by Alys Clare
Then she listened. And, with her newly sensitive skin, felt. She thought: power from the stones there . . . and there. So the line of the circle must run around just in front of me. The open space has to be right before me, and so the people must be standing over there . . .
She strained to hear. Nothing. But then, as she tried harder, she seemed to sense a tension in the air as if a great crowd waited expectantly.
Yes. They’re there.
She stepped forward confidently into the stone circle.
Instantly, where there had been silence came noise. And, even through the cloth covering her eyes, she could vaguely see them, running and dancing, jumping for joy. Somebody behind her whipped off the blindfold and in the light of the waxing moon she saw the stones circling the summit of the hill, the protecting trees crowding around as if they, too, were eager to be a part of the celebration.
The circle itself was empty. But, as she had suspected, the people were gathered all around it, the majority of them on the far side. Seeing her standing there they began to cheer, smiling at her and calling out her name.
With tears streaming down her face, she smiled back at them. She could not think of any moment in her entire life when she had been quite so happy.
12
Then one of the oldest of the women stepped out of the shadows and walked towards her. She was holding a flaming torch in her hand. By its light, Joanna could see her face. The deep-set dark eyes held the wisdom of years, although the skin was smooth, like a young woman’s. The long hair was silver. The woman wore a dark robe over a gown that sometimes appeared white, sometimes silver. It looked almost as if it had been made out of moonlight.
Around her neck she wore a heavy silver lunula.
Joanna knew who she was. Although she had not met her before, they all spoke of her. In whispers, with awe and wonder in their voices.
She was oldest of the old, wisest of the wise. She was the Domina.
She removed Joanna’s cloak, revealing the white robe and the green sash. Joanna heard a sigh like a soft breeze flow through the assembled crowd. The woman indicated the snowdrops and the candle that Joanna carried. She put up her hand and the woman lit the candle from her torch. Then she said, ‘Give the people light.’
Joanna walked slowly around the circle, holding up the candle in its sheltering cone, protecting the flame with her other hand. The others put their candles to hers, lighting them and carefully shielding them, taking them to light a series of small fires all around the circle.
Then the Domina led Joanna back to the centre of the circle. She said, ‘Joanna, you have passed the test and found your way to your people. By so doing you have proved that you belong with us. You have spread the Light. Now the moment has come for your initiation.’
Smoke from the fires filled the stone circle. Joanna caught the sweet-sharp scent of some herbal mix, and knew that the people were using their skill and their wisdom to cleanse the sacred space and enhance the mood. She watched as, slowly at first and then with accelerated speed, the great crowd outside the circle began to move. Round and round they went, always outside the standing stones. Then, at some signal that Joanna did not perceive, they all advanced inside the stones’ encircling ring. As they went – closer to her now and faster, and with a repeated pattern of steps as if they were dancing – she heard the chanting.
Beside her the Domina stood utterly still. There was such power in her that some element of her reached out and compelled Joanna to be equally still. Staring out at the standing stones, it seemed to Joanna that she was the hub of the great wheel that they formed on the hilltop. Then, as if the image developed by itself, without prompting from her, it seemed that the wheel of stones was moving, turning on itself. On she who, with the Domina, stood as its axis.
The purifying smoke, the movement and the endless chanting combined into a great force. Before Joanna’s entranced eyes there appeared to grow out of the circle a faint cone of bright, pure white light, its point shooting straight upwards into the night sky. Aiming for the Moon.
And then at last the Domina broke her stillness and her silence. Moving a pace or two away from Joanna, she stood right in the centre of the circle. Raising her arms, she cried out in a surprisingly powerful voice, the words soaring up into the sky. Joanna did not understand all that she said, but it did not matter; she knew that the Domina was making her invocation to the Goddess. On behalf of the people, she was making the ritual observance of Imbolc.
When she had finished – Joanna had lost track of time and could not have said how long the chanting went on – she lowered her arms and slowly turned to face Joanna. In the firelight, Joanna could see exhaustion in the old face; the Domina at last looked her years. Putting out her hand, the Domina said, ‘Come, Joanna. Come and stand in the centre of the power.’
Joanna did as she was commanded. As she joined the Domina on that central piece of the springy green turf, she felt a forceful jolt enter her body and she was shaken from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. Her face must have expressed her shock, for the Domina, studying her intently, gave a sudden brief smile.
‘Good,’ she murmured, ‘very good.’
Then, opening her arms, she took Joanna in a close embrace and hugged her to her breast. She whispered, for Joanna alone to hear, ‘Welcome, child. Welcome to your heart’s home.’
As they stood there so close together, Joanna felt the bear’s claw on its leather thong pressing into her breast. The Domina must have felt it too, for, breaking the close contact, she reached out for the thong and pulled it and the claw out from where they had lain concealed beneath Joanna’s white robe.
The Domina held the claw out so that the firelight fell on it. She ran her fingers up and down its length and felt the sharp tip. Then her deep, dark eyes met Joanna’s. She said nothing, but Joanna had the strong impression that she was surprised.
Joanna wanted to explain, to say how the man of the forest people had slipped away from the Yule festivities to visit her and remind her that they had not forgotten her in all the revelry. She opened her mouth to speak but the Domina gave a faint shake of her head.
