Magus of Stonewylde Book One (25 page)

‘Just pinched my boyfriend, that’s all!’

‘No she hasn’t. What July and Wren saw was probably nothing. Don’t be nasty to her, Holly. It’s not fair.’

‘She’s hardly playing fair either, is she? Don’t worry, Dawn, I’ll find out exactly what’s going on. And then she’d better watch out! I’ve spent a lot of time and energy hooking Buzz and I won’t give him up without a fight.’

Dawn shook her head.

‘She’s a nice girl and you’ve got it wrong. It’s Buzz you should be annoyed with, not her. You speak to him and find out what’s what. Don’t blame Sylvie.’

‘I blame them both,’ muttered Holly. ‘But I want him and I don’t care what happens to her. She deserves all that’s coming to her.’

The Dining Hall was noisy with the clatter of cutlery and chatter of voices. The servants scurried about ensuring that every member of the Hallfolk was fed. Magus sipped his water and scanned the great room, noting Sylvie and Miranda engaged in conversation. He watched them with dark eyes, his face inscrutable.
Then he caught Buzz’s eye further down the table and raised a questioning eyebrow. Buzz nodded and they smiled at each other before returning their attention to the tender lamb on their plates.

O
n the morning of the Dark Moon, Yul rose even earlier than usual. He needed to find an old flaxen bag and couldn’t ask his mother in case there were questions. He’d seen her antagonism towards Mother Heggy and knew he shouldn’t get involved in helping the crone. It was unlikely that the Beechwood Sickeners were needed for any healing remedy and she was probably up to no good, but he felt a compulsion to obey. It never occurred to him not to harvest the red mushrooms as instructed.

Yul crept downstairs to look for a bag, as there may be no further opportunity today. He heard his mother moving around upstairs on the creaky floor and knew he had little time. She usually came down just after him and busied herself stoking the range, putting water on to boil and cooking breakfast for the family. Rosie had already left for the dairy as she had the earliest start and was given breakfast there. Yul’s father would soon be down too, stomping about with a sore head and demanding his bacon and eggs. He rarely spoke in the mornings but shovelled down his breakfast in morose silence.

Yul always kept out of sight in the back garden, feeding the pig and chickens and chopping firewood. As Alwyn ate his breakfast at the table, Maizie would silently pass Yul his lunch wrapped in a cloth, and some bacon and bread for his breakfast. He’d eat this as he walked to the woods. The five younger children in the family, all still at the Village School or Nursery, waited quietly together upstairs until their father left for work. Everyone kept
out of Alwyn’s way in the morning. But today was different.

Yul found a flaxen bag in the parlour dresser and stuffed it into his trousers for safekeeping. He heard Maizie coming down the stairs and waited to say good morning, not realising that Alwyn was right behind her. It was too late to open the door to escape and Yul froze, his heart thumping. He looked down at the floor, hoping his father would go straight through into the kitchen and out to the privy in the back garden.

‘What are you doing here?’ Alwyn grunted.

‘Nothing. I was just on my way out.’

‘You should be outside already. I don’t want to see your ugly face in the morning. Get out of my way, you little shit.’

Yul wasn’t in his way but he shrank back against the wall. He held his breath, praying that maybe it would be alright. His father stamped across the room, heavy jaw jutting and piggy eyes alight with belligerence. He was an unattractive man with a huge barrel-belly, gingery hair and a greasy red face. Yul was glad, every time he looked at him, that he’d inherited none of his father’s looks whatsoever.

Alwyn drew level with Yul and stopped. The boy had flattened himself against the wall with his head down. Maizie was already in the kitchen clattering the frying pan onto the range, keeping out of the way. She knew not to intervene when Alwyn started on Yul as it only enraged him further. Over the years she’d learnt to act as if nothing untoward was happening, and the children followed her lead. So Yul’s beatings took place in front of a silent family who averted their eyes and ignored the terrible scene taking place right under their noses. Nobody ever dared say a word for fear of making it worse for Yul.

‘Wipe that look off your face, you little bastard!’

Yul kept his head down.

