The Tall Stones

by Moyra Caldecott

  She stood silently for a while. Strangely all the sounds of the crowd disappeared, as though they were in a pocket of reality that had no sound, no movement. She was aware of nothing, no one but Karne, and he of her.

  At last he stepped forward and before she knew it had happened she was close in his arms and his lips were on her face and neck. She shut her eyes and the overwhelming feeling that she had longed for, of him enfolding her and loving her, was hers.

  Kyra moved away quickly to leave them alone together, her heart full with love for them both and pleasure at their pleasure.

  * * * *

  Wardyke’s trial was not protracted. After the list of accusations, suggestions for punishment were put forward. Kyra joined the crowd in time to hear that banishment was the most favoured, to be preceded by a ceremony at the Sacred Circle to call down the help of the gods to keep him from practising his evil ways again.

  He was then stripped of his magnificent robes and made to walk naked and ridiculous, shivering in the night air, to his grand house, which was then set on fire, together with all the trappings of his power. As the flames roared upwards and lit the determined faces of the people gathered around, there could be no doubt in Wardyke’s mind that he was finished as a magician-priest.

  The fire lasted a long time and the night turned into a kind of weird celebration. Drums were brought, and other musical instruments. People danced and sang, lit fitfully by the red glow from Wardyke’s house. He was clad in the oldest rags they could find and tied to a stake to watch the festivities. He had to endure many indignities. People spat in his face, people jeered at him.

  Kyra watched him for a long time, wondering at all that had happened.

  The pivot on which the whole thing had turned was, as the Lords of the Sun had said it would be, confidence.

  Karne standing so tall and proud upon the platform, sustained by the pain of his love for Fern, had believed that he could overthrow the magician. And in that moment Wardyke doubted, and he was finished.

  Too weary at last to endure any more, Kyra crept back to her home and to her warm, soft, sleeping rug. She had seen no sign of Fern and Karne, but as she slipped into a deep and blessed sleep she knew they were all right.

  Chapter 18

  The Invisible Binding

  The next dawn found Wardyke alone and shivering, still tied to the stake beside the cold embers of his home. The villagers had all gone to get what rest they could before the excitement of the ceremony at the Sacred Circle. Only a stray dog was abroad, sniffing and lifting its leg against the blackened stumps of the great columns that had once held up the grandest house that had ever been in this village.

  Wardyke was tired, stiff, dirty and cold. No one was guarding him and yet not one of the strangers had come to set him free. He saw some of them leaving with all their animals and their belongings in the early dawn, without so much as a backward glance. Bitterly his hungry eyes roamed the valley, trying to summon up some of his old will power, his old command. But it is not easy to be commanding when you are cold and hungry, aching in every limb, and tied in a crouching position to a stake.

  As the first rays of the sun began to melt the frost upon the grass, the village began to stir again. Not one person seemed to notice him, seemed to remember him. They went about their business as though he were invisible. He could smell warm food cooking, hear cheerful voices talking, and tears of longing came to his eyes. He began to think about banishment and the fact that he would be travelling in winter, with conditions at their worst and food difficult to come by. He had never been a hunter. Everything had always been provided for him and to fend for himself in the hostile forests or the mountains, where certainly he would be driven by the malicious villagers, would be almost impossible.

  ‘I will die,’ he thought gloomily, and the thought of death made him afraid. When he was riding high he had not thought of the consequences of his actions. Everything had seemed justified to magnify his power. But now that he was low, he began to realize that what he had done had no justification and would have to be faced.

  At his lowest ebb he turned his face to the east and thought about the gods he had so mocked. He remembered the falling stars and knew now they had a different interpretation. He remembered how even in the circle at the height of his power he had been unable to ‘travel’. Not believing in the gods, he had used them to fool his gullible people. Now he was not sure they did not mock him.

  It could not have been that boy alone who overthrew the mighty Wardyke.

  At this moment he heard his name called and looked round. A village girl holding a bowl of hot food was beside him. His eyes were those of a hungry dog. She fed him carefully and gently with her fingers. He gulped and swallowed thankfully, feeling warmth creeping into his cramped and icy limbs as he did so.

  ‘What is your name, girl?’ he asked when he was finished. He could remember seeing her in the village from time to time.

  ‘Kyra,’ she said quietly, standing up, the bowl now empty.

  ‘Thank you, Kyra,’ he said from his heart. ‘I will not forget your kindness.’

  She smiled and bowed slightly.

  ‘I think there are many things you will not forget,’ she said quietly, and walked away.

  Was she woman or child? He could not tell.

  * * * *

  The ceremony was held at noon. No one knew quite what to do as this situation had never arisen before, but on Karne’s advice it was agreed that Kyra should enter the circle and pray for help to the gods. It was hoped that the gods would give some sign that they had heard and that Wardyke would effectively have all his powers as a magician-priest somehow removed from him, like sand upon the beach that had pictures drawn upon it in the morning and by the afternoon had been washed clean and bare by the tide.

