by Kit Berry
Sweyn and Gefrin stood up quickly, anxious to be gone. Gefrin stumbled as the blood rushed to his head and he grabbed at his younger, heavier brother to steady himself. Sweyn was caught off balance and crashed into the empty hearth, knocking his head hard on the lintel. All three women squawked at this, unable to get up, and Jay ducked out of the way as Sweyn toppled over, narrowly missing him. The whole incident happened fast, leaving the young man groaning on the filthy floor, a huge blue lump on his temple.
‘Bloody hell, Sweyn!’ cried Gefrin, trying to bend over his brother and almost falling headlong into the greasy ashes in the hearth himself. ‘I’m sorry – are you alright?’
Sweyn groaned and Jay bent to take a look.
‘Silly bugger’s almost knocked himself out,’ he said.
‘ ’Twas to be expected,’ cried Vetchling, but broke off as the cough took hold of her.
Violet tried to make herself heard over the awful lung-wrenching sound of her sister’s suffering.
‘Put a cold compress on it,’ she screeched, waving a gnarled hand at the boys. ‘We ain’t got nothing here, but do that when you get back. Now take him out of here! I don’t want no poking about in my cottage asking questions! Get out!’
Gefrin managed to heave Sweyn into a sitting position, and then with Jay’s help, get him up on his feet. The heavy youth stood swaying between them, still unable to speak.
‘Off you go, lads,’ cried Starling. ‘Shut the door behind you – we got work to do tonight!’
Yul sat with his back to the Hare Stone. He’d watched the sun setting and had, to his surprise, felt a thrill of earth energy in his veins as it disappeared behind the hills. Swifts sliced above his head in a breathtaking aerial display as they devoured gnats in the warm, still air. Gradually the birds’ high-pitched twittering stopped and the skies darkened. Yul tipped his head back, his knees hugged to his chest, and gazed up at the dome of night above his head. Sylvie wasn’t coming – of that he was sure. She’d have been here by now.
He felt a hard knot of disappointment in his chest. Why had he criticised her in the Stone Circle? Why couldn’t he just hold back for once? He was desperate to heal the rift between them and make it right again. If only she’d come tonight, he could have shown her just how much he loved her. He imagined her spread out on the grass beside him, her hair like a great silver fan, her slim arms reaching out and pulling him down as their lips found each other . . .
His eyes flew open as he heard the sound of someone approaching. His heart hammered in his chest – he’d try so hard to get it right tonight. His eyes prickled with tears as he thought just how much he loved Sylvie – his beautiful moon-angel. He longed to watch her spread her wings and dance, with the moonbeams caressing her white skin and the starlight sparkling in her silver eyes. She was his magical, moongazy girl and—
A blonde head appeared and instantly he knew it wasn’t Sylvie. His hopes and excitement deflated like a punctured balloon and he hung his head bitterly. In the near darkness, the figure came further into view, climbing the steep hill. Just as he recognised who it was, she called out to him.
‘There you are!’ she cried. ‘What happened to you?’
She was a little out of breath and threw herself down on the short grass in front of him.
‘What?’ He didn’t want to engage with her at all tonight – he just couldn’t be bothered. She wasn’t Sylvie and that’s all that mattered.
‘One minute you were greeting me and the next you’d vanished!’ she said.
‘What are you talking about?’ he said crossly. ‘I haven’t greeted you.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous – you just called me by name a minute ago! Down there, by the rocks just now. I’ve been looking all over the place for you – I thought you were playing some kind of silly hide-and-seek amongst the boulders when you vanished like that. Anyway, here you are and – oh!’
As they were speaking, the moon had risen and was now a great golden disc floating on the horizon, the heat in the atmosphere making its edges appear jagged.
‘Goddess but that’s beautiful!’ breathed Rainbow. ‘So very beautiful.’
She sat up and spun round to face the rising moon, glad she’d found Yul at least, though it was a pity Sylvie wasn’t here. Magpie had captured something so magical, and she was intrigued to see how much was real and how much his imagination.
