Shaman of Stonewylde (69 page)

Bluebell did the complicated thing where she had to go through the alphabet as fast as she could and make her eyes jump quickly along a row of something one by one – she chose the chestnut leaves today – but that didn’t help. The nightmare last night had been the worst yet, so bad that she’d had to climb in with Celandine, even though her sister didn’t like being disturbed again. She’d really wanted to creep into her parents’ bed but she knew her father would be cross. Baby Ioho was sleeping in his new cradle made of magical yew with a crow carved on it, and if she woke him up there’d be worse trouble. So, in the darkness, with her heart pounding, she’d tried to do the alphabet thing because sometimes it helped and pushed the dark stuff away.

The nightmare last night had been different to the old ones from the Hall. All her dreams about the Moonlight Man had stopped now. Bluebell understood that Grandfather Clip had taken him away to the Otherworld and he couldn’t come back ever again – nor could Martin, of whom she’d lived in abject terror for as long as she could remember. On the night of Samhain she’d seen Grandfather Clip in a dream. She’d seen him wrap the Moonlight Man and Martin in a great cloak of black raven feathers like a dark wing, and fly them away through the veil of smoke and cobwebs into the scary Otherworld. Her grandfather had turned as he passed through, and looking back he’d seen her standing there, small and alone, watching him.
He’d
smiled at her and his mouth had made the words “
Farewell, Bluebell!
” which had always been a joke between them because it rhymed. She’d been so sad that he’d gone, but very happy that he’d taken the other two bad men with him. She’d thought then that everything – apart from Father being away from them and all on his own – would be happy. And when Father came back again at the Spring Equinox and they learned of Baby Ioho growing in Mummy’s tummy, life was perfect. Until yesterday.

Bluebell squatted down with her back against the sharp lines and fissures of bark. She didn’t care if her white cardigan got dirty, even if Granny Maizie would be really cross. Today was Hare Moon and something was going to happen, and she thought it was about Celandine. Her sister wasn’t safe any more because something really bad and evil would be set free today; she knew this from the nightmare. Then it would be on the prowl – those words made her shudder with terror – all around Stonewylde. Sooner or later it would find its prey. And its prey might be Celandine.

Bluebell remembered watching one of the barn cats which lived in the huge, dusty Village Store. Granny Maizie had been waiting her turn to collect some provisions – salt and new embroidery needles – and Bluebell had wandered off round the back of some sacks of oats. In a patch of sunlight she’d seen the cat. She’d wanted to stroke it but its tail was lashing and its ears were flattened and suddenly it had leapt through the air and there’d been a terrible mad squeaking that had abruptly stopped. The tiny mouse had spilled its entrails as it twitched in death, and Bluebell had sobbed for the rest of the morning. Granny Maizie had said that hunting creatures had to catch their prey – it was their job. She said it was only natural, and that the cat had probably spent hours watching and waiting for the right moment to pounce. Bluebell had imagined the little mouse happily going about its business all morning, not knowing it was actually prey and shortly would die.

It terrified her that today something was out there hunting and would strike like a cat. But who was the prey? She’d thought
long
and hard about this. Baby Ioho was protected because Auntie Leveret held him a lot and that must help as she was magic, and he slept in the yew cradle that Father had made especially for him. Bluebell knew that she herself was safe because she did the alphabet thing all the time and she’d made more magic with her Bluebell Faerie book. Most people thought it was just a story but they didn’t realise she and Magpie had hidden real magic in the pictures and words. So that left Celandine. Bluebell was almost sure, after what had happened yesterday at the Hall and then last night’s terror, it was her big sister with her dancing feet and her long silver hair and moongazy dreaming who would be the prey.

Yesterday she’d gone up to the Hall with Mummy for Baby Ioho to be weighed and checked. In the hospital wing, Hazel had needed to talk privately with her mother so Bluebell had been sent outside to play on the wide stone terrace. Some old folk were sitting out there in a sheltered spot in the sun, and they spoke kindly to her and stroked her blonde curls. But when Bluebell trotted around a corner of the wing following a bright butterfly, she’d bumped straight into an old woman sitting all alone in a wicker chair on wheels.

It was Baba Yaga, straight from the fairy-tale that Grandfather Clip had told them. The crone was hunched into a twisted shape, her face so lined and shrivelled that she hardly looked human any more. Her mouth was sunken around her toothless gums and her nose hooked. Her eyes glowed with dark fire beneath jutting brows and she shot out a claw to grab Bluebell’s arm in a hard, pinching grip.

