Shadows at Stonewylde (53 page)

She hugged her mother, grimacing at the embrace as her stomach was still so sore. Maizie poured hot water into her earthenware bowl and started fiddling with the flannel and soap.

‘Mother, I can wash myself!’ Leveret smiled. ‘Stop fussing over me.’

Maizie left her bedroom whilst she quickly washed and pulled on the camisole and petticoat, but insisted on returning to help put on the special dress. When Leveret was laced up at the back she stood aside to admire her daughter.

‘’Tis perfect and fits a treat. You look so lovely in white.’

The dress was similar in style to the green one she’d worn at Yuletide, tight around the bodice and waist, with long pointed sleeves. The full skirts reached almost to the ground and ended in points, each one tipped with a green glass bead. Snowdrops were embroidered around the neck line, their green foliage making a pretty pattern that linked together to form a chain. She wore dainty green leather boots with heels, and later on in the Barn she would change them for silver dancing shoes.

When Maizie had admired her and tweaked at the lacing to her satisfaction, she sat Leveret down straight-backed in front of the small mirror and brushed her hair vigorously before sweeping the mass of long curls up and pinning them in a loose knot on her crown. Once again the transformation was startling – from wild-haired girl to an exquisite young woman. Then Maizie carefully lifted the head-dress and placed it on her head. It was a fine wicker wreath painted silver and interlaced with a whole drift of snowdrops, and it had sat outside in the cold all night so as not to wilt. On the front was an ancient crescent moon made from real silver that glimmered in the candle-light. It sat perfectly on Leveret’s head giving her added stature and making her green eyes seem enormous. Maizie sighed with pleasure.

‘Leveret, my little one, you’re the most beautiful Maiden there’s ever been,’ she breathed. ‘Even more beautiful than Sylvie was all those years gone by.’

Leveret smiled and thought wryly how blind a mother’s love could be. They went downstairs then and Maizie placed the special, heavy robes around her shoulders. The myriad silver moons embroidered on the snowy white material glinted and sparkled in the candlelight, and Leveret began to feel a little more confident. The Bright Maiden’s robes were a delight and wearing them, as countless other young girls had done over the years, made her feel magical.

‘Right, the carriage will be here any minute to collect us so there’s just time for your breakfast.’

Maizie rushed off into the kitchen and Leveret groaned at the thought of food. Her stomach was churning; cakes were the last things she wanted now. But ever anxious not to hurt her mother’s feelings, she nibbled a cake and sipped at the milk.

‘Come on, girl, get it down you! I know you’re nervous but you’ll feel better for having something in your belly. And it’ll be so cold up in that Circle. No, not just one – eat ’em both.’

Leveret forced the second cake down – they seemed heavier than usual with an after-taste too, though maybe that was just her nerves. She felt the crumbs sticking in her throat and hastily swallowed some milk, not wanting a choking fit now.

‘Aren’t you having any, Mother?’

‘No, I only left these two out for you. Those boys were so hungry last night that I brought in the lot apart from yours. I’ll have breakfast later in the Barn. Right, quickly brush your teeth and nip down to the privy. Mind your dress and boots!’

When Leveret returned from the earth closet outside she found her sister Rosie in the cottage talking with their mother. Rosie was all bundled up against the early morning chill and she carried a lantern.

‘I just popped in to wish you well today, Leveret,’ she said, kissing her little sister’s cheek. She stood back and surveyed her.

‘Don’t she look beautiful?’ said Maizie, pulling on her own cloak and woollen hat. ‘My special little Imbolc Maiden.’

‘Aye,’ said Rosie, staring at Leveret. ‘’Tis amazing how she’s transformed – a green caterpillar into a white butterfly. Leveret, I’m proud o’ you being chosen but make sure you do your best today, won’t you? You know all the words and the steps?’

Leveret nodded, her stomach somersaulting queasily.

‘My little Snowdrop’s so excited that her auntie’s the Bright Maiden, and so are Celandine and Bluebell,’ said Rosie. ‘Celandine has worked really hard so do make sure you say something kind to her, won’t you? ‘Tis her dearest wish that you’re pleased with her special dance.’

