by Mark Hayden
What their great hall lacked in creepy enchanted carvings, it made up for with heraldry. All round the wall hung coats of arms. Some were on shields, and mostly included stags, sometimes with lions, roses and other devices. They would be the Kings. The rest of the heraldry was on upright diamond shapes. If I remembered right, they would be the women’s arms, a line of Omas going back to Queen Victoria’s time. The building might be older than Shakespeare, but the Foresters were less than two hundred years old. Even the King’s Watch is older than that. A lot older.
One end wall had a gallery with a staircase up and doors underneath. The opposite end had an elaborate tapestry. I was going to study it further until my eyes were dragged away by my nose. A big, rough table filled the middle of the room and, aye, there was food. All three of us swallowed heavily as we salivated like a pack of Pavlov’s dogs. ‘I am so sorry,’ said Aaron. ‘I can’t offer you hospitality yet. Come through to the solar.’
‘Solar?’
‘Early modern conservatory,’ said Conrad, ‘but without the chintz furniture.’
Aaron managed a smile. ‘Sorry to disappoint. Up here.’
He led us up the staircase and through the minstrels’ gallery. Stools and instruments for proper minstrels were lying ready for music-making. Witches do like to party. The staircase carried up a bit further, into the top of the building and an open space with very non-Shakespearean Velux windows. And chintz. Lots of chintz. There wasn’t any heraldry up here, but there was a collection of quilts pinned up on the blank spaces. The lights weren’t on, so that put them in shadow, and I didn’t get to look at them properly. You can tell a lot about a group by its quilts, or that’s what me Granny says. Aaron collapsed on to a sofa and closed his eyes.
‘It’s a good job this isn’t a listed building,’ said Conrad. ‘You’d have to take those windows out for starters.’ Typical home-owner. More worried about the building than the view. Me? I was already looking out at the wood.
The sacred Grove of the Arden Foresters was formed out of the very top end of the forest itself. I felt the window frames – magick. There was something in the timbers that enhanced the view of the Forest of Arden. Conrad had joined me. ‘Is that south?’ I asked.
‘Yes. In Odin’s name, how is that possible?’
‘You can see it?’
‘I can. Just. It comes and goes.’
The Hall was at the top of a slope. As far as the eye could see, trees flowed away across the landscape we’d crossed on the way here – a landscape covered with fields, not a bloody great forest.
‘Do you remember me telling you that there is only one universe?’ I said, not taking my eyes off the sight in front of us.
‘Yes.’
‘You need to speak to your pal Chris about this. It’s one of the many strings to his bow.’
‘Vic! Poor choice of metaphor in the circumstances.’
‘Sorry.’ I waved my arm. ‘All these trees, they exist in the same physical space as the farmland, but they have a different energy level. Like ultra-violet light. They’re both real and not real at the same time.’
Conrad gave me a raised eyebrow. ‘Very helpful.’
‘I don’t really understand the theory.’
‘Do they have any physical reality? Do they soak up water, for example?’
‘A bit. A tiny bit. They definitely need sunshine. A Fae forest is a huge Collector. It filters Lux out of sunlight. This is the biggest in England. No human could create anything like this.’
Conrad glanced over his shoulder. ‘This is fascinating, but we’d better take Aaron’s statement before he falls asleep.’
We sat down opposite the Hunter, and he reluctantly opened his eyes. ‘You do realise I haven’t slept for twenty-four hours?’ he said.
‘We do,’ said Conrad. ‘We’ll be brief. Did you see any other Hunter, any other human, any Fae or any enchanted deer last night?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Or not that I know of. I did see a few does, but now I’ve heard Colwyn’s story, I can’t be sure I didn’t see the Stag in disguise, can I?’
Aaron had a pronounced Birmingham accent, more than any of the others we’d spoken to. Tanya had one, but much milder.
‘I was on the trail, though,’ he added. ‘Towards the end, I finally picked up the trail. The Phantom stag leaves a trail of Fae dust behind it, and I was on the trail when I heard the distress horn. I ran straight towards it, and when I got there, Oma and Tanya had already arrived. That’s it.’
