by Kit Berry
He chuckled again, and Sylvie opened the car door and stepped out onto the gravel. She turned back, and fixed Magus with her pale-grey gaze. Her hands trembled and heart thumped in her chest.
‘Three men to break one boy? Wow, Magus, you must feel so proud of yourself.’
18
The visit from Magus and Sylvie upset Yul a great deal. He’d been trying to block everything from his mind, all thoughts and memories, and concentrate on getting through each day and night. Life was as bad as it could be. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than this, and it took all his energy and willpower to survive.
He’d have died so many times by now, if his concentration had lapsed for even a moment. There was no safety equipment, and the men employed had little knowledge of what they were doing and no sense of responsibility. Yul was given many dangerous jobs and knew, each time he climbed up the ivy-smothered faces or crawled between crevices and boulders, that his life might be claimed. He felt death breathing down his neck, despair lurking around each rock, and it took every drop of willpower to keep himself safe and alive.
Seeing Sylvie brought it all back to him. She’d stood there clean and shining in her pretty summer dress, out of place in this filthy pit of death. Her moonstone eyes had blazed with love and pity and it had almost undone him. He couldn’t afford any softness, any feeling, any relaxing of the iron control which was all that stood between his life and his death.
He’d already decided that if he survived this ordeal, Sylvie would have to be nothing more to him than a beautiful memory. They couldn’t have any sort of friendship without antagonising Magus, and Yul had no intention of ever doing that again. He’d work hard in the woods with Greenbough and the men, keep out of any Hallfolk’s way, and as for Alwyn … he was still hoping Mother Heggy would find a way to deal with him. Without his father at home, life would be peaceful and pleasant. Heart-breaking though it would be to lose her, Sylvie would play no part in it and he’d finally accepted that. Until today, when he was reminded of just what he’d be missing.
As he collected soiled clothes from the mucky caravan floors and stuffed them into black plastic bin liners, Yul thought of home and the approaching Summer Solstice. The great bonfire in the Stone Circle would be built, and they’d have found another boy light and agile enough to climb to the top with sticks and lichen to fill the gaps. Yul knew that this was the most special of all fires, to mark the day when the sun stood still briefly, before starting the journey back towards winter.
Yul had always felt glad when the effigies of wicker men were burnt at this festival, symbolising the moment when the Oak King was superseded by the Holly King. As a child of the Winter Solstice, he’d always identified with the Holly King. In the Village School right now, children would be soaking the withies, bending the pliable stalks and weaving their wicker men. Dances would be practised, the women would be baking and preparing food, the artists painting the stones in the Circle. Everyone would be happy and excited getting ready for the biggest festival of the year and the week-long Midsummer Holiday that followed.
Yul closed his eyes for a moment, ignoring the stink of the filthy caravan and the rank smell of unwashed men. He wished with all his heart that he were home now. He imagined himself standing on the Village Green surrounded by the great trees, the sound of wood pigeons calling softly, people he’d known all his life busy in the Great Barn or sitting on benches outside the Jack in the Green sipping cider. He hoped desperately that he’d be allowed home for the festival but had his doubts. He knew Jackdaw wouldn’t want to lose him at the quarry, for he worked very hard and certainly made Jackdaw’s life easier. Why would the man go out of his way to let Yul go?
Right now all the men lounged around on deck chairs outside the caravans, playing cards and enjoying their beer and cigarettes. Their day’s work was done and now they relaxed and waited for their meal, which consisted mainly of heated-up catering tins of food. Yul’s work however was far from done. Jackdaw had loaded him with enough duties to keep him occupied until everyone went to bed. Whilst everyone relaxed, Yul rushed around doing his jobs knowing that if he took too long, there’d be nothing left to eat but dry bread.
When he’d collected everyone’s dirty clothes he must load the bags into Jackdaw’s truck, before emptying the foul toilets and sweeping out the caravans. Stone-dust coated every surface and it was hard to keep it at bay. After he’d eaten, he’d wash all the dishes and clear the cooking mess away. Then he’d sort out the clean washing returned from an Outside laundry, making sure each man had clothes for the morning. When they’d all gone to bed, he’d clear up the beer cans and rubbish they’d left lying about outside and ensure the kitchen caravan was ready for breakfast in the morning.
