by Kit Berry
‘Fancy getting a visit from the magus’ goodwife herself!’ she rasped. ‘Not that any relation o’ his is welcome here, not after what he done to my poor Alwyn. He never—’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, but it was a long time ago and nothing to do with me. I’ve come to speak to Starling.’
‘Our Starling’s busy out the back, lazy sow that she is.’
‘I’d like a word with her to see if she can help take care of Old Violet,’ said Sylvie, fighting the urge to wrinkle her nose at the unpleasant smell of the place. She felt her skin crawling; the old cat who also glared so belligerently was probably infested with fleas.
‘Starling!’ bellowed the woman, making Sylvie jump. ‘Get your arse in here now!’
When Starling appeared, Sylvie did a double take. Surely this wasn’t the same squat and bellicose woman she’d last encountered at Imbolc, during Leveret’s disgrace? The woman before her today was thin in a sagging sort of way, loose skin hanging in folds and her face a dreariness of lines and grime. Her long greasy hair had been shorn into an unstyled bob, as if someone had simply hacked around it with shears. Her eyes were dull and her hands sore, and even in this freezing weather her legs beneath the old skirt were bare, and mottled with chilblains and fleabites.
She stood there silent and awkward, refusing to meet Sylvie’s eye.
‘The magus’ goodwife wants to know if you’ll take care o’ your old Auntie Violet,’ said Cledwyn’s mother. ‘What do you say to that, girl?’
‘I can’t,’ she mumbled. ‘I live here now.’
‘Speak up, girl! Stand up straight and speak clear!’
Starling straightened slightly and raised her face, meeting Sylvie’s horrified gaze. Her nose was a little misshapen and one eye was puffy with old yellow bruising. She appeared to be missing most of her teeth too.
‘I look after Cled and his ma,’ she said, her voice hoarse.
‘I see. But . . . could Old Violet perhaps move in here? There’s room I know, and that would free up her cottage. She’d still be part of—’
‘Never!’ cried the old woman, a fleck of spittle flying across the room. ‘I ain’t having that hag in my cottage! Let her rot for all we care, eh Starling?’
‘Aye, let her rot,’ echoed Starling dully.
At Old Violet’s home, Sylvie was even more repulsed. The cottage itself wasn’t too dirty, which was obviously down to Mallow’s hard work, but the old woman was filthy and smelt like rotten fish. She was furious that Mallow hadn’t called recently, and was cold and hungry. It was clear that she was incapable of looking after herself. The fire had gone out and there was no more wood, so Sylvie couldn’t even build it up for her. There was no food in the place either and the old woman had soiled herself where she sat.
‘You’re cursed, you spawn o’ Raven!’ shrieked the crone, as she sensed Sylvie’s pity. ‘Your fly-blown father took my boy, my own Martin, and now they’re all gone! All my dear ones taken from me, taken by the Dark Angel. Ain’t one soul left to care for poor Old Violet.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Sylvie, avoiding mention of the Death Cap cakes that had been especially baked for Clip. ‘I’ll get you something to eat now and I’ll arrange for you to be taken up to the Hall. You’ll be warm and cared for there, and it’ll—’
‘I ain’t going up the Hall!’ cried Violet. She picked up the heavy stick propped against her chair and tried to hit Sylvie with it. She was so feeble and twisted that she could barely raise it from the ground, but the intent was there. Her eyes glowed in her whiskery, shrunken face as she looked daggers at Sylvie. ‘You think your family’s safe, don’t you? Just you wait, you skinny white maggot! You’ll be a-squirming afore I’m done. That babe in your belly, he’ll never—’
‘Don’t you DARE curse my children, you evil witch!’ cried Sylvie, clutching her hands protectively to her abdomen. ‘You can insult me all you like but don’t you dare threaten my family!’
‘Oh aye, the worm turns now, don’t it?’ Old Violet cackled toothlessly, her eyes flashing malevolence. ‘Think you’re all set now, don’t you? But that black-haired bastard husband will—’
‘I’m going!’ shouted Sylvie, putting her hands to her ears before she could hear any more. Old Violet terrified her and she wouldn’t remain in such an evil place a moment longer, not with the precious new life inside her. ‘They’ll come down to get you today, whether you like it or not. There’s nobody in the Village to care for you so you’ve no choice. Goodbye!’