Then she replaced the claw inside Joanna’s gown.
The power was still singing and crackling through the air all around the circle. Now the Domina stepped forward and, once more raising her arms, began to chant again. Joanna, so close to her, felt the strength flow from her as she earthed the power. Then, her voice taking on a different timbre, the Domina, at long last beginning to droop, gave thanks.
And, finally, broke the circle.
Some time during the long night of celebration that followed, a woman whom Joanna did not know sought her out and said that the Domina wished to see her.
Feeling very nervous, Joanna followed where the messenger led. In a clearing in the pine trees, a short distance away from the stone circle and the lively gathering of happy people, a small shelter had been made. Like the dwellings of the camp, it too was constructed of dead wood and bracken. This one, however, was only big enough for one person. Inside, wrapped in luxurious furs before a fire burning in a small stone hearth, sat the Domina.
She seemed to have recovered some of her strength. She had eaten – there was an empty platter at her feet – and she was sipping at some drink in a pewter cup that gave off curls of steam and a wonderful aroma. The Domina’s dark eyes were very bright.
‘Sit, Joanna,’ she ordered, with a wave of her hand. Joanna obeyed. ‘You have done well this night, child,’ the Domina went on. ‘The faith that your teachers have in you is justified.’
‘My teachers?’ She must mean Lora and the others, Joanna thought, since she speaks of them in the present tense. But then that means that she’s forgotten about Mag Hobson, who was my first teacher and, really, the one who—
‘Of course I have not forgotten her.’ The Domina’s voice held faint amusement. ‘She would not let me, even if I would have it so,’ she added in a murmur. Eyes boring into Jo
anna’s, she said, ‘Mag was one of our great ones, child. Did you not know?’
‘I – she died for me.’ Joanna found that she was fighting back tears.
The Domina regarded her intently. ‘She gave up her earthly body, yes,’ she said. ‘For which act she had a very good reason.’
‘She died because she would not reveal my whereabouts!’ Now the tears were streaming down Joanna’s face. ‘And I miss her, I still miss her so much!’
The Domina waited until the storm of grief eased. Then she said, ‘But, child, she is still with you. Have you not felt her presence?’
Joanna had no idea how to reply. What was she expected to say? Mag still with her? No, that could not be so; Mag was dead.
And yet there were those strange moments in the peace of late evening, after the sun had set, or in the bright early mornings when, alone and thinking of nothing in particular, suddenly Joanna would feel a lift of the heart and begin to sing. One of the old songs that Mag had taught her. And there were the times when, with the other forest people far away, some minor crisis would occur, usually to do with Meggie; it was not easy, Joanna had discovered, to bear sole responsibility for the health and well being of a beloved child. Sometimes, feeling close to despair, she had heard Mag’s wise voice speaking inside her head. Do this, comfort her in this way, make her a drink out of this.
The remedies had always worked.
If she had stopped to think about it, Joanna would have said that Mag was still there in her memory, vivid, full of life, and that she was recalling instructions that Mag had given her in the past. But, now that the Domina seemed to be suggesting an alternative explanation, it occurred to Joanna that Mag hadn’t given her any instruction in the care of young babies. Meggie had been born – had been conceived – after Mag had died.
Joanna raised her eyes and stared into the Domina’s.
The Domina nodded, smiling her satisfaction. ‘Good,’ she murmured. Then: ‘You named your child after her.’
‘I did. She is called Margaret, but I usually shorten it to Meggie.’
The Domina’s smile had widened and now there was an uncharacteristically soft expression on her face. ‘We used to call Mag by the same pet name,’ she said softly.
Joanna was still trying to absorb the implications of that when the Domina said, in quite a different voice, ‘You wear the claw.’
‘Oh! Yes. I was given it at Yule. I was alone – too busy and preoccupied with Meggie to attend the festival – and one of the men came to see me. He was wearing his animal mask and cloak and he left me this.’ She pulled the claw out from inside her gown. ‘It was such a kindness,’ she said quietly, ‘to leave the celebration and pay me a visit. It made me feel that I was not forgotten. I suppose the festival must have been held quite close by but, all the same, he missed quite a lot of it for my sake.’
The Domina made no reply. Surprised, Joanna looked up from her contemplation of the claw. The older woman was staring at her. When she had assured herself that she had Joanna’s full attention, she said tonelessly, ‘The festival of Yule was held three days’ walk from where you have your forest house.’
‘But then—’ Joanna could not take it in. ‘But did he not attend the festival, then? Did he stay away too?’
‘Who do you mean by he?’ the Domina asked.
‘I – well, one of the forest people who live close to me, I suppose.’ She had not really thought about it before. ‘I have encountered a few of them. They have helped me out sometimes, and some of them have called by to show me something or teach me a new skill. I imagine it was one of them.’
‘Did you recognise him?’
‘No. As I said, he wore his bear mask. But—’
But what? She did not know.
After quite a long pause, the Domina said, ‘Do not assume, child. Keep an open mind.’