‘Did you hear what I said?’

Yul nodded.

‘Answer me when I’m speaking to you!’

Alwyn’s hand shot out and hit Yul hard around the side of the face with a loud crack. The boy swayed, his head reeling.

‘I said get that look off your face! I’m warning you …’

As Yul was looking at the floor, expressionless, there was nothing more he could do to obey. With a growl of rage, Alwyn’s huge hand shot out again and grabbed Yul by the throat, pushing him hard up against the wall. Yul choked and spluttered, gasping for breath. His father held him there, the boy’s feet on tiptoe almost off the floor. Alwyn’s face was scarlet, his mouth flecked with spittle. His other hand bunched up into a fist. The heavy blows to Yul’s torso were measured and deliberate; the sound of knuckles thudding into flesh and bone was sickening.

Yul clamped his mouth shut, determined that no humiliating cries of pain would escape. Alwyn grunted with the effort of every thump and the strain of pinning the boy to the wall. Finally he let go and Yul crumpled to the floor, curling himself up as small as he could. Alwyn towered above him breathing heavily, his fists clenching and unclenching. Undecided whether to continue with the strap, he looked down at the boy at his feet. Yul shook violently and despite his best efforts, he whimpered with pain. Alwyn nodded in satisfaction.

‘Your breakfast’s ready, my love!’ Maizie called from the kitchen. ‘And I cooked you some extra sausages as well.’

The smell of bacon distracted Alwyn, making his mouth water and his stomach rumble with anticipation. The boy could wait – he’d continue the punishment tonight before he went to the pub. With a final grunt he kicked Yul in the side and stomped into the kitchen. Groaning, Yul staggered upright and held onto the wall for support. He managed to open the front door and lurched down the track, until the intense pain in his side slowed him to a limping shuffle.

If Greenbough noticed anything was wrong, he didn’t say. He saw the swollen lump on Yul’s cheekbone and the boy looked increasingly pale as the morning wore on. But he refused the offer of sharing any of the other men’s lunch, and took himself off to sit hunched up in a quiet corner, with his back to everyone as they ate. Yul was silent all day and by the afternoon
Greenbough could see he’d had enough. He winced with every movement and his neck seemed stiff and painful.

Greenbough wondered if he should tell Magus. The tanner was renowned in the Village for his violent temper and readiness to use his fists, and Yul was entirely at his mercy. The boy must live in terror. One day Alwyn may go too far and do some permanent damage; this already went well beyond tough parental discipline.

‘You can stop now, Yul,’ said Greenbough, seeing the boy struggle to wield his axe.

‘It’s alright, sir, I can do it.’

‘No, you’ve had enough. Go home.’

Yul looked at him, his grey eyes full of pain.

‘Come on, lad. You’re no use to anyone like this. Should you go up to the Hall and see the doctor maybe?’

‘No!’ said Yul quickly. ‘I’m fine really. But maybe I’ll go for a walk. Thank you, sir.’

Greenbough watched the boy trudge away and shook his head, resolving to speak to Magus. Something must be done to stop Alwyn’s cruelty. He decided to do it right now, and told the other men he was going up to the Hall for a while.

Yul decided to go to the Stone Circle. All he wanted was to be alone. He couldn’t go home and he had to be in the woods at dusk to harvest the mushrooms at the Dark Moon. He felt hollow as he’d eaten nothing since the evening before. His neck was agony, his throat hurt when he swallowed and he was bruised all over. He was worried he’d cracked yet another rib when his father had kicked him.

Worst of all was his bitter rage and frustration. He wanted to kill Alwyn. He knew Maizie would be better off without him. She didn’t love him and the children were all terrified of him. Alwyn had drinking companions but no real friends. His death would be a blessing to everyone. Yul made his way up the track that led to the Long Walk, his head down and his step slow, oblivious to the beauty and fragrance of the white and pink hawthorn blossom lining his route.

