Moondance of Stonewylde (19 page)

‘Did you see our Yul last night, Mother? He was sat in the corner quiet, plaiting a favour too. I think he has a sweetheart!’

‘No! Surely ‘twas a knot for hisself? Just a decoration?’

‘No, Mother, else why would he be so secretive? And he tied a scrap o’ silver ribbon into it too, with a slip of yew! Whoever heard of that afore? Yew at Lammas?’

‘True, ‘tis rather odd,’ mused Maizie. ‘Fancy that, our Yul walking with someone! Though ‘tis about time – the boy will be
an adult this winter. We must watch to see who wears it then. Silver ribbon is different, and a pretty idea. Makes a change from the usual. But yew … mmn, I wonder what that says?

‘I did ask him, but he near snapped my head off!’ said Rosie. ‘Well, we’ll see soon enough. I do hope it’s someone nice.’

They fell silent as the track became steeper, climbing up into the rolling hills. Hundreds of Villagers tramped along, the Hallfolk using a different route, more direct from the Hall. Many of them rode, and Tom had also organised several of the long, upholstered carts to carry the less energetic Hallfolk to the Lammas Field. These rather grand carts were normally used to transport Hallfolk back and forth to the Village events, and Miranda had been grateful for the chance to ride in one this morning.

Her absences in the Barn at Dark Moon had alerted everyone to her pregnancy and she was now treated with extra deference. She sat in the jolting open carriage with a group of visitors, thinking longingly of her four-poster bed back at the Hall. But Clip’s words had resonated with her; the child she carried was Magus’ and would be as firmly Stonewylde as everyone else around her. She needed to immerse herself in the customs and lores, which might bring her closer to Magus too. She just wished that these celebrations didn’t involve quite so many early morning starts, especially when she felt nauseous. She turned to answer the visitor next to her, who was querulously bemoaning the fact that so many Hallfolk youngsters hadn’t bothered to rouse themselves for this important ritual.

Bright dawn bloomed in the sky as the folk of Stonewylde gathered in the Lammas Field, high up amongst the hilltops. Under the pink sky the people stood strung out like a necklace around the rustling wheat, golden and heavy-headed. Everyone held hands around the perimeter of the large field and the giant human circle began to chant. Magus, glorious in his robe of gold, led the ceremony. Voices raised, they started to move widdershins, all facing outwards and looking out across the vast
expanse of fields around them. There were crops growing and ripening as far as the eye could see; gold, ochre and burnt sienna in the clear light. This particular field was chosen for the Lammas ceremony because it commanded such magnificent views across the miles and miles of flourishing fertility that was Stonewylde in August.

As the red sun burned its fiery arrival above the horizon, the people turned inwards and began to move deosil, making another complete circuit of the field and chanting to the drumbeat. Overhead a pair of buzzards circled, their enormous wings outstretched, the air plaintive with their high-pitched mewing cries. Miranda was moved by the beauty of it all and wished that Sylvie were here to experience it too.

At a signal from the drums everyone released hands and stepped forward, each plucking a single ear of wheat from the crop. All was silent as the people reflected for a minute or so on the bounty of the Corn Mother who lived amongst the grain. Every year she sacrificed herself for the community, yet held within herself the seed for next year’s abundance. The drums picked up a different rhythm and the folk plucked the grains off their ear of wheat one by one, thanking the Corn Mother for her generosity, throwing the individual seeds back onto the soil. Symbolically they returned some of her bounty to the darkness of the earth, where it would lie dormant through the long winter months until spring quickened it with new life.

The ritual struck a chord in the hearts of the people of Stonewylde. They were still in touch with a knowledge so simple and primeval that most others in the western world had long forgotten it. This knowledge was the very source of survival: without the Earth’s gift of fruitfulness, all would perish. The ceremony ended with a final chant, and then the huge circle of people broke up, laughing and chattering, and crowded towards the entrance of the field.