Leveret nodded again, still tasting the grease from the cakes and wishing she’d never eaten them.

‘I’m very nervous but I’ll do my best today,’ she said quietly.

‘That were kind o’ you to come specially to wish her well,’ said Maizie, looking for her mittens.

‘Aye, well …’

As Maizie went into the kitchen looking for the mittens, Rosie grabbed Leveret’s arm and whispered to her urgently.

‘
Don’t
let Mother down again, will you? She’s so very, very proud o’ you and it’ll break her heart if you spoil today. That’s what I really came to say.’

‘No, Rosie, of course I won’t,’ said Leveret, hurt that her sister had no faith in her.

‘Don’t sound so surprised!’ hissed Rosie sharply. ‘We both know that—’

She stopped as Maizie came back in the room and then the carriage arrived and they were off, with old Tom at the reins, up to the Stone Circle.

It was still dark up there and very wintry indeed. Leveret trembled with cold and nerves and was relieved that so few people attended this ceremony. Flickering lanterns had been placed under each stone making the darkness even deeper somehow. Yul was dressed in green robes decorated with crescents and stood behind the Altar Stone scowling at everyone. He’d been furious to discover the painting of the hare with green eyes on the biggest stone, not wishing his sister to be honoured any more than was strictly necessary. Sylvie looked beautiful in her silver and white ceremonial robes and smiled warmly at Leveret when she arrived.

‘You look lovely,’ she whispered. ‘I know how you feel – I was terrified at my Imbolc ceremony too. And happy birthday, Leveret! You’re fifteen today, aren’t you?’

Leveret had completely forgotten that, as had Maizie. Then Kestrel arrived with his father, looking strikingly handsome in the green outfit with a great cloak swirling round him. He looked at her admiringly and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

‘They made the right choice, Leveret – you’re gorgeous. Pity it’s not your sixteenth birthday today.’

She blushed at this and looked at the ground as her insides gave another queasy leap.

The ceremony started well, the intimate atmosphere making it feel all the more magical. Leveret remembered what she had to do, which wasn’t much at this ceremony beyond making some sweeping gestures with the traditional besom, stepping forward at the right moment to take the ceremonial silver bow from the Green Archer and chanting a few lines. Sylvie did most of the work, delivering her words faultlessly, her lovely clear voice rising out of the Circle. The sky gradually lightened to the south-east, becoming brighter and paler in the chill air and finally the sun rose, golden and bright. The bonfire was lit and crackled into life as Yul chanted on the Altar Stone, receiving the Earth Magic from its source and standing with his arms outstretched, his head tipped back.

He felt a mere flicker of energy pass through him and was bitterly disappointed. He’d really hoped that at this festival the Earth Magic would return to him but once more his hopes were dashed. He thought back to the night before with Sylvie. They were going through the motions and Sylvie was doing her best but clearly not feeling anything of her former passion or abandonment with him. He felt a surge of anger that completely doused the faint tingle of Earth Magic. What was the matter with her? It wasn’t
all
his fault.

When the people came to receive the energy from him, their obvious disappointment made him feel impotent. What he’d dreaded had come to pass and he glanced angrily at Sylvie, standing stony-faced and watching him with sadness in her eyes. He didn’t need her damn sympathy either. Leveret came forward then in her glimmering robes and despite his anger with her, he had to admit she was a perfect Maiden, tiny and delicate and so very pretty. She smiled tentatively up at him but he glared back at her, his face hard, and her smile faltered and died. She bowed her head as he took her hands in his, and withdrew them quickly when she realised that once again there was no jolt of magic flooding from him.

It wasn’t until the cakes and mead were passed around that Leveret started to feel really strange. She swallowed her cake and felt sick, still full from her breakfast. She quickly gulped down the mead and then regretted it, thinking she actually might be sick. She swayed slightly and Kestrel, standing next to her, put out a steadying hand. After that he held her hand and she was grateful for the warmth and comfort of it, and stunned that she was holding hands with the boy of her dreams.