‘Raven-spawn!’ she’d cried. ‘Still she lives on!’

Bluebell had been too terrified to speak, trying to pull away from her iron grasp, but the old woman was strong and cackled at her attempts to escape.

‘Old Violet knows, right enough! ’Tis not over till the Black Moon! The taint remains, waiting as ever, ready to prowl and search out its prey!’

‘What’s waiting to prowl?’ whispered Bluebell, pulled in so
close
to the old woman that she felt her stinking breath, warm and sour on her face.

‘The toad will crawl from under his stone and you’ll be the one to help me, Raven-whelp, with your pretty curls and blue eyes. You’ll help Old Violet, won’t you?’

Her other clawed hand came up to trace Bluebell’s petal-soft cheek and the little girl shrank from her touch in horror.

‘I . . . I won’t help you!’

The crone cackled at this and Bluebell saw clearly the long whiskers on her chin, the seamed and bristly skin around her cavernous mouth. Her eyes burned black and wicked as she scratched Bluebell’s cheek with a sharp talon, from eye-socket to jaw.

‘Ah, but you will, my pretty! See, Old Violet has marked you and now you’re mine. You find that toad-bag and release my magic, and do it tomorrow so it’s ready for Black Moon. The feet will dance no more on the tainted hill, for ’tis the snake in the stone that holds the moongazy power. Hares and barn owls – pah! The serpent o’ Stonewylde is ever the stronger, and Old Violet’s magic is ever greater than Raven’s.’

Bluebell had frozen at these words, so scared that she wet herself. She began to cry, ashamed and terrified, and the hag released her cruel grip.

‘Go now, maggot-spawn. Do my bidding and then you’re free. And if you tell a soul . . .’

With a grimace, she opened her mouth wide and poked out a sticky brown tongue. Her talons came up like pincers and she mimed pulling out her tongue.

‘If you speak o’ this, I’ll have your tongue while you sleep!’

Kestrel watched the lovely handfasting ceremony with his arm around his girlfriend’s waist.

‘I think it’s fabulous!’ she sighed. ‘I didn’t know there were places like this! When I get married I want this sort of do.’

She widened her eyes at Kestrel but he only grinned.

‘Don’t look at me!’ he laughed. ‘You know I’m still nursing a
broken
heart and I’m not getting caught on the rebound. I just thought you’d be interested in seeing this ceremony, as you said you liked quaint old customs. Don’t go telling everyone back on campus though or they’ll all want to visit.’

They sauntered across the grass as the massive circle of people broke up and the newly-wed couples processed proudly into the Great Barn for the feast. The girl by Kestrel’s side stared in dewy-eyed amazement at the two gorgeous people who’d led the ceremony. As they’d spoken the words to bind the couples who stood before them, they’d barely taken their eyes off each other. It was as if they’d been saying the vows to one another, regardless of the crowds looking on, wrapped up in their own love and solemn promises. They still stood hand in hand up on the dais and there was an almost visible aura shimmering around the pair of them. He was so dark and she so blonde, and in full view of the throng, they fell into each other’s arms and kissed deeply.

‘Oh look at them! It’s so romantic!’ she breathed. ‘And their costumes . . .’

‘That’s Yul and Sylvie,’ he said. ‘Good to see them properly back together again. They’re looking pretty loved-up, I must say.’

He watched as Leveret walked towards the Barn, a great shaggy grey dog by her side and her arm through Rufus’. She looked completely normal but he’d heard the news.

‘Hi Leveret!’ he called, leaving the girlfriend as he hurried over to reach her. She turned her little face towards him, her green eyes clear and bright, her hair a mass of luxuriant dark curls that reached her waist. She wore a pretty buttercup-yellow dress today in honour of her brother’s handfasting, and a circlet of flowers on her head.

‘Kestrel!’ she cried, her face breaking into a smile.

‘How can—’

‘I’d recognise your voice anywhere,’ she said. ‘Welcome back.’

‘Just a flying day-visit from University,’ he said. ‘I’m . . . I’m so sorry about . . .’

‘Me too,’ she replied. ‘But it could have been worse, and life goes on.’

‘I just wanted to say . . . well, it’s good to see you again. You look really lovely – I always said you’d be worth waiting for and I was right.’

‘Thank you!’ she beamed, blushing. ‘I’m afraid it would be a long wait – another lifetime in fact – but that’s made my day.’

His girlfriend had reached them and she stared at Rufus.