‘Thank you,’ said Conrad. ‘Just for my notes, if you’d become King, would you have vetoed the changes?’
Aaron struggled upright. ‘You what? It’s me and Judith who want it changed. Who told you that?’
Interesting. Very interesting. Before Conrad could ask what the changes were, Tanya’s voice came up the stairs.
‘Dragonslayer? Aaron? Are you up there?’
‘We are.’
There was a stumbling and staggering on the staircase, and Colwyn weaved unsteadily into the room. He’d already taken his boots off and made a beeline for a dark corner where he collapsed onto a day bed. He was asleep before Tanya could get up the stairs. She was carrying two pillows, and put one carefully under Colwyn’s head. She offered the other one to Aaron, who took it gratefully and started unlacing his boots.
‘Any sign of Erin or Karina?’ he asked.
Tanya shook her head. Aaron grunted and lay down. I pity Judith: by the time we’d got back to the great hall, both Colwyn and Aaron were snoring. Poor bairn must be forced to sleep under a Silence. I’ve done it meself once or twice. I didn’t say that out loud, or Conrad would have started on about my love life again.
Tanya stood in front of the big table. Conrad, for some weird reason, looked underneath. ‘This is the original board,’ he said.
‘You sound like your dad,’ I replied. Alfred Clarke used to be an antiques dealer. Likes to pretend he still is when Mary isn’t around. Tanya just looked mystified.
‘Look, Vicky, trestles. When you’re not entertaining, you can collapse the table and put the board to one side.’
‘Looks like a load of planks to me.’
‘We get so many expressions from this set up,’ he continued. ‘Bed and board, chairman of the board, board and…’ I kicked him then. On his good leg.
See? I can be merciful.
‘Ow! What?’
‘I think Tanya has something to say.’
‘Erm, are you hungry?’ said the young Witch, not taking her eyes off Conrad.
‘You have no idea,’ I said.
‘Then eat and be welcome in our hall, as the Goddess wishes. I’d take your food through to Oma’s sitting room, if I were you, before the rest of the Circle come back.’
I left Conrad to issue the formal thanks and do the bowing thing. I already had the covers off half the plates before he’d finished. There was no hot food, but it all looked delicious: home cured ham, game pie, curried boiled eggs, potato salad, chunks of fresh bread. Lots of protein and carbs. Even thinking about it now makes me mouth water. I was on me second sausage roll before we got to the sitting room.
Conrad was much happier in Oma’s sitting room: no chintz. Tanya nipped out while I was still singing the praises of the game pie and feeling the depth of the cushions.
‘It’s a good job there’s no fire in here, or I’d be joining Aaron and Colwyn in the land of Nod,’ I said. ‘As it is, I may have to pop the button on me trousers.’
We both jumped when Tanya opened the door to the hall. A flood of sound washed in, a flood that had been held in check by an adapted Silence on the door. Handy when you’ve got work to do. Or private discussions to be held. Tanya had a big pot of coffee and three cups. ‘Oma will be with you shortly,’ she announced.
‘Time for a break,’ said Conrad, pouring himself half a cup of coffee and heading outside for a smoke. For half a second, I considered joining him. It was only the thought of standing up that put me off. Tanya follo
wed him out and closed the door behind her.
If Conrad were in here, he’d be up and mooching around the pictures, opening the cupboards and sticking his nose into the nooks and crannies. Me, not so much. I closed my eyes instead.
‘Aah, the sleep of youth.’
‘Mnnh?’
I blinked and saw Oma leaning against the fireplace. How did she come in without me hearing?
‘Sorry, ma’am. Would you like coffee?’
Conrad and I had avoided the big armchair next to the fireplace. The embroidered cover with the Foresters’ sign and the gold crown was a bit of a giveaway. Oma lowered herself into it carefully and took a moment. ‘Yes please. That would be kind. It should be me offering to help, but … that was the worst thing I’ve had to do. Laying out one of our own when someone from the Circle has taken his life is not something that should happen.’