If Yul forgot anything or didn’t do something properly, he’d be beaten. Jackdaw needed little excuse to unbuckle his belt and lay into him. He was always careful to stop short of incapacitating Yul for work, but as the flayed mess on the boy’s back started to heal, Jackdaw became less worried about it. Yul’s jobs were never-ending and there was no one else who could do them all; Jackdaw wouldn’t give him up easily. Yul dragged the heavy bin liners outside bitterly, knowing that the Summer Solstice was just a dream, and Sylvie a complete impossibility.
Sylvie couldn’t face dinner in the Dining Hall. The place heaved with ever more Hallfolk who were arriving daily for the imminent festival. She hated the noise and chaos, people greeting each other and bursting with their news, catching up with each other’s lives and acting as if they owned the place. Sylvie found she resented them, especially the way some of them looked at her as if she didn’t belong. So she skipped dinner and made her way to the track leading to the tumbledown cottage. She knew where to find the help she needed.
Mother Heggy sat asleep in her rocking chair, her mouth hanging open to reveal her shrivelled gums. The crow perched on the chair back and surveyed Sylvie with jewelled eyes. She waited quietly in the corner by the hearth, not wishing to disturb the old woman, and looked around the cottage with interest. This was a place of magic and healing, with bunches of herbs and plants hung everywhere. On the ancient scrubbed table lay a sharp knife and chopping board, and a pestle and mortar. Mother Heggy might be very old but she still practised her craft.
‘Ah, ‘tis my little one! I knew you’d come today.’
Sylvie rose and kissed her withered cheek.
‘So you also know why I’ve come, Mother Heggy?’
The crone nodded.
‘He’s at the place of bones and death, as I told you. You must get him out.’
‘I saw him today. Magus took me up there to show me how he’s suffering.’
Mother Heggy spat into the corner and the crow flapped its wings.
‘And there’s another there? He’s returned?’
‘You mean Jackdaw? Yes, he was there. Oh Mother Heggy, I can’t bear it!’
She burst into tears. Heggy left her to cry for a while and eventually Sylvie sniffed and wiped her eyes.
‘I’m sorry. That’s not going to help him. What must I do?’
‘You are the saviour. You must bring him back for the Solstice sunrise. The Holly King must take his rightful place in the dance or all will be lost.’
Sylvie nodded. She felt a sense of destiny unfolding, which gave her the courage to defy Magus.
‘What exactly should I do?’
‘You must go to him when the time is right. You’ll know when. You’ll lead him out of that stone graveyard and back to life and safety. You’ll be the bright light in his darkness. ‘Tis a long way, my silver one, and you must travel far.’
A shiver chased down Sylvie’s bare arms as understanding dawned; Clip had known all along.
‘But I don’t know if Yul will come with me. He’s not the same as he was. If you could see what they’ve done to him … he’s lost his spirit.’
‘Yul will never lose his spirit! Blue and red, he is the one. Conceived under a Blue Moon, born under a red moon. Y
ou are the brightness to his darkness. You must rekindle the fire in his soul. You will do it, my little one, and you’re the only one who can. ‘Tis why you’re here and you know this in your heart.’
‘Yes, I do know. I can feel this pull between us and it’s so powerful. I don’t have any choice in the matter – I have to help him. I just hope he’ll be strong enough.’
‘Aye, I’ll make up something to revive him. Collect it from my doorstep before you go on your journey. And there’s something else – a cake. ‘Twill be wrapped in rhubarb leaves. Take it on the same day but hide it away and give it to Yul. ‘Tis for Alwyn and only Alwyn, to be eaten on the day of the Solstice. Make sure Yul understands that.’
Sylvie sighed; she was scared about the journey and terrified of defying Magus. But now she’d seen Yul, in all his misery and fear, she’d somehow find the strength and courage to save him.
