Shadows at Stonewylde (33 page)

It was a dark, cloudy morning and Greenbough was whispering instructions to Rufus about using the watch and getting the timing just right, for it looked doubtful that the sun’s rays would be visible with such cloud obscuring the sky. It was a shame; nothing beat the magic of the long golden rays hitting the magus as he stood resplendent in glittering gold robes up on the Altar Stone, chanting in the full glory of the Solstice. But it couldn’t be helped and at least they had the watch and didn’t have to guess. The red-haired boy was very nervous, shaking with fear, and Greenbough put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

‘You’ll be fine, lad – take a deep breath and stay calm. Mind your step on the ladder coming down when you’re holding the torch. Just do it like we’ve practised.’

Rufus nodded, his velvet brown eyes scared. He knew how important it was that the Herald of Dawn did his task perfectly and was terrified of letting Yul down.

Yul stood behind the Altar Stone watching people arrive. He felt really awful, his mouth dry and his head throbbing. He closed his eyes and fought the dizziness and nausea. Cider didn’t usually affect him like this but he’d drunk so much last night, seemingly bent on self-annihilation. He remembered Swift constantly at his side, bringing him more cider every time the tankard was getting low. He liked the blond-haired boy, so quiet and attentive, who’d asked him all sorts of intelligent questions and was so respectful and deferential. Swift had shown such admiration and regard for him which was a pleasant change after all the rubbish others had been dishing out lately. But Yul knew he shouldn’t have drunk so much, especially not when he had this ceremony to lead.

There were great blanks in his memory. He knew he’d been sitting against a tree trunk for a long time with Swift by his side. He remembered the singing and the drumming, the deep reverberating beat entering his body and making him feel so good. He’d wanted to get up and dance to it, join in with the youngsters and the other men who’d put on the antlers and started a tribal dance around the fire and the remains of the feast. Swift had helped him up, staggering under the weight of such a tall man for the boy was lightly built. He’d flicked the straight, silvery hair from his eyes and grinned at Yul, helping him to stand steadily as everything swayed around him. For some reason they had both found this hilarious and Yul remembered roaring with laughter, feeling better than he’d done for a long time.

But later … he cringed now at the thought of it, not wanting to explore the memory but unable to stop it. Eventually they’d decided to return to the Hall for they must be up early for this ceremony. The youngsters were reeling about merrily, all except for Swift who’d probably been the only sober one there. Swift had helped Yul crawl into the cart which had been there all day, the horses tethered to the trees. Most of them had managed to walk back, the physical effort helping them to sober up. But Swift had insisted that Yul ride in the cart, along with the nearly empty cider barrel, drums and bows and arrows. Yul wasn’t in any fit state to argue and had spent the rolling journey home trying to hold on to the contents of his stomach. When they’d arrived back at the Hall Swift had helped him down and taken his arm to lead him inside.

‘Can’t remember the last time I came home like this,’ slurred Yul, leaning heavily on the boy.

‘Well, why not? You’re the magus after all. If you can’t have a few drinks when you want, who can? No harm in that,’ said Swift.

‘Sylvie won’t approve,’ muttered Yul.

‘I don’t see why not. Why should anyone not approve? It’s the man’s night after all, isn’t it? Nothing to do with the women – they’ve got their own party. I thought that was the whole point of the separate Rite celebrations. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do and the women have to accept that.’

‘Yeah,’ giggled Yul, trying hard to climb the wide stairs and stumbling all over the place. ‘If she doesn’t like it, she can lump it.’

‘Show her who’s boss,’ laughed Swift.

‘That’s right. Who’s the lord and master.’

Sylvie had been waiting up, sitting in a chair by the dying fire. She frowned at the state of him, glancing at the smirking boy by his side who clearly found the sight of his incapacitated magus highly amusing.

‘Now don’t start having a go at me!’ Yul had mumbled when he saw the look on her face. ‘I’m not taking any of your nagging tonight – I don’t wanna know. And why aren’t you in bed waiting for me?’

‘Thank you, Swift,’ she said curtly to Martin’s son standing quietly by, watching the scene. ‘Good night.’

