Shaman of Stonewylde

by Kit Berry

  ‘Yes? I’ll do anything – I really like Meadowsweet and I want to walk with her so much. I want to be handfasted with her one day if she’d have me.’

  ‘You are serious about her,’ said Leveret. ‘I shall need you to do two things before tomorrow, and you’d better do them right. The first is that you must make a list of the five things you like most about Meadowsweet. The second is a list of five things that she may not like about you. Do you understand? Bring the two lists tomorrow, written in your very best hand, and maybe I’ll help you.’

  ‘Thanks, Lev! Leveret!’ His spotty face broke into a grin. ‘If anyone can make it happen it’s you.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ she said dourly. ‘I may decide not to make it happen of course. Don’t assume anything.’

  Not long after sunrise the next day, Maizie used her network of communication at the Village Pump to spread the word about the new quota. Everyone was asked to gather in the Great Barn once the children were at school and the household necessities done, and to pass the request around. There was grumbling at first, but Maizie and Sylvie both stood on the dais and explained to the women why this needed to be done, and why so fast. Harold and Yul weren’t mentioned – it became a woman’s thing, and, as Maizie had known would happen, everyone agreed to cooperate.

  The possibility of future work came up too, and the women agreed that they were more than happy to do their bit to help bring in money to Stonewylde. They liked the idea that the men at the Hall had messed up with their stupid computers and quotas and that now it was up to the women of the Village to sort out the mess.

  The list of what was required for this rush order for the fashion label Aitch was discussed and the items shared out, people volunteering to their strengths. It was agreed that, if everyone worked at it, two days would be enough to complete all the items, though the Stonewylde boots were trickier. Old Larch the cobbler was called in and consulted, and, as it was only ten pairs required for this order, he agreed that he’d pull out all the stops, get all his men onto the job, and promised to have them done in the two days. Sylvie was delighted at the positive attitude amongst the folk. There was a real buzz in the air that she hadn’t felt for a long time, and she wondered if it were anything to do with the recent Story Web. She’d sensed a new pulling together afterwards as everyone had left the Great Barn chattering excitedly. It was as if the magical experience had reunited people into a community again.

  She made her way up to the Hall a little later and went to Yul’s office to find Harold and give him the good news: they’d only need two days to complete this order. She was glad Yul wasn’t there. Harold was delighted and said he’d notify the fashion people immediately. He explained how happy they’d been that their order had been accepted and thought they’d be really impressed at how quickly it could be turned around. Sylvie sat down at Yul’s desk and used his computer to take a look at the fashion company.

  Their logo was designed with the capital A very large compared to the rest of the word, so it looked like “A itch”, which she found a bit silly. She was completely in the dark about the fashion industry, having come to Stonewylde at the age of fourteen, penniless, and with no inclination for fashion. Even whilst at college in the Outside World she’d had no interest in designer labels. So now she took a good look at the website and grimaced at some of the styles and the models’ emaciation. Had she made a mistake in agreeing to this? Was this really the type of industry that Stonewylde should be associated with? She began to have doubts, but then read a piece about the forthcoming collection which cheered her up.

  ‘Did you see this, Harold?’ she asked. ‘They’re saying that the new collection for next winter will be something entirely different, and they’re calling it Earth Ethics. That sounds good, doesn’t it? They want to use organic, natural materials and source their suppliers ethically – I guess that’s where we come in. And they’re also saying that they support the national campaign to use normal-sized women as models rather than “Size Zero” super-waifs. I like that.’

  Harold looked across from his desk and gave her a nervous smile.

  ‘Yes, that’s what they said in the e-mail – ’tis for this Earth Ethics thing. I just hope Yul don’t mind when he finds out.’

  ‘Still no news where he is?’

  Harold shook his head.

  ‘Tom says he took his horse and went off somewhere.’

  Sylvie turned back to read more about Aitch and their pledge to redress past wrongs perpetrated by the fashion giants. Looking at the glamorous photos and exotic clothes, it gave her a thrill to think that soon Stonewylde could be linked to all this, and perhaps doing its bit towards bringing higher principles to what many would see as a very shallow business.

