Moondance of Stonewylde (14 page)

In the morning Sylvie awoke feeling exhausted. She didn’t want to get up and face the world, and was overwhelmed with a sensation of dread. She knew that tomorrow was the full moon and thought desperately of Yul. He’d said he’d wait for her in the woods. More than anything she wanted to be with him, protected and loved, dancing around the Hare Stone in honour of the Bright Lady. But every time she thought about it a fog rolled over her, blocking everything out. All she could think of was her compulsion to visit Mooncliffe and give her magic to Magus. It was why she’d been brought to Stonewylde and she must do it without question. There was no doubt about it in her mind – only a deep sense of trepidation.

Sylvie dragged herself out of bed, gazing through the windows at the bright gardens below. It was a glorious day, full of bird song and blue skies, but her heart was heavy. She showered and got ready to go down to breakfast. Food was the last thing she wanted, but she knew she must look after her health. Miranda was still in bed feeling queasy with morning sickness as Sylvie left their rooms. She stumbled down the long gallery of the Tudor wing towards the upper landing, subdued and full of foreboding.

The first person she saw was Magus, glowing with vitality after an energetic early morning ride. He was making his way up the wide staircase as she was descending. His long legs in tight jodhpurs and highly polished boots took the stairs two at a time and he stopped on the stair below her as they met, still taller
than she was. Sunlight shone through the great stained-glass window behind her, falling full onto his handsome face and bathing his silvery hair with royal red and purple light. His skin was golden from the summer sun and his dark eyes danced with energy; he looked glorious.

‘Good morning, my moongazy girl!’ he said, his voice smooth as mead. He couldn’t see her face clearly for the light was streaming in behind her, throwing her into silhouette. He did notice that she seemed taller; no longer a young girl but now coltish and leggy. When had that happened? She was growing up so fast. He reached forward and took both her hands in his, surprised to find her trembling violently.

‘Sylvie, what’s the matter?’

He took a step up to the same level and turned her so the coloured light from the stained glass washed her face. The effect was quite uncanny; a masque of blue light fell onto her ashen skin and she seemed to go cold before him. He saw the strain and fear in her eyes, the way her lips quivered.

‘What’s wrong, Sylvie?’ he asked softly. ‘What’s frightened you?’

She shook her head silently, unable to articulate her fears, her pale grey eyes enormous and pleading. Magus cocked his head, frowning at her.

‘Has anyone hurt you? Upset you?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing, really. Just … I had a dream. A nightmare.’

He stared at her, watching the expressions chasing over her face.

‘Yes?’

‘There were stones, rocks everywhere, crushing and suffocating me. It was horrible.’

He stroked her cheek gently.

‘Just a dream, Sylvie. Forget it and it’ll fade. Look outside – it’s a beautiful day. Go for a walk and chase the darkness away. And you know it’s the full moon tomorrow night? I’ve come back from London especially for you. You remember why?’

Her face clouded over immediately, like a shadow passing across her.

‘You’ve come to take me to Mooncliffe,’ she whispered. ‘I want to dance on the stone for you.’

He smiled at her and bent to kiss the top of her head.

‘And so you shall. I’ve been looking forward to it all month. See you later, Sylvie. Forget your nightmare. I’ll never let anything hurt you.’

He patted her arm and bounded up the stairs, heading for his rooms. He needed a shower after his hard ride on the spirited Nightwing. Sylvie continued down the stairs feeling close to tears but not sure why. The hall below was full of people moving around, heading into or out of breakfast in the Dining Hall. Their loud voices and the greasy smell of food were overwhelming, and Sylvie felt sick and panicky. Rainbow stood at the foot of the stairs, her hand idly stroking the carved newel as she watched Sylvie intently with bright, sea-blue eyes. Sylvie found that her little appetite had now gone completely. Ignoring Rainbow’s speculative look, she hurried outside into the balmy morning to find some solace.

Sylvie wandered around the grounds of the Hall gazing up at the great trees in their full July robes, their greenery at its thickest and best. She thought of the woodland nearby where Yul would now be working. She longed to go and find him, craving his company and security. She hadn’t seen him since the cricket practice on the Village Green, when she’d felt that maybe things would be alright between them after all. But she had no idea where in all those acres of woodland he’d be, and she felt too listless and downcast to walk far today.