She dashed out of the dark cottage almost in tears, the crone’s mocking laughter in her ears.
‘The taint’s still there,’ crooned the hag. She rocked gently in her chair, all alone but for her moonlit memories. ‘Taint’s still up there a-biding its time, and when the toad is gone, Old Violet’s revenge will be sweet.’
Leveret was unable to travel any distance on foot because of the cold, but she was determined to address that in the spring. She’d practise walking with Shadow and her stick to all her favourite places: Mother Heggy’s cottage, the Stone Circle, the Village and even the Dolmen and Hare Stone eventually, though the tracks to those places weren’t so well defined. She was still learning to walk without the use of her eyes to guide her and it wasn’t easy, but she could now move around the Hall reasonably well and was confident that when the growing season began, she’d manage the Kitchen Gardens fairly easily.
Magpie lived in the tower with her and she had many visitors each day, everyone contributing to her care. Even Gefrin had called, accompanied by Meadowsweet, and those words of apology he’d been unable to offer before now tumbled from his lips in a flood of self-recrimination and guilt. Sweyn apparently refused to come, but Leveret told Maizie that was fine. That the abuse had stopped was enough – she wasn’t out to humiliate him and didn’t want a forced apology.
‘One day, Mother,’ she said, her green eyes gazing faraway into the distance, ‘Sweyn will have a little dark-haired daughter. He’ll love her dearly and when he looks at her, he’ll remember my childhood and his heart will be heavy. So don’t force him to make amends because the time isn’t yet right, and don’t deny him your love either – he can’t help how he is. It may take a few years but he’ll be alright in the end.’
Maizie looked in complete awe at her blind daughter, blessed with such vision. And her heart was heavy too; for the hundredth time, she silently berated herself for the blighting of her girl’s childhood.
The Wolf Moon of January was approaching, and Leveret felt she should honour it in the Stone Circle alone with Yul. He’d almost completely gone to ground in Mother Heggy’s cottage and not many people had seen him since the Winter Solstice ceremony, when he’d entered the darkness of exile. Rufus continued to be his link with the community and the bond between the two brothers had grown strong.
The moon rise that night was early and Leveret was driven up to the Circle by Tom’s son Fletch in the little pony and trap. She insisted that he drop her off where the avenue of stones began and go straight back to the Hall, as Yul would walk her home later. With her stick of blackthorn and faithful Shadow, she now carefully made her way up the Long Walk. That it was pitch black made no difference to Leveret, who only experienced light when she held Magpie’s hand. She felt a moment’s shiver of fear as she entered the prickling darkness of the Stone Circle. But, taking a deep breath, she pictured again that vision from the night of her Yule Story Web, when she’d seen just how the ancient folk had built and used the temple of megaliths. She was wrapped in many layers topped with her cloak, and even her feet were warm in their lined boots, but as she stepped across the iron-hard earth she felt the coldness of the January night on her cheeks.
As she slowly walked across it, Leveret knew that nobody else was here in the great arena. She sensed the massive stones standing sentinel all around her, watching the small person who’d come into their presence. She felt the spirals beneath her feet, a coiled labyrinth of energy, and imagined how it would be whe
n the healing centre were open and folk from Outside could come here to draw on the magic. She reached the Altar Stone and stopped, turning around to lean against it. Shadow, always silent and always close, sat down and together they waited for Yul.
He was a long time coming and Leveret knew that the moon would soon be rising. What if he didn’t come? Nobody would fetch her. But she had faith and tried to picture him hurrying along from Mother Heggy’s cottage. In her mind, Yul was a tall and dark presence, deep and teeming with passion and life. She longed to be alone with him tonight, just the two of them together as they’d been when she was young. Yul had helped her when she’d struggled to make sense of her life after Clip’s death; she hoped when the time came that she could help her brother similarly. However she understood that he needed this period of darkness now, just as some seeds need the coldness of winter to germinate. Yul was wild and he was of nature, and when the time was right he’d show green shoots and flourish again.
