk they might each take one token back to their land. Whilst they chose this, he whispered to the Hare Woman that she may ask one question. When she had done so, he pondered for a while.

  ‘That is a hard question to answer,’ he replied. ‘But here are my thoughts: in autumn you see the leaves dying and falling, and you think the world is ending. In the dead of winter, everything is grey and bleak and it seems this will last forever. But then comes the spring and all is renewed. The leaves grow again – not the same leaves as before, but new ones, just as beautiful, from the same source. So take heed of this, and never try to stop that which you cannot change.’

  With that, he disappeared and a wind blew up. Hare Woman gathered them together quickly to retrace their steps back to the long earthy tunnel. They hurried along behind her and, as they popped out underneath the foxgloves, Raven said that he must be gone. All around the land seemed to fade and then grow bright, and the white light was everywhere, flooding their blinking eyes . . .

  She opened her eyes and the rows of faces were all blinking owlishly at her, dazed and confused. The fire was low, the drum still beat, the air was close and dark around them. There was a movement across the floor and the lid to the basket was pushed open. Hare lifted up her head and then hopped out, loping across to Leveret who bent to pick her up. She stood in the centre of the Great Barn, still in her brown tunic and leggings, with the shaman’s headdress on her head, holding the soft golden hare in her arms. All eyes were upon her.

  There was a sudden CAW audible over the single drum beats. From up high in the barn’s rafters, a crow sailed down, a crow with a white tail feather. He landed on the stump where she’d stood earlier and began to preen himself. Leveret took a deep breath.

  ‘So now, folk of Stonewylde, take back with you tonight the two gifts you’ve been given, and ponder on the two answers. Sleep well in your beds and know that the magic is safe and guarded. For I, the Hare Woman, am here amongst you and the magic is in me.’

  Clip stopped drumming and there was sudden silence. Leveret bowed. The audience erupted into wild applause that made the crow take off back into the rafters again, and Hare flatten her ears. Leveret gave a small smile and her eyes found Clip’s. She could do it – she was worthy of the new title she would inherit when he’d gone.

  14

  Sitting in her office in the School Wing leafing through the files of students still to be interviewed, Sylvie realised that she was one of the lucky ones. Because of Yul’s reluctance to let her take on the role of Student Counsellor, she hadn’t had any data to lose when the virus had hit Stonewylde’s network. All the youngsters finishing Hall School this summer had been interviewed and she was now working through the year group below, as they’d soon be making their choices for higher education or apprenticeships. Sylvie had found the role rewarding so far, and Miranda had assured her it would make a great deal of difference in the community.

  She was disturbed by a knock on the door and surprised to see Harold. He entered nervously and was persuaded to sit down beside her, more jittery than even the shyest student she’d had in for a chat. The Imbolc Crash had taken away his already shaky self-confidence and her heart went out to him; he’d always worked so hard, even when it made him unpopular, and his loyalty to Stonewylde was unquestionable.

  ‘Relax, Harold,’ she said gently. ‘You know me well enough – I don’t bite.’

  He smiled and pushed his round glasses back up his nose.

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you, Sylvie, but I’m not sure where Yul is at the moment, and even if I was . . .’

  She nodded at this; Yul had been like a bear with a sore head since her birthday. He’d disappeared for a few days and had missed the Story Web. He’d re-emerged after that but since then he’d been more absent than present. He wasn’t getting any work done and she’d heard he was out riding even more than usual. Sylvie knew she should try to speak to him. He was obviously still very upset about the beautiful moondance picture she’d been given, and she really didn’t know what to do to make it all better. It was such a shame, as the painting was truly wonderful; David had told her Yul had hidden it away in his apartments.

  ‘I know, Harold – he’s not in the best of spirits at the moment, is he? But please speak to me instead. You know that’s fine, though if it’s a business thing I don’t know how much I’ll be able to help.’

  ‘It is! Oh Sylvie, ’tis amazing news but I got to give an answer today because it’s all last minute and rushed.’

  His words came tumbling out and she smiled encouragingly.

  ‘ ’Tis thanks to Rainbow, I think – she e-mailed me after she’d gone and said she’d been talking to some friends who’re in the “fashion industry”.’

  He said these last two words as if referring to some alien planet, which made Sylvie smile, although the mention of Rainbow didn’t. She’d been heartily glad to see the back of the woman and had vowed she’d never return to Stonewylde.