  Leveret realised that she needed to make some suitable clothes for her new roles; people would expect to see her dressed properly as befitted her station and Gefrin’s request had reinforced this. She thought it would be good to actually weave, dye and sew the Wise Woman costume herself, and in doing so imbue it with her magical intent. She was aware of the irony of the situation; Maizie had spent years trying to interest her in these traditional skills, and now she wished she’d taken notice and learned them better. For now, a traditional Stonewylde robe from the Village store would have to do.

  Gefrin returned late in the afternoon, jumpy with nerves and looking over his shoulder as if terrified that someone would see him visiting Leveret. He followed her up the interior spiral staircase to the great circular room at the top. Clip was out rambling over the hills but Leveret didn’t tell Gefrin that. He looked around in wonder, and she indicated for him to sit on a small wooden stool which didn’t allow much room for his long legs. He looked both sheepish and scared, and again she had to hold herself back from smiling and spoiling the illusion.

  She sat on an ornate carved chair, looking very old-fashioned in the traditional robe, and stared down at him gravely. He almost jumped out of his skin when suddenly Hare came loping across the floor. Even though he’d seen her at the Story Web, he gawped at the hare as she put her front paws onto Leveret’s knee and pricked up her great ears. Leveret lifted her onto her lap and Gefrin could only stare in amazement – she was so big and tame.

  ‘Now you must read me the two lists you’ve made,’ she said. ‘And then we’ll talk about how to increase your chances of success in wooing Meadowsweet. But first you need to convince me that you’re worthy of walking with a girl. I shan’t help you if your intentions are dishonourable.’

  By the time she’d finished with him, Gefrin’s humiliation was complete. His character defects had been examined in detail and he’d been forced to acknowledge all his failings. Leveret sent him on his way with a large bottle of watercress and witch hazel astringent cleansing lotion, a jar of comfrey cream for the worst of the boils, and a decoction of burdock and dandelion roots to be taken daily to tackle any internal toxicity that might be causing his skin to erupt. Leveret didn’t know Meadowsweet well, but she knew that Gefrin’s acne probably didn’t help his cause. He’d hesitated when it was time to leave, and she wondered if he was going to apologise for the way he’d treated her all her life. She had no idea how she’d react to that; forgiveness just wasn’t possible so soon. But she needn’t have feared, for all he did was request that she didn’t tell Sweyn about his visit.

  A couple of days later came the encounter that she’d long dreaded. Leveret was up at Mother Heggy’s cottage making a batch of remedies: some antiseptic ointments, pain killers and cough medicines for general use, and further supplies of Sylvie’s tincture that appeared to be working so well. It was late afternoon, the sun was golden and warm and the swifts were riding high, twittering and squealing. Leveret had her tools and equipment laid out on the table and the water in the cauldron had just started to bubble. Hare lay in a corner asleep on the cool flagstone floor.

  At one end of the ancient table sat Magpie, bent over the pages of a large book; he was making fine pen and ink drawings on the
creamy page. This was their own Book of Shadows, arrived a while ago from London, and now its pages were filling with recipes for Leveret’s remedies and Magpie’s illustrations of the plants, barks and herbs required. They were both enjoying creating the book, which also featured observations and instructions about all sorts of other aspects of nature.

  They heard the crow causing a commotion and Leveret went outside to investigate. Her heart started to thump as she recognised Sweyn’s gingery head further down the path. She rushed back inside and picked up her Asklepian wand, not entirely sure what she’d do with it but wanting something in the way of support. Magpie looked up at her and she smiled reassuringly at him.

  ‘No need to worry, Magpie – it’s just that stupid Sweyn come to pay us a visit. I’ll soon see him off, and anyway, we’re protected by the spell I cast around the cottage. You just stay in here out of his sight.’

  She stood outside the door of the cottage, the rowan wand in her hand and the white-tailed crow on the thatched roof behind her. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Sweyn toiling up the hill, sweating profusely. He looked up, his breathing laboured, and his red face darkened further at the sight of her. She stepped forward and held the snake-carved wand before her. He reached the final approach on the path and she pointed the wand at him, raising her other hand to point to the sky.

