by Kit Berry
‘It looks incredibly complicated,’ replied her mother. ‘See how the ribbons and all the creepers and leaves not only get plaited, but how the plaits are then woven together?’
‘I’d really like to learn,’ said Sylvie. ‘It’s a beautiful dance.’
May Day was clear and sunny and the Green was full of people, Villagers and Hallfolk together. Everyone had breakfasted in the Great Barn and was now dressed in white or green. Magus still wore his Green Man costume and wreath of leaves. Although the pigment had been washed off his skin, traces of it lingered, giving him a leafy green tinge. Rowan the May Queen was beautiful in a fresh white dress and newly-made wreath of hawthorn blossom and bluebells. But she was somehow different today, if anyone had looked closely. Her sparkle had gone and her eyes were tired.
Sylvie should’ve felt tired too as she’d been up since first light, but instead she bubbled with new energy. She felt more alive now than at any point she could ever remember. The drips and doctors seemed like a distant nightmare today. She lay back on the grass next to her mother and gazed up at the forget-me-not blue sky. She felt the warm earth beneath her back and stretched out her hands, caressing the grass under her palms. She smiled with perfect contentment. Miranda glanced down at her daughter affectionately, happy to see her looking so healthy and joyful.
‘Look, darling, it’s the boys’ turn now. This must be the Morris dancing you asked Magus about when we first arrived here. Do you remember? Oh don’t they all look lovely! It’s like stepping back in time.’
Sylvie sat up on the grass as a large group of young men trooped into the centre of the Village Green, replacing the young women who’d now finished their dance. Dressed in green trousers and jerkins, with white ribbons tied in fluttering bunches around their wrists and knees, the boys milled about in readiness for the next event. Sylvie noticed Yul immediately, his thin dark face serious as he tightened the ribbons and accepted his wooden staff from the leader. Buzz was also there, laughing and joking with his group of Hallfolk friends as they waited around for everyone to get into place.
‘Oh – look, Mum, there’s someone with a black face!’ said Sylvie.
They both stared at the young man, a Villager dressed in a strange, tattered costume, whose face had been blackened. He wore a tall hat spiked with pheasant tail-feathers and his ragged outfit was decorated with many brightly coloured ribbons. He stood inside a woven hoop of wicker that had been placed flat on the grass, in the centre of the group of men. They all now took up position around him, forming a huge spoked circle.
‘How strange,’ said Miranda. She turned to a plump woman sitting close by, surrounded by a clutch of young children, and asked her about the man. The woman laughed, delighted to talk with the Newcomers.
‘Why, ‘tis our Jack in the Green!’ she said. ‘You watch, my dears. See how he gets caught up as the dance goes on.’
‘But why’s his face been painted black?’ asked Sylvie.
‘He’s in guise!’ said the woman. ‘’Tis all part o’ the dance and the mumming. ‘Tis only soot and grease. We have ‘un at Yule too, with the Bone Horse. But at Beltane ‘tis Jack in the Green – you’ll see how he’s trapped in the branches.’
The musicians sat together and re-tuned their instruments as a large crowd gathered to watch. The music began and the men were off, leaping over the staffs, banging wood with other young men and kicking high in the air. The dance was intricate, with potential for injury as the thick staffs cracked together up high and down low. Yul was supple and graceful and Sylvie enjoyed watching him dance. He caught her eye and flushed with pleasure at her attention. Being heavier and larger, Buzz wasn’t so light on his feet, and the previous night’s antics had taken their toll. Several times he stumbled and cursed, and Yul had to bite his tongue every time he came close. Buzz noticed his mocking glance and his face flooded scarlet.
‘You wait, you little bastard! I’m going to get you today.’
The dance moved round and Yul was unable to reply to this, so contented himself by making a flicking sign instead. At Stonewylde this dismissive gesture was the ultimate insult, a contemptuous flick of the open hand towards the earth implying ‘Go to the Otherworld!’. The music increased in tempo and the lone figure in the centre, so incongruous in his jaunty hat and tattered clothes, began to skip and hop on the spot. Then he lifted the woven ring of wicker from the ground and held it around himself at chest height.