And, a few moments later, she waved her hand again and Joanna was dismissed. As she turned to leave the little shelter, the Domina spoke again. ‘You have been initiated as one of our people, Joanna,’ she said. ‘You have done what was required for this first step.’
A first step? Oh, did that mean there would be more? Joanna felt her heartbeat quicken in faint alarm.
‘Have no fear,’ the Domina went on calmly. ‘You will not be asked to do anything that is beyond you. When the time comes, remember that what you have done before, you can do again.’
Joanna waited to see if she would enlarge on this enigmatic piece of advice. But there was nothing; watching the Domina, she saw her close her eyes and sink back into her furs.
Back within the circle, somebody gave Joanna a drink. She gulped it down thirstily, and they gave her some more. Cailleach came by, dancing in the midst of a long chain of young men and women. Two of the men took Joanna’s hands and swept her up with them. Laughing, singing, she danced with her people.
The celebrations went on for a long time. Only as the faintest break in the darkness beyond the stone circle began to appear did men and women begin to slip away. They went in pairs, happily, joyfully together. They would, Joanna was well aware, find a quiet corner in which to lie together, honouring the Great Mother in an act of love.
Her body yearned to do the same. But she knew nobody, had met no man who was likely to seek her out and entice her to lie with him amongst his warm furs.
As the chain of dancers dwindled to the last few, she turned away. Heading out of the circle and towards her camp, her feet dragged. It was very dark under the pine trees and, as soon as she was away from the fires, also very cold. She shivered, wrapping her cloak more tightly around her.
The path back to the camp was longer than she remembered. Feeling the beginnings of alarm, she wondered if she had managed to get lost. Oh, surely not, she thought, how could I be so foolish? After all, it’s not far.
Concentrating, trying to peer into the darkness of the trees for a familiar sign, she thought she recognised the track. Relieved, she set off confidently down it.
Only to realise, a little later, that it could not be right after all. If it were, she should be at her camp by now.
What to do? Go on? Turn back?
Go on.
She did not know where the command came from. Nevertheless, she obeyed it. Moving now as if in a trance, she followed the path. Her feet fell with a soft thud on the aeons of fallen pine needles that made up the ground; she seemed to feel a warmth emanating from them, as if the very ground was magical.
Then she came to a tiny clearing. A space had been made right in the midst of a thicket of bramble and bracken, and within it burned a little fire. Beside the fire was a dark shape lying in a den of fur.
She knew who he was.
The great head was raised in greeting, and she saw the smile of the man within the mask of the bear. Without a word being spoken, she knew that he had heard her silent yearning and called her to him.
Quite unafraid, she went through the bracken and knelt down beside him. He welcomed her into the circle of his warmth and she felt the soft bear fur brush against her skin. His breath smelt of the forest. Pulling her close to him so that she could feel the slow, steady, powerful throb of the great heart that beat within his breast, he bent his head and kissed her.
She would have expected to feel very cold without her cloak and her gown but he had heat enough for them both. Wrapped in his arms that were at the same time human and animal, she gave herself to him and he surrounded her with the essence of himself. His strong aura embraced her and, in total trust, she surrendered into his care. He was a bear, he was a man; he was both. Yet, when at last the moment came and he entered into her, it was, as she had all along known it would be, as a man.
They lay there in the light of his fire and she relaxed, utterly spent, into him. She felt his large hand gently stroke her sweat-damp hair from her face and turned her head a little to look at him. She saw both images, the bear mask and the human smile. Returning the smile, she pressed her breasts into his pelt. She felt the cla
w that she wore around her neck digging into her skin.
‘Thank you for the gift,’ she murmured. ‘I treasure it.’
Inside her head she heard him reply. You will never be alone now.
‘I know.’ She caressed the strong, heavily muscled shoulder. ‘I feel . . .’ She wanted to tell him that what he had done for her made the difference, so that now she felt at home in the forest where before she had been merely visiting.
While she was still fumbling for the right words he answered. It is understood. A pause, then: It is right.
Relaxing, feeling sleep overcome her, she knew there was no more to be said.
She awoke to thin daylight. The fire had all but gone out but, snugly wrapped in furs, she was warm.
She was alone.
Stretching luxuriously, she felt the kiss of the pelts against her naked flesh. Memory came flooding back, and she felt again the violence of her climax. Oh, but she had needed that! And she had not even suspected her need; it was only when the dancers had begun to creep away that she had felt the stirrings of that primal hunger.
He had known. And he had called to her.
Smiling, she turned over, curled up and went back to sleep.
When she stirred again, it was a different sort of hunger that woke her. Blinking in the sunshine filtering down through the pine trees, she tried to think when she had last eaten. Unable to remember – and quite sure that it was far too long ago to be good for her – she got up, dressed and made her way back up the track towards the stone circle.
It occurred to her when she was only a short way up the path that perhaps she should roll up those beautiful furs and make some attempt to return them to their owner. He had quietly left her to sleep, and it seemed a little ungrateful just to abandon their bed. She turned and went back along the track.
She could find neither the furs, the dead fire, nor the thicket of bramble and bracken.
Shaken, for the first time afraid and suddenly desperate to get back to Meggie, she ran away up the path.
