Shadows at Stonewylde (9 page)

When she returned with it they both sat and looked at her.

‘Don’t improve with age, does she?’ laughed Sweyn.

‘Still ugly and skinny. I pity the man who ends up with her.’

‘Doubt anyone’d have her – nobody’d be that desperate.’

Leveret ignored them. They’d been mocking her looks since she was a small child and by now she thoroughly believed what they said.

‘Is there anything else or can I get on with the weaving now?’ she asked evenly.

‘Are you getting uppity?’

‘No.’

‘Is she meant to be weaving then?’ asked Gefrin, gulping at his cider.

‘Yeah, and she’s upset Mother good and proper tonight. Her cheeks were bright red – you know how they go when she’s rattled.’

‘Can’t have that, can we?’ giggled Gefrin, shaking the lank hair from his face.

‘No we can’t,’ agreed Sweyn. ‘Poor old Mother. Things have slipped since we left, haven’t they? I think Leveret needs to be taught a lesson tonight.’

‘Yes, a good lesson. What did you have in mind?’

‘Let’s have a little think. More cider, Lev! More cider, and then you can wait out in the scullery. Shut the door behind you.’

They wouldn’t let her take a cloak or shawl and made her stand in the chilly scullery for a good half hour. When she was summoned back inside she was shivering and pinched with cold.

‘Don’t stand next to the fire!’ said Sweyn sharply. ‘No point trying to warm up, not where you’re going.’

‘No, not where you’re going!’

They both laughed and Leveret took a deep breath, keeping her eyes down. She contemplated running, but there was little point – Gefrin’s long legs were faster than hers and having to chase and catch her always made them worse.

‘Mother’ll be really angry if I don’t do any weaving,’ she said neutrally.

‘Too right she will,’ agreed Gefrin.

‘I expect she’ll punish you for it. Poor Lev.’

Sweyn heaved himself up from the chair and burped loudly. He gripped her arm and swung her round so she stumbled into him. Then he pushed her away into Gefrin who also shoved her hard, making her fall into the table and bang her hip. They laughed again; this had been a favourite childhood game they called ‘Pass the hare’.

‘Come on then, up you go,’ said Sweyn, pushing her towards the stairs.

‘Where?’ she whispered, her heart sinking.

‘You know where,’ said Gefrin. ‘Have a guess.’

‘Your favourite place!’ chuckled Sweyn. ‘Somewhere you haven’t been for a long time.’

‘Far too long, seeing as how you used to love it when you were little. Good job you’re still little.’

Leveret stopped at the foot of the staircase, panic rising within her.

‘Please!’ she said quietly, her mouth dry. ‘Please don’t put me in there. I didn’t fit inside last time and that was over a year ago.’

Gefrin giggled and poked her in the back sharply.

‘Upstairs, Lev. You’re going in the cupboard and we’ll make you fit.’

‘Please! Sweyn, please, I—’

‘Shut up, Leveret – you should’ve thought before you upset our Mother. Good job we came round tonight to put you straight. UPSTAIRS!’

They dragged and pushed her up the staircase to the first floor and then up the wide ladder to the attic above, where Rosie and Yul had slept all those years ago in the tiny bedrooms under the eaves. In one of the rooms, tucked in a nook between the roof and a wall, was a small cupboard built into the recess and extending back under the eaves. It was here that, as a small child, they’d locked Leveret in the darkness for hours on end.

They’d filled her head with frightening tales which they elaborated on each time, of how a child had once died in the tiny space and how, if she were very quiet, she’d hear his ghostly heart-beat and soft breathing. It was in here that her trances had begun, for they’d made her so frightened that she always lost consciousness. Not that the boys knew this – once the door was bolted, they assumed her silence was down to terror and when they dragged her back out they put her paleness and trembling down to fear.

It was their favourite torture and the one they generally reserved for occasions when they had plenty of time and were bored with everything else. The fun lay in getting her up the stairs and stuffing her into the cupboard; once she was actually in there they lost interest and sometimes they went off and forgot about her. They’d warned her once, long ago, of the folly of calling out. That was what had happened to the other child, they said – he’d tried to call out and a rat had leapt at his throat in the darkness and he’d bled slowly to death. She’d learnt to keep quiet early on; the sound of her strangled voice in the darkness just frightened her more.