Leveret felt Shadow stiffen by her side and heard him give a low growl. She too could sense someone approaching – she couldn’t hear or smell anyone, but she felt it very strongly. Then a voice called to her and she answered, and soon Yul had hurried across the Circle and hugged her tight, his cheeks icy but his breath warm.
‘Sorry!’ he breathed. ‘I fell asleep and it was only the crow that woke me up. I wonder if we’ve missed it? There’s thick cloud so I can’t see.’
‘No, we have a little while,’ she said.
‘Shall I light the fire?’
‘Yes, let’s get nice and warm.’
They hadn’t seen each other for some weeks now, but Rufus had been a reliable go-between, and Leveret had requested that Yul bring fire. She’d brought some mead and cakes along with Mother Heggy’s athame, and as Yul unpacked wood from his bag and deftly built a small fire near the Altar Stone, she unrolled a thick felt rug from her back-pack and laid out the things. She pulled on the hare headdress over her felt hat, becoming once more the Shaman. Soon they sat side by side on the rug, shoulders touching and backs against the long Altar Stone, as close to the crackling fire as possible. Leveret held the sacred dagger and Shadow lay close, nose on paws, watching Leveret unblinkingly. He didn’t know Yul and was vigilant with everyone except Magpie, whom he loved almost as much as he loved Leveret.
‘She’s at the horizon,’ Leveret said softly. ‘As the Bright Lady rises, as the Wolf Moon of January comes into our sky, we think of our dear Clip. We think of his totem the silver wolf, and we imagine Stonewylde at a time when wolves roamed wild and free. We call on the spirit of wolf to join us tonight, to come into the Circle and be part of our Moon Fullness celebrations. We call on the spirit of Clip, now also roaming wild and free just as he always wanted, to come if he will and join us tonight. We call on our ancestors, if they will, to join us tonight.’
She paused and breathed deeply of the pure, cold air. She felt stirrings all around her, eddies of movement and wisps of sentience; the Stone Circle was alive and teeming with wild energy. Leveret pulled off a mitten and found Yul’s bare hand, clutching it fiercely.
‘Come with me, brother, to a land of myth and magic,’ she whispered. ‘Travel with me on my journey into other realms. See, my great black Raven awaits us and we must follow where he’ll take us tonight, at the Wolf Moon. My brother, the only one in this world to share my blood and my flesh, the only one who understands the darkness and the power. Now that we are bonded again, Stonewylde will grow strong and all will prosper. We share magical blood, from our ancestor Raven who had the stars dance and sparkle before her, and our father Solstice with his silver Hallfolk power and strength, and our mother Maizie with her Villager feet planted in sacred Stonewylde earth. While we lead Stonewylde together, there can be neither shadow nor blight. Come, my brother, come with me on the journey and we will meet with our ancestors tonight, at Wolf Moon.’
Much later on that night of the full moon, having escorted his little sister back to the tower, Yul slipped into the Hall to bathe and eat his fill of Marigold’s larder, then returned to Mother Heggy’s cottage. He wasn’t yet ready to return to normality. Sylvie had rejected him and he loved her more than life itself; he simply couldn’t function without her love. He wasn’t needed anywhere at Stonewylde other than to perform the ceremonies, and as Imbolc was the festival of the female, Yul decided to remain where he was and leave them all to it. He was sure Leveret and Sylvie would manage the rituals without him.
Rufus was his saviour. The boy walked up to the cottage every day after school bringing food, drink, candles, firewood and occasionally clean clothes. He stayed a while to give Yul some company; his only other companionship was the white-tailed crow which pecked him if he fell asleep by the unguarded fire, and stole the food from his plate at every opportunity. Yul relished living as a recluse. He collected water from the spring, washing from a bowl and not shaving or changing his clothes often. Rufus bought him books of all description from the great library at Stonewylde, anything that caught his fancy, and Yul devoured them. He grew close to his younger brother, appreciating the boy’s kindness and quiet sense of humour. When Rufus confided that his dearest wish in life – other than to be a doctor – was to ride with Yul, he promised one day not only to teach him but also to find him the perfect horse of his own. Together, Yul vowed, they’d ride out on Dragon’s Back on their stallions with the wind in their manes and the rising sun in their eyes, just as Yul had dreamt of when he was a lad.
