by Kit Berry
Maizie nodded, adding, ‘If it’s alright by Yul, o’ course?’
‘Yes, it’s the proper way,’ he said. ‘I saw Robin’s brother in the orchard today and we had a quick word.’
‘And what about your sweetheart, Yul?’ asked Rosie. ‘We never did hear who you—’
‘There’s nothing to hear,’ said Yul sadly, recalling Sylvie’s anger today at their enforced secrecy. He hated denying his feelings for her like this when he wanted to shout about them from the rafters. ‘It came to nothing.’
‘But Yul, I thought—’
Maizie shot her a warning glance, picking up Yul’s empty plate and tidily brushing his scattered bread-crumbs onto it.
‘Stop being a nosy little sparrow, Rosie, and leave the lad be,’ she said firmly. ‘Yul will tell us in his own good time. Now come on, girl, the spinning won’t do itself.’
Yul rose from the table unenthusiastically, every muscle aching. It was hard going back to work after sitting down and relaxing. All he wanted to do was slump in the armchair and rest his tired body. The thought of dismantling the old cheese filled him with despair, for his arms were already painful first from picking apples all day, and then milling for three hours. He had a horrible feeling that Stag expected him to do the job alone this evening. Maizie couldn’t understand why he had to do so much extra work and had offered to speak to Magus about it. But Yul had asked her not to, on any account, hoping that if he kept his head down and did as he was told, Magus would eventually lose interest.
Maizie and Rosie had set up the spindles and stools for an evening of flax spinning, and had a great bundle of long silky fibres ready. It was fine flax from the retting pond rather than the coarse dew-retted fibres, and would be woven into the best quality linen.
‘’Tis for you, Yul,’ said Maizie, stroking the pale flax tresses. Yul recalled the back-breaking hours he’d spent in July pulling the flax crop and then gathering it up for the retting. He was pleased to know that he’d benefit from all that hard work.
‘What are you going to make, Mother? You’ve already sewn me some new clothes for the Equinox celebration.’
‘’Tis for your Rite of Adulthood – only three months away!’ she said. ‘’Twill become the linen for your robe. You must decide soon what image you want woven into it. Have you any notion yet what you’ll choose for your totem?’
He smiled, suddenly excited at the prospect of having his own robe at last instead of the childish tunic.
‘I always thought I’d like a hare,’ he replied slowly. ‘You know how I love hares, and for years that’s what I wanted. But now I’m wondering about the Green Man instead.’
‘Ooh, that sounds nice!’ said Rosie smiling at her brother. ‘And unusual too.’
‘Aye,’ said Maizie, scooping up some fibres and twisting them expertly. ‘I don’t think anyone else uses that totem and ‘tis just like you to be different from other folk, Yul. Well, you don’t have to decide quite yet, but I’ll need to know the colours soon so I can dye the thread afore I start the weaving. Shades of green, perhaps?’
‘Yes, and maybe some gold and brown too. Do you both think the Green Man would be a good totem for me? Would it look right on my silver disc, on the other side to my sprig of mistletoe?’
‘Well, my boy, you’re not Beltane-born but you’re a woodsman, and you’ve always loved the trees. Old Greenbough says you’re a natural-born man o’ the woods such as he’s never seen afore,’ said Maizie ‘Tis a good idea in my opinion.’
‘I think it’d be perfect for you, Yul,’ said Rosie. “The Green Man and mistletoe – they seem right together.’
‘Good – that’s settled then,’ said Yul happily, feeling the rightness of his choice in his bones. ‘And now I must go in case Magus decides to check up on me.’
He left the comfort of the cottage and walked down the track leading into the heart of the Village. The sun had vanished in a soft haze of gold and the twilight was deepening. Yul walked through the warm night, greeting several Villagers on their way to the pub. On the Green the bats swooped and dived, hunting for gnats. Light and laughter spilled out from the Jack in the Green, and the Great Barn was also lit. Through the open doors Yul could hear the musicians practising the harvest jigs that folk loved so much, ready for the Equinox dance. The drummers would be in there too, waiting to go through the rhythms for the Stone Circle ceremony.
