Beneath the Hallowed Hill (17 page)

In the afternoon, they visited the stones in the northern circle. The cove called out for her to curl up and leave her body safe inside, to journey in spirit. “Later,” she whispered. Another stone showed her a hand fasting, the bride’s head festooned with flowers. Megan began to lose the boundaries between herself and the standing stones. She felt the wind blow against her stone body, the rain drench her sides, the claws of ravens scratch when they landed on her top, a herd of deer nibble at her base. When the priestesses finished their work, Megan stood in the field.

Thalana found her near the last stone they cleared. “The Lady has withdrawn to prepare for the ceremony. She asked that we go down and accompany the local women when the time comes.”

Megan tried to make sense of what Thalana was saying. One of the stones sent her an image of a great group of women gathered together, singing and celebrating. “Oh,” she said. “Beltane.”

Thalana’s laugh was cautious. “Yes. Are you with us?”

Megan nodded.

Thalana gathered more of the younger students and led them across the northern circle. A huge pile of wood was stacked between the inner rings. A long altar stone, flat on top, lay in the exact center of the Great Circle, where the energies of the two inner rings swirled together to form a figure eight. The group walked across a long meadow toward the flat hill in the distance. People milled around the base, shouting greetings, setting up tents, bringing out food they cooked at home to share in the feast after the ceremony. The villagers nodded to the priestesses, one man tipping his cap and bowing with a flourish. The crowd bustled around Megan and the excitement woke her from her entrainment with the stone circle…perhaps the Saracen stones felt the people and were themselves waking up for Beltane.

A low drumbeat began, stirring the growing crowd. It seemed to emanate from the ground itself. “The hill,” Thalana said, pointing to a mound some distance away. A group of priests sat on the flat top in a circle. Couples separated, calling that they’d find each other later. The women gathered at the end of one of the corridors and the men at the other, a full two miles away the hill equidistant between them. Each group waited for the signal to begin the walk through the tall standing stones marking the avenues to the Great Circle. In the growing dark, bodies pressed together and voices dropped to whispers. The priestesses began to chant, slowly gathering the disparate energies of the crowd of women into one force. Megan melted into the sound.

They moved down the avenue. Some joined hands. Others adjusted their crowns of flowers, carefully woven from gardens at home. All sang together, their energies merging. The stones welcomed them as they walked. When they arrived at the cove, the women flowed into their circle. A stream of men entered the southern ring. Their deep voices wafted across the field, already mating with the bell tones of the women. Thalana found Megan in the crowd. “Come with me. The Lady wants us to stay with the stones on the east.”

They took up their stations and Megan leaned against the giant, tuning her awareness to the three worlds; this she learned from her mother. The Lady of Avalon entered the ring and a hush fell over the expectant group. She raised her arms and began her invocation of the Goddess. The priestesses kept up a low croon and the villagers added their voices softly. As the Lady spoke, the standing stone Megan leaned against seemed to take a deep breath, gathering an enormous load of energy from the underworld that it pushed out into the ring. Megan reached into the stone, modulating the flow at the last minute. It flowed through her body, awakening her cells, leaving her keenly aware of her own life force and desire. She remembered that moment in the Crystal Matrix Chamber when she could have melded with Govannan. If only he were here. Opening her eyes again, she glanced over at Thalana. Her stone pulsed with energy, lights dancing around it like hydra heads.

The Lady cried out, “We call you forth, Blodeuwedd, the flower maiden, intended bride of Merlin the stag.” She held a huge circlet of flowers in her hand. A beautiful young priestess who rode with them that morning stepped forward and bowed before the Lady. She placed the May crown on the young woman’s head. A being of radiant light slipped into the priestess as she received the crown. She stood, taller than before, and the Lady removed her robe, picked up a bottle of some precious oil, and anointed her body with it.

The priestess who was now Blodeuwedd moved toward the cove again. The women followed her, their voices pulsing with energy, some shedding their own clothing. A deep, joyful power swelled with the group. It was the quickening of the egg, the power of summer, of growth, the celebration of fertility.

They walked toward the altar stone. A young priest led the men’s procession as the Lord Merlin, the horns of the stag on his head the only clothing he wore. He pranced and chanted, waves of light pulsing around him, his muscular body sleek with precious oil. Megan’s body responded like a young filly on her first tether trying to break free. Blodeuwedd found her mate and she began to tease him and circle the altar, beckoning then dipping away again. The crowd merged together, pouring their joy and desire into their voices, demanding a consummation. Blodeuwedd teased more, weaving around the altar. The stone blazed white hot as she danced. At last, Merlin grasped her and Blodeuwedd melted into his arms. He lifted her up and laid her gently on the altar like a bouquet of flowers. A cheer burst from the crowd. Merlin jumped up on the altar and stood outlined against the moon, his phallus fully erect, then dropped to his knees. Blodeuwedd lifted her hips to meet him and they came together. A great shout split the cleft of night.

The priestess grasped the stone as she pushed against the priest, the circle pouring its full energy up into her. Megan couldn’t imagine how the priestess could embody the energy, but she felt it pouring into her. She felt the strokes of the God as if he were mating with her too, and with each push came a wave of power from the sky and stones. The chanting of the crowd grew to a fever pitch as the couple sped up their thrusts. The stones were now pure light, pulsing with the rhythm of the God and Goddess, sending waves of light into the couple with each push. Finally the world exploded in ecstasy, the couple crying out their climax, the stones eradiated against the dark night. With this shout, the pile of wood burst into flame and couples found each other, moving into the outer circle to answer the call of their bodies.

