Shaman of Stonewylde (26 page)

Clip stepped onto the stage dressed in the old rainbow-coloured cloak, his silvery hair long and ash staff in hand. He began to weave words, images, magic and symbols into a wild tale of strange people who lived in a landscape of forest and mountains where a wicked spell had been cast to blight the land. The children were completely silent as the tall, gaunt man whirled around like a flash of the spectrum and the Barn filled with the sweet aroma of burnt herbs.

He told of a magical hare that had come into the land to cure all evil and heal all wounds. The light dimmed further and the music changed, sounding like faerie chimes. Suddenly, on the stage there appeared a Hare Woman, small but with real hare’s ears, who loped into the centre. In her hand she carried a short staff and around it writhed a carved snake, from bottom to top. The Hare Woman told of her quest to break the wicked spell and
put
right all the terrible wrongs of the land. She stood and spoke of her magic, and the children sat with open mouths.

Then Hare Woman brandished her staff, an Asklepian rod, and whispered to the children to beware of the snake that curled around it, for if they stared for too long, or looked at it too carefully, the snake might come to life. There was a mass intake of breath. Celandine and Bluebell were beside themselves with suppressed excitement, having immediately forgotten that Hare Woman was their Auntie Leveret dressed up. Every child tried not to stare at the snake but couldn’t resist, and slowly, one vertebra at a time, the snake quickened into life.

‘I do hope that there are no children here staring at the snake, seeing how it has begun to wriggle,’ admonished Clip in his softest, most sing-song voice. ‘Because once the snake comes to life, only the magical Hare Woman can turn it back to wood again. Oh dear – I saw the tail wriggle. And now . . . yes, I can see the rainbow colours appearing on its scales.’

He threw a handful of herbs onto the fire burning in the little cauldron and brightly-coloured sweet-smelling smoke obscured the stage for a moment.

‘The snake has changed,’ he sang, ‘and now he writhes around the staff like a rainbow. Hare Woman, can you break the wicked spell that blights the land? Can you use your magic wand, with the snake as your helper?’

‘Only if the children all promise to help me too,’ she replied.

At this the children became even more excited, and the story web continued with the young audience joining in. Finally, after battling with evil goblins and bad faeries, Hare Woman broke the wicked spell and the land returned once more to peace and harmony. Clip then picked up his own staff and began to whirl it around his head.

‘And so Hare Woman has saved the land! Now she must return to her tiny cottage where she spends her days brewing remedies to help the folk with their ordinary ailments,’ he cried.

He turned, the rainbow tatters on his cloak flying out as he spun around, faster and faster, and the drums beat wildly. All
eyes
were on him as