The dancers crashed their staffs hard together and uttered cries of ‘Hey!’ as they leapt about. Sylvie noticed that the Jack figure now stood still within his wicker hoop. One by one the dancers stepped forward and propped their staffs upright on the ground against this circle, gradually forming a kind of pointed pyre of wood around him. More and more branches followed, the empty-handed dancers leaping around the figure now rapidly disappearing inside his cage of wood.
Finally every dancer had placed his staff to form the central cone. They circled fast with many kicks and skips, and the wild music reached a crescendo. The Jack could no longer be seen at all behind his framework, and suddenly the music stopped and all the dancers leapt high in the air and shouted, ‘Jack – ho!’ Sylvie jumped, quite shocked at the suddenness of the noise and the way the man in the centre had apparently vanished.
‘There, see what I mean? ‘Tis powerful stuff, our Jack in the Green dance,’ said the woman, a baby now suckling contentedly at her great breast. ‘They do say, some of the old ‘uns, that back in the past, they’d set the Jack afire now.’
‘Really?’ exclaimed Miranda. ‘How extraordinary!’
‘Aye, burn him as he stood there trapped in his cage. And afore that, they’d poke him through the branches with knives, so as he couldn’t run.’
‘Ooh – but not nowadays?’ said Sylvie, horrified.
‘No, maid!’ chuckled the woman. ‘Not nowadays! Not at Stonewylde!’
The dancers turned to the audience sitting all around and bowed. Everyone cheered and clapped, and then they all took their staffs and revealed the hidden man still standing holding his wicker ring. The audience cheered again and the Jack made a great bow as everyone started to disperse. Yul grinned across at Sylvie, pleased that she was still watching him. Miranda caught the look and glared at him.
‘Don’t encourage him, Sylvie,’ she warned. ‘You know what Magus said about him.’
‘I’m not!’ retorted Sylvie indignantly. ‘He only smiled. There’s no law against that.’
‘You know what I mean. That boy’s trouble, I can tell.’
‘I don’t see how you can say that, Mum. You don’t even know him.’
‘No and neither do you, so let’s keep it that way. If you’re starting to take an interest in boys, there are plenty of nice Hallfolk ones. Look over there – one’s smiling at you now.’
She nodded towards Buzz, hot and sweaty from the dance, and Sylvie grimaced.
‘No thanks!’
The Naming of the Babies, held later in the morning, was a lovely ceremony. Sylvie and Miranda were amazed at how many little bundles there were, from newborns to babies almost a year old – all the children born during the year since the previous Beltane. The babies were carried in turn up to the dais where the Green Man and the May Queen sat together on their thrones. One by one, mothers handed their babies to Magus. Holding the baby aloft, he announced its name, kissed it and blessed it with Bright Beltane Blessings. Rowan then presented the mother with a small silver charm on a ribbon for the child to wear. The charm represented the festival nearest the baby’s birthday, the same symbol that would be embossed on the silver disc presented at the Rite of Adulthood ceremony in years to come.
The babies were well behaved and the ceremony went smoothly. Clip, standing nearby and smiling indulgently, chatted as they watched the procession of mothers and babies circling the Green.
‘Don’t they look sweet!’ exclaimed Sylvie. ‘They’re all adorable and none of them are crying.’
‘The Village
rs have such enormous families,’ said Miranda. ‘There are a few Hallfolk babies and mums, but it seems most of them are Villagers.’
‘Since Sol became the magus he has great plans for expansion. There’s plenty of fertile land to grow enough food, but we’ll need a lot more labour.’
‘That sounds a little cold-blooded and calculating,’ said Miranda, watching Magus’s smiling face as he kissed each baby in turn, with a word and a hug for every proud mother too. ‘I can’t believe that’s the only reason behind this incredible … brood of babies.’
‘Well, Sol’s actively encouraged all Village women to have more children and he tells everyone they’re the future of Stonewylde. He’s made it desirable and praiseworthy for a couple to have a huge brood, to the point where it’s now become the norm. Seven or eight children in a family isn’t uncommon, and there are a couple of families, I believe, with more than ten.’
