Moondance of Stonewylde (41 page)

Yul turned away reluctantly, unable to trust the old woman could do it.

But it seemed Yul had been wrong to worry. He slipped in through the outside door and climbed the stairs to Sylvie’s bedroom before sunset, having spotted Miranda in the sitting room from the
garden below. He fully expected to find that Magus had already taken her, but Sylvie was pacing the room, alive with jitteriness and jumpiness.

‘Yul!’ she whispered frantically, springing on him as he crept through the arched door. ‘Where’ve you been? I’m going mad.’

‘Good – it shows the spell’s well and truly broken. This is normal, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose so, but please let’s go now! I’ve got to get out!’

She flung her arms round him, her body rigid with tension, and kissed him hard on the mouth.

‘It’s so good to see you, Yul.’

He grinned at her.

‘And you, Sylvie – I’ve missed you at Moon Fullness. And tonight it’s the Harvest Moon which is really special. We need to get going, the sun’s low already. Where’s Magus?’

‘I don’t know! Not back from London yet I suppose. I’ve been stuck in this room for three days and I’ve no idea what’s going on. What about Mum?’

‘I think she’s sitting in the other room – I could see her through the window. Let’s just go, Sylvie, and by the time she realises you’re missing, hopefully it’ll be too late. She won’t come chasing after you, will she?’

‘No, but what about Magus? Won’t he come and find us at Hare Stone?’

He shrugged.

‘Mother Heggy said she’s taking care of him and she’s been right so far. We’ve just got to trust her. Come on!’

They tiptoed down the stone staircase and ran across the gardens. Then they hurried along the track to the woods, alive with bird song. The sun was setting as they climbed the hill, the evening warm and still. The sky was a soft pink; tiny golden clouds speckled the horizon after the sun had slipped away. The light grew thicker and the birds stopped singing. The hares appeared from the woods, loping up the hill to sit long and upright, their ears raised, looking about them. The
leverets, now well grown, hopped around nibbling grass and playing like kittens.

Yul sat in his familiar place, his back to the great stone and his legs hugged up to his chest, chin resting on his knees. He breathed a sigh of relief; it was almost moon rise and Magus couldn’t possibly make it to stop them now. He shook the dark curls from his eyes and glanced across at Sylvie. Wearing the beautiful moongazy dress that clung to her slender curves, she stood a little way off facing the horizon where the moon would rise. She looked well, not so thin and pale now, and he was pleased. His own stomach growled but he ignored it – plenty of time for food later.

Mother Heggy crouched on the filthy flagstones of her cottage. Clutching a short, smoke-darkened hazel wand, she poked at some dried lichen, fungi and herbs which burned acridly in the little pot-bellied fire-cauldron on the stone floor. She muttered unintelligible words to herself, rheumy eyes fixed on the distance, hunched-up body swaying and rocking. In her other shrivelled hand she held the dark glass into which she peered every so often. Her crow was missing.

The crow sat on the bonnet of Magus’ car and cawed. The front of the sleek sports car was crumpled to half its size. The radiator grille was wedged against a large stone in the ditch and steam poured from beneath the twisted metal. Magus was trapped in the driver’s seat. Apart from a few bruises he was unhurt, but the damaged door wouldn’t open, the air bag wedged him in his seat and his safety belt was jammed. He cursed vehemently at the police officer who stood nearby.

‘I’m sorry, sir. You can swear all you like, but there’s nothing more I can do until the fire-fighters arrive with their cutting equipment. They reckon at least half an hour as they’re busy at the moment with a rick fire and you’re not hurt or in immediate danger. Don’t fret, sir, please. We’ll have you out in an hour or so.’

‘That’s not good enough! The sun’s set and I need to get home
now
!’

‘Oh no, sir,’ said the police officer, shaking his head. ‘We have to get you checked over by the paramedics first, once we’ve cut you out. And how do you intend getting home? This car won’t be going anywhere, will it? And I need to take a statement. I know you haven’t been drinking from the breathalyser, but I need details.’

‘I
told
you! It was that bloody crow over there! It came out of nowhere straight into my windscreen. Look at it!’