Then the ceremony was over and Yul climbed down from the Altar Stone and went over to the bonfire to warm his hands. He felt humiliated about the lack of energy he’d passed on, and deeply concerned about where this was leading. He’d been magus for thirteen years – why was this happening now? The only consolation was that there weren’t many here today to witness it; hopefully he could rely on people’s loyalty not to tell the whole community. By the Spring Equinox he had to have the problem sorted and he glanced over to Sylvie who was talking with Greenbough. She must start moondancing at Hare Stone again – maybe that’d do the trick.

As he dwelled on his problems Leveret, standing near Sylvie and her mother, started to hallucinate. The ground was rising and falling in great waves which made her feel dizzy. She looked across the great Circle; Greenbough had moved away to speak to Martin and Edward near the entrance to the Long Walk, and Yul still stood by the bonfire.

‘Who’s that man with Yul?’ she asked, her voice sounding faraway in her ears. Maizie and Sylvie looked up.

‘What man?’ asked Maizie. ‘There’s no man with Yul.’

‘Yes there is – a tall man. Look, standing right by him.’

They both frowned at her.

‘Really there’s no one there, Leveret,’ said Maizie. ‘’Tis just Yul on his own, warming his hands. It must be the firelight playing tricks with your eyes.’

Leveret stared again.

‘There! He’s moved around the fire and now he’s facing us.’

Sylvie had turned very pale all of a sudden and she closed her eyes in despair. The man looked up then, staring straight across the Circle at Leveret. His silvery hair gleamed in the firelight as he smiled at her, bowing his head in a gracious gesture of deference to the Bright Maiden. Leveret smiled back and then blinked in surprise as he seemed to dissolve before her eyes, leaving Yul standing alone by the flickering flames of the Imbolc fire.

Two carriages were waiting at the end of the Long Walk as Sylvie had arrived in one too; it was important that the women’s lovely white and silver robes and dresses remained unmuddied. Sylvie climbed into the same one as Leveret, so Maizie and Miranda shared the other one and everyone else walked as usual. As they drove back to the Village Sylvie looked sideways at her sister-in-law, who sat bolt upright staring ahead.

‘Are you feeling alright, Leveret?’

She was feeling far from alright. The tiny carriage seemed to be breathing around her, closing in on her and then receding again. She felt very strange indeed and wished that Clip were here, but he’d told her that today he must celebrate privately in the Dolmen.

‘Yes.’

Sylvie swallowed and clasped her hands to stop them trembling.

‘That man you saw in the Circle near Yul – can you tell me what he looked like?’

‘I don’t know,’ mumbled Leveret, trying to focus her eyes.

‘Please, Leveret, it’s really important,’ said Sylvie urgently, her heart beating wildly. ‘Please try and describe him. I have to know what you saw.’

‘He was big and tall and he had blond hair like Martin’s and Clip’s. But … it was strange … apart from his hair and his age he looked
exactly
like Yul.’

Sylvie sat back in her seat abruptly and took a ragged breath, relief flooding through her.

‘Thank you, Leveret,’ she said quietly, her voice shaking. ‘At least I know now I’m not going mad.’

Breakfast was laid out in the Barn – sweet crescent-shaped rolls and a warming brew of milk, honey and malt. Leveret could face none of it and sat silently in her own world as people gradually started to arrive for the day’s festivities. After breakfast there was a brief opening ceremony led by Sylvie, who passed another beribboned besom to the Bright Maiden who must ceremonially sweep away the winter debris ready for the shoots of spring.

Then the Green Archer had to perform his first duty of the day. A tall ladder was brought in, also decorated with white ribbons, and placed upright against a rafter. After bowing to his Bright Maiden, Kestrel began to ascend steadily, the crowd chanting as each rung was climbed, until he reached the rafter. There lay the great Corn Spirit dolly on a nest of woven straw. Carefully Kestrel lifted the huge spiralling neck of woven and plaited stalks, its wheat ears still fanned out at one end, though spilling a few kernels, the red, gold and green ribbons dusty and a little cobwebbed. He placed the huge dolly, as long as his arm but even thicker, into a wicker pannier strapped to his belt. He descended to excited cheers and solemnly handed the dolly to Leveret with a sweeping bow. She took the huge dusty neck in her arms and stared blankly at him.