  It was also agreed that until their new priest arrived Kyra would act as best she could, as it was unthinkable to them to live without the constant two-way flow of communication with the gods. She would not be able to handle all the winter ceremonial but at least they would not be completely alone through the long and dangerous months.

  Just before noon the villagers began to gather round the Sacred Circle. There was a feeling of excited apprehension among them. They had heard of Kyra’s adventures within the circle, but were still not sure the gods would allow an untrained villager to meddle in their affairs. She had been safe before, would she be safe again?

  When the sun was almost at its zenith for that time of year, Kyra entered the circle. She had no priest’s clothes to wear, no magnificent regalia, but she walked with such dignity and poise it was as though she were fittingly clad. Her hair had been combed a hundred times by her mother and stood out about her shoulders like a fine golden cloak. She had tied the white crystal from Maal’s tomb with a thin hide thong so that it could hang around her neck as she had seen the priest’s jade in the Temple of the Sun. Before she appeared in public, she held it against her forehead and said a silent and passionate prayer to Maal for help. After that she felt much calmer, and as she walked she felt its comforting weight against her heart reminding her of the promise of Maal and of the Lords of the Sun.

  Strangely she felt no fear as she entered the circle this time. It was as though she had a right and it was as though she knew what to do.

  The crowd was very quiet, holding their breath, as she took the step through the entrance stones, but when nothing untoward happened to her they drew breath again and bowed their heads briefly in acknowledgement that she was speaking for them to the gods.

  She walked with measured tread around the circle bowing slightly to each stone, each time calling on the unseen Spirits of the spirit world and the one great God who ruled over them to give her people council and help in this difficult time.

  Since she had spoken with the young priest in the desert temple she had tried not to think of the gods in any kind of form, and now, standing within the Sacred Circle, she saw them as influences used by the One who wo
re the whole magnificence of existence as we wear our bodies, a cloak that gives appearance to our invisible reality.

  She knew that if all that existed in material reality were to be discarded as we discard our bodies in death, there would still be the One, nameless, formless, power source which could create another material universe in any form it willed, however many times it willed.

  And if it willed to stay without a manifest form then it could and would.

  She knew there was no necessity to existence as we know it. But because it Is at this moment, and we Are at this moment, we should accept it and enjoy its multifarious forms, not wasting a second of it, learning what we can from it while it lasts.

  Knowing what consciousness means to us, that marvellous faculty imagination makes the leap to help us understand the consciousness of God. But this leap is not easily made and happens only in splendid moments of illumination, hardly at all at the beginning of our journey, increasing as we grow in capacity to understand, and finally becoming a permanent state when we return to our source, capable at last of taking our part in his kind of consciousness, his kind of will, motive, choice and imagination.

  At this point we add to him as he has been adding to us and we play our part in the great cycle of Being that turns forever.

  Standing transfixed in the middle of the Sacred Circle Kyra saw these things with great clarity. But even as she grasped them they began to slip from her and she slithered back into her imperfect body.

  ‘No, please do not go,’ she whispered, and lifted her arms to plead with them to return.

  But as she lifted her arms the watching crowd who were unaware of her inner experience took the movement as a sign for the ceremony to commence.

  Wardyke was brought to the entrance of the circle by the Elders and propelled by a deft push to fall at her feet.

  Dazed, she looked down and saw the man who had been so powerful and grand, clad in rags, bound with hide ropes, dirty and dishevelled, at her feet. Tears came to her eyes and she stooped down and raised him up. To their astonishment the crowd saw Kyra undo his bindings and brush the dust from his face and body.

  Then she took his hands and stood looking deeply into his eyes.

  Wardyke had been amazed to see the girl within the circle, and as he was pushed and chivvied along the path to her he had begun to hope that he could get back his lost control. Now as she lifted him up and released his bonds he was sure he could. Something of his old fire came back to his eyes and he looked boldly into hers, expecting hers to waver and fall before long.

  But strangely the deep blue pools of her eyes seemed to draw his strength from him. He found too late he could not withdraw his gaze and she was compelling him in some way to follow her.

  He seemed to be getting deeper and deeper into something he could not understand. But she drew him on. Visions of the sea came to him and he was sinking within it, seeing in great detail all its strange and varied denizens, its intricate and secret life. He swam among great beasts in the deeps and floated in the flickering light of sun on crystal sand in the shallows, seeing minute fish exquisitely shimmering luminous blue and silver, creatures so small he knew he was seeing in a way no human eye had ever seen before. He knew in some magical way he was seeing within the creatures the curious and beautiful constructions of their inmost parts.

  From this vision of the infinitely minute, his awareness seemed to expand and he was floating in the sky surveying mountains and plains, till they in their turn grew smaller and he was yet higher, amongst worlds and suns and stars . . . the infinitely huge was not beyond his vision . . . and all that he had seen was moving in constantly changing relationships, in patterns of perfect proportion and harmony.

  When he had grasped this, Kyra and her spirit helpers allowed him to return. Dumb with awe at what he had seen he felt like an infant who was seeing the world for the first time and did not know what to make of it.

  Kyra released his hands, released his gaze, and slowly and with measured steps began to circle round him . . . round and round and round . . . holding in her hand an invisible thread . . .