Rainbow and Yul sat for some time in silence. They watched the diagonal path of the moon as she rose stealthily in the warm night, stars twinkling around her in the dark velvet sky. The scent of cut hay was strong, and above their heads bats took over where the swifts had left off, as moths fluttered in the darkness all around them. But Sylvie wasn’t here and they both felt her absence. Rainbow reached across and patted his leg.
‘Were you waiting for her too?’
When he didn’t answer, she sighed and wriggled herself backwards to rest against the monolith next to him. The stone warmed her back and she closed her eyes, thinking that life couldn’t really be more perfect than this. A warm summer’s evening at Stonewylde, the full moon overhead and Yul by her side with nobody to disturb them. But his next words smashed her fantasy.
‘You’ve been at Stonewylde long enough, Rainbow – since the Equinox. It’s the Solstice in two weeks’ time and after that I want you to leave.’
‘What? Why?’
‘This was only ever meant to be a short visit for you to do some sketching. It’s been three months now and that’s enough. We can’t have you thinking you live here.’
‘But . . . why not? Why can’t I live here?’
‘Because you don’t belong here.’
‘Why not? I have as much right to be here as you, or Sylvie, or anyone else. I spent large chunks of my childhood here and I love Stonewylde. I think that—’
‘You don’t have any right to be here. Folk here don’t like you being around – you make them feel uncomfortable.’
‘Do I make you feel uncomfortable, Yul?’
‘No, of course not! Only in so far as you don’t belong here and don’t share our common ethos.’
‘If I go quietly after the Solstice, will you allow me back again for another visit?’
He thought about this for a moment.
‘To be honest, Rainbow – it’s unlikely. Sylvie never wanted—’
‘Sod what bloody Sylvie wanted! How can you be so damn cruel? I absolutely love Stonewylde and it’s not fair that you can just send me away. I do belong here and I know that if I could stay, I’d become a great asset to the community. I’d bring in revenue, and—’
‘We don’t want Hallfolk money,’ said Yul coldly, stretching out his legs ready to stand. Rainbow put her hand on his thigh and stroked it, feeling hard muscle through the thin material.
‘Yul, you know how I feel. Please . . . don’t send me away. I’ll do anything to stay, anything at all. I could make you very happy, and—’
He brushed her hand away and stood up quickly, ignoring the unbidden throb of desire.
‘I already am happy, thank you very much, and nothing you could—’
‘No, you’re not!’ she cried angrily. ‘You’re as miserable as sin and I know why! A man like you – a real, red-blooded man – needs a woman by his side. Your beloved wife has chosen to leave you and move out – how can you say you’re happy? I don’t think you know the meaning of the word any more. And—’
But he’d gone, striding off down the hill without a backward glance. The hares sitting upright in the long grass gazing at the moon slid down onto their bellies or scattered as he approached. Rainbow was left on her own on the hilltop in the silvery darkness.
In the moonlit cottage, Leveret sat in the rocking chair with Hare in her lap. Her eyes were shut and she stroked the soft fur, fondling Hare’s velvet ears with a gentle touch. She felt at peace; earlier in the evening she’d put on her hare headdress and cast a spell of protection around the whole cottage. At the last minute she’d abandoned the for
mal ritual she’d memorised. Doing what felt right was often better than doing something by the book, and Leveret had decided to trust her own instinct tonight.
As the moon rose she’d been ready outside the cottage with Hare on the ground beside her. The creature’s paw had mended cleanly, and, although she’d never run like others of her kind, she could lope about quite happily. Leveret had a shoulder bag full of lavender gathered earlier in the day and now, with Mother Heggy’s athame in her hand pointing skywards, she shuffled slowly around the cottage in a widdershins direction strewing the herbs on the ground with the other hand. She called on the power and magic of the Bright Lady, the Triple Goddess as Mother, to protect the hallowed cottage. Hare lolloped along by her side until they’d completed a circle around the building.
‘I ask you to protect this little house from all harm, to keep away those with ill intent, and to welcome all who come with an open heart!’ Leveret said softly. ‘I ask you to make it a place of healing and magic, for me as it was for Mother Heggy. I ask for her spirit to bless the place, and help me become as wise as she was.’
Hare sat down and raised her long ears. There was a flurry of wings and the crow landed on the roof. His one white feather glowed in the moonlight and his beady eye gleamed. He perched on the new thatch and began to CAW very loudly in the darkness.
