by Kit Berry
‘That’s right. The Villagers work the land and sustain the whole community with their labour. They’re rooted here, and they enable us to be self-sufficient. But the Hallfolk are different; they go into the Outside World to study and earn a living. They bring skills back into the community, sometimes just for a period of time and occasionally by moving here for longer.’
‘So that’s why Hazel’s coming here this summer?’ asked Sylvie. ‘I’m really looking forward to that.’
‘Yes, Hazel’s will be a very welcome return to Stonewylde. She’s young and full of new ideas. We try to combine modern medical practice with the more traditional healing remedies of Stonewylde. So Miranda, don’t worry about Sylvie not receiving proper medical care. She’ll get the best here, believe me. She’s already feeling a great deal better, aren’t you Sylvie?’
She nodded again, her eyes sparkling with a new light. Miranda was struck by the change in her daughter that seemed to have happened so quickly. Magus stood up and stretched his long legs.
‘I’ll give you a tour of the Hall when you come up later this afternoon. Oh, one more thing before I go. I’m sending a Village boy here daily to provide you with water and firewood, and also to dig over the back garden. It’s been lying fallow for a while and it’s very overgrown. Everyone grows fruit and vegetables in their cottage gardens. The boy will do the heavy digging and other manual work, and then if you choose to stay in the cottage, you can learn about growing food once the soil’s prepared.’
‘That’s very kind,’ said Miranda. ‘But maybe we should do the digging ourselves if—’
‘No, you’re Hallfolk. And this is a punishment for the boy. He’s been a little wild lately and needs his wings clipped.’
‘Is he aggressive or anything?’
Magus smiled at this and shook his head.
‘No, but he’s been getting above himself and I need to knock him back down with a little extra work to tire him out. You’ll learn the protocol about Hallfolk and Villagers – just keep your distance and don’t encourage him to be your friend. Don’t bring him into the cottage except to carry in the firewood and water. His name’s Yul.’
Yul received his summons later that day, just when he was beginning to think the previous night’s trouble may have gone unreported. Greenbough had commented on his limp but Yul said he’d overdone the dancing in the Great Barn, and he worked extra hard so as not to draw attention to it. But his heart sank when he saw Harold, a young servant from the Hall, making his way up the path towards the woodsmen’s hut. Harold talked to the head woodsman, who then beckoned Yul over.
‘You been in trouble again, boy?’ he growled.
‘No, sir,’ said Yul quickly.
‘Well you been called up to the Hall to see Magus. It better not be trouble. You’re letting us down, Yul, and I won’t have it. I know what you’re like for getting into scrapes and I ain’t having no trouble-makers amongst my men.’
‘No really, sir!’ protested Yul, very worried. He loved working in the woods but was only an apprentice woodsman; to lose his position would be terrible.
‘Well, be off with you then. And keep your nose out of mischief.’
As they walked down to the Hall, Yul plied Harold with questions. They were of a similar age and Harold was bright and hard-working like Yul, although he too had never made it to the Hall School. But he knew nothing of why Yul had now been summoned.
‘Am I in trouble? Did Magus seem angry?’
‘I told you, Yul, I don’t know.’
‘Has that bastard Buzz been in with him today telling tales?’
‘How should I know? You don’t realise what it’s like up there. There’s loads of extra Hallfolk staying at the moment because of the Equinox. I don’t know who’s been talking to who, do I? I’ve been busy cleaning out bloody fireplaces all morning, not listening to Hallfolk talk.’
By the time they reached the Hall, Yul was quaking inside. He’d done nothing wrong last night yet he knew that he’d get the blame. He was scared that Magus would punish him, scared his father would find out and half kill him, and scared that Greenbough would stop his apprenticeship. Magus was the only higher authority at Stonewylde and renowned for being just, but Yul had no faith in him. He recalled Magus’ flicker of pleasure up in the Stone Circle. Magus disliked him for some reason, and as they walked round to the back of the vast building, he felt like a mouse at the mercy of a large cat.