‘Will everything be alright, Mother Heggy? Will it work out in the end? I know you can see these things.’
The old woman shook her head and sucked her gums.
‘I see only glimpses. And nought is set in stone, despite our trying and our wanting. Sometimes I see what could happen, not what will happen. You are both up against powerful forces. That man, Solstice – eh, he is so strong. He has great power and he’s clever with it. I tried once, long ago, and I couldn’t stop him, only hold him at bay. I paid a forfeit for that, right enough. ‘Twill not be easy, the path that lies ahead.’
Sylvie nodded, and then remembered the other issue that worried her.
‘Mother Heggy, Magus knows I’m moongazy. Yul must’ve told him.’
‘’Twas to be expected he’d find out. Moongaziness cannot be hidden for long. But now you must beware of him for he will be after the magic you bring. He knew you were special – ‘tis the reason he brought you here – and now he understands why. You have the moon energy and he has the power of the magus, the Earth Magic of Stonewylde. He will want them joined.’
‘Joined? In what way?’
Mother Heggy rocked harder and the crow squawked and flapped frantically, before falling into her lap in a bundle of feathers. She stroked the bird lovingly and looked Sylvie in the eye.
‘In the joining way, my bright one. Be very careful o’ that man. ‘Tis Yul who is the one, he who is the darkness to your brightness. Nobody else, however you may be tempted. Remember that.’
‘I will, Mother Heggy. I know Magus is wicked and cruel, even though he healed me. I’ve seen his true colours now and he doesn’t fool me. How on earth am I going to moondance at Hare Stone with Yul beside me now? I don’t want Magus to see me moongazy.’
‘We must hope the Triple Goddess will protect you when you’re under her spell.’
‘The Triple Goddess?’
‘The Maiden, the Mother and the Crone – our Lady of the Moon. The Maiden is the silver bow of the huntress, the Mother is fertile and giving, the circle of life itself, and the Crone is wisdom and the darkness of death. For us women, ‘tis the measure of our months and our lives.’
‘I’m the Maiden and you’re the Crone!’
‘Aye, that’s the truth. We’re part of the same power, you and I, although I was ever drawn to the Dark Goddess, not the Bright one. But you are just starting your magic, and I am at the end of mine. Tomorrow is the Dark Moon and you’ll start to bleed.’
‘No!’
‘Aye, you’ll become a woman, a maiden huntress. Here, I made a little potion for you, if the cramps are painful.’
She put the crow on the table and shuffled off to a cupboard, producing a tiny bottle stoppered with a cork.
‘Drink it when the bleeding starts properly. ‘Twill ease the discomfort. Now you must go. Remember to collect the things from my step for Yul. And be brave, for you are the huntress and scared of no man. Magus knows your power and he will be careful.’
‘Thank you, Mother Heggy.’
Sylvie kissed her leathery cheek again and the crow hopped up onto Sylvie’s shoulder, gently pecking at her hair. Mother Heggy cackled at this.
‘Take the crow with you. He’s my messenger and ‘tis good that he knows where you live. Blessings to you, child.’
Sylvie left the cottage with the crow on her shoulder, but once outside he flew off and flapped ahead of her all the way home, stopping and waiting on trees and posts for her to catch up. He seemed to already know where she lived, and at the cottage he flew up to her bedroom window and sat on the windowsill, preening himself.
Mother Heggy was right. The next morning Sylvie discovered she was indeed starting her first period. She rushed into her mother’s room, very excited. Miranda hugged her.
‘Hey, Mum, we can go down to the Great Barn together, can’t we?’
‘Well, I haven’t actually started mine yet. But I’ll walk down with you. I’m so proud of you, Sylvie! What a special day – my little girl becoming a woman!’
Although nothing could match the embarrassment of the previous month when she’d been left behind at the Hall, Sylvie felt shy going into the Great Barn. But she was warmly received by the many women already there.
‘Do come over and sit with us, the pair of you,’ called a Village woman whom Miranda recognised from her recent visit to the Nursery.