Sweethearts wandered together on the Green where the Villagers’ courtships mostly took place. There were plenty of sheltered spots under the great circle of trees that clustered around the perimeter, just right for kissing and cuddling and making promises. Unattached youngsters sat on the benches outside the Barn or further on by the pump, chatting and joking together and eyeing up likely partners. Yul felt a pang, realising all over again that he’d never be part of this. His sweetheart must be kept secret and their relationship must be furtive and snatched. He could never court her openly like those around him now, sauntering arm in arm in the balmy autumn night under the golden moon, kissing and laughing. She was forbidden to him and any liaison had to be clandestine.
Although he knew he should hurry, Yul made a detour to the great yew tree. He slipped under the low boughs into the dark cavern of its shelter and breathed in the magic he always felt in this place. He was pleased there were no couples here, in the spot where he and Sylvie had shared their first kiss on the eve of the Summer Solstice. He remembered that night in exquisite detail and closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. He cautiously opened the lid on the treasured memory and was blown apart as always by the explosion of joy it detonated in his soul.
This was their special place and Yul hated the thought of others intruding here. Yul was unaware that nobody else ever came under this tree for their assignations because they found it too dark and sinister. Its association with the Yew of Death down in the valley made other people feel uncomfortable around it. He and Sylvie alone felt the pull of the dark magic in this ancient place.
Yul dragged himself away reluctantly and jogged slowly along the track leading to the Cider House. He was so tired, yawning hugely as he opened the door. It was pitch black inside and the smell of apples was overwhelming. He felt around for the lantern that lived on the shelf near the door, and groping for the matches, lit it carefully. The soft candlelight illuminated the immediate area but left everything else in shadows. He lit another lantern over by the cider press where he’d be working and looked woefully at the machinery. He had a mammoth task ahead of him. The great screw was clamped fully down, the flat press as low as it would go. Beneath it was the old apple cheese, a huge cube of woven straw and hemp sacking filled with layer upon layer of compressed pomace from which all the apple juice had been extracted. It would be a deep brown and quite solid; very different from the fresh pulpy pomace he’d been making earlier.
Tonight he must unscrew the press, which was a heavy physical job, turning the great wheel above that would slowly release the press and make it lift off the cheese. Then he could begin the task of pulling the cube apart and separating the materials as Stag had instructed. Yul dragged three bins over and then climbed up above the press where the heavy iron wheel was situated. Turning the wheel to lower the press onto a new cheese was a two-man job, for there was great resistance. Raising the press, as he must do now, was slightly easier, but he’d be doing it alone.
With a grimace, Yul gripped the rim of the wheel and put his back into it, trying with all his strength to move it. The wheel turned a few centimetres; the press didn’t budge. He tried again, and after a minute of straining as hard as he could, the press seemed to move slightly up the giant screw. Yul paused and took a deep breath, wondering if he’d actually be able to manage the task. Was it Magus, Edward or Stag who’d decided he should do this alone? But there’d be trouble if he didn’t, so he heaved and strained, knowing that tomorrow every sinew would be pure agony.
Unbeknown to him, somebody had slipped into the Cider House whilst
he wrenched at the wheel, and now stood silently in the shadows watching him sweat. She kept absolutely still, her heart beating fast as she saw him toiling away on the platform, his brown arms pulling for all their worth, sinews and muscles bulging with the strain. His legs were braced and his hair fell into his eyes. In the gleaming candlelight she saw the sheen of sweat on his face, his determination and concentration as he wrestled with the heavy machine, knowing that at all costs he must raise the press.
She shivered as she watched him working; watched him pushing his body and strength to the limit, grunting with the effort. Eventually, with a roar, he swung the wheel round and the press was fully raised. He shouted in triumph, flipped the lock on the wheel to hold it in position, and jumped down from the platform. The curls were stuck to his face and his chest heaved with exertion. He went over to the tap, where water was piped in from the springhead, and filled a bowl. He drank deeply and let the cold water wash over his sweaty face. Then he went back and surveyed the great apple cheese, knowing he must start now to pull it apart back into its three components.