At the Hall, Old Greenbough called in the back entrance and spoke to one of the servants in the kitchen. Before long he was taken to the Galleried Hall to wait for the master. His audience with Magus started very differently to that of Yul’s, the day he’d been summoned here. Greenbough was a respected member of the community and Magus treated the old man with deference. After they’d chatted about the woodlands at Stonewylde, Greenbough cleared his throat and prepared to broach the purpose of his visit.

‘I wanted to talk to you about young Yul, sir.’

‘Ah yes, Yul. His name seems to be cropping up a great deal lately. What’s he done now? I warned him recently if there was any more trouble he’d face a whipping.’

‘Oh no, he’s done nothing wrong, sir. No, no, he’s a good lad. He’s a hard worker and a very bright boy.’

‘Really? I had him down as sly, devious and lacking in respect for anyone.’

‘No, sir, that’s not the boy I know.’

‘Oh well, we obviously see him in different lights.’

Magus sat relaxed in his carved chair, long legs stretched out before him. With one elbow on the boar’s head armrest and his chin on his hand, he surveyed Greenbough with a cynical expression that told of his disbelief. The old man felt uncomfortable. Magus usually addressed him with pleasing courtesy.

‘I’m worried about the way his father treats him.’

‘In what respect?’

‘Well, Yul is beaten regular. The poor lad’s always damaged in some way or another. But now his injuries are getting worse, sir, and I don’t like the way ‘tis heading.’

Magus smiled coldly and shook his head.

‘You surprise me, Greenbough. I’d have put you down as someone who’d approve of a boy being brought up tough.’

‘Oh aye, sir, I do, right enough. ‘Tis just that Alwyn goes too far. Much too far.’

‘But surely, Greenbough, you agree that it’s up to a father how he disciplines his son?’

‘Aye, but—’

‘It certainly isn’t your place to interfere in issues between parent and child. Nor mine, for that matter. My involvement would undermine something central to our philosophy at Stonewylde.’

He smiled at Greenbough again, a smile without warmth. The old man looked down at his work boots and cleared his throat. He’d have one more try. Alwyn must be stopped. If he carried on, the boy could be maimed for life – or worse.

‘Fair enough, sir, I do take your point. You know me well enough. I wouldn’t bother you for no good reason, but I—’

‘Of course, Greenbough. You did right to raise your concerns. And now if you don’t mind, I have a great deal of business to attend to.’

Magus stood, signalling that the interview was over, and Greenbough hastily stood up too. He was annoyed that he hadn’t had the chance to speak plainly.

‘Sir, will you please look into it? I’m concerned for the boy’s well-being. He’s my apprentice and he can’t work when he’s injured so bad.’

Magus raised his eyebrows and sighed.

‘Very well, Greenbough. If it’s affecting his ability to do a proper day’s labour, I will look into it. I’ll come by the woods later on.’

‘Thank you, sir. But … well, the boy ain’t there now.’

‘Why not?’

‘I gave him the afternoon off.’

Magus frowned at this.

‘A foolish decision. You know the laws of the community. Everyone puts in an honest day’s work. If Yul thinks he can skip his duties because of a few bruises, he’d take advantage of you in no time. I shall definitely look him out this afternoon, wherever he may be. Good day, Greenbough.’

He strode off, his boots clicking on the stone floor. Greenbough
tramped sadly back to the woods. He had a terrible feeling he’d just made it worse for the lad.

When he entered the Stone Circle from the Long Walk, the change in Yul was almost tangible. The sharp pain in his side subsided and every injury hurt less. Yul knew it was wrong to enter a sacred place feeling dejected and angry, so he shook the dark hair out of his eyes and lifted his chin. With a straight back he stepped slowly across the Circle, feeling a sudden thrill of power. As he walked across the beaten earth his feet tingled and he felt stronger, more whole. He stopped in the centre.

Tonight was of course the Dark Moon and maybe that made a difference. At the Dark Moon, the Crone ruled and the power was of dark magic, of destruction. Women would start to bleed, their wombs emptying ready for the following month’s fertility. Yul knew it was women who were in tune with the moon’s cycle, but he also recalled Mother Heggy’s words that he was moon-blessed. Maybe that’s why he felt so strange here today.