by Kit Berry
‘Don’t be silly, Holly,’ said Dawn. ‘I feel sorry for her. She’s all on her own – maybe I should go and sit with her.’
‘Don’t! She’s on her own for a good reason – nobody likes her. And I’m not surprised after what she’s done. Poor Buzz! We all knew it was coming. He can only take so much teasing and then he flips. It’s all her fault!’
‘Come on,’ said Dawn. ‘You’re being unreasonable, Holly. Sylvie says she always made it clear she wasn’t interested.’
‘Oh yeah!’ said Rainbow. ‘As if we’d believe that! Remember that time they were caught cuddling in the music room? I’ve seen them together messing about on the lawns too. And if she wasn’t interested, why did she go into the maze with him?’
‘True, that was a bit stupid,’ said Dawn.
‘I don’t know about stupid – asking for it, more like,’ said Holly bitterly.
The girls sat around on the squashy cushions in the Great Barn, ostensibly sewing patchwork hexagons together for quilts. But this Dark Moon, Holly’s group wasn’t getting much work done. Although Buzz had been gone for some time, the incident had been raked up again that morning by an e-mail Fennel had received from him.
‘I can’t believe he wants a photo of her,’ said Holly. ‘Why? Somebody tell me that!’
Dawn shrugged, trying to keep her stitches small and even.
‘He’s obviously still crazy about her.’
‘The bitch! How does she do it? Goddess, I hate her!’
July and Wren came to join them, flopping down on the cushions.
‘You’re not still on about the photo?’ groaned Wren. ‘Get over it, Holly. It’s no big deal.’
‘But I miss him! It’s so boring here without him. I’ve hardly seen him since May when he went off to do his exams. I’ve e-mailed him since he was banished, but all he ever wants to know is how Sylvie is, and now he’s asking for a photo! I hope nobody sends him one.’
‘I thought I might send him a sketch,’ said Rainbow. ‘I’ve got a few in my book.’
‘What? Why on earth do you want to draw her? Are you mad?’
‘She’s beautiful,’ said Rainbow. ‘And there’s something about her that’s hard to catch; I’m determined to get it.’
‘You’re so talented, Rainbow,’ said Dawn. ‘You must go to art school when you’re old enough.’
‘Maybe, but I don’t see it could be any better than studying here at Stonewylde. Merewen’s a brilliant artist and she’s also a great teacher. I’m learning a lot from her and once you get past her gruffness, she’s really kind. I don’t think any boring old art teacher in the Outside World could be better than her. But I’ll tell you what, Holly – just to cheer you up I’ll scan my drawing of Yul and print you a copy.’
‘Really? Have you got it here now? I thought you said you’d never part with it.’
‘A copy won’t hurt. Here, it’s somewhere in the middle of the book. But be careful – no grubby fingerprints please.’
The girls huddled around Rainbow’s sketchbook and located the drawing of Yul on the Altar Stone, his body arched and arms outstretched for the sunset.
‘You’ve captured him perfectly,’ said Dawn. ‘Hasn’t he changed over the past few months?’
‘He’s gorgeous!’ breathed Holly. ‘Although I hate him too. Did you see the way he was at the Equinox dance? Just didn’t want to know. When I think back to the Spring Equinox – I had him wrapped round my little finger back then. He was all over me, and he even had that fight with Buzz because of me! Why doesn’t he want me anymore?’
‘Maybe he fancies someone else,’ said July.
‘What, some stupid Village girl? I don’t think so – he’s always seemed a bit too … special for some gormless girl in a shawl, and he wasn’t with anyone at the dance, was he? No, I don’t think it’s that.’
‘He was sitting with Sylvie, wasn’t he?’ mused Wren. ‘When we found him for the Flying Sheaf? They were outside the Barn on a bench together.’
‘No way!’ shouted Holly, ignoring the stares from other women. ‘No – surely not? She can’t have got her claws into him too!’
‘I’m sure she hasn’t,’ said Dawn soothingly. ‘Wren, don’t start stirring. You’re speculating – just leave it.’
‘Well look at her now!’ exclaimed Rainbow. ‘That’s Yul’s sister isn’t it? Going over to sit with Sylvie?’