‘Didn’t think we’d be doing this again,’ laughed Gefrin as they crowded into the cramped room that had once been Yul’s. Sweyn leant over and pulled back the bolt of the cupboard door. It was low and had never been high enough for her to stand in, even as a child; now she couldn’t even sit up in it.

‘It’s her own fault for being such a naughty girl,’ he grunted, shoving Leveret towards it. ‘Get in there – you’re wasting time. Move!’

‘No!’ she cried, wriggling and trying to get away from the dark, gaping mouth of the tiny cupboard. ‘I’m not going in there!
No!
’

Gefrin crushed her down, twisting her flailing arms, and Sweyn kicked her hard. Together they manhandled her onto her knees and forced her to crawl into the small space. She had to crouch sideways with her knees bent up to her chin and her head wedged down. Her shoulder and arm still poked outside but Sweyn started to shut the old wooden door, pushing and squeezing her in.

‘No, no, please Sweyn! I beg you – don’t!’

He stopped and looked at her, with her face squashed up and twisted sideways against her knees.

‘What?’

‘Please don’t do this,’ she whimpered, her voice high with terror. ‘I can’t breathe – it’s too tight and I might die in here. Please don’t shut me in.’

‘Well, I’m not sure. What do you think, Gef?’

‘Ooh, I don’t know. Shall we let her out? It’s so hard to decide, isn’t it?’

‘Let her out or lock her in? Choices, choices. I think … LOCK HER IN!’

With a yell he shoved violently on the door and her arm and shoulder were crammed inside. He pushed and pushed on the thick wooden door, harder and harder. Gradually the breath was forced out of her and somehow her body squeezed and squashed into the tiny space. The crack of light gradually disappeared and the bolt was finally driven into its socket. The darkness was complete and the smell made her heart almost stop – the smell that haunted her nightmares, of old wood and damp thatch with something decaying too. If she’d been rational she’d have realised it was only a mouse or bird, but the tale of the dead child still lingered in her subconscious.

Leveret would’ve been trembling violently with absolute terror, but she was so tightly squashed and contorted that no movement was possible. Very quickly she felt her feet and hands go numb and she couldn’t take a proper breath for her lungs were so compressed. She had to take small, shallow breaths that hurt and made her feel dizzy. She heard muffled laughter on the other side of the door and then footsteps receded as her brothers left her trapped in there. Leveret took a constricted breath and her eyes rolled up in their sockets.

In the office, Yul and Clip sat on the leather sofas facing each other in silence. Yul sipped his coffee and regarded his uncle steadily. Lamplight fell onto Clip’s lined face and Yul thought how he’d aged lately, becoming more other-worldly than ever before. He seemed never to change his threadbare blue robe and his long white-blond hair was stringy and matted. Only his eyes blazed as brightly as before, pale grey in his thin, whiskery face.

Clip was thinking that he’d stepped back in time. Were it not for the glossy dark curls and deep grey eyes, the handsome man opposite him, as taut and controlled as a coiled spring, could’ve been his brother. They were virtually identical; that chiselled face, the powerful body – Yul even tapped his thigh impatiently in the same way that Magus had done and spoke in the same deep, softly resonant voice.

‘I want to abandon the Death Dance altogether this year,’ said Yul without preamble. ‘It’s a disgusting custom and has far outlived its original purpose.’

‘It’d be a mistake to just abandon it,’ said Clip quietly. ‘I agree it’s outmoded and unnecessary, but to simply forbid them to do it this year at such short notice would be cruel. You know how the older folk value it. Let it be known that next year the labyrinth will no longer be built in the Stone Circle. People could continue the custom up in the clearing by the Yew of Death if they wanted, which would still be appropriate with the pyre built there. But you need to give the people some notice rather than announce it now.’