Rufus kept Yul up to date with all the Stonewylde news and he heard of the developments with the healing centre. The surveys were now complete and the reports being drawn up. The ancient boiler down in the basements was being replaced with an eco-efficient system that used a combination of natural energies, and work had already started on this. Rufus told Yul how Christopher had now moved down from London into Woodland Cottage and was very happy there. He was sure his mother was walking with Christopher – she spent a lot of time with him and was always brushing her hair and putting make-up on her eyelashes, and Rufus was happy about this. He loved to hear her laugh and sing, and it also meant that he was free to spend more time in the tower with Leveret and Magpie, or down in the Village with Maizie, Sylvie and the girls. From being a lonely single child living with his mother, he’d now gained an extended family that welcomed him to their hearths.
He continued to chop wood and draw water for Maizie, although she’d found another youngster to help as well, as Rufus now had so many responsibilities. Yul always listened very carefully to news of his wife and daughters and wished that Rufus noticed more of what was going on. There was some secret about Sylvie, Rufus said, because often she’d stop talking with Miranda or Maizie when he walked in. Yul wanted to know more about this but Rufus shrugged with a grin; women’s stuff really didn’t interest him. Apparently Sylvie was always busy at the Hall with her work for the healing centre, and they’d decided to use the grand apartments at the front of the Hall for the visitors’ accommodation. There was talk of a lift being put in, and all the bedrooms and bathrooms along that corridor were being redesigned. Rufus said it was weird having Outsiders all over the place, although Christopher made sure lots of Stonewylde folk were involved with the work, and all materials wherever possible were sourced from Stonewylde.
Celandine was practising her special dance for Imbolc and would be wearing a beautiful new dress that Maizie was sewing for her. Miranda had bought her some new ballet shoes from the Outside World, and she and Christopher were soon taking Celandine to London to the Royal Ballet to see . . . Rufus couldn’t remember what. Bluebell was still writing her book about the hares, and Magpie had done lots of drawings for it. Christopher had promised to get it properly printed for them as he thought it was really good, and his friend who had an art gallery in Cornwall had agreed to arrange an exhibition of Magpie’s best work in the summer. Apparently the prints of his that David had put on sale had attracted a lot of interest and had sold out immediately, bringing in qui
te a bit of money.
The doctor who’d taken such care of Leveret in the Outside World hospital had been visiting to check on her eyes and see if there were any signs of change to her optic nerve. Rufus was very much in awe of Dr Malik, as they all called him, although Malik was his first name. He had become Hazel’s friend and they saw each other most weeks which suited Rufus fine. He’d mentioned his career ambitions and now the doctor always spoke to him, telling him about new cases and recommending websites and books. He was a good man, according to Rufus, and interested in helping with the healing centre when it was up and running, as Hazel couldn’t manage it all.
Nasty Old Violet had been moved up to the Hall now, Rufus told Yul, which was the thing that most Stonewylders were gossiping about. She’d had to be heavily sedated and restrained, and even then she’d shrieked and cursed and attacked people, so they’d driven her up in a car rather than risk frightening a horse. Rufus said she was actually a very scary old woman and he kept well away since the time she’d spotted his red hair and launched into a vicious tirade against him. Everybody feared her, and Rufus had heard Dr Malik and Hazel discussing her medication and how best to “make her comfortable”. Rufus explained to Yul that this meant how to keep her quiet so she didn’t upset all the other old folk and the people who cared for them.
Imbolc came and went and Yul continued his lonely existence, reading voraciously and living vicariously. Rufus had stubbornly refused to bring him mead since that first night, and after a while Yul was glad of this; he recognised his own weaknesses and knew he could have sunk into drunken oblivion up here alone. As February turned to March and the daylight was brighter and lasted longer, Yul began to feel a change not only in the landscape and wildlife all around, but in himself as well. He heard of the birth of Dawn and David’s baby girl, whom Rufus informed him was called Beith.