The Hall looked especially beautiful today. Thousands of tiny diamond Tudor window panes twinkled in the afternoon sun. The mellow grey building with its many wings and forest of chimneys seemed to breathe and bask like a living entity in its green setting. Villagers came here regularly for a variety of reasons, but Yul couldn’t recall a time when he’d felt so nervous. Harold led him through the back corridors down endless passages until they arrived in the Galleried Hall.
It was a very large double-height area, with a panelled gallery running along two sides. Tapestries and banners hung from the walls, and the ancient flagstones on the floor predated even the mediaeval building. Light flooded in through many stained-glass windows set up high near the roof. The ceiling was a great arched curve of age-blackened rafters, and countless carved bosses studded the panelling and beams. A huge fireplace took up most of one wall and antique oak settles lined the others. There were many pointed stone archways leading in from different corridors.
The Galleried Hall was the heart of the great labyrinthine building, and the place where Magus meted out justice. Anyone with a grievance or problem could bring it here to the master. Retribution was swift and relevant; perhaps whipping for the most serious misdemeanours, but more often forced labour and atonement to injured parties. The system was feudal but it worked. Magus was fair and the punishments not excessive, and there was little crime at Stonewylde because of it.
‘Magus said you’re to wait here,’ said Harold, eyeing the dark-haired boy with sympathy. He knew Yul of old, always getting into trouble, and didn’t envy him now. ‘And good luck to you, mate,’ he muttered under his breath, disappearing through an arched side door.
Yul stood alone in the centre of the Galleried Hall, not sure whether to sit on one of the settles or stay where he was. He looked up at the ceiling and saw many carved Green Men staring down at him. Their gaping mouths sprouted foliage as if in horror at his predicament. Magus kept him waiting for nearly an hour, during which time Yul became more and more distressed. His hands and face were dirty and his scruffy work clothes caked with mud. He was thirsty from his labour and fear now parched his throat.
Finally he heard firm footsteps clipping along a stone corridor. He stood awkwardly, trying to stop his hands from trembling. Scared as he was, he was damned if he’d let Magus see it. He turned towards the approaching sound and raised his chin, shaking the curls from his eyes. Magus wore riding clothes; the high, polished boots and well-cut jodhpurs accentuating his height and almost regal bearing. He appeared under an archway and strode across the flagstones, flinging himself into a throne-like chair set on a dais against a wall. The chair arms were carved in the shape of wild boar, the wood dark with a patina of age. He sat back, crossed his long legs, and surveyed the tousled lad who came to stand before him, head slightly bowed.
‘Right then, boy. You know why you’re here.’
Yul looked up and met his eye squarely.
‘I don’t, sir.’
‘I’m not in the mood for any nonsense from you, Yul. I’m referring to the incident last night at the celebrations.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I wasn’t happy when Buzzard told me what happened.’
‘I’m sorry, sir.’
‘Good. You’re not denying any of it, then?’
‘No, sir. But I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong.’
They looked at each other. Magus wondered if the boy was being deliberately insolent. Yul tried to match this hard-faced frightening man, who exuded such authority and power, with the one he
’d watched just that morning in the woods comforting the young girl.
‘I’m referring to your behaviour with Holly, the disrespectful remarks you made to her about Buzzard and the way you insulted a group of Hallfolk adults and disobeyed their orders. You also acted irresponsibly by running off into the woods in the dark and attempting to start a fight. Do you deny any of this?’
Yul tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. His heart had started its angry pounding.
‘Well?’
‘No, not exactly, but—’
‘No buts. If those things are true then you’re guilty and will be punished.’
‘I did run into the woods, and—’
‘So you directly disobeyed Buzz and ran away when he told you to stop?’
‘Yes, but only because he said he’d beat me.’
Magus frowned down at the boy, irritated by the blaze of boldness in his grey eyes.
‘Hallfolk are not in the habit of brawling with Villagers,’ he said curtly. ‘I think you misunderstood.’
‘But—’
‘Did Buzzard actually strike you?’
‘No, but he knocked me down and sat on me. I couldn’t breathe.’