But just as Yul was about to pull off the first layer of straw and hemp sacking, Sylvie stepped out noiselessly from the shadows. He jumped with surprise, then his face lit up at the sight of her. Her silvery hair hung down around her bare arms, almost reaching her waist. She smiled at him, beautiful in the soft candlelight.
‘Are you really here?’ he whispered, echoing the words she’d spoken not long ago. ‘Or am I dreaming?’
She laughed and came forward, taking his hands in hers.
‘I’ve been feeling guilty all evening about how I treated you today. I knew what happened in the orchard wasn’t your fault and I was being unfair. I was just so jealous, seeing you touching Holly and whispering up in the tree with her. I couldn’t bear it, but I behaved really badly and I’m sorry, Yul.’
He smiled down at her, noticing that although he’d grown so much, she was barely a head shorter than him. He looked into her silvery-grey eyes with their startling dark rims.
‘You never need to feel jealous of Holly, I promise.’
She nodded, letting his hands go.
‘Maybe you don’t know, but I haven’t made any friends here and lately it’s all been quite nasty. Holly doesn’t like me and I think she’s turned everyone against me. So I probably over-reacted today because it was her – if it was anyone else it wouldn’t have been so upsetting.’
‘Oh Sylvie, I’m sorry. She can be nasty, I know. There’s a spiteful side to her that she never had when we were children. I don’t like her at all, and that’s why she behaved so badly today. Holly wants to be liked and be the centre of attention and today she realised I couldn’t stand her.’
‘I overheard her tonight at dinner talking about you with her friends. She was saying how you didn’t want to know, and how rude you were to her up in the apple tree. She’s very angry about it. But Yul, then she said something horrible. She said she wants you for her partner at the Winter Solstice, for her Rite of Adulthood. She said she can make Magus agree to it too. You won’t do it, will you?’
He gazed deep into her eyes.
‘The only person I ever intend making love to is you, Sylvie. I know exactly where I want our first time to be, and it’s not in public up at the Stone Circle, believe me. I shall be giving that a miss. It’s my Rite at the Solstice too but I’ll wait until you’re old enough. And until you feel ready.’
He watched the expressions flit across her face; embarrassment, relief and something else, which he hoped was excitement at the thought of making love with him. He smiled at her, loving her openness but realising that her inability to mask her emotions and bury her feelings deep away from prying eyes made her vulnerable. She’d yet to learn the lesson he’d been forced to learn this summer.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Because I’d have killed her rather than let her have you first! Or have you at all, for that matter.’
He laughed out loud at this uncharacteristic outburst.
‘I’m not joking!’ she said. ‘I hate her. But let’s forget about Holly. I can’t stay long. I’m meant to be in the Great Barn with a couple of Hallfolk who came down to practise the drumming. I said I needed some fresh air and I knew you’d be here because I heard that grumpy old man ordering you about. Why do you have to work so much harder than everyone else, Yul? It’s so unjust. It’s a beautiful evening and they’re all out there relaxing and enjoying themselves.’
‘Magus’ orders, to keep me so constantly tired that I can’t get up to any tricks, he said.’
‘He’s so cruel to you. He’s completely abandoned that deal I made with him at Midsummer. He’s on your back all the time, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, but remember what Mother Heggy said. I’ve just got to bear it and hold on. It won’t be forever.’
‘Poor you,’ she said softly. ‘Why can’t things ever be easy for you? “Some are born to endless night” …’
‘What?’
‘It’s from a poem by William Blake. About injustice and inequality, I believe. Oh Yul, life is so unfair …’
‘It seems unfair now, but it won’t be in the end,’ he said.
‘That’s what Blake thought too,’ she smiled.
They stood in the shadowy candlelight, acutely aware of each other. Yul knew he must get on with his work or he’d be here all night dismantling the old cheese. Sylvie knew that the Hallfolk in the Great Barn would be wondering where she’d got to. Their time alone together was so precious, but the very fact that it was snatched and secret made them both feel constrained.