‘Five, always five!’ came a rustling whisper, so Leveret continued to circle the building, bringing down the moon magic through the athame and her own body, casting a ring of protection and energy around the tiny cottage. She didn’t stop until she’d made five circuits, and then the crow fluttered down from the roof and stood at the threshold looking in through the open door.
Leveret watched, holding her breath, hoping desperately that the bird would enter the cottage. But it let out another mighty CAW and, with a clumsy flapping of wings, flew off into the silver night. Disappointed, Leveret went inside with Hare at her heels and poured herself a small measure of mead. She sat in the centre of the pentagram, the hare headdress still draped over her head, and drank the mead and ate a little cake, honouring the bounty of Stonewylde and the Earth Mother.
She tried hard to focus on Mother Heggy and call the spirit of the Wise Woman into the pentagram. She hoped for another vision, something that would offer guidance and advice. But nothing came and, after a while of sitting in the darkness, Leveret rose and moved across to the rocking chair. Now she sat here, gently rocking, with Hare in her lap.
Gradually her eyes drooped shut and her hand stilled. Girl and creature dozed whilst the Lady Moon climbed higher, peering into the silvery thatch and through the shadowy casements, brushing an outline of moonlight onto the tiny bent figure in battered hat and ancient boots who stood in the centre of the pentagram watching.
11
Leveret and Magpie, in their battered straw hats, were hard at work in the walled Kitchen Garden. Earlier in the year, Clip had negotiated with Thorn, the head gardener, and they’d agreed on a good-sized plot where Leveret could create a medicinal herb garden. Many of the plants, fungi and bark needed for natural remedies would be foraged from the hedgerows and woods, but some plants must be specially cultivated in larger quantities. Magpie had been assigned to work permanently in Leveret’s garden as he’d proved himself worthy of the responsibility, and Marigold and Cherry were delighted at this acknowledgement of his progress.
The piece of ground that Leveret had been given was slightly tucked away from the busier parts of the enormous Kitchen Garden, in a warm and sheltered spot. Leveret had studied designs of old herb gardens and then planned hers carefully, using every available bit of the rich soil. Many plants were already flourishing thanks to the very warm weather, and Magpie now hoed away the weeds whilst Leveret harvested some bright orange heads of calendula into her wicker basket. In the shade of the high brick wall lay Hare, snoozing in the heat; she was never far from Leveret’s side. Bees hummed busily, their bodies fuzzy with pollen, and butterflies danced in the bright sunshine. In the air hung the aroma of many scented plants – lavender and lemon balm, catmint and clary sage – layer upon layer of fragrance rising from the profusion of Leveret’s medicinal plants.
By the brick arch leading into the walled Kitchen Garden, next to an espaliered peach tree, stood Rainbow, silently watching the pair at work. With their coarse work-clothes and battered straw hats, they could have been from another century. Leveret was chattering away to Magpie and Rainbow drew a couple of sketches, then took her tiny camera from her shoulder bag and quickly snapped the boy and girl as they worked. Magpie looked up and spotted her, and immediately Leveret’s head shot up too. It was very strange, Rainbow thought; as if he’d warned her they were being watched, which of course was impossible.
Now that she’d been spied, Rainbow sauntered over to where they worked, ignoring the other gardeners and a couple of students on work detail. She wore a cornflower blue dress today and Stonewylde sandals and a pretty straw hat, finely made and decorated with ribbons and a flower.
‘Hi!’ she said. ‘You two look so happy working here together. I wondered, Leveret – are you and Magpie going out? I mean walking together?’
Leveret shot her a withering look and shook her head. Then Rainbow noticed Hare and went over to stroke her, marvelling at the creature’s huge amber eyes and finding her twitching nose adorable. This was the perfect introduction to the subject she wished to broach, although she was unsure whether to address Leveret alone or include Magpie as well.
‘I’ve seen Magpie’s beautiful painting of Sylvie up by Hill Stone at the last full moon,’ she said. ‘It’s absolutely stunning.’
Leveret nodded, not wanting to encourage the woman to stay any longer than necessary. She’d ruined the peace and sense of purpose they’d been enjoying.