  ‘Okay – I don’t know much about the fashion industry, but—’

  ‘No, well, neither do I but that don’t matter. Basically ’tis the fashion label called Aitch – you may’ve heard of ’em? I hadn’t, but I’ve done some research now, and they’re really big and grand. And there’s this here fashion collection thing – oh really, Sylvie, I don’t know nothing about it but I been trying to find out and I think it could be brilliant! The first thing is they want some things from us very quick for some show they got on in Paris. I got a list – stuff like wicker baskets, some felt hats, boots – that sort o’ thing. “Accessories”, they call ’em. And then if that’s all alright, they want to place a big order for stuff for their next collection and they might even want to come here to do some photographs and suchlike.’

  He paused for breath and Sylvie stared at him in bemusement.

  ‘So . . . you say this has come from Rainbow?’

  ‘No, ’tis not her that’s ordered it all, but she said she knows people in the industry. I think she knows lots o’ people in London. She showed ’em some o’ the photos she took when she were here and they loved all the Stonewylde stuff. They said ’tis like back to nature and all that. So, what I need to know is this: is it alright to say yes to them?’

  ‘Oh goodness, Harold! You need to know now?’

  ‘I need to let ’em know today. ‘Cos if we can’t, then t
hey need to find another supplier. But they say they want to buy British and not get in cheap imported stuff that’s been made in China or the like. They want the “authentic country look” – and that’s us, they say. ’Tis all very sudden but that’s thanks to Rainbow.’

  ‘But she’s not directly involved in this, is she?’ asked Sylvie. The last thing she wanted was that woman thinking she could come back.

  ‘No, all she done was show ’em the photos and they loved ’em. And she gave my e-mail address. Seriously, Sylvie – go and look at Aitch on the Internet. Then you’ll see how big they are and you’ll be as excited as me. I think this could really be the making of us, and they’re offering so much money!’

  Sylvie sat at the kitchen table talking to Maizie whilst the girls were out in the garden picking raspberries and redcurrants.

  ‘I’d like to ask him, Mother Maizie, but I have no idea where he is. Since the Solstice he’s been behaving very strangely, and—’

  ‘He were upset by that painting, that’s why!’ said Maizie stoutly.

  ‘I know, but there’s no need to just disappear, surely?’

  ‘You know what Yul’s like. If he takes it into his head to disappear . . .’

  ‘Anyway, I can’t ask his opinion because nobody knows where he is. I’ve asked Clip and he just said to do what I think best, which is no help. I mentioned it to my mum, and she said much the same. Nobody’s that fussed, but, as Harold says, it’s a great opportunity and it’ll bring in some much-needed cash.’

  ‘Well in that case, we better say yes,’ said Maizie, picking up her sewing. ‘We need money bad, don’t we?’

  Sylvie nodded.

  ‘The thing is, Mother Maizie, and you’ll know the answer to this better than most – can we make the stuff they need for this Haute Couture Fashion Show thing in time? We’ve got just a few days to do it, but if we can, they’ll pay so well! Then maybe they’ll put in a big order with a much longer dead-line, so we can organise the workforce properly to get that done. What do you think? Harold needs to let them know by this evening.’

  ‘Let me see the list,’ said Maizie, and slowly worked down it. Sylvie almost offered to read it for her but then thought better of it. She waited, and eventually Maizie nodded.

  ‘I reckon if we start work tomorrow morning and get everyone involved, we could do it. ’Tis just a few baskets, some boots and some felt hats, all said and done. Oh – and them scarves too. But we could do it if we gathered everyone together for a big effort.’

  ‘Could you organise that, Maizie? You know best about the resources we have and who’s fastest at making these things. It goes without saying that they must be perfect.’

  ‘Aye, I’ll do that. ’Twill get us out of a little bit of the mess with money, won’t it? But long term . . .’

  ‘I know, Maizie. Long term we need a proper solution to our financial problems. Thank you – that’s great. I’ll nip into the Barn and phone up to the Hall and tell Harold to say yes. Goodness knows what Yul will say but—’

  ‘Truth be told, my dear – if he ain’t here, he’s got no right to say anything, has he?’

  Leveret stood on the roof of the tower gazing out at the sinking sun. The crow had appeared, as he so often did now, and was sitting watching her from the crenellated stonework. She turned and cast her eye over the massed chimneys, some so ornate and others plain. The Hall was such a vast building and Leveret was pleased she was in a separate part of it and not in one of the big dormitories with other girls. She realised how very lucky and privileged she was to be living in the tower with Clip.

  The crow started to make a racket – he was a noisy creature – and then she looked down and saw the cause of it. Gefrin stood a distance away in the parkland and was staring up towards her. Leveret’s heart lurched in alarm. She’d managed to avoid Jay and her brothers since Imbolc, but it was now almost July and the situation couldn’t go on forever. Why on earth was he out there watching her? Surely he wouldn’t do anything with Clip around? She was just about to go downstairs off the roof to get out of his sight when he waved at her and began walking towards the tower.