I poured her coffee, and one for myself. Conrad reappeared and topped up his own. When he came through the door, he’d started limping. That’s the only way you know he’s getting tired. He thanked Oma for the hospitality and made himself as comfy as he could, rubbing his leg and grimacing. When he does that, I try not to think of the scars.
He has a very good memory, does Conrad, so the notebook he got out was for effect. He made a couple of notes and said, ‘Tanya … Eliza … and? Are you Iris or Alice?’
What’s he on about now?
Oma said nothing. Conrad smiled at her. ‘Vicky doesn’t speak German, so she doesn’t know that Oma means Grandma. My grandmothers were Iris and Alice.’
‘Bridget,’ said Oma. ‘My given name was Bridget.’ She fixed Conrad with a look. ‘You’re going to ask, aren’t you? About my son? And about the changes to the charter.’
‘Yes to the charter.’
‘They’re connected. My son’s given name was Ruaidhrí. He should have learnt his Art here, not Salomon’s House.’
We waited. Oma moved a cushion behind her back. Then she stood up and said, ‘Excuse me.’ With a shuffle and shake, she worked off her robes and placed them on a window seat. She was suddenly a lot thinner and had an even stronger resemblance to Chris Kelly. She sat back down and drained her coffee. ‘That’s better. I hear you’ve been to the Grove at Lunar Hall. Both of you.’
‘We have.’
‘Mmm. Have you heard of Arianism?’
Conrad looked at me. I shrugged.
‘It was a heresy in the early Christian church. Very popular for centuries, especially in northern Europe. It left a legacy in the world of magick: Materianism. You won’t win any friends by talking about it. According to Ruaidhrí … I mean, Chris.’ She rubbed her temples. ‘According to my son, the texts on Materianism in the Esoteric Library are locked away. You need special permission to get at them.’
I shrugged again. Never heard of it.
‘In the world of magick, there was a group who believed that Mary was an aspect of the Great Goddess, and that Jesus was her son. They are the Materianists.’
‘Aah,’ said Conrad.
Eh?
He turned to me. ‘Do you remember that statue in the Grove at Lunar Hall?’
‘Aye. Athene, wasn’t it?’
‘On the surface. In the first moments after the Battle of Lunar Hall, when you were still outside the grounds, I saw it stripped of magick. Underneath, it was a statue of the Virgin Mary.’
‘And you didn’t think to mention that before now?’
It was his turn to shrug. ‘We weren’t proper partners then, and it was their secret.’
Fair enough, I suppose.
‘Quite,’ said Oma. ‘Materianists were doubly hounded – for being Witches and for denying the doctrines of Christianity. Very few survived. The founding Foresters included a group of Irish Materianists, from which I am descended, as is Aaron. Judith is a convert.’
‘But not Chris?’ said Conrad.
She shook her head. ‘This is all linked. I promise you. Ruaidhrí’s father was from another Circle. Ruaidhrí knew that James Kelly was his father from day one. James gave Ruaidhrí his second name – Chris. When he was a teenager, there was a big falling out. In a fit of teenage rebellion, he applied to the Invisible College and started calling himself Chris Kelly. He was perfectly entitled to do so, of course.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I said. ‘It must have hurt.’
‘It did. I’m glad he went through with it, though. He fits in to Salomon’s House in ways he never would have here. I am very proud of my son, no matter what he calls himself. Except for one thing.’
‘Your daughter in law?’
‘Precisely. I’d rather not talk about her, if you don’t mind.’
That was a relief.
‘I stopped being a Materianist when I became Circle Mother,’ said Oma. ‘It’s in the charter, and I was happy to let it go. That’s not enough for the younger generation. That and the rule on joining out.’
This time I actually knew what she was talking about. ‘I’ll tell you later,’ I said to Conrad. I did not want to have a discussion on the mating habits of Witches in front of Oma. He nodded.
‘To cut a long story short, Judith and Aaron want to allow joining in, and for the Circle Mother to have freedom of conscience. They have support. In due course, Aaron would have become King because he’s very, very good. I think that Colwyn forced the Royal Hunt before he got too old to do it.’
