Shaman of Stonewylde (19 page)

It was cool and soothing in the shade after the searing brightness, and Sylvie breathed deeply of the refreshing air, feeling the energy of the trees all around her, their magic prickling at her skin. She sighed heavily and was surprised to feel Yul’s hand slip into hers.

‘That was a hell of a meeting,’ he said.

‘Dreadful!’ she agreed. ‘And, as for the business about Buzz . . .’

‘I’m so glad you backed me on that,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t sure if you would.’

‘Well, of course I would! I feel the same about him as you do.’

‘I doubt that,’ he said wryly. ‘I know he pestered you that summer and then attacked you in the maze, but
I’d
put up with a lifetime of his bullying and abuse.’

‘True,’ she said, thinking of the awful incident at the ballet when Buzz’s hand had rested so intimately on her leg for the entire performance. And even worse, the assault when she’d been strapped to the bed and helpless in the private clinic; she still couldn’t bear to think of that. But Yul must never know of those things. He’d only today mentioned his former threat to kill Buzz and this could perhaps tip him over the edge.

‘I can’t believe that Harold betrayed me – us – like that,’ he mused.

‘Honestly, Yul, I think Clip’s right. Harold has been manipulated – there isn’t any question of betrayal.’

He glanced at her as they walked along, still loosely holding hands but both aware of just how awkward it felt, when before it had always been so natural.

‘You always back your father, don’t you?’ he said. ‘Never me.’

‘Please let’s not argue,’ she sighed, ‘I don’t want to contradict you and start another squabble, but you should know by now that I always back whoever I think is right, regardless of who it
is
. And, lately, that happens to be Clip rather than you. But I agree with you totally about Buzz – he must never return here.’

‘No, the bastard!’ said Yul bitterly. ‘Can you imagine him trying to take over Stonewylde and reinventing himself as Magus?’

Sylvie refrained from the obvious comment, managing to remove her hand from his in order to find a handkerchief in her bag.

‘I was shocked at Martin’s unpleasantness,’ she said. ‘And his rudeness.’

‘He’s a real viper in the nest and I’ve always wondered about him,’ agreed Yul. ‘I know Clip wanted to keep him on and give him a special place at Stonewylde so he felt valued, but I wish we’d got rid of him from the start.’

‘Remember how he used to be with Magus? All that fawning and obsequiousness?’ said Sylvie. ‘He obviously never changed – just hid his true feelings from us all these years.’

‘Yes, but what worries me is why he now feels able to show them. What’s happened to make him feel he can now safely reveal where his loyalties lie?’

‘There’s something going on,’ said Sylvie. ‘I’ve felt it for some time now . . . some kind of undercurrent. Can you feel it?’

‘Yes . . . but what I feel more is this chasm between us,’ he said.

They’d reached the fork and could now turn off for the track down to the Village, or take the path that would lead to the Long Walk and the Stone Circle. Yul stopped and touched her arm. His grey eyes were clear today, and full of longing.

‘Please? Can we just visit the Stone Circle together?’

She nodded, feeling sorry for the unnatural way he now had to behave. This humility and his tentative request – it wasn’t Yul at all. He was a man of action and decision, and having to tread so carefully around her was alien to him. She regretted that she’d forced him to adopt these tactics, but the alternative was the rampant arrogance and bullying which she would no longer accept. If only he could find a happy medium; be himself but respect her autonomy too.

Soon they reached the end of the shady Long Walk and were at the entrance to the sunlit arena. Even though the afternoon was now well under way, the heat was tremendous. The birds were almost silent and the bees had ceased their activity; all slumbered in the baking, drowsy gold of the June afternoon. Only woodpigeons called lazily from the oak trees that fell away from the henge, and barely a whisper of air stirred.

They entered the blindingly bright sacred space and were at once blasted by heat bouncing off the great stones. The beaten earth floor was a scorching carpet that burned through the soles of their shoes. Everything shimmered in the haze and Sylvie felt slightly unreal. For a second she thought she saw movement by one of the stones, but when she blinked there was nothing. They stood together surveying the empty circle, almost reluctant to walk any further into the searing dustbowl.