Megan found her sentinel stone in the northern circle and leaned into it. She yearned to go into the fields and answer the call of her body and Nature herself. What better place for her first mating than here, in the sacred ceremony of life? But the man she longed for was not with her, and the Lady gave her a job to do. She listened to the cries and moans of pleasure around her. Her stone offered an opinion.
“He is worth the wait.”
She rode the waves of energy, feeling it flow out into the three worlds, finally ebbing to quiet.

At last the celebrants were making their way back to the fire, some dressing again, others remaining nude. The light turned their bodies golden. As the fire burned down, couples joined hands and leaped across it. Others followed, sometimes whole families, occasionally just one person. People came with their pails and scooped up the hot coals to bring home a piece of the sacred fire. The crowd streamed down one of the avenues toward the feast they brought with them. The world was made fertile again.

Chapter Ten

Friday morning, Michael sat listening to the Rhodes’ family attorney read Robert’s last will and testament. Embarrassed to hear the intricacies of Robert’s finances, he hunched his shoulders, trying to take up less space. The attorney droned on about stock holdings and accounts and the family home. Next came works of art, keepsakes, and memorabilia. Michael was a bit surprised at how well off Robert was.

“To the Rosae Crucis Lodge, I bequeath…” Michael sat up straighter. “…my esoteric library and files. Furthermore, I set aside an annual endowment in the amount of $350,000, said amount to be increased equal to the cost of living index as determined by ...”

Michael glanced quickly at Laura and the adult children to gauge their reaction to this generosity. Laura smiled reassuringly. His children, Jason and Lillian, listened intently, but their expressions remained as they were before this revelation. Michael knew both Robert’s children did well financially and had nothing to worry about, but when it came to money, you could never tell.

“To my beloved friend and colleague Michael Levy, I bequeath my lodge regalia and accoutrements…”

Michael’s hand tightened on the arm of his chair. Robert left him his most intimate magical instruments. He would burn the cord Robert used as soon as he could—tradition dictated this be done—but his wand, the chalice, and everything else could be passed on. Robert was a powerful magician and this was no small gift.

“Furthermore, I leave a trust for Michael Levy to be paid quarterly in the amount of $100,000, said amount to be increased equal to the cost of living index...”

This did raise an eyebrow from Jason. Michael himself was speechless. What a difference this gift would have made to him only four months ago. He could have retired and given himself over completely to his metaphysical research. Now his circumstances had changed and his relationship with Anne already made that possible. He made a decision: after the marriage, he would give the money back to the family. He would mention it as soon as the attorney finished.

Next came siblings, nieces and nephews, and a few charitable organizations. Michael let the details wash over him. He sat back again and sent a thank you to Robert. True to Guy’s prediction, there had been no contact since the funeral. Robert seemed to have truly moved on. When the attorney appeared to be winding down, Michael peeked at his watch. Ten past eleven, just enough time to get to his lunch meeting with Nancy Langton. She insisted they meet today.

“This will was last amended eighteen months ago, on the birth of the new grandchild.” The attorney looked up at Lillian, who nodded. “Are there any questions or concerns?”

The family looked at each other, Jason gathering their nods of approval one by one before turning to Michael.

“I am deeply grateful for Robert’s generosity both to the Lodge and to me, but since he last updated the will my finances have changed,” Michael began.

“He would want you to have something,” Laura said. “You were a second son to him.”

Michael met her gaze. “As he was a second father to me, but his regalia are gift enough. Considering the wealth of the Le Clair family, I wouldn’t feel right taking the money.”

“You’ll excuse me for asking,” Jason spoke, “but is there a pre-nuptial agreement?”

“No,” Michael said. He didn’t even think of that.

“Shall I draw up the paperwork?” the attorney asked.

All three of the Rhodes family looked at Michael. “I’ll leave that decision to you,” he answered.

“Add a clause that protects Michael in case of divorce,” Jason said.

“That’s really not necessary,” Michael said. “I don’t anticipate—”

“We never anticipate such events,” Jason said. “That’s why you should be protected.”

Michael ducked his head. “If you insist, but—”

“I do. I never shared Father’s interest in the metaphysical. You helped him let me be free.”

Michael studied his face for a moment. “I never realized.”

“You are always welcome in our family.”

The attorney nodded. “I can take care of this. The paperwork should be ready…say next week?”

“Fine,” Michael said.

“If you’ll excuse us, then,” Jason looked at Michael. “I do have a few more questions about some of the family arrangements. We’ll keep you informed of the investigation,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Michael stood to go, feeling guilty that he could not return the favor. His sources were anything but conventional.

Laura reached out and touched him on the arm. “Come by for Robert’s things. We’ll have lunch.”

“I’d like that.”

Michael took his leave of the family and made his way to the waiting car. He was grateful Arnold decided to let Bob, his assistant, drive him in an ordinary car. It was one of Thomas’s hot sports coupes—not that ordinary after all, but less showy than the limo, he hoped. He didn’t really know car makes. “We’re meeting Doctor Langton at Mesa Grill at noon,” he said as he got in the passenger’s side.

“Good choice.” Bob tore off, tires squealing.

“Doctor Langton is a bit of a gourmand. I’ve never eaten there myself.” Michael had to raise his voice to be heard above the engine.

“Flay’s too well known for me.” Bob slammed on the brakes, making Michael almost come to his feet with the impact. “I like to discover the up and coming chefs, when they’re still hungry.” He grinned at his joke. “Get the Spice Rubbed New York Strip Steak.”

Michael decided it was useless to comment on Bob’s driving. “Actually, I’m a vegetarian.”

Bob blew the horn and swore gustily at a cab. “Maybe the
Chile Relleno
, then.”

“You can have the steak.”

Bob jerked the car around the cab and leaned out the window to curse again. “Thanks for the treat.”

“My pleasure.” Michael tried to relax his clinched jaw. At least there was no time to mope about Robert when his life was in Bob’s hands.