  When she was done she looked at him and said, ‘You are bound now with bindings that you cannot see. They will prevent you practising as magician-priest, but as you learn the meaning of the vision that you have just seen and begin to treat the universe and its creator with respect . . . the bindings will gradually disappear. When you are ready, you will be free.’

  He bowed his head, feeling very weak and very humble.

  She pointed to the path leading away from the circle.

  In a daze he walked out of the circle and on to the path.

  No man touched him. In silence the villagers watched him go.

  Kyra lowered her head once more to the tall stones that represented the different states of the unseen world, and she in her turn trod the path into the valley.

  It was not until she was out of sight that the villagers shivered slightly and moved. They, although they had not understood all that had happened, felt the presence of the spirit realm and knew that something very significant had taken place.

  But enough was enough. With movement came release, and within seconds they were all chattering and comparing notes, children were dashing about, mothers were hurrying home to prepare a meal and all was noisy but comfortable confusion.

  Chapter 19

  The Wedding and the Call

  Wardyke was given warm clothes, good food and weapons for hunting and defence, and sent on his way. The last of his supporters left with him. Those strangers who remained asked to be members of the village and showed every sign of wanting to settle down and be integrated with the community. The community accepted them.

  A pleasant time of peace returned to the valley and as though to put the seal of the gods upon it the weather stayed bright and mild much later into the winter than anyone could remember it doing before.

  The whole community helped Fern and Karne erect their little house on the new site among the rocks and within days it was ready for occupation. The day after its completion was declared the wedding day, and the whole village looked forward to a real festival. There would be no priest for the blessing, but everyone was content that Kyra should say a few words. For the rest the wedding ceremony in the village community had never been very elaborate. It was enough that the community accepted a young couple setting up home, and celebrated with feasting and dancing the day they took up residence together.

  Each family contributed food and ale and the cooking fires were laid in a great circle in the flat area near the meeting stone.

  From a very early hour the village was alive with activity. The children were everywhere, running messages, carrying things, decorating a special place for Fern and Karne to stand during the blessing with arching boughs of gold and scarlet berries. Ji and Okan and their new friend had scoured far and wide to find leaves still upon the trees and in fact the best branch was from Fern’s new glen which was sheltered and warm compared to the rest of the valley. They had been taught by Fern to treat the trees with respect and took only branches that the tree no longer needed, cut them swiftly and cleanly with their father’s sharpest flint axe, warning the tree well in advance so that it could prepare itself.

  The day of the wedding was still and golden and the wedding arch was beautiful. As the final touches were put to it by a triumphant Ji the village children cheered and danced around it chanting little jingles of love for Fern and Karne.

  Karne was busy accepting presents of cows and sheep and goats from warm-hearted neighbours. He and some of the older lads set about building makeshift pens for them on the outskirts of the festivity area. Fern and Kyra lent a hand for a while until they were called home by Kyra’s mother. As she turned to go Fern gave one big shaggy cow with soft dozey eyes a big hug.

  ‘Welcome to the family,’ she said and kissed it on its hairy nose.

  Kyra laughed.

  ‘My favourite is that pure white goat,’ she said. ‘
I know she is going to bear many kids.’

  Fern ran her hand across its soft and silky back.

  ‘You are pretty enough to be married today,’ she laughed, and then called on one of the little girls to decorate the goat’s horns with little streamers of wool and feathery grasses.

  * * * *

  Kyra’s mother was fussing over what Fern should wear. Fern could not see the problem but Karne’s mother insisted that it should be something special.

  ‘You must wear the dress that I was married in,’ she said and brought out a dress the colour of spring.

  Fern gasped.

  ‘It was specially woven for my wedding,’ Kyra’s mother said proudly. ‘I think every woman in the village had a hand in it somehow.’ Her eyes looked misty as she gazed at it.

  Fern and Kyra fingered the cloth gingerly. It was the softest, finest weaving Fern certainly had ever seen, and only on her ‘travels’ had Kyra seen better.

  ‘The colour!’ Fern exclaimed in amazement.

  ‘I know,’ Kyra’s mother’s face glowed with pride at this. ‘A travelling merchant sold it to us for a great deal of my father’s best wool. He would not tell us how it was made so no one else in the whole village has a similar dress.’

  ‘You must wear it, Fern,’ Kyra cried. ‘It is the colour of new leaves and would be perfect for you!’

  Fern stroked it lovingly.

  ‘Could I really?’ she said, smiling at Kyra’s mother.

  ‘Of course you must! Try it on now.’

  Kyra helped her take off her old dress, the two girls bubbling with excitement over the new. As Fern raised her arms above her head and Kyra pulled her dress over her shoulders, Kyra’s mother caught her breath. The girl’s slim figure was definitely showing signs of thickening around the stomach.

  ‘Fern,’ she said sharply, ‘you are not with child?’

  Fern lowered her arms and stood naked, looking at her with a shadow of anxiety across her face.

  Kyra held her breath.

  After a pause Fern said quietly and soberly, ‘Yes, I am.’