‘Let’s go over there and sit in the shade of the stones,’ said Yul, taking her arm and guiding her to the welcome black shadows. The relief was instant the moment they stepped out of the blazing sun. They sat down, their backs to the stone and their legs out before them. Yul took Sylvie’s hand in his and rubbed it against his cheek.

‘I love you,’ he said simply. ‘I love you the same now as I’ve always done. Without you my life is pointless.’

His words touched her heart in their directness and brought tears to her eyes. She longed for nothing more than things to be right between them, back to how it had once been. Could they start again, with a new consideration for each other? Maybe Yul understood now how hurt she’d been by his bullying and put-downs. Perhaps now he was ready to treat her how he’d always used to: with gentleness and respect, but as an equal.

‘I love you too, Yul,’ she said, her mouth dry and head slightly spinning. Hope for true reconciliation flared inside her.

‘Really?’ His eagerness was poignant. ‘Do you really still love me? I thought perhaps not.’

‘Oh Yul, how could I not love you? We’re the darkness and the brightness, remember? We belong together and we made vows.
That
handfasting ceremony last month . . .’

Tears strangled her words.

‘I know,’ he said and put his arm around her, pulling her close. It felt so good; like an enclosure of comfort holding her safe. He buried his face in her silky hair as he’d always loved to do. ‘I kept thinking of us – of the vows we made to each other at our handfasting, and how it had all fallen apart. It broke my heart, Sylvie. And then you disappeared in the evening, at the Moon Fullness. I stood alone and watched the moon rise, and I thought you’d gone off with one of those Outsiders.’

‘Oh Yul – don’t ever think that! You really are the only one for me, ever. I was up at Hare Stone, moondancing. It was absolutely magical.’

‘At Hare Stone?’ His voice sounded a little odd and there was a pause. ‘You went moondancing again without me?’

‘Yes, I’d promised—’

‘But why didn’t you ask me to come? I’d have loved that, like the old days, just you and me. Didn’t you want me there?’

‘I didn’t think you’d want to come, Yul. And besides, you’d ignored me all day.’

‘Ignored you? No,
you’d
ignored
me
! And you’d managed the whole handfasting ceremony quite well without me. I felt useless and unnecessary all day.’

She felt how tense he’d become, his body rigid beside hers.

‘Oh Yul, I—’

‘But that’s not the point. To be honest, I’m shocked that you went moondancing without me after what happened last time. You shouldn’t have gone up there alone – that was a crazy thing to do. Why—’

‘But I wasn’t alone. I took the girls, and Celandine was—’

‘
The girls
? You took our little girls up there without informing me, after you’d had hysterics the previous time? Oh for Goddess’ sake, Sylvie, how
stupid
! You should’ve thought—’

Abruptly Sylvie pulled away from his arm, which suddenly felt as restrictive as an iron coop. She launched herself to her feet and the world tilted at the suddenness of movement.

‘How
dare
you?’ she responded bitterly, feeling more angry with herself than him. Why had she imagined he’d be different today? ‘Who are you to call me stupid?’

She brushed the dust from her skirt and, with a final glare at his flushed face, turned away, and headed off towards the Long Walk.

‘Sylvie!’ cried Yul, scrambling to his feet. ‘Hold on! I only meant—’

‘No you didn’t! You haven’t changed at all, have you?’ she retorted over her shoulder. ‘And until you do, we have no future together.’

Maizie looked fondly at the red-haired boy splitting logs out in the back garden. He was a lovely lad, so willing and helpful, if a little shy. After the day’s fiasco at the Council of Elders’ meeting it was good to return to normality. She thought back to the tension in the Galleried Hall and her son’s outburst at the mention of Buzz. Not that she blamed him, of course. It was funny to think that Buzz, Yul and this boy, Rufus, were fathered by the same man; all three were so very different in colouring and temperament.

She made the boy a cool drink of elderflower cordial, for it looked as if Rufus had nearly finished chopping the wood. It was only for the range, of course, and in this heat-wave, she wished she could dispense with that altogether. She looked sadly at the vegetables wilting in their beds outside, all suffering from the drought. Every drop of water used in the Bath House was piped into tanks, to be used for irrigating the cottage gardens. She’d send Rufus along there to collect some in a minute. There was still half an hour before suppertime and Sylvie was down the end of the garden picking strawberries with the girls. Sylvie had come back from the Hall later than her and in a strange mood; Maizie had no idea what was going on, but she knew that Sylvie was deeply unhappy.