‘He told me he tackled you to stop you from running further into the woods. And as for sitting on you – that’s hardly violent behaviour, is it?’
Yul remembered the dead weight deliberately crushing his ribcage and the vicious thrust of a knee hard into his back.
‘It was meant to hurt.’
‘Oh come on, boy. Nobody ever got hurt by being sat on.’
‘And he forced me to eat dirt. I thought I was going to choke.’
Magus surveyed him coldly.
‘Hallfolk don’t make people eat dirt, Yul, as you well know. I think you’re twisting the facts to make yourself sound like the victim. You’ve broken several rules for which you’ll be punished.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Yul knew then that there’d be no justice. Magus had judged him guilty before even summoning him to the Hall. He should take Rosie’s advice of the night before and accept whatever punishment Magus chose. But he wanted to scream at the injustice and felt humiliatingly close to crying. Magus watched the boy and felt a surge of power deep in his abdomen, similar to the primeval pleasure of reining in and subduing a spirited horse.
‘So, my boy, do you admit that you’re in the wrong and deserve to be punished accordingly?’
‘Yes, sir,’ whispered Yul, his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth.
‘Very wise. In that case, your punishment is as follows.’
He paused, noting how the boy was trying to mask his fear. He smiled slightly, prolonging the moment until Yul’s eyes locked into his in supplication.
‘In addition to your normal duties in the woods, you’ll report to Woodland Cottage every evening and all day Saturday and Sunday, where you’ll work until sunset. The new occupants are to be supplied with firewood and fresh water from the pump in the kitchen gardens. You’re also to clear and dig over their back garden ready for planting up. Do you understand?’
Yul nodded, unable even to croak an answer. As punishments went it wasn’t too bad. He wasn’t to lose his job or be whipped. Unless Magus made a point of telling him, his father needn’t know that he was helping the newcomers as a punishment. It would be heavy work and gruelling after a day’s labour, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The real sting came from the fact that he’d have no free time during daylight. Yul would lose his freedom just when spring was coaxing the beauty from the land. Magus’ dark eyes examined the dirty boy before him, noticing his struggle to keep his anger and tears under control.
‘I’ve chosen this particular punishment as a reminder. You’ll be serving two Hallfolk and that is the role of the Villager, a fact you seem to have forgotten. Never insult a member of the Hallfolk again, and never disobey an adult. Those are two of our most fundamental laws and you’ve broken them both. You will also, of course, apologise to Buzzard and his friends for your rudeness and disobedience. I’ll call them in now. You’re very lucky I’m not having you whipped as well, so bear that in mind in the future. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Magus smiled.
‘Good. It had better be a contrite and heart-felt apology, Yul, or else I may change my mind about the whipping.’
4
Sylvie took Magus’ advice and walked in the woods every morning after breakfast. She loved the jubilation of birdsong, the profusion of pale yellow primroses and the tiny violets with their dark heart-shaped leaves. She felt so much better already; she was eating well, her breathing was easier and the eczema was healing miraculously fast. Every day as she reached the little clearing amongst the trees she stopped, remembering how Magus had laid hands on her and filled her with his healing energy. He had a true gift and she knew she’d always be indebted to him. She hadn’t told Miranda about the strange experience; her mother wouldn’t approve and probably wouldn’t believe it either.
Miranda had other things on her mind anyway, Sylvie thought wryly. She was convinced her mother fancied Magus. She’d noticed all the signs – the giggling, fussing over her appearance, the breathless comments. She found it hilarious to see her serious mother behaving like a teenager. When she’d asked Miranda outright she’d been firmly ticked off and told to stop being ridiculous, which only confirmed her suspicions. Sylvie could understand it though. Magus was very attractive and he’d appeared like a knight in shining armour at Miranda’s darkest hour. She just hoped her mother wouldn’t make a fool of herself.
Sylvie had visited the Hall now on a couple of occasions and had been overwhelmed by its grandeur and beauty. She particularly loved the mediaeval and Tudor parts with their stone-flagged floors and dark panelling. There was a strange, magical atmosphere in these oldest wings of the Hall and Sylvie felt the history of the place seeping into her bones.