‘Ten? That’s crazy!’
‘Regardless of Sol’s motives, it’s lovely to have a big family knowing the children will grow up in a happy community and want for nothing. Plenty of good food, clothes and shoes, a warm cottage and lots of space to roam free. And we have a wonderful Nursery here in the Village, so every mother gets all the support and assistance she needs.’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ agreed Miranda, looking at the rosy-cheeked babies dressed in delicately embroidered white clothes and decorated with garlands of flowers. ‘It makes me feel quite broody.’
Clip smiled a little slyly.
‘Well, doubtless it’ll be your turn soon.’
Miranda went pink.
‘No chance of that,’ she retorted.
‘Don’t say that, Mum! You never know … you’re still young enough and I’d love a little brother or sister.’
‘You’re being ridiculous, Sylvie,’ said Miranda sharply.
‘Do you have any children, Clip?’ asked Sylvie. ‘I don’t even know if you’re married or not.’
‘No, I’ve never been blessed in that way.’
‘Maybe one day,’ said Sylvie.
‘No, there’s no chance of that,’ echoed Clip. ‘I’m the shaman and must live a life of solitude and aestheticism. I tread a lonely path and leave the riotous living to my brother.’ He glanced at Miranda’s expression and smiled. ‘Only joking, of course.’
The final event of the morning was lunch, served out in the open on the Green at long trestle tables. The older women responsible for the food had prepared a feast. Everyone sat around on the grass eating and drinking, and afterwards many wandered off home for a rest as the next events weren’t to take place for a couple of hours or so. Yul knew it was times like these that were the danger spots of his day. He could see his father over by the food tables and bar, his plate laden, swilling down cider. At least he’d be incapacitated by so much food and drink. Magus was eating lunch with the May Queen and would be mixing with the Villagers until the games started. Yul located Buzz lying on the grass near the edge of the Green teasing Holly, who pushed him away irritably.
He decided to go up to the Stone Circle where it would be peaceful and quiet. The Bel Fire would be burning and one of the woodsmen would be there tending it. Without a word to anyone, for nobody would question his absence, Yul slipped away. A young blond boy who’d been playing near the edge of the Green raced across the grass to where Buzz was flicking and pinching Holly.
‘Buzz, Buzz, he’s gone!’
‘Okay, ssh now! Come over here.’
Buzz stood up and pulled the child away from the group of Hallfolk.
‘He went up towards the Long Walk! Just a couple of minutes ago.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
Buzz smiled at this and signalled to his gang. They heaved themselves off the grass and came over to join him.
‘But Buzz, you said there’d be a reward if anyone noticed him going off on his own.’
‘What? Oh yeah, remind me later on at the Hall and I’ll give you something.’
The little boy frowned as he watched Buzz lumbering off with four of his mates in tow. He wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing after all.
It was warm and drowsy at the Stone Circle. The sky was brilliant blue, the air hummed with bee-song and the sun beat down surprisingly hard for so early in the year. The Green Men painted on the stones looked down sleepily at the bonfire embers still smouldering at one end of the Circle. The Bel Fire in its brazier up on the stone burnt brightly. Yul saw that it had been recently built up again for the iron basket was full of unburnt logs. One of the older woodsmen was propped up against the stone, cider jug by his side, snoring loudly.
Yul smiled and walked around the great Circle touching each of the huge stones reverently. He thought of all the ceremonies he’d enjoyed in this place. The Stone Circle was a place where magic could be invoked and cast. He’d seen it done at many ceremonies. Yul tried to imagine what it must be like to be the magus and have such power at your disposal. Once he’d seen Magus shoot blue flames from his finger tips, and at sunrise one solstice had seen him levitate just off the Altar Stone as the first rays touched him. He shivered at the thought of it. The Stone Circle was a truly sacred place.
Yul felt sleepy, having been up since long before dawn, and decided to have a nap. He spread himself on the Altar Stone like a sand-lizard. Heat emanated from the ancient rock and the sun was a bright yellow disc on his closed red eyelids as he stretched out, relaxed and at peace. He sighed with contentment and began to drift off to sleep. Suddenly it went dark. He opened his eyes just as a large hand covered his mouth. A pair of light blue eyes only centimetres away gazed into his startled grey ones.
