Moondance of Stonewylde (2 page)

‘Aye, sir, I can that. The brat – he’s back now.’

‘He is, Alwyn, and already making mischief. Did you see the mess he made of the ceremony this morning?’

Alwyn’s face flushed a deeper shade.

‘Little bastard!’ he spluttered, spittle flying and almost landing on Magus, who took a quick step back.

‘I want him held in check this time, Alwyn. You understand me? You’ve been too lenient with him over the years, which is why he’s so out of hand now.’

‘But sir, I—’

Magus held up a hand, his face stony.

‘No excuses. The boy is out of control and I’m sorry to say the blame must lie at your door. Why else would he be the only one at Stonewylde to constantly defy me and cause such trouble? I’m afraid, Alwyn, that I can only assume you’ve allowed him too much leeway. But no more! I’m holding you personally responsible for the boy’s behaviour. I expect you to be as harsh as is necessary. Is that perfectly clear? As harsh as you think fit.’

‘Aye, sir.’

Alwyn’s breathing was now so streperous that Magus wondered whether the man was capable of administering any form of beating at all.

‘Have you seen Yul yet since his return?’

‘No, sir. He’s not been home at all. ‘Twas a shock to see him at the Solstice sunrise this morning. I didn’t know you’d brung him back.’

‘Yes … the less said about that the better. But he is back. He’ll be working up at the Hall for the holiday and I’ll make sure Martin works him hard. But when he comes home at night time – then it’s up to you. I want that boy crushed and, as his father, it’s your duty to do it. I hope you won’t disappoint me this time, Alwyn.’

The tanner’s eyes, so buried in puffy fat as to be almost hidden, filled with tears and, forgetting protocol, he grasped Magus’ hand in a flurry of distress.

‘No sir, never. I’m so sorry, sir. I won’t let you down again. He’ll wish he’d never been born!’

Magus had nodded and disengaged himself from the man’s sweaty grip, turning away in disgust.

‘Him and me both,’ he’d muttered, heading back towards the Green.

But now, as Magus kicked away the twisted sheets and rose
from his bed, white hot fury flooded him yet again. It seemed that Yul had foiled him once more, though he was at a loss to see how. Was the boy responsible? How had it happened? Somehow Yul had evaded the intended punishment, and Alwyn lay now in a wing of this very building looking as if he’d never raise a whip again in this life.

Angrily, Magus padded through into his black marble bathroom and wrenched on the shower. He groaned as the cool water blasted his body, drenching his blond hair and running down his face. He stood for several minutes under the great showerhead until the heat inside him had subsided. He had six months. Six months until the Winter Solstice when Yul would reach adulthood.

Turning off the water, Magus smiled grimly to himself. As he dried his body briskly and reached for his exotic cologne, he met the reflection of his own velvety-black eyes.

‘Mirror, mirror on the wall …’ he muttered and then chuckled to himself. He needed no reassurance, for he knew the answer; he was the strongest of them all. Even without the Earth Magic.

Even earlier that morning, as Magus lay supine in his bed, Yul had arrived at the back of the Hall. Dressed in rough work clothes rather than smart festival ones, Yul had stood in the enormous cobbled yard outside the kitchens waiting for Martin to appear. In the pearly-grey half-light, the sun not yet risen, Yul had shivered and yawned in the slightly chill air whilst all around him the birds sang their divine dawn chorus. Eventually Martin had opened the wide oak door and scowled out, looking quite surprised to find Yul ready and waiting.

Yul had never liked Martin. He was about forty or so, clearly a Hallchild with his thin blond hair, but had never made it to the Hall School and thereby a life of privilege. He was dogged rather than quick-witted, relentless rather than resourceful, and had served at the Hall since he was a lad. He had no humour or warmth and was intensely loyal to Magus.

‘Ah, there you are,’ he grunted sullenly, as if Yul were late. He
came outside into the yard and looked Yul up and down. He knew the boy of course, for everyone at Stonewylde knew everyone else, but he acted as if Yul were a stranger.

‘The master has warned me about you, boy,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t mess me about or try to skive off or Magus will hear about it. He specially wants to know if you haven’t pulled your weight. Understood?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Yul wearily.

‘Right then, I’ve got you for the next five days, which is just as well seeing as we’re so short staffed. There’s extra Hallfolk here all needing to be served, and served well, mind you. Get in the kitchens and see what Marigold wants doing. And when you’ve done everything she needs, go down to the stables and report to Tom. Remember boy – no slacking or you’ll be very sorry.’

At the old butler’s sink in the scullery, Yul scrubbed hard at the baked-on grime in a huge pan. His thoughts turned to the events of yesterday, the Summer Solstice. It had been the most amazing day of his life, starting with Solstice Eve the previous night. He recalled the magical kiss he and Sylvie had shared under the yew tree on the Village Green. Standing with his sleeves rolled up and a scouring pad in his hand, Yul relived that moment of joy and certainty, when he knew without any doubt that they belonged together, the darkness and the brightness, just as Mother Heggy had predicted.

Then there was the incredible experience as the sun rose over the Stone Circle at Solstice sunrise, and the Green Magic pierced his soul. He’d never, as long as he lived, forget the bliss of receiving the Goddess’ bounty, nor the look of utter bewilderment on Magus’ face. He’d felt the effects of that magic all day as he won race after race. He sparkled with it, and every time he looked up there stood Sylvie, her silvery-grey eyes dancing with joy. The sight of her smiling at him as he competed in the races filled him with happiness, and then she’d beckoned to him. They’d managed to find a quiet corner round the back of the Great Barn, and she’d grasped his hand desperately.

‘I’ve brought the cake for you, Yul!’ she’d said hurriedly, gazing
up into his eyes. ‘The cake Mother Heggy made. I’ve hidden it just outside your gate in the undergrowth. It’s all wrapped up in rhubarb leaves so it’s quite camouflaged. She said only Alwyn must eat it and nobody else. That’s absolutely vital.’

He nodded slowly, doubt clouding his intent now that the moment had come. Sylvie had seemed to sense this.

‘He’ll kill you, Yul,’ she said quickly. ‘Remember the last time? Remember what Mother Heggy warned? Please, don’t back down now. You
have
to go through with this.’

Yul nodded again. He kissed her slim hand and then joined the other lads for the next race. Not long afterwards, Magus had taken him to one side and informed him that he was to work every day throughout the holidays. Yul had made his way home, his heart seething with bitterness and the celebrations ruined. As he walked up the lane, a path he’d trodden every day of his life, his resolve stiffened. He deserved better than this. He wouldn’t spend the rest of his life at the mercy of two men who for no apparent reason hated him to the point of destruction. He recalled Mother Heggy’s words all those months ago and felt a surge of power. Now was the time.

‘But Yul, my love, where’s it from?’

His mother’s deep grey eyes were puzzled as she took the package from him. Yul shrugged, not wanting to lie to her.

‘Someone from the Hall just gave it to me,’ he said. ‘She said it was a special gift for Alwyn and him alone.’

‘How strange! Maybe ‘tis from Marigold up in the kitchens? I know he’s been going up there for meals, though Goddess knows why seeing as I feed him well enough. The man has the appetite of a bull at the moment. Oh well, if ’tis come from the Hall it must be special.’

‘And only for Alwyn, Mother. Nobody else must eat it, she said.’

‘Aye, I understand. Well, he’ll be home soon enough for a nap no doubt, after all that cider he’s been putting back. Maybe he’ll have a slice of the cake then. And you make yourself scarce, my boy. ‘Twill be the first time you’ve been under the same roof for
a while and I don’t want trouble today of all days. You go back to the Green, my love, and enjoy yourself. And Yul … I thought my heart would burst this morning at the ceremony, I was that proud of you.’

Maizie took her eldest son in her arms and hugged him fiercely, the fears and unhappiness of the past months forgotten for a moment. Yul felt her shudder with suppressed emotion and squeezed her tightly. During his exile first in the woods and then up at the quarry he’d missed his family a great deal, especially his mother.

They heard laughter and chatter outside and then the front door was flung open. His six siblings piled into the small sitting room: Rosie, with little Leveret in her arms, Geoffrey and Gregory almost as tall as their older sister now, and Gefrin and Sweyn fighting as usual. The children swarmed around Yul, delighted to see their oldest brother home again. Yul took Leveret from Rosie and laughed into her mop of black curls as he hugged her. There was a special place in his heart for this tiny little girl who adored him so much.

‘Rosie, where’s your father now?’ asked Maizie quickly. ‘Is he on his way back, or …?’

Too late they heard the tuneless whistling and everyone froze, all eyes turning in horror towards Yul. Alwyn stumbled into a still life; his wife and all seven children transfixed where they stood. In the total silence he stomped across the room and allowed his bulk to fall heavily into his armchair. Nobody moved. Alwyn’s heavy breathing filled the room and he peered around at the group of statues until his gaze fell on the one he sought.

Maizie jerked into action.

‘A bite to eat, Alwyn my dear?’ she gabbled. ‘There’s a fine cake here, sent up from the Hall special, just for you. I’ll cut you a nice big slice, shall I?’

She scurried into the kitchen and Alwyn grunted, his belligerent stare unbroken. Carefully Yul handed Leveret to Rosie and straightened his spine. Very slowly, footstep by footstep,
each child shrank backwards away from the armchair and the huge ginger-haired mound of flesh that was their father.

Now Yul stood alone, facing the man who’d almost beaten him to death not so long ago. His heart thudded but he found himself lifted with a strange courage. It thrilled through his veins and he felt strong. He looked Alwyn square in the eye, his cool grey gaze unwavering, his chin raised in defiance. He’d never looked into Alwyn’s eyes before. They were buried almost completely in his bloated face, but Yul stared hard into the tiny pools of blue rage and felt a thrill of power. At this unheard of insolence, Alwyn’s face suffused with blood. A great vein throbbed at his temple.

‘Here you are then, my dear!’ Maizie’s voice was shrill. ‘A lovely bit of cake from the Hall! And a nice bite of cheese. You enjoy that, and …’

Alwyn glanced at the plate she’d laid on his lap and picked up the slab of moist dark cake. He growled and aimed a kick at his wife, who scuttled out of reach, trying to block Yul from his sight. Everyone remained rooted as Alwyn contemplated the cake in his hand. Gently Yul moved his mother to one side and stood again directly in the tanner’s line of vision and almost within his grasp.

‘You can fetch the strap off the hook,’ grunted Alwyn. ‘I’ll warm your hide first afore we move on to the snake.’ He shifted himself uncomfortably in the chair, a frown on his ruddy face. ‘No getting away with it this time round, you little bastard. Upsetting the master like that – ‘tis up to me to put a stop to it once and for all.’

He raised the thick slice of cake towards his mouth, but then paused.

‘You hear me, boy?’ he bellowed. ‘I said fetch the strap!’

He bit hugely into the dark cake, his jowls swinging as he masticated and swallowed. He took another bite, and Yul folded his arms and remained where he was.

‘You’ll never lay a hand on me again,’ he said quietly, his voice as shattering as a pebble thrown into a lake. Next to him
Maizie jerked with terror. But then her eyes widened as she watched. Alwyn’s skin had turned deep crimson, the veins now bulging in both temples and his neck. His eyes were bloodshot and his mouth was working, trying to speak through the mass of half-chewed cake. He began to splutter and cough.

There was a tapping at the window and Yul flicked a glance towards it. The crow sat on the sill surveying the scene with a round eye. Alwyn’s coughing turned into a fit of choking. He struggled to suck in breath, the violent rasp and wheeze in his constricted throat sickening to the ear. His eyes rolled up in his head and he pitched forward, crushing his plate and thrashing his arms. A strange noise came from his mouth, along with the dark mangled-up cake and a great foam of saliva. His body heaved and jerked in violent spasms. Then he threw himself back in the armchair and was still, soft wheezing the only sound in the crowded sitting room.

Everyone looked on in total, appalled silence, hands over mouths and eyes enormous. Nobody breathed, nobody moved. It was unthinkable; too shocking to comprehend. Then, unbelievably, Leveret broke the horrified hush. Her gurgle of laughter split the stillness as she pointed a tiny finger at the mess in her father’s lap.

‘Quiet, child!’ moaned Maizie, shaking her head in bewilderment. She sent all the children back to the Village Green to find the young doctor. Only Yul remained with her and they stood together contemplating the tyrant slumped in the armchair, his eyes lifeless and breathing slow and loud.