She tutted to herself as she began scrubbing some new potatoes. A woman’s place was by her husband’s side, not living with
his
mother. Poor Yul – she’d felt so sorry for him today when Sylvie had put him in his place. The girl was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier to see her boy put down like that. She wished that they’d patch things up. Nobody expected marriage to be easy, and there were bound to be difficult spells – droughts and floods, along with perfect weather. Trouble was, Yul and Sylvie had been basking in the perfect weather for too long and had no idea how to cope with this storm. She recalled her years of marriage to Alwyn, then quickly cast that thought aside as she put the potatoes on to boil. There was a nice piece of ham ready to carve, and salad from the garden already washed. If Sylvie had picked enough strawberries, they’d have them with some cream. She hoped Rufus would stay for supper – he was a good boy and the little girls enjoyed his company no end.

The front door banged opened and she peered through from the kitchen, thinking it must be Sweyn or Gefrin come by for a visit. They didn’t come very often now that Sylvie and the girls were staying – in fact they’d only come once and hadn’t been back since. It wouldn’t be Geoffrey or Gregory; they were busy with their own young families, as was Rosie. And then Yul appeared, so tall and dark, and as always, Maizie’s heart leaped with love for him. He was her special son and always would be, however he behaved. Yul had good reason to act the way he did; after all those years of misery and being treated worse than a dog, she’d forgive him anything. She beamed her welcome, even though they’d only seen each other that afternoon in the Galleried Hall, and then stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His mood didn’t seem to have improved, for his mouth was hard and eyes cloudy.

‘I just came by to see the girls,’ he said. ‘Are they about?’

Maizie nodded towards the back garden and Yul glanced out through the open door into the brightness beyond. The rhythmic thud of an axe blade on wood was loud and Yul frowned.

‘Who’s chopping the wood, Mother?’ He hoped it wasn’t Sweyn, who always made him feel aggressive. Gefrin was marginally more bearable.

‘ ’Tis our Rufus,’ she said.

‘Rufus?’ he barked. ‘What the hell’s
he
doing here?’

‘Chopping wood, as you can hear! He’s such a good lad, so helpful, and—’

‘But why Rufus?’

Yul was surprised at just how much he resented the thought of that boy in
his
old back garden doing jobs for
his
mother. He’d even have preferred gingery, porcine Sweyn. Rufus irritated him with that deep red hair and freckles, and those dark, soulful eyes; he didn’t belong here.

‘Oh Yul, don’t be silly. He’s a good boy and he offered to help me. Sylvie arranged it all, seeing as how I have no man about to do the heavy work.’

Yul stood there, dominating the kitchen, his anger and jealousy seething around him with no place to go. He saw the cold drink sitting on the table ready for the boy, and from the garden could now hear his daughters’ voices calling to Rufus.

Resentment bubbled inside him like a bellyful of acid.

‘So not only has she left me and moved in here, to my old home – she’s now arranging for her bloody brother to take over—’

‘Her brother? Oh yes, o’ course! I always think of him as
your
brother, Yul – Magus’ son. Well, I need someone to chop the wood and bring in the water – and the lad has no kin of his own to do it for. ’Tis all part of growing up at Stonewylde and he’s never had to do it afore. Hard work’s good for a growing boy – surely you don’t mind me making use o’ him?’

Yul frowned, ashamed of his jealousy and annoyed with himself for being so petty. Then he let out a shout of laughter, took his plump mother in his arms and gave her a great hug.

‘Goodness, boy – don’t break me in half! What is it now?’

‘I’ve been a fool for getting so upset – the irony of the situation just hit me!’ he laughed. ‘Magus punished me as a young lad by sending me to Miranda and Sylvie’s cottage to chop wood and do the heavy work for them. And fourteen years later – here’s Magus’ and Miranda’s own son chopping wood in my mother’s cottage in the Village! Who’d ever have thought it?’

10

T
hey stood before the ancient door which now hung on strong iron hinges. Leveret pulled out the key from where it dangled on a cord round her neck, and, unlocking the heavy padlock, she lifted the latch. It clunked up and she pushed the door open. No longer did it stick, or squeak alarmingly. Instead, it swung easily and they stood on the threshold and peered inside.