‘I’ve seen you before!’ she exclaimed. ‘I remember your amazing hair, like conkers. You were in those magazines with Kes, weren’t you? Another Aitch model – wow!’

Now Rufus blushed scarlet behind his mass of freckles, and Kestrel laughed.

‘Fame at last, eh Rufus? Would you mind escorting my lady-friend into the Barn so I can take this beautiful little maiden in on my arm? Last time we did this, Leveret, you were drugged up to the eyeballs – yes, I have heard! So let’s do it properly one more time, shall we?’

The party made its way slowly through the woods, once again adrift in a lake of deepest violet-blue. Birds flitted through the trees, serenading the family group as they chatted happily, well-fed from the wedding feast and looking forward to watching the moon rise. Sylvie was tired and had almost bowed out of this, but she knew how keen Yul was to perform the little ceremony tonight. They hadn’t done this for the girls and it was a custom that had died out at Stonewylde. But when Yul had overheard Old Greenbough talking about how, when he was a lad, they’d always presented new-borns to the Bright Lady, he knew it would be perfect for little Ioho. Sylvie had thought they’d do it publicly on the Village Green, but Yul had set his heart on Hare Stone, their special and very magical place at the Moon Fullness.

‘Keep up, Bluebell!’ she called, looking back to where the little girl trailed way behind the party. ‘Are you tired? Come and hold my hand, or maybe Uncle Rufus will give you a piggy-back if you ask nicely.’

She was a little concerned about her younger daughter, who’d been quiet and miserable all day. She hoped it wasn’t jealousy,
but
doubted it. Bluebell had never resented her older sister’s gift of dance and the attention it brought, and she adored the baby. In fact she’d been very happy, trotting about on her sturdy little legs and singing at the top of her voice with her normal exuberance until yesterday. Sylvie recalled she’d been silent and strange on their way back from the Hall. Whilst Hazel had been doing the check-up, Bluebell had somehow managed to scratch her face and had wet herself, which was most unusual. Maybe she was coming down with something? Sylvie resolved to ask Leveret’s advice.

Celandine skipped on ahead, anxious to get up the hill even though the sun was still shining. Sylvie smiled, recognising all the signs; she was definitely becoming more moongazy as she grew older. At least with the warm summer months ahead they could come up here every month. For the ceremony this evening they’d also brought along Miranda and Christopher, as well as Leveret, Maizie, Rufus and Magpie, and Yul carried Ioho strapped to his chest in a warm cocoon.

Sylvie couldn’t recall ever feeling happier in her whole life. Yul had told her of Clip’s wise words about metamorphosis and he’d been right – this new love between them was stronger and deeper than ever before, tempered into something finer by the separation, betrayal and pain of the past months. She loved Yul so very deeply and seeing him now with his tiny son made her heart ache with joy. She was still very emotional, only two weeks on from Ioho’s dramatic arrival in the Stone Circle at Beltane, but she knew the dreadful illness she’d suffered after Bluebell’s birth wouldn’t strike this time. She felt strong and positive and was enjoying every minute of their beautiful new life together with their three children.

‘Bluebell, do catch up!’ she called again, stopping and waiting for the dawdling child.

As the Hare Moon rose, Yul stood with his back to the great stone and lifted his naked son to the sky. They all stood in a semi-circle facing the glorious moonrise as Yul raised the tiny
baby
to the deep blue heavens. Leveret had brought along Clip’s old shamanic drum and she kept the beat, primeval and compelling, as Yul offered up his son in silence. The baby must’ve been cold and, privately, Sylvie worried about this. But she’d told herself just a few minutes in the warm evening wouldn’t hurt, and at first Ioho didn’t cry. His little limbs flailed the air, his hands in fists, and then he wailed but more as if in greeting to the golden moon than in complaint. It was a beautiful moment and touched the hearts of everyone present.

‘I offer you my son, Bright Lady,’ said Yul in his deep, soft voice. ‘May he always honour the old ways, walking in harmony with you and the spirit of our land. May he serve the folk of Stonewylde well!’

At that Ioho began to yell and soon after, Leveret slowed and then stopped the drumbeats. Yul lowered him and swaddled him in a soft, warm shawl, kissing his little face with such tenderness that Sylvie felt the ready tears well up. He was a fine little boy with a mop of dark hair, and, although he seemed to have his father’s handsome features, he’d inherited her pale skin and silvery-grey wolf eyes. The effect was stunning. Yul handed him over to Sylvie who sat down on the rug and leant against the stone, unbuttoning her bodice to reveal her full, tingling breast.