The sun was by now well risen and everyone cheered at the arrival of two carts pulled by beautifully decorated horses, their manes and tails woven and plaited with red ribbons and corn
favours. One cart carried wicker hampers of Lammas cakes, special flat cakes as big as dinner plates baked from corn, honey and butter and flavoured with nutmeg. The other brought great churns of milk, creamy and frothy, straight from the dairy. Robin walked by this cart, having helped that morning with the milking, and Rosie’s heart skipped at the sight of him. She’d been disappointed to be relieved of her duties at the dairy in order to take part in the sunrise ceremony.

Breakfast was served and everyone tucked in hungrily to their Lammas cake and beaker of milk. Afterwards the younger men of the community were presented with sharp sickles decorated, like the horses, with red ribbons and favours. They stepped forward with a flourish and a few words from Magus, and began to cut the crop in time-honoured fashion. This was a ritual, for the combine harvesters reaped all the other fields. But at Lammastide this one field was reaped in the old way, just as their ancestors had done for thousands of years, ever since hunters became gatherers.

Many of the Village women and most of the Hallfolk went home at this point, after watching a little of the reaping. The women would be busy all morning preparing picnic lunches and also food for the feast tonight. In the Lammas field there was music and singing as the musicians took out their fiddles, pipes and tambours, and the old harvesting songs were played. Children ran around happily and the older men stood about gossiping of times gone by. The reapers worked steadily in relays. Their sickles sliced the stalks of wheat close to the dry earth, their hands grasped the bundles which were then laid to the side for the binders. The binders were younger boys and girls who tied the thick bundles into a sheaf with a long piece of reed. The stookers followed the reapers and binders, gathering up several sheaves at a time and stacking them into stooks, roughly pyramidal in shape. This took place all around the enormous field and everyone had their turn, for a while at least.

By mid-morning there were many stooks standing proudly in the blazing August sun, and the uncut area in the centre of the
field was dwindling rapidly. Even for the hardy Villagers this was tough work, requiring a great deal of bending and stooping. There was water and cider available to quench thirsts, and as the morning progressed the atmosphere became increasingly merry. By mid-day there was only a small circle of golden wheat left standing in the middle, and it rustled and moved strangely. The boys got their nets and clubs ready to hand.

The band of Village women, all the small children and the Hallfolk returned up the track. Some came in the carts and some carried their own wicker baskets; all were laden down with the picnic lunch. Then, once they’d arrived, the last bit of the field was reaped. The boys hopped around in glee, as this next part was their special task. As the men cut into the wheat with their sickles, rabbits started to fly out, their final refuge no longer a haven. The boys were waiting. Nets were thrown and clubs whacked, and before long the stubble field became a rabbit graveyard. Miranda turned away in horror, her Outside World sensibilities shocked at the carnage. The unfortunate creatures were lifted by the ears and flung into one of the carts. The Village women would spend the afternoon skinning and gutting and baking special Lammas rabbit pies, enough for the whole community to feast upon tonight.

When the final handful of wheat right in the centre of the field was cut, it was carefully carried over to Magus. He stood waiting, the sunlight glinting on his gold robes, and wrapped it carefully in a poppy-red cloth. He then presented it to the Corn Mother, the girl who’d been chosen for the Lammas festival to represent the keeper of the Corn Spirit. She must take this last sheaf and during the afternoon, with the help of other women, weave it into a special, ornate corn dolly. This great dolly, symbolically harbouring the Corn Spirit, would take pride of place on the Altar Stone at tonight’s ceremony in the Stone Circle.

Miranda had been told all this earlier and watched now with a catch in her throat. She longed to be the one standing by Magus’ side, his queen and partner. She knew she’d look beautiful in the golden robes with the great headdress of corn and poppies
on her red hair. She was pleased to see Wren was the Corn Mother, one of the rather silly teenagers she taught, and no competition at all; the girl was only a year older than Sylvie.

Now, with the whole field reaped, sheaved and stooked by so many willing pairs of hands, the picnic lunch could begin. Yul took his sickle and trudged over to the area where the women were spreading the cloths over the stubbly ground and laying out food from the baskets. His back ached, his arms throbbed, and he had a thirst on him that would’ve drained the duck-pond. But he was happy; it had been a good reaping and it was immensely satisfying to see the golden stooks stacked all over the field. This was the first year he’d been allowed a sickle; before he’d only been a binder or stooker.