Sylvie sensed someone approaching. Feeling awkward and self-conscious, she’d been huddled in a corner trying to hide herself away. She wished her mother was here so she’d have somebody to talk to now the Hallfolk girls were openly ostracising her. Dawn was the only one who still talked to her and even she kept away when the gang were about. Sylvie knew they all blamed her for Buzz’s banishment. Normally she didn’t let it bother her and she could avoid them at the Hall, other than in the classroom. But in the Barn for the Dark Moon menstruation gathering it was impossible to act as if nothing were wrong. Sylvie tried to sew her patchwork pieces and pretend she didn’t care, but the day stretched ahead emptily, and tomorrow did too. She hoped maybe Dawn was coming to sit with her after all.
But she looked up to see a pretty Village girl approaching and knew that this must be Rosie, for she had the same dark curls and slanted grey eyes as her brother. Sylvie smiled shyly, delighted that someone was prepared to talk to her at last.
‘Come and sit with me,’ she said warmly. ‘I think I know who you are.’
The girl sat on the bench next to her and smiled back, picking up Sylvie’s hexagons and examining them.
‘Oh no, please don’t look! They’re terrible – I’d never sewn anything before I came here. I’d love to sew properly but nobody has shown me how and I just can’t get the hang of it. Don’t look at them – it’s so embarrassing!’
Rosie laughed.
‘I only came over to say hello, miss. I think we went through the same nightmare with a certain person.’
For a moment Sylvie thought she meant the moondancing with Magus, but then she remembered Buzz and nodded with a grimace.
‘Please – I’m Sylvie, not “miss”. And yes, I heard he attacked you first. It sounded awful.’
‘I was so frightened,’ said Rosie, shaking the curls from her eyes in a familiar gesture. ‘There was something mad about him, more than just a lad wanting a bit of fun. He were so vicious about it, like a dog gone crazed.’
‘He was the same with me – terrifying. I think if those gardeners hadn’t come in time he’d have killed me! I’m so grateful to them. Magus said he didn’t want me to talk to anyone about it but I think everyone knows now, don’t they?’
‘Oh aye, ‘tis common knowledge that Buzz attacked you too. Now they’re saying that’s why he were banished and ‘twere nothing to do with forcing himself on me. But I reckon it were because of both of us, and anyhow, makes no difference why he’s gone. I’m just pleased he has.’
‘Yes, it’s a relief knowing he won’t be coming back, isn’t it? But I’m not very popular with them now. They say I encouraged him, led him on.’
Sylvie nodded towards the group of Hallfolk girls spread out in the centre monopolising the large cushions.
‘Oh, they’re not worth bothering about, stupid Hallfolk,’ said Rosie, then gasped and put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh miss, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean …’
Sylvie laughed. ‘It’s okay. I’m really not one of them. I can’t stand them either and you’re right – they are stupid.’
They smiled at each other and then Rosie looked away in embarrassment.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, miss, I mean, Sylvie. It’s just … do you know my brother Yul?’
Sylvie found herself blushing scarlet, and Rosie giggled into her hand.
‘We been wondering, Mother and I, who’s this girl he’s hankering after. He’s so secretive and won’t tell us a thing, so I guessed it must be someone a bit different and I thought it might be you. He used to like that nasty Holly but he’s ove
r her, thank Goddess.’
Sylvie felt a sharp stab of jealousy.
‘So it’s true then – he liked Holly once?’ Sylvie’s throat went tight and her voice came out wrong. ‘Buzz told me there was some fight between him and Yul over Holly, but when I asked Yul he said he couldn’t stand her! I just can’t imagine anything going on between them as she doesn’t seem his type at all – she’s so spiteful.’
‘Oh don’t you worry – it were a while ago, before you came here, and it was nothing like he is about you. He just used to dance with her at the ceremonies up in the Circle and back in the Barn afterwards. They made a good pair, both very quick on their feet, but that’s been over a long time since.’
Sylvie stared at her in consternation, fighting the tears that prickled behind her eyes. Why had he never admitted that when they’d discussed it? Was he hiding something? Rosie glanced at her and frowned.