  ‘Stop!’ she cried in an authoritative voice. ‘Come no farther or you’ll step into the enchanted circle that’s been cast around this cottage!’

  He stopped and glared at her, the sweat running in rivulets down his fat cheeks.

  ‘You don’t fool me with that crap!’ he huffed, trying to regain his breath.

  ‘I’m not trying to fool anyone,’ she replied. ‘I’m only trying to warn you. There’s a spell of protection around this cottage and if you attempt to break through it, I can’t vouch for your safety. I’m talking about powerful magical forces, Sweyn. Be it on your own head if you decide to ignore them.’

  He glared at her, his heart still pounding from the strenuous climb in the heat, and tried to decide whether or not to come any further. He wasn’t scared of her, but on the other hand . . . At that point, the great golden hare appeared in the doorway and lolloped outside to stand next to her, its massive ears upright and alert. The Hare Woman, Clip had called her the other night, and here she was with her creature again. Despite the beating sun he shivered, and then stepped back with a cry of surprise as the crow that had been strutting about on the thatched roof suddenly opened its wings and cawed. It took off and sailed down, landing on Leveret’s shoulder. He noticed the way her green eyes lit up at this and shivered again.

  ‘You really are a mad bitch!’ he hissed. ‘I hate you!’

  She stood there, her wand in her hand with the snake’s head pointing at him, the hare by her side and the crow on her shoulder, and stared at him intently. Her green gaze was unwavering and his sweaty skin started to prickle with fear.

  ‘What’s that lump on your forehead?’ she asked. ‘How did you get that?’

  ‘None of your bloody business!’ he retorted.

  She continued to stare and involuntarily he rubbed the bump that was still there after almost a month. It ached and throbbed quite a bit but he tried to ignore it.

  ‘You must put a cold compress on it morning and night,’ she said. ‘I’m warning you – go to the hospital wing and ask them to help. If you don’t . . .’

  ‘Are you hexing me now?’ he cried. ‘Because if you are—’

  ‘I don’t hex people,’ she replied evenly. ‘But I see things – as you know. I am the Wise Woman of Stonewylde and I’m warning you.’

  ‘Sod your stupid bloody prophecies!’ he yelled, very disturbed. ‘You’re a stupid, crazy—’

  At that point, a huge magpie landed on the path almost next to Sweyn and he glanced at it nervously. The blue, black and white bird hopped towards him making loud chattering cries, and he took a step back. The bird began to peck at his shoe, still squawking noisily and repeatedly, and he took several steps backwards. It made a run at his feet then and when he tried to kick it the magpie flapped its heavy wings and took off, flying closely over him. As it crossed above his head, it let out a great blob of white and slimy dropping that landed in his hair. With a yell of disgust Sweyn tried to rub it off and the thick, gooey mess smeared over his hand.

  ‘You bloody revolting bitch!’ he screamed at Leveret. ‘You won’t get away with this!’

  ‘Don’t come here again,’ she called out, ‘or next time I’ll summon a whole tiding of magpies. Be it on your head! Be gone, and don’t come back!’

  Sweyn turned and stumbled back down the path. The magpie continued to harass him, dropping more slimy bombs with accuracy. Leveret stood for a while longer, watching his retreating back and smiling with glee. So that’s how the spell worked, she mused. She had no idea why he’d decided to pay her a visit but she didn’t care; he’d be unlikely to return in a hurry. Chuckling to herself, she went back inside to continue brewing.

  ‘Why did nobody think to ask me?’ shouted Yul furiously.

  All eyes in the Galleried Hall watched him apprehensively as he shifted in his chair, unable to contain himself. It was so very hot already and the Hay Moon meeting had only just begun.

  ‘Yul, we had to decide straight away – there weren’t time to wait till you came back again,’ said Maizie in a placatory voice. ‘You’d disappeared and—’

  ‘Hardly disappeared! I was out riding for a day or so! You could’ve waited till I got back.’