The large black crow blinked its bright eye at him. Then with a clumsy flapping of wings it took off into the darkening skies.

Now I can spread my wings and fly the spirals! Together they dance, earth and moon in harmony. Come, Bright Lady – I am here!

As the rim of the enormous red moon peered over the edge of the earth, Sylvie rose up on tiptoes, spread her moon-angel wings, and began her dance with a joyful song. Her gossamer silk dress floated around her, the silver beads that tipped the pointy hem flying out as she moved. The barn owl called across the silence; an eerie sound to accompany the rising of the blood-red moon. It glided in on silent white wings, round black eyes staring from its pale heart-shaped face as it perched on the stone. Yul leaned his head back against the stone and smiled to himself. Mother Heggy had done it!

Much later Yul roused Sylvie from her moongazy reverence on the grass, where she’d been kneeling surrounded by many hares. Yul stood, tall and strong, looking down at Sylvie with eyes full of love. He helped her stand, and as she rose to her feet, still gazy and dazed, it was natural to fall into his arms. The moon had now lost its deep red tint and sailed high above them as they kissed in the soft, silvery light. Sylvie felt the power of the red Harvest Moon glowing inside her, calling to his green and gold Earth Magic. The quicksilver enchantment of the sacred place sparkled all around them and she clung fiercely to him, excited by the steely restraint she sensed beneath his passionate
kisses. Eventually he pulled away and held her at arm’s length, his face hollowed in the moonlight.

‘We must get back, Sylvie. Magus may be back by now and out looking for you. He’d try Mooncliffe first, but then he’d come here and we mustn’t let him catch us. I need to get you home safely, my moon angel.’

‘I love you, Yul,’ she whispered, her eyes full of moonlight. ‘I wish we could stay up here all night and be together.’

‘I love you too, Sylvie,’ he replied, kissing her tenderly. ‘And one day we’ll have all the time we need. But not tonight – not yet.’

They hurried through the woods together and arrived at the Tudor wing. The pointed roofs and gables were silhouetted against the moon-washed skies and a light still burned in the sitting room window. Yul quickly kissed her goodbye and she raced on tiptoe up the stairs, heart pounding with fear. Her room was dark and empty and nobody waited for her in the shadows. She jumped straight into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, trying to calm her breathing. She couldn’t believe they’d got away with it. Where on earth was Magus?

She found out in the morning. He was like black thunder, shouting at everyone and upsetting the entire household. When he questioned Sylvie about the previous night, his dark eyes flashing ominously, she smiled guilelessly and told him how she loved to dance at Mooncliffe. That was all she’d say, endlessly repeating it until he almost slapped her. As he turned away in exasperation, she smothered a smile. Poor Miranda was shouted at brutally for not knowing what had happened. Miranda, it turned out, had fallen asleep on the sofa after she’d got Sylvie ready and had slept through the whole night. She hadn’t a clue whether Sylvie had been out moongazing or not. She burst into tears when Magus yelled at her and spent the next few days moping around in abject misery. Clip had been oblivious to the world all night, on a long cake-induced shamanic journey in his dolmen. He’d felt a pang as he saw the deep-red moon rising, thinking of Sylvie,
but his mind had been too muzzy to dwell on it for long. He couldn’t help Magus either as to Sylvie’s whereabouts, merely shrugging vaguely when interrogated.

Sylvie smiled in her school room as Magus stormed around the Hall, furious with everybody, yelling at anyone who got in his way. His beautiful, expensive sports car was a write-off. He’d also been delayed even longer than expected once the fire-crew finally cut him free from the wreckage; the person summoned from the Hall to collect him had run out of fuel in the middle of nowhere. He’d had no phone with him and had to walk miles along the back-roads to find help. Then they’d had to wait ages for the breakdown service to bring fuel, and it had been very late indeed when Magus had finally returned home. It was as if someone hadn’t wanted him to reach Stonewylde that night.