‘Honestly, miss, he never really liked her, not like he feels about you. I never seen him like this before. Yul’s completely moonstruck for you, and that’s what I really wanted to talk to you about. I hope you won’t mind me speaking plain, but I’m worried, you see.’
She took the piece of material now lying idle in Sylvie’s lap and began to sew, her stitches deft and tiny.
‘I’m worried about what will come of all this. Yul’s led a horrible life. I expect you know some of it but I’ll bet you don’t know the half of it. There are some things he’d never talk about and you probably wouldn’t believe it if he did. But he’s suffered so much ever since he were a little boy, no older than our Leveret is now. Our father was a hard, brutal man, and when it came to Yul he never had any self-control … Well, ‘tis over now, all that terrible cruelty to my poor brother.’
She sighed, finishing the hexagon and biting off the thread. Sylvie nodded, not sure exactly how much Rosie knew.
‘I heard some of it, and I can certainly see the difference in Yul since your father was taken ill.’
‘Aye,’ said Rosie quietly. Her face was shadowed as she stared down at her hands, and then she looked up at Sylvie, her lovely dark grey eyes brimming with tears. ‘This is the first time Yul’s been happy in his whole life and I don’t want to see him hurt. He truly loves you, ‘tis plain to see, but you’re Hallfolk and he’s just a Villager. Where’s the future in that? ‘Tis against our laws for you two to be walking together as sweethearts. I don’t know how you feel about him, whether ‘tis just a bit of fun for you or something deeper to match his feelings, but please, miss, I beg you – don’t hurt him, will you? Don’t break his heart.’
*
During October, as the land began to draw back into itself for winter, Sylvie learned of how Stonewylde dealt with its dead. At breakfast she heard people discussing how Old Humphrey had passed away during the night peacefully in his own bed, in the cottage where he’d lived all his life. He’d been a farmer and right up until the end had continued doing whatever odd jobs he could manage, making himself useful around the Village and playing his fiddle at the dances. Humphrey had an enormous family and was a well-liked member of the community. The funeral was set for the following day, there being no reason to delay, and Sylvie and Miranda were invited to attend along with the rest of the community. Sylvie was nervous; she’d been ill enough in the past to have felt the cold draught of mortality but had never been to a funeral before and had no experience of death.
Late afternoon the next day the resident Hallfolk walked together down the long drive, everyone dressed smartly but not in black. Clip, wearing a dark green cloak and carrying a staff, fell into step beside Sylvie and Miranda and smiled at them both.
‘This is your first Passing On, isn’t it? I’ll stay with you during the ceremony if you like. You’ll find it very unlike anything you’ve experienced before.’
‘I’m amazed at how many Hallfolk are going,’ said Sylvie. ‘I wouldn’t have thought they’d go to a Villager’s funeral.’
She was pleased Clip was with them. Even though Mother Heggy had insisted it was he who’d put the spell on her and she knew he’d been at Mooncliffe with Magus for the Moon Fullness, somehow he didn’t fill her with the same fear and dread as his half-brother. There was something gentle about Clip, an inner core of kindness where Magus had only cold steel.
‘Humphrey was a popular chap and, being so old, he’s been around for most people’s entire lives. Hallfolk and Villagers usually attend each other’s Passing On. We may live different lives and I expect you’ve noted how segregated our worlds are, yet actually we do integrate at certain points in the year and certain times in our lives. Festivals, hand-fastings, funerals – we all join together for these and share in the ceremonies as they’re such an important part of our culture. We’re a community and you’re never alone in a true community.’
‘So what should we expect at this funeral?’ asked Miranda coolly, irritated that Clip had attached himself to them.
‘It’s a cremation, not a burial,’ said Clip, ‘and it takes place outside.’
‘Why do you call it a Passing On?’ asked Sylvie.
‘Because that’s what we believe death is. Your soul passes on to a different place.’
‘Like heaven and hell?’