‘Gotcha!’
Buzz clambered up on the stone and sat down hard astride Yul, pinning the boy’s arms onto the stone with his large knees. Yul grunted as the breath was forced from his lungs. The hand remained over his mouth and Buzz grinned gleefully. Yul felt a strange sense of detachment.
‘Beltane Blessings!’ crowed Buzz. ‘And what are we going to do with you, Village boy? Any ideas?’
Yul gazed at the blue sky, ignoring the dead weight on his stomach and chest and the pain in his arms. There was a feeling of inevitability about the situation. He’d spent his childhood at Buzz’s mercy, but today he sensed would be more serious than the usual bullying and tormenting. Buzz’s next words confirmed his fear.
‘We’ve decided, Yul, to make this a proper punishment. You said that you enjoyed the last one Magus gave you. Gardening, I believe. But there’s no danger you’ll enjoy this, is there, lads?’
They all chuckled.
‘Now, we’ve got to get you out of the Circle without any fuss. It’ll just make it worse if you struggle, so don’t bother.’
Buzz lugged himself off Yul, who took a gulp of air. A piece of material was quickly tied around his mouth in a rough gag. Hands dragged him off the stone and hoisted him upright. His arms were pinned behind his back and tied at the wrists. He gazed ahead unfocused, trying to disassociate himself from the situation.
‘Now we’re taking you off to the woods and out of earshot. But there’s something I’ve got to do first. It’s been so long since I gave you a good going over.’
Buzz pulled back his fist and punched Yul in the stomach as hard as he could. The pain was excruciating and Yul jack-knifed forward, only to be yanked upright from behind. He choked, nearly vomiting as the pain rolled around inside his stomach. The blow had winded him and he couldn’t catch his breath around the gag.
‘Just a little taste of things to come. Off we go then.’
The gang frog-marched him into the oak woods behind the Circle, well away from the snoring woodsman beneath the Bel Fire. They found a suitable tree and untied Yul’s arms. Then they pulled the green jerkin off over his head to reveal his back.
‘Shall we get his trousers and boots off too?’
‘No, we’ll do it just like the proper whippings in the Village Green. Tie him up against the tree. That’s ri
ght, stretch his arms around the trunk, so his back’s nice and open. Tie the wrists tight. I don’t want him falling down halfway through it.’
Yul’s cheek and bare chest and stomach were jammed against the rough bark of the oak tree. The rope bit into his wrists as they bound him with swift, vicious tugs. The gag was still in place and he couldn’t move at all; he was completely at their mercy. The gang stood back and surveyed him.
‘Look – someone’s had a go at him already,’ said Fennel, frowning at the criss-cross of old stripes on his back and arms, and the fresher weals and patchwork of ugly bruises from the beating after the Story Web.
‘That’ll be his father,’ said Buzz. ‘But Yul still hasn’t learnt his lesson, has he?’
‘So that’s where we come in,’ said Fennel. ‘This little shit is going to be sorted out once and for all.’
They laughed excitedly at this.
‘Okay, you’ve all got your knives?’ asked Buzz. ‘Let’s cut the switches now, and make sure they’re young shoots, nice and whippy.’
They wandered off amongst the trees, slicing off young branches whilst Yul remained silent and still, wrapped around the oak tree. His heart thudded against the serrated bark and he imagined the tree’s heart reciprocating in sympathy.
‘Right, let’s get on with it. We don’t want to miss the games or the tug o’ war. Before we start, Yul, I should tell you something.’
Buzz walked around to the side of the tree so Yul could see him. Yul tried to look beyond him but Buzz jammed his face up close.
‘In case you get any ideas about running to Magus and telling tales, you need to understand that there’ll be consequences if you do. This morning during the Maypole Dance I noticed a little dark-haired Village girl who quite took my fancy. I’m lining ’em up, you see. One of the joys of being an adult at last. And then I realised that this pretty young girl is your little sister Rosie, all grown up.’
At this, Yul jerked against the tree and Buzz laughed.