‘When I leave Stonewylde to go back into the Outside World for a while, I wondered if I might take a few of Magpie’s smaller paintings with me? I’d like to show them around, maybe hang a few in my next exhibition. Would that be alright?’
Leveret frowned, knowing it was certainly not alright.
‘Magpie would hate his paintings to be taken away,’ she said. ‘So no, you can’t.’
‘That’s a pity. He’s so talented and I think he has a great future as an artist. I’d like to be the one to introduce him to the main players in the Outside World.’
‘Magpie isn’t interested in the Outside World.’
‘But he deserves public recognition! He could be famous and—’
‘Why? How would that make his life any better? Recognition here at Stonewylde, where people have mocked and abused him all his life – that would be good and he deserves that. But the Outside World . . .’
Leveret made the dismissive flick sign and resumed her picking. Rainbow shrugged and bent to examine some huge opium poppy-heads. She pulled out her sketchbook and, with a few pencil strokes, the poppies were on her page forever, caught in perfect full bloom before time could ravage them. Magpie was watching her carefully, his turquoise eyes examining her face. She smiled at him and he smiled back.
‘Magpie, I really love your painting of Sylvie in the moonlight with the hares. It’s absolute magic.’
His grin widened and he nodded eagerly. Tentatively he reached out for her sketchbook, which she passed to him. He leafed through it slowly, pausing over some of her fanciful interpretations which seemed to interest him more than the technical reproductions.
‘Would you like to see some of my work?’ she asked, touching his arm. ‘It’s all in Merewen’s studio down at the Pottery. Would you like to come down with me and have a look?’
He nodded, but Leveret intervened crossly.
‘We’re working!’ she said. ‘Stonewylders do have to work, you know, not just swan around all day.’
‘In that case I’ll arrange it through David, when Magpie’s working at his art,’ replied Rainbow smoothly. ‘I won’t take your boyfriend away from scratching around in the dirt with you, missy. We’ll do
it later, when he’s engaged in more creative activities. See you later, Magpie!’
Leveret watched Rainbow’s retreating back with a scowl. She disliked everything about the woman, from the golden down on her arms and legs to the calculated coquetry of her smile. She was so artful and false, and Leveret couldn’t stand it.
‘If you go down to the Village with her, Maggie, make sure David’s with you. Be very, very careful of that woman, won’t you?’
He nodded, and she sensed from him the image of a rainbow in the sky and dark clouds blowing in to obliterate it. That made her laugh and they resumed their work with renewed enthusiasm.
Later in the day with the calendula picked and ready to be infused, Leveret went up to Mother Heggy’s cottage to begin work. She and Magpie had lugged up all the things that she’d need to make the cottage a working Wise Woman’s place. There was ample firewood, a bucket for collecting water and a cauldron for boiling it, bottles, flasks and jugs, Leveret’s pestle and mortar, chopping knives and mixing spoons, ladles and pipettes, paper, muslin and labels. They’d also brought up a few creature comforts, and the old hovel was now clean and bright, with colourful crochet-patch cushions and blankets on the settle, a small rag-rug on the stone floor and gleaming bottles on the dresser. A jar of flowers sat on the table and a small fire burned in the hearth.
Leveret had found the trickling spring hidden in the bracken and half filled the bucket. This spring-water was now in the cauldron over the fire, and, while waiting for it to boil, Leveret lined up the bottles and laid out all the tools she’d need to make a calendula tincture. She was making an ointment for general skin conditions too, but the tincture was for Clip. He never spoke of it, but she was sure he was suffering from some kind of digestive problem. Calendula was known to be effective for this and she hoped it would detoxify and cleanse his system, and maybe help his body to repair any internal damage. She also had a large basket of lavender flowers for distilling their essential oil; this was good for relieving stomach cramps and colic, and she’d seen poor Clip double up when he thought she wasn’t looking. She’d tried to broach the subject and persuade him to visit Hazel but he simply denied any pain and laughed it off; too much fasting, too much food – anything but admit he had a problem. Leveret hoped that her remedies may help, and she poured out a measure of alcohol ready to add to the pile of brilliant orange petals.