  Leveret watched him approach, noting that he was no longer quite so skinny and lanky. His long, rather rat-like, face still filled her with loathing, bringing back memories of so many incidents over the years, but she despised him marginally less than Sweyn. She knew that at some point she’d have to face her tormentors and deal with the situation, and this was as good a time as any to make a start – indeed better than most, as she was on her own territory and had Clip close to hand.

  Gefrin stopped several metres away from the foot of the tower and stood gazing up at her. He saw the crow sitting on the battlements and shivered, almost turning tail at the last moment. But Lammas was approaching and he needed help, so plucking up his courage, he called up to her.

  ‘Hey, Lev! I wanted to talk to you!’

  She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Can you come down a minute?’

  ‘No!’

  He thought about this for a moment.

  ‘Can I . . . can I come up then?’

  Now she paused, enjoying the power after a lifetime of having none where her brothers were concerned.

  ‘You can, but Clip’s downstairs in the tower and if you even think about being nasty, he’ll—’

  ‘No! No, really, Lev. I’m not like that now.’

  She laughed at this and watched him climb the stone staircase that helter-skeltered up round the tower from the ground. When he’d almost reached the top, the crow gave a mighty CAW and flapped away, showing his white tail feather. Gefrin stared at the crow, then climbed the last few steps.

  ‘I ain’t never seen a crow with a white tail,’ he said. ‘Is he yours? He were there at the Story Web too, weren’t he?’

  Leveret nodded. She’d wondered if her brothers had been present. So far many people had commented on what a special evening it had been and she’d noticed that people were treating her differently now – far more respectfully and carefully. This certainly seemed to be the case with Gefrin who would by now, under normal circumstances, have twisted her arm or pulled her hair, or at least insulted her.

  ‘So . . . you’re living with Clip now?’

  ‘You know I am. Since Imbolc when I was Bright Maiden.’

  He had the grace to blush at this and look away. She noticed how bad his skin was; covered with big pustules and greasy like his hair. It wasn’t easy with the water being rationed, but Gefrin had never been too fond of washing even when the rain fell every day.

  He fidgeted, but she wasn’t going to put him at ease. She realised that they’d never stood together like this before, just talking like normal people. No wonder he found it difficult.

  ‘I . . . I thought you was very . . . very magical the other night,’ he stammered.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I were surprised because . . . you seemed different. Not like you been in the past.’

  She glared up at him from behind her mass of dark hair. It had escaped Maizie’s scissors since moving here and now cascaded wildly down her back. He saw her green eyes blaze and actually cringed at her stare. She almost laughed out loud at his discomfort but managed to maintain the fierce expression. He blushed again and stared at his hands.

  ‘The thing is, Lev, that . . .’

  ‘Leveret! My name’s Leveret. Or Hare Woman of course.’

  ‘Sorry, yes. It’s just that I wanted to ask for your help, seeing as how you can do magic.’

  ‘How do you know I can do magic?’

  ‘The other night . . . I never knew you were like that. When I found the things in my pocket afterwards I went all cold.’

  ‘What things? What are you talking about?’

  He looked at her in consternation.

  ‘You said about taking something back from the Upperworld and the Underworld. We could all take just one token? I couldn’t believe it when I
found ’em in my pocket, and neither could anyone else.’

  ‘What did you find?’ she asked, thinking this was some kind of joke. Everyone knew the objects found in other realms weren’t real, merely symbolic.

  ‘Same as everyone else,’ he replied earnestly. ‘A feather and a stone. I couldn’t believe it. Jay was mad and he threw his away. Sweyn said he were going to but he ain’t – I think he’s too scared. We talked to lots o’ the others and everyone had the same. It made me realise that you really are magic.’

  Leveret gave a tight smile at this and nodded in what she hoped was a wise and serious way. Inside she was alive with curiosity and disbelief – how had everyone chosen the same objects? And more to the point, how had they ended up as real items in people’s pockets?

  ‘So what I wanted to ask you please, Lev . . . I mean Leveret, is . . . could you help me get Meadowsweet at Lammas? I’m going to ask her to walk with me but I think she’ll say no.’

  ‘I don’t blame her! Why would she want you?’

  Gefrin’s face fell and he looked miserably at his feet, shaking his head.

  ‘She don’t. That’s why I wanted to ask for some help. What can I do?’

  Leveret regarded him steadily, wondering how she could turn this to her advantage.

  ‘If you’re asking to consult me as the Wise Woman, you’ll need to come back tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I can’t – I’m at work from just after dawn. I get back around tea-time – can I come to see you then?’

  ‘Yes, in the tower. Come through the Galleried Hall and knock at the door. I shall be waiting for you. And you’ll need to do some preparation.’