Sylvie looked around the cavernous building with the two cider presses and the enormous apple mill. There were bins and barrels everywhere and piles of sacking and straw. Then she noticed another room leading off, dark and shadowy.
‘What’s in there?’ she asked, wanting only to prolong her time with him but feeling awkward being alone together in the old Cider House. She could see many barrels inside arranged in rows and walked in, looking around the shadowy depths. Yul followed her inside, also feeling a desperate need to keep her there for as long as possible, even though their time together had to be short.
‘This is where the apple juice is stored when it’s fermenting. See these barrels have no bungs in them? They’re fermenting now. They need constant topping up with juice to keep the air out. Usually they rack them after the first fermentation – that means transferring the juice to a clean barrel. They let them ferment a bit more, then put the bungs in and leave the cider to mature. Those ones at the far end are last year’s cider, waiting to be moved to the cellars in the Jack in the Green.’
‘I see,’ said Sylvie, interested but more interested in the proximity of Yul as he stood beside her in the near darkness. The strong smell of apple juice and cider was in her nostrils but she could smell him too. Every tiny hair on her body was aware of him standing so close to her, taut with control as he kept himself apart. Her fingertips brushed his bare arm longingly. She drew breath sharply as he tensed like a bow-string at her touch.
‘Yul,’ she whispered. ‘Yul, I …’
His body hit hers so urgently she was thrust back against a barrel with a thud. He bent his head and his mouth locked onto hers. Twisting his hand into her long hair, he held her tightly to him and released all the frustration and anger of the day into his kiss. Sylvie kissed him back with equal intensity, her lips crushed against his and desperate. Jammed with her back to the oak of the cider barrel and his body pressed up hard against hers, she felt a flood of longing melt her bones. She pulled him even closer, wanting to lose herself in this intense pleasure. His mouth was demanding but so giving too. He kissed her until she was on fire for him, feeling as if her heart must explode … She twisted her head away, gasping for breath, her legs quaking. She could make out the brightness of his eyes in the shadowy darkness and sensed rather than saw the trembling excitement in him too. With a small cry she plunged back in, her mouth seeking his.
The
n they heard sounds from outside that made them both freeze in terror – the jingle of metal and the snicker of a horse. Yul jerked away, abruptly releasing her from the fierce embrace, his breathing audible in the silence.
‘Sacred Mother, that’s Nightwing!’ he hissed. ‘Magus has come to check up on me!’
She gazed at him in mute terror, aware of the consequences if they were found like this.
‘There’s an outside door at the end of this store,’ he whispered urgently. ‘I’ll go back into the press room and talk to him. You get out and run like the wind back to the Barn. Sylvie, be very careful – don’t make any noise.’
She nodded and began to tiptoe into the deeper shadows of the barrel room towards the far end. He dashed into the other room and started to pull frantically at the straw of the apple cheese, flinging great handfuls of it into one of the bins. The door opened and the two lanterns flickered slightly. Magus’ blond hair shimmered in the soft light, his dark eyes fathomless in the shadows. He stood in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, surveying the scene. If he noticed Yul’s quick breathing and nervousness, he said nothing. He walked in and shut the door behind him, tapping his boot with his riding whip.
‘Good evening, Yul.’
‘Good evening, sir.’
Yul stopped ripping at the straw and turned to face Magus. He concentrated on not looking into the dark doorway of the barrel room, doing nothing that could give away Sylvie’s presence. He needed to mask any sounds she might make in her exit, so he nudged the straw bin with his foot. It shifted loudly on the stone floor.
‘Stop fidgeting, boy. I dropped by to make sure you’re not slacking, and just as well, it seems. You haven’t got very far, have you? Stag told me you’re dismantling this cheese tonight, but you’ve barely started. Do you have any idea how late it is? You’ll be here half the night.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, it was the press. It was difficult to turn the wheel to release it by myself and it took me a long time.’