O
ctober had come to Stonewylde and the leaves were changing colour. The hedgerows were bright with haw hips, scattered like blood-red garnets along every lane. The field maples glowed brilliant yellow and the beeches a deep gold. Everywhere the trees released their fruits to the waiting earth: conkers, beech nuts, chestnuts and acorns. It was a new experience for Sylvie, brought up in a city with only exhaust-dusted trees and fenced-in parks. She loved the different colours, textures and smells of autumn at Stonewylde. Yul and the other woodsmen were busy splitting and chopping from dawn to dusk, getting the loads of logs into the Village and stored away for winter. He found the log chopping easier this autumn and realised how much muscle he’d acquired during the spring and summer. Greenbough was proud of him and delighted that he could now trust Yul with a man’s full workload.

Sylvie was in the woods one misty morning, working on a biology project. She’d chosen to study fungi, and was trying to identify different types from her book. She walked slowly through the trees carrying a camera, sketchbook and a basket for collecting specimens. She loved this type of practical learning, especially as it allowed her to be outside in the glorious autumn morning. Birds flitted all around her, darting from tree to tree, and squirrels scampered everywhere making a surprising amount of noise as they rustled in the fallen leaves.

Her foray proved quite successful and Sylvie identified a
number of different fungi which she photographed and sketched, picking a specimen of the more plentiful ones. As she added another one to her basket she was struck by the beauty of the mushrooms; the delicate blue sheen of the Wood Blewit, the pinky-brown tinge to the recurved scales of the Shaggy Parasol, the purple-lilac of the Amethyst Deceiver. She had a giant white puffball that she’d almost tripped over and a great orange-red bracket of Beefsteak Fungus which she’d climbed a tree to retrieve. She loved the names too and was pleased that she’d chosen this fascinating topic for her project. She wished Yul was with her; he’d have known all these species and many more.

She heard the faint sound of axes thudding into wood, and her heart raced. Yul might be nearby. Since the Harvest Moon a week or so ago, her feelings for him were running deeper than ever. She thought back to the sight of the enormous deep red moon rising, the Triple Goddess wearing her red harvest robes as she walked in beauty. Sylvie now thrummed with a deep red energy which coursed through her veins; she no longer felt frail or delicate, but empowered.

She wandered along an overgrown path off the track, heading towards the sound of axes on wood, all thoughts of fungi forgotten. Up ahead she spotted a group of men working in a clearing. Then she saw Yul and her breath caught in her throat. He wore old trousers and work boots and had taken off his shirt. The mist was clearing into a sunny day, and Yul worked in a pool of hazy sunlight filtering down through the golden leaves. He was deeply tanned from the summer, and although the stripes still criss-crossed his back, the sun had helped camouflage the scars. The muscles in his arms, shoulders and back rippled as he wielded the heavy axe, his movements precise and rhythmic. His chest was well-defined with muscle, his stomach hard and flat. The axe bit into the wood as he swung it powerfully, putting all his strength and energy into the task. His black curls were stuck down with sweat and the rest of his torso gleamed too, golden and smooth. Sylvie watched him with a strange tingling and felt herself dissolve inside at the sight of him. But after a while she
turned away and decided to look in another part of the woods for her fungi. She was too embarrassed to approach him, knowing he’d recognise the dark hunger in her eyes.

A while later she sat on a mossy bank for a rest, enjoying a drink of water and a quick look at her pictures and notes. Sylvie closed her eyes, remembering how Magus had once told her to use all her senses in the woods. She smiled sadly as she recalled his kindness when she’d first arrived. So much had happened since then; had she really been so naïve when she came here? She knew that this summer she’d left the innocence of childhood behind and started the rocky transition to womanhood. It wasn’t easy and she wished she were still close to her mother, but Magus had spoiled that as he had everything else. Her mother was a different person now, obsessed with him and the new baby, and Sylvie no longer felt she could rely on her. She sighed and then jumped as she heard voices approaching.

A strange duo came into sight along the path. Two old women hobbled side by side, both wrapped in grimy shawls and carrying battered wicker baskets over their arms. Their heads bobbed as they talked; they were deep in conversation and didn’t notice her sitting on the bank.

‘Good morning!’ she called, not wishing to startle them as they drew nearer. Their heads shot up and both glared at her, whiskery chins jutting belligerently. They peered with beady eyes and she recoiled from the animosity in their look.