  ‘We didn’t know when you’d be back,’ said Sylvie firmly, sick of his tantrums at these meetings. ‘And we didn’t know where you’d gone, so don’t blame us for getting on with the job of running Stonewylde. Anyway, enough of us decided that it was a good idea so even if you had been around and had objected, you’d have been over-ruled.’

  He glared at her, grey eyes startling in his deeply tanned face. His hair was wild and longer than ever; if it weren’t for the lines around his mouth and the stubble on his jaw, he could have been a boy again.

  ‘When are they coming to do the photography shooting? Is that going to be soon?’ asked Rowan, a gleam of excitement in her eye.

  ‘The photoshoot isn’t definite,’ said Sylvie, who’d somehow become the champion of the Aitch project even though it was really Harold’s thing. He was keeping very quiet and she guessed he was terrified of Yul’s wrath. ‘As I explained, we’ve sent the goods off to them for the fashion week, and when that’s over, we’ll hear if they do want to go ahead and place a proper order. We’ll need to negotiate that, not just jump at anything they offer, and also make sure we can fulfil their demands without putting our own people out.’

  ‘We seemed to manage this initial order very quickly,’ said Miranda. ‘All credit to Maizie for organising that so well.’

  Maizie smiled at her in thanks and nodded.

  ‘Aye, but ’twere the folk, not just me – they worked hard to get it done quick. They’re willing to work on a regular order if needs be, now I explained it all to ’em.’

  ‘But we must get this right,’ said Sylvie, ‘so it doesn’t end up with everyone upset like they were with Stonewylde.com. I’m thinking of the boots – they ordered ten pairs of our special brown leather boots for the show, and Old Larch managed to get his team to make them in only two days. But that was exceptional and we certainly couldn’t supply Aitch with anything like the volume of boots they’d probably need for the shops. We couldn’t cope with an order for several hundred pairs, could we? So, we must think the whole thing through carefully.’

  ‘Yes, but what about this photoshoot where they want to use our girls for models?’ said Rowan. ‘When will we know if they’re doing that? How will they choose which girls they want?’

  Sylvie shrugged at this, guessing the reason behind Rowan’s interest.

  ‘I have no idea, although if it’s for their new season’s range I imagine it would be very soon. No reason why it s
hould just be girls – it could be boys too, as Aitch do both men’s and women’s fashion. But honestly, I don’t really know any more than I’ve already told you all. And I’d like to point out that this is all thanks to Harold and his negotiations.’

  All eyes turned to him and he blushed, jerking his wrists in his jumpy way. Yul sighed elaborately and squirmed in his seat. The stifling heat could only get worse as the sun climbed higher.

  ‘What do you think of this mad scheme?’ he asked Martin, who’d sat in grim silence so far, with his arms folded and a sour look on his face.

  Martin shrugged and turned his face from Yul, as if the very sight of him was more than he could bear.

  ‘Makes no difference to this Council what I think, does it? Folk know my thoughts on how Stonewylde has fallen back into the mire and how we should put it right again. I made myself clear many a time.’

  ‘Well, I want to make it known now how I feel about this fashion thing and supplying them with goods,’ said Yul firmly. ‘I don’t like the idea of it and if I’d been consulted, I’d have said no.’

  ‘But why?’ asked Sylvie. ‘We all know how desperate the financial situation is and they’re paying good money. Why are you so against it?’

  ‘Because it’s mixed up with Rainbow,’ he replied. ‘And you of all people, Sylvie, should understand my unease. You were the one who didn’t want her here at all.’

  ‘Yes, and I was over-ridden on that. And this isn’t mixed up with Rainbow, so there’s no need to worry on that score. We were just very lucky that she knows some people in the fashion world and happened to show them some photos of Stonewylde. I never wanted Rainbow here – you did. But now, with this Aitch business, at least one good thing will have come out of her visit after all.’

  She glared at Yul and he looked down at his hands, his face hidden by his hair. She was glad he had the grace to look guilty.

  15