This time, Conrad made notes like he meant it. I leaned over to have a look, and this is what he’d written:
● Aaron – Materianist. Powerful Warlock.
● Judith – freedom of choice???
● Colwyn
● Ioan
● Erin
● Karina
● (Alex??)
Instead of asking Oma to fill in the list, he started on a tangent. ‘You said that Ioan is your great nephew. Are your sister and niece here?’
‘They are both Daughters, not Foresters, with a coven in Scotland. They, too, rejected Materianism, and wanted some distance.’ She looked hard at Conrad. ‘And yes, my sister may have wanted some distance from me.’
‘I know the feeling,’ he said.
‘Mmm. Ioan was the first Warlock in our family for generations and couldn’t stay with the Daughters once he’d reached puberty. He’s been here since he was eleven years old. It was his twenty-first birthday last month. I called my sister to break the news straight after I’d spoken to my son to ask for your assistance. Shall we go outside? It should be a bit quieter out there now.’
The thought of leaving Oma’s sofa was a challenge, but Conrad was on his feet and offering me a hand up before I could argue. ‘Can I …?’ I said.
‘Through the door to the left of the staircase,’ said Oma.
It was quiet in the hall. Eliza was sitting at the head of the table, in one of the few proper chairs. Everyone else had had to use benches. Tanya and another Witch were carrying stuff through to the kitchens, and that was it. Everyone else had gone. Eliza waited until I’d been to the Ladies before calling me over.
African hair does not go into a Goddess Braid easily. There’s a whole mountain of anger in the world of magick on that very topic. Eliza’s hair was defiantly, extravagantly big and bushy, but she’d pulled it back with an undyed woollen skein, and what is wool, if not sheep’s hair? It was enchanted to mimic the patterns in a human Braid, and that’s why I’d not noticed when the Circle first arrived at the meadow this morning. It was a way of fitting in without compromising your identity.
My BFF, Desirée Haynes, is also of Afro-Caribbean heritage and she has her hair short or in cornrows. Then again, she is a confirmed Christian, not a Goddess-worshipper.
The Foresters have a special set of robes for their Circle Mother when she’s expecting. Eliza had put them on for the laying out ceremony and had taken them off after eating. They were folded neatly on the bench next to her; she looked hot enough without them, so goodness knows they must have been like a sweat box. Her dress was
loose and green; at some point it had matched her eye shadow. Not so much any more.
‘I love your Braid, Mother,’ I said.
‘Thank you, child,’ she responded. ‘You look as tired as I feel. Oma and the Dragonslayer have gone outside; I think she’s going to have a relapse and cadge a cigarette from him, so I’d take the weight off your feet and join me until they’re done.’
Her accent matched her features – part Caribbean, part Birmingham. I pulled up a bench and sat down.
She sat back in her chair and rested her hands on her bump. There wasn’t really anywhere else to put them. She rested her eyes on me. I could feel her magickal Sight drifting over me, like butterfly wings.
To check me out like that would be considered beyond rude in the Invisible College and in every Circle I’ve visited, unless there were pressing reasons. Simple curiosity is not a pressing reason. I could have resisted, but I was intrigued.
‘There’s a gap,’ she said. ‘There’s a gap in your soul where you left the world for a moment. What brought you back?’
Interesting. She could see that I’d died – that my heart had been stopped by a homicidal Druid. Instead of asking how I’d died, she wanted to know how I’d come back.
‘He brought me back,’ I said, pointing outside. ‘With help, obviously.’
She chuckled. ‘Of course. He couldn’t have done it on his own, now could he?’
‘He’s full of surprises, is Uncle Conrad.’
Her eyes flicked outside and back again. Even more interesting. Either she hadn’t scoped out Conrad or she hadn’t been able to see his Imprint well enough to realise that we we’re not really related.
The smile on her face died a little. ‘You share a lot, don’t you?’ I took that as rhetorical. ‘Has anyone heard from Alexandra yet?’