‘I haven’t started yet,’ said Miranda, having learned the protocol of the Dark Moon Gatherings. ‘So I’m going home now, but I expect I’ll be down later.’
There was some tongue clicking at this and Sylvie saw one woman wink across at another. She knew exactly what they were thinking, for it was what she’d thought herself. Had Yul been right? Had Magus succeeded in making Miranda pregnant up at Mooncliffe on the night of the Blue Moon?
By the time Sylvie’s first period was over, the Summer Solstice had almost arrived. The women grumbled at the inconvenience of the Dark Moon coming just before a major festival when there was so much to do. During her time spent in the Great Barn, Sylvie had learned all about the Summer Solstice festival at Stonewylde, the biggest celebration of them all, falling at a time when the weather was usually fine and warm. Starting on Solstice Eve, the week-long festivities were given over to sports events, craft displays and competitions, swimming galas down at the beach, and daily picnics out in the open air. It was also Magus’s birthday, which added to the holiday excitement.
Miranda hadn’t joined the women in the Barn, but explained that her last period had been very early and she’d probably reverted to her old cycle. Sylvie knew better, but had other things on her mind to worry about – how to get to Quarrycleave and set Yul free. Every day more Hallfolk arrived for the festival, and on the nineteenth of June, the students and teachers would return from Exeter. Sylvie decided this would be a good day for the rescue, when everyone’s attention was on the homecoming students. Yul must be back by Solstice Eve on the twentieth, ready for sunrise the following morning. She went to the library to look for a map of the estate.
She found some beautiful hand-drawn maps, meticulously coloured and labelled, and realised what a distance it was to Quarrycleave. She’d have to allow plenty of time and she hoped Yul would be strong enough for the long walk home. She knew he was tough, but the thin, cowering boy she’d seen at the quarry was not the same person who’d won the tree-climbing competition at Beltane, ridden Nightwing along the ridgeway and carried her back through the woods on the night of the Blue Moon. He was weak and beaten now. The journey could be too much for him.
Poring over the map, Sylvie decided to follow the ridgeway westwards for several miles before cutting over the hills to the north and across the other side to Quarrycleave, tucked up in the far north-west corner of the estate. She couldn’t follow the easier route the Land Rover had taken, nor the tarmac road route up to the Gatehouse and along the top of the hills in case someone was out driving that day. She’d never walked that far in her life and wondered if she’d make it there and back herself, never mind Yul.
Sylvie had just rolled up the maps and returned them to the s
helf when Magus walked into the library, shutting the door behind him. He came over and looked down at her, gauging her mood. Then he smiled, but it didn’t reach his dark eyes.
‘I gather congratulations are in order.’
‘What?’
‘I hear you’ve started menstruating.’
She blushed at this.
‘And just before your fifteenth birthday. You’ll be an adult before you know it.’
‘I’ll never take part in that disgusting Rite of Adulthood ceremony, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ she retorted sharply. ‘And talking of menstruation, I’m sure you’ll also have heard that my mother didn’t. So your “picnic” at Mooncliffe was successful, it seems.’
He grimaced and took her arm, guiding her over to the deep window seat; the same place he’d sat with Miranda when he’d asked her to stay permanently at Stonewylde.
‘It’s time we talked, Sylvie. You’re so hostile and negative towards me and I know who’s the cause of that. Of course I’m delighted that your mother may be carrying my child, although it’s very early days and we mustn’t jump to conclusions. But there’s no need to be nasty to me about it. Unless you’re jealous?’
‘Jealous? Don’t be ridiculous – I’d love a little brother or sister! I just hate to see my mother being taken for a fool. She’s mad about you, but you don’t love her or even really care for her.’
‘Of course I care for her!’
‘Not in the way she needs. You just wanted to impregnate her. It’s horrible – so cold-blooded.’
‘There was nothing cold-blooded about it, I can assure you,’ he said dryly.
‘Maybe not the act itself, but the planning behind it, coming back specially for the Blue Moon like that. You’re like a great spider sitting in its web, manipulating everything around you.’