‘No!’ laughed Clip. ‘Absolutely not – that’s a Christian concept! We call it the Otherworld and it’s the next stage in your soul’s journey. Your soul spends some time in this world and then it passes on to another world when your time here’s finished. Our ceremony honours the person’s life and offers a send-off to the next world. We need to dispose of the body, of course, and comfort those who remain behind, but we don’t see death as the end, nor as an opportunity for divine punishment or reward.’
They walked some way further and instead of forking into the Village, headed towards the higher woods surrounding the Stone Circle. They didn’t go up the Long Walk but turned off at a path marked by two carved stones. Sylvie saw that the images carved in relief were crows, and she shivered. The crowd of Hallfolk had fallen silent now as they walked along the stony path. They were surrounded on either side by dead bracken of a deep gold and bright silver birch trees, their leaves yellow and trunks papery white. All around in the undergrowth Sylvie saw different types of fungus and mushrooms and thought what a good place this would be for her research, although she wouldn’t like to come here alone.
‘Clip, where are we going?’ she whispered. Miranda walked in front of them, for the path wasn’t wide enough for three abreast. He bent his head to answer her.
‘To the Yew of Death. Are you alright, Sylvie? You’re pale.’
She nodded although her hands were shaking.
‘I’m okay thanks. It’s just a bit daunting.’
He patted her shoulder.
‘Don’t be scared. Death isn’t frightening. I’ve seen the other side, the Otherworld, and it’s a good place to go when your time here’s done. The only thing that’s frightening is the unknown, and the idea that death is the end. It isn’t, believe me. I promise you, nothing you’ll see today will give you cause for fear.’
The path continued for some time and gradually the silver birches gave way to oak trees. Acorns clustered thickly amongst the leaves, just beginning to turn ochre. Squirrels scurried up and down the trunks, leaping between branches and bounding across the ground. The oaks were dense around them, overhanging the path which now led downhill into a secluded valley. Sylvie had never visited this part of Stonewylde before and looked around with interest. The route was marked with waist-high stones, many of them carved with crows and some with skulls. There were lanterns on each stone to mark the way, although there was still some murky daylight. Sylvie heard the soft beat of drums coming from the valley below and the hair on her arms began to rise. Still the procession walked on in silence, travelling down deeper into the woods, and at last they came to a great clearing.
Sylvie gasped at the sight before her. At the far end of the huge open area stood a yew tree, bigger than any tree
she’d seen in her life. It had many twisted trunks all rising from a single massive bole, covered with pink-brown scaly bark. The bole was hollow, creating a huge open cave of contorted wood, and she could see dark figures inside. She remembered what Professor Siskin had told her about the yew tree regenerating itself, and how yews could live for thousands of years. She wondered how old this one was. Its dark green spiky slips made a huge canopy, and in places the gnarled branches hung low. The ground underneath the yew was strange; soft grey and powdery, and covered with pebbles.
What really drew the eye, however, was the funeral pyre in the centre of the arena. It was built of a series of criss-cross rafts of wood, and stood chest high to a man. On top was a bier covered with slips of yew, forming a dark green bed upon which Humphrey’s body lay, dressed in his ceremony robes. His shock of white hair was bright in the gloom. His arms were crossed on his chest and he looked peaceful, as if he were sleeping. The clearing was full of Villagers in their best clothes or ceremony robes, and the long procession of Hallfolk pouring into the circle mingled with them. The drums still beat softly, the rhythms weaving in and out of each other and making a strangely comforting background layer of sound. Clip stayed close to Sylvie and she was glad of his presence beside her.
‘The yew’s wonderful, isn’t it?’ he whispered to her.
‘Yes! It’s massive, even bigger than the one on the Green,’ she whispered back.
‘It’s special because it’s the tree of …’
‘… life and death and rebirth,’ she finished for him, smiling.
‘Well done! Who told you that?’
‘Yul,’ she said, without thinking.
‘Did he now? Are you still hanging around with him?’
‘Oh no!’ she said, shaking her head vehemently.
He looked down at her with raised eyebrows, then pointed to the oak trees all around them.
‘Look, Sylvie. See the birds?’
She was shocked to see the trees’ branches clustered with hundreds of black birds, mostly rooks and crows. They perched in silence, fidgeting slightly, and she felt a little spooked.