Yul put the sickle into one of the carts where they were being collected and joined the queue by the cider cart. There were several barrels on board and some older men, no longer able to help with the reaping, handed out great tankards of cider to the thirsty workers. Tom was in charge of the carts and horses and greeted Yul with Lammas blessings as he was handed a brimming tankard. Yul stood gulping down the cool, tangy cider, his eyes shut at the pleasure of the liquid sliding down his parched throat. He was clapped on the back by Edward, the farm manager and cricket team captain, and nearly choked.

‘Good reaping, Yul! Well done, lad. Let’s hope you do as well tomorrow in the match, eh?’

‘Yes, sir,’ grinned Yul, feeling like a man amongst men. Since the Solstice, when Alwyn had been taken away, he noticed that people were treating him differently. He was now the head of his family and enjoyed the honour and responsibility. He refilled his tankard and found Maizie and the family already seated on their rug and tucking into the picnic.

‘You two did well at the rabbiting,’ Yul said to Geoffrey and Gregory, who were both experienced rabbiters. They grinned at him as they devoured their food. Gefrin and Sweyn poked at the ground as they ate, digging up insects with sharp stones and kicking each other. Rosie kept Leveret well out of their reach as
the little girl ate her lunch and gazed dreamily up at the sky, watching the swifts darting and swooping overhead. Maizie poured everyone some redcurrant wine, diluting it with water for the younger ones.

Yul looked around at the other families enjoying their picnics under the brilliant blue August skies and felt a surge of happiness. For him, the only blight on the day was Sylvie’s absence. He’d quickly established that she wasn’t with the Hallfolk, although he noticed her mother was, and Harold had confirmed that Sylvie was still confined to bed. Yul was becoming increasingly worried about her. According to Harold she hadn’t left her room since the last Moon Fullness. Yul knew something wasn’t right but was at a loss as to what he could do. However, he’d devised a plan to visit her later on; besides being desperate to see her, he had something to give her as well.

Rosie was passing round little white currant tartlets to the children, pretending to be absorbed in the task, when Maizie nudged her sharply. Rosie looked up to see Robin standing diffidently at the edge of the rug.

‘Welcome, Robin,’ said Maizie. ‘Bright Lammas blessings! Will you come and sit with us and share some of our food?’

‘Thank you, Goodwife Maizie,’ he said formally, blushing as Geoffrey and Gregory sniggered a little at his shyness. He sat down awkwardly and accepted a tartlet, which Rosie handed him with a dimple of a smile and a sweep of the eyelashes. Yul, who was the same age as him, nodded encouragingly, aware of the purpose of Robin’s appearance. The poor lad seemed in a complete dither and Sweyn and Gefrin had just begun squabbling again, much to Rosie’s consternation. She scooped Leveret away from them and bounced the child in her lap, hoping Robin would notice how very good she was with babies.

‘Now that Father’s been taken ill, I’m the head of the family,’ said Yul, guessing the boy’s dilemma. ‘It’s me you should speak to.’

Maizie smiled in agreement; this was as it should be. Robin nodded gratefully, his cheeks flushing again.

‘Right enough, then.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Yul, I wish to walk out with your dau– sister, Rosie, and have brought my token to show my honourable intent. May I have your blessing to ask if she will accept my favour, and favour me in return?’

The words came out in a rush. Robin knew how things must be done properly, and had been practising this for a long time. Yul nodded seriously, suddenly feeling very adult. He knew Rosie had liked Robin for ages, and the boy was a good choice for her first sweetheart. Whether or not they stayed together beyond Imbolc, when all favours were returned to the earth, was another matter. But they would renew their intent then, if things had gone well.

‘My family are happy for you to favour Rosie, if she so wishes,’ he said solemnly. ‘Lammas Blessings to you and your family, Robin.’

Rosie leapt to her feet with a radiant smile and Robin quickly followed. She led the way to the perimeter of the field, where many other young Village couples were walking arm in arm. All were exchanging favours and pinning them over their hearts to show the community they were walking with someone and their heart, for a while at least, was taken. Maizie beamed at the sight of her eldest daughter pinning Robin’s favour to her breast, and tapped Yul on the arm.