‘I don’t want it to take place this year,’ said Yul, almost as if Clip hadn’t spoken. ‘I said so last year and the year before that I wanted it stopped once and for all.’

‘You did, and I advised against it,’ replied Clip evenly. Yul could be as dominating and even as arrogant as his father, but Clip wasn’t scared of him as he’d been of his brother. If Yul possessed a similar cruel streak then he had it firmly under control, for Clip had never seen any evidence of it. Nor was he manipulative or devious, as Magus had been. If Yul had an opinion he expressed it directly, although sometimes this forthrightness had its own difficulties.

‘I don’t want it taking place this year,’ Yul repeated. ‘I intend to tell the Elders at the Council Meeting tomorrow.’

‘No,’ said Clip quietly. ‘You have—’

‘Yes!’ said Yul. ‘I won’t allow it! As the magus I think I have the right to decide on anything to do with ceremonies and rituals. It’s my decision to make, not yours.’

‘You have to give people notice,’ insisted Clip. ‘You can’t act so suddenly like this. Wait until next year, Yul – by Samhain next year … things will be different.’

Yul put his coffee cup down onto the table and looked hard at Clip.

‘What do you mean by that?’

Clip also set down his cup and gazed back at Yul. His likeness to Magus really was uncanny. He recalled sitting here all those years ago with a cake tin in his lap whilst his brother overrode his feeble objections and disquiet. He hated being in this position; all he wanted was peace and harmony, not power struggles.

‘Well?’

Yul was as still as a panther about to spring. Clip sighed and turned his gaze to the framed photo of Sylvie on a side table, hoping that he was taking the right course of action. There was a sense of inevitability about it all.

‘I’m prepared to step down this coming year. By next Samhain I’ll be gone and then you can do what you like.’

Yul jerked and his eyes widened. His sharp intake of breath told Clip just what a surprise this was, but he quickly regained his composure.

‘Excellent news!’ he said slowly. ‘What’s brought this on? It’s thirteen years since my father died and I was beginning to think you intended to lead the community for ever.’

‘That was never my intention. You know I’ve never wanted leadership of Stonewylde.’

‘Precisely! You promised that as soon as everything was on an even keel you’d leave me in charge, but it’s been so many years that I wondered if you’d ever hand over. Why the change of heart?’

‘Because you’re ready now.’

‘Clip, I’ve been ready for years! Of course I was too young when Magus died, but when I came back after University you should’ve retired then.’

‘You weren’t ready then – you thought you were but you weren’t, and neither was Sylvie. But now … I’m longing to leave Stonewylde and travel the world, to follow my star. I want no more responsibilities or ties, just freedom.’

‘I take it you’ve told no one else this news yet? Not Sylvie?’

‘No, you’re the first. I’ve been thinking about it very carefully. I want to do what’s right and not shirk my duties, but I think I’ve paid my dues now, done everything I can to redress my past laziness and wrong-doing. The slate is clean and I feel the time has come where I can leave Stonewylde with a clear conscience, knowing I’ve done my best for everyone. So during the year ahead I’ll shift all the responsibility to the pair of you and I’ll legally sign everything over as well.’

Yul nodded but then frowned.

‘You said to the pair of us. I realise that on paper it’ll be shared, of course. But I’ll be running Stonewylde, not Sylvie. I don’t want her put under any sort of pressure or stress – you know how delicate she is. She can take part in some of the ceremonies if she wants, but all decision making and actual leadership of the estate will come to me.’

Clip looked into Yul’s eyes. They met his unwaveringly.

‘How does Sylvie feel about that?’ he asked. ‘I thought she believed it would be an equal partnership. Does
she
want you to do everything and not make any contribution herself?’

‘I expect so. She’ll agree if I say so.’

Clip raised his eyebrows at this.

‘I think you’re being a little high-handed, Yul. Surely Sylvie has some say in this? She seems—’

‘This is one area where I won’t compromise. I won’t do anything to risk her becoming ill again. Hazel said it was due to too much pressure, too many demands on her. So there’ll be no pressure and no demands. All she has to worry about are the girls and they’re at Nursery anyway.’