Instead Sylvie made her way to a beautiful sunken garden she’d recently discovered around the side of the Hall. Climbing down the uneven stone steps, she sat on a lichened bench carved into the rock walls and tried to let go of her tension. The secret garden was lined with dark grey stone, furred with emerald green moss. Every flower that bloomed down here was white: roses, lilies, jasmine, alyssum, clematis, marguerites, asters and even
white snap-dragons. Great lush green plants and ferns offset the whiteness, giving the garden an exotic and luxuriant feel.

The scent of roses and jasmine and the soothing sound of water trickling from a mossy frog’s head fountain in the wall caressed Sylvie’s senses as she closed her eyes. She soaked up the warmth and languid calm and sighed deeply. Bees hummed drowsily in the somnolent peace. She tried to cast off the heavy sense of oppression that blanketed her mind, making her want to cry. The sunken garden was too beautiful for unhappiness.

‘May I join you, my dear? With apologies for disturbing your reveries.’

It was Professor Siskin, who picked his way carefully down the mossy steps and into the warm enclosed garden. He raised his panama in greeting and lowered himself onto the stone bench next to her, gnarled hands resting on his ornate walking stick. He too closed his eyes in appreciation of the fragrance and heat.

‘Ah, that scent! As one gets older, one better appreciates the simple pleasures in life. The Earth Mother is indeed bountiful with her favours. Blessed be!’

Sylvie sat in silence, still close to tears but pleased of his company. She felt an affinity with the elderly man and liked the way he’d spoken to Yul in the Jack in the Green. He hadn’t shown the usual Hallfolk condescension, nor the automatic superiority they claimed as their prerogative. Yet given his close lineage to the old magus, Professor Siskin had more right than most to lord it over others.

‘Are you feeling a little fragile, my dear? I noticed your absence at breakfast.’

She nodded and he patted her hand.

‘Sol has that effect on some people. I don’t know what’s going on, Sylvie, but I would warn you to be very careful. To be on your guard.’

She turned and looked at him but he stared ahead, gazing at the white velvety roses.

‘I don’t understand, Professor. What should I be on my guard against?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know. I wish I could help you but, sadly, I shall soon be leaving to return to Oxford. Lammas approaches and afterwards I shall have outstayed my welcome for another year.’

He glanced at her pale face for a moment, entirely in keeping in this hidden sanctuary of white petals and fragrance.

‘But … Sylvie my dear, there is something in the air. I can feel it. And I know Sol of old.’

‘Has he ever done anything to you?’

The old man shook his head, refusing to be drawn.

‘That’s all in the past now. But I watched him grow up. I saw him as a boy and then as an adolescent. He was … powerful, even then. He’s always enjoyed exercising control and making others obey him, but when he was younger he was far less subtle about it. His father, my half-brother, was a nasty piece of work. Hardly a good role model for a young boy growing up and in need of guidance. Especially a motherless boy lacking any gentle, maternal influence or affection.’

‘But Clip isn’t like that, is he? He’s always struck me as being far softer and kinder than Magus.’

‘That’s true. They do have different fathers, remember. Clip’s father Basil was hardly a good man but he seemed almost an angel compared to Elm. Both of them, Clip and Sol, take after their fathers. Clip means well and he isn’t a bad chap, but he’s weak-willed and easily led astray. Whereas Sol … he’s single-minded to the point of being obsessive, utterly ruthless – some would even say sadistic – in his determination to dominate. Sol has always had Clip under control. Clip jumps when he’s told to jump and he’s struggled to maintain any independence. I think it’s why he goes away so much; to try to establish some sort of autonomy. But I’ve said more than enough, my dear. I’m very grateful to Sol for allowing me to return each summer. I don’t wish to sound disloyal – I only meant to remind you to be aware of hidden … dangers, shall we say?’

‘But it isn’t disloyal to speak your mind, surely? After all, this was your home, it’s where you grew up,’ said Sylvie. ‘You
shouldn’t have to feel grateful for being allowed to visit. Magus had no right to send you away in the first place. He’s not even the owner, is he?’