‘Thanks, Swift!’ called Yul, far too loudly. ‘I won’t forget what a good drinking companion you’ve been. See you in the morning!’

‘Sssh!’ hissed Sylvie. ‘You’ll wake the girls!’

‘Don’t shush me! I’ll make as much noise as I like. I’m the magus and it’s about time you remembered that.’

When Swift had gone, she tried to make Yul sit down and listen.

‘Something awful happened tonight,’ she began, attempting to manoeuvre him into a chair.

‘I don’t want to know,’ he muttered indistinctly. ‘I’m sick of all the worry and trouble. I’ve had a great night and all I want now is to get to bed – with you, my darling. Always want you, constantly. It’s been too long. Come on, Sylvie, come to bed.’

‘No! You must listen, Yul. It’s Leveret, she tried to do something terrible tonight. She—’

‘What?’ he roared. ‘That bloody girl again! I’ll sort her out once and for all. Where is she?’

He lurched towards the door but she grabbed his arm.

‘Yul, I know you’re drunk but please, you must listen. She’s not here – she’s in the hospital wing. She’s fine now, but she tried to kill herself tonight. And her friend, Magpie – they tried to commit suicide.’

Yul stared at her, his addled brain trying to make sense of what she’d told him.

‘Tried to kill herself? No – she’s not that stupid.’

‘Not stupid, Yul, just deeply unhappy. Why else would a young Stonewylder try to go to the Otherworld before their time’s up? I told you I wanted to talk to her. I could see there was something terribly wrong but you wouldn’t let me.’

He turned on her and glared belligerently.

‘Oh right, so it was all my fault! Everything’s always my fault, isn’t it, Sylvie? Blame me for this as well.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous – it’s nobody’s fault. It’s just very sad that she felt desperate enough to try and take her life. But she’s fine, no harm done. She’s sleeping now and Maizie’s with her.’

Yul shook his head, his eyes still unfocused and confused.

‘Poor Mother! The things that girl has put her through, and now this. Leveret probably didn’t mean it anyway – just trying to get more attention. I’ve got to sort her out.’

‘No, Yul. You’ve got to listen to her instead of shouting at her, but not now. You’re right – you need to get to bed. We’ll think about this in the morning.’

She started to guide him towards the bedroom. He leered at her and she suddenly felt as if she didn’t know this dark-haired, handsome man one bit. This wasn’t her Yul.

‘Keen now, are you? About time too! Come on then, Sylvie – I’d better make the most of it, hadn’t I?’

The rest of the night was something he didn’t want to think about now, not with the ceremony about to start soon. He looked around and saw Sylvie, beautiful in her dark green and silver robes with patterns of Yule evergreens embroidered in fine detail, the mistletoe and holly berries picked out with fresh-water pearls and red garnet. She was completely ignoring him and he didn’t blame her. He just hoped she’d excuse his behaviour on the grounds of drunkenness, because he’d never, ever have treated her like that if he’d been sober. He shook his head at the thought of it and wished he hadn’t, for it felt like his brain was rattling about in his skull.

The great Circle was now packed with bodies and there was a feeling of expectancy and hush. It would soon be time for the Herald of Dawn to light the torch but before that happened, Yul should be up on the Altar Stone chanting the sacred words to invite the sun. Words that seemed to have escaped him right now. Stumbling slightly he climbed up, swaying as he found his balance, and the drums began a soft beat. He caught sight of Swift’s silver hair as he stood amongst the other youngsters waiting to be acknowledged as adults. The boy grinned at him and Yul grimaced back. Then he began the tortuous task of remembering the chants.

The ceremony was not one of the better ones and everything that could go wrong did. Yul tripped over the words and there were even embarrassing silences whilst he desperately tried to recall what came next. The damn ceremonies were too long, he thought irritably. Rufus caught his mood and panicked up in the crow’s nest, forgetting what time he should look for on the watch and Greenbough’s hissed commands were audible to everyone, destroying the magic of the moment. Then the boy slipped coming down the ladder with the burning torch and his cry of alarm was heard in the silence, making some of the children giggle irreverently.