She also loved the massive Edwardian wing, which was used as the school. It had polished floors and large, well-proportioned rooms with French windows over-looking a long stone terrace and rolling lawns. It was a world away from the shabby comprehensive in London where she’d learnt to hate the education system. Sylvie had already been given her own computer with access to the network. The girls whom Magus had introduced to her were an attractive lot, many of them sharing the blond Hallfolk hair, although none as silvery as hers. She’d felt their curiosity but it wasn’t hostile, and they were full of vitality and exuberance. When she started coming up for lessons she hoped to make some friends. In the meantime she’d collected books from the library to keep herself busy during the long peaceful days spent in the cottage.
The Village boy had started work in their garden and was different to the Hallfolk boys she’d seen in the school wing. She knew he was being punished and that she mustn’t speak to him, but that made her more curious. On the first evening he’d arrived unannounced. They’d heard a noise outside and had seen him by the chopping block near the back door with an axe in his hand. She’d been fascinated by the long, almost black hair hanging in his eyes and the surly look on his hollowed face. There was an air of darkness and secrets about him which Sylvie found intriguing. He hadn’t smiled or looked them in the eye when Miranda opened the door to acknowledge his presence, but muttered something in a rather outlandish Dorset accent. He’d chopped a pile of logs efficiently and stacked them in a little shelter built onto the cottage. Then he’d started digging the garden, continuing until it grew dark. Sylvie had watched him surreptitiously from her bedroom window and felt a little sorry for him. There was something almost tragic about him, as if he carried a deep wound inside. She wondered what he’d done to deserve the punishment.
He came again the next night and started digging straight away. His hands were filthy and Sylvie couldn’t understand how he got so dirty at school. His hair was wild; uncombed and curly and full of bits of twig and dead leaves. When he looked up she saw his eyes and was surprised at how att
ractive they were – a clear, deep grey and slightly slanted at the corners. He was handsome in a rough, dirty way she decided, and then felt annoyed with herself for even thinking such a thing. She was as bad as her mother.
Yul worked very hard that evening; it started to rain but he carried on. He had no coat, just a thin shirt, old trousers and the strange brown leather boots that Sylvie had seen other Villagers wear. When the rain grew heavier, Miranda opened the window and called out to him to go home if he liked. He didn’t even answer but shook his head, becoming soaked to the bone as the shirt clung to his lean frame. Sylvie hated to see anyone looking so wet and exhausted. She asked Miranda if they could give him something to drink but her mother was anxious not to go against Magus’ wishes.
Magus called in at Woodland Cottage one morning not long after, while Sylvie was out on her morning walk. It was Sunday, the day of leisure at Stonewylde. There was skittles in the pub, games for the children in the Great Barn and archery practice on the Village Green. Boys went up to the warrens armed with catapults and heavy sticks, for rabbits were plentiful and formed a staple part of the Villagers’ diet. On the playing fields by the river youngsters played the Stonewylde versions of hockey and rugby. In the Village School there was country dancing, with many practising the intricate Maypole dance for the next festival, whilst in the Nursery, musicians taught interested youngsters how to play a variety of instruments. Yul, however, turned up at Woodland Cottage.
Earlier he’d noticed Sylvie leave by the front gate heading for the woods. He’d seen her out walking on several occasions, usually around the same time, and found reasons to be there himself. He always remained hidden, perfectly camouflaged in his rough clothes, but he liked to watch her as she wandered along the path. She gazed around and stopped frequently to examine flowers and plants, and often closed her eyes and just stood still, smiling slightly. Yul thought her beautiful, especially now her skin had lost most of its sore patches. Her silky hair was like a waterfall around her delicate face; her silvery eyes seemed far away and dreamy. When he saw her like this, alone in the woods, he felt a strange and almost painful sensation inside. He wanted to protect her, although from what he didn’t know. But he didn’t dare even show himself, let alone talk to her.