‘The estate belongs to Clip. Although it will be Sol’s one day, I imagine. Clip has no children and is unlikely ever to.’

‘Why not?’

Siskin raised his eyebrows delicately.

‘I gather it wasn’t originally from disinclination. But Sol discovered a weakness … how can I put this? … an insecurity in Clip and he exploited it, teasing and humiliating his brother until Clip found himself incapable of any act of passion. Completely impotent, it was always rumoured. And now of course Clip is the shaman, who must lead a celibate life if he wants to keep his powers strong. Clip was one of Sol’s earliest victims of control and he’s never managed to break free.’

‘Yet Magus can be so kind too.’

‘Oh yes, and that is part of his strength. He excites loyalty and devotion, even slavish obedience. The vast majority of people here are only too happy to serve him, anxious for his praise and approbation. It’s not until you defy him that you come up against his steel. And then Goddess help you if you don’t submit to him. He’s not one to tolerate being crossed, or to ever accept second place. Ruthless doesn’t even begin to describe him.’

He stood up slowly, leaning on his silver-topped stick.

‘Just be careful, as I said, my dear Sylvie. Moongaziness is not necessarily a blessing.’

She nodded, aware of the heaviness still pressing down on her.

‘I will be careful, Professor Siskin. But I feel I’m in a thick fog. I have no idea what’s out there waiting for me.’

He looked down at her, his pale-blue eyes kind, and patted her shoulder.

‘Maybe that’s just as well, my dear.’

The day of the full moon dawned bright and clear. Yul sat crossed legged on the Altar Stone in the Circle facing the rising sun. As
the golden disc cleared the tops of the standing stones and the shimmering warmth fell on him, he breathed deeply. He felt the now familiar surge of force flowing up through the stone into his body and tingled with the power; alchemy of earth magic and sun energy. The ancestors had known where to place their stones, how to mark the points where the dragon lines in the earth surfaced. They knew the places where the fecundity of the Earth Goddess rose up to meet the inseminating power of the sun. But it took a special conduit to make the magic happen; someone with the ability to channel the energy, to transform it within themselves. A magus, a wise one, a magician. Very few had these alchemic, transformative powers. Yul was one of the few.

He stayed there for some time in silent meditation, praying to the Earth Goddess that all would be well for Sylvie tonight. The sky turned from pink to blue and the sun rose higher. Yul opened his eyes and sprang lightly from the stone. Back home for breakfast, then off to work in the woodland. He’d wait for Sylvie tonight in the woods, but in his heart he knew that she wouldn’t come to join him. Something had happened to her. Somehow she’d changed and now felt an allegiance to Magus. Why did she want to go to Mooncliffe with him rather than dance at Hare Stone where she belonged? Yul had felt a deep sadness fill his soul of late. Sylvie was slipping away from him and he didn’t know how to get her back.

After the solstice Yul had thought that the world would be his. But apart from Alwyn’s demise and his own growing strength, nothing else had changed. Magus was still in power. Sylvie was still out of his league. He was still a Villager in a society where that was not a desirable thing to be. Yul swore vehemently and ran as hard as he could back to his cottage.

Later that morning Magus called Miranda into his office. He was pleased with their new living arrangements. He now had Sylvie in the Hall close at hand so he could keep an eye on her. The fact that she was in a room with outside access was no accident, for
he wanted to be able to get her in and out of the building every full moon without Miranda prying.

He’d organised the pieces of rock, taken from the great snake-carved stone overlooking the quarry, to be smoothed into egg shapes at the stone-carvers’ workshop in the Village. These stone eggs were now ready up at Mooncliffe in a great sea chest. There were twenty-eight of them, one for each day of the month. Magus had no idea whether his plan would work; whether they’d hold the moon energy in the same way the great moon stone did. He’d had the rock analysed. The round stone at Mooncliffe and the tall stone overlooking the quarry were indeed identical, and were a very unusual form of oolithic limestone. The geologist who’d undertaken the analysis of the samples had been excited and had asked to visit the site to investigate further. Magus had refused, for he didn’t want anyone snooping around. And particularly not near the quarry where the gang of immigrant workers were still tearing stone from the earth, working in conditions that didn’t comply with any Health and Safety Act.