There were no bright rays to gild the glowing magus and Yul only felt a tremor of Earth Magic spiral up from the Altar Stone, not the great rush he normally experienced. There was no green fire, no power blazing from his fìnger tips and filling his soul with joy. Sylvie looked as sour as an unripe apple and refused to meet his eye at all. When the moment came to pass the energy on to his people, to share his magic with the community, he could tell from their bewildered faces that they’d felt nothing at all. He wasn’t surprised – he had nothing to give them. The queue of folk waiting to take his hands and receive their customary share of the Green Magic looked on in surprise as people in front of them left the Altar Stone muttering and complaining. Yul stood there dejectedly feeling as if the Goddess had jilted him.

Sylvie, meanwhile, was also having a bad time. She was trying very hard not to dwell on the awful night she’d spent with Yul. The only way she could deal with it was to put his brutality down to the cider; he’d never behaved like that before. Today she felt sore and soiled, like damaged goods, and it would take a long time to forgive him for that. She knew he was struggling with the ceremony but hearing him stumble over the words filled her with a certain amount of satisfaction – served him right.

She thought back to that glorious Winter Solstice sunrise thirteen years ago when she and Yul had stood together on the Altar Stone like bright angels, locked in an embrace so fierce and eternal that nothing could have broken them apart. She recalled the sizzle of green Earth Magic that had spiralled around her handsome Yul, radiating from within him so that every single person in the Stone Circle was blessed with his luminosity. And now she gazed at him with candid eyes and didn’t like what she saw. He looked terrible, pale and waxy, his eyes blood-shot and puffy. He’d made a complete mess of the beautiful ritual, reducing it to a meaningless jumble of words and phrases with no heart to it. And as for the so-called communion of energy …

Sylvie felt the restlessness within the Circle and the surprise at just how lacking in the usual magic this ceremony was proving to be. People around her were muttering and fidgeting and there was an atmosphere of real disappointment. Martin stood by the Altar Stone and had been helping with the cakes and mead, as he always did, but the look he gave Yul was one of contempt. Sylvie couldn’t really blame him because she felt the same way. How could he have let himself get so very intoxicated last night, knowing how important this ceremony was to everyone? How could he spoil the youngsters’ Rite of Adulthood like this?

Then Sylvie got the shock of her life. She stood near the Altar Stone, having her own part to play in the rituals. The youngsters were getting ready for the presentation of their robes and pendants, jostling about and lining up. Miranda was trying to ensure Yul had the pendants ready in the right order, and he was swaying and looking even paler than before. Sylvie felt a throb of anger towards him for ruining the rituals, and looked up across the Circle for a moment. She had the strangest sensation of being watched, which was ridiculous as many people were watching. But something was making her skin prickle.

There, standing right at the back of the crowd leaning against one of the stones, she thought she saw Magus. It was too far away and murky to be sure, but it looked so like him – tall and well-built with glinting silver hair. Her heart leapt in her chest and at the same time she felt panic rise in her throat. She also felt a strange, sinking feeling of inevitability as the crowd spun dizzily in front of her. Events were spiralling out of control, things were falling apart, and her love for Yul was at an all time low.

Leveret lay on the narrow hospital-wing bed and gazed out of the window. It was a cold, grey dawn and she imagined the rest of the community all up at the Stone Circle right now, the bonfire blazing and the drum-beats echoing in everyone’s souls. This was the first ceremony she’d ever missed in her life and it felt very strange not to be a part of the heartbeat of Stonewylde. She looked across to Magpie’s bed and was alarmed to see it stripped and empty. Her heart jolted but then with a sob of relief, she saw that he lay underneath it, all the bedclothes crumpled up into a nest, sleeping peacefully. She doubted he’d ever slept in a proper bed before. His bruised and filthy face was child-like in its innocence and she thanked the goddess she hadn’t killed him after all.

She looked across to the other bed where Maizie lay asleep, her dark curls spread on the white pillow. As she gazed at her mother’s plump face, relaxed at last after last night’s frantic worry, Leveret felt a great lump in her throat and the ready tears prickled her sore eyes. She’d cried so much and felt emotionally wrung out, drained and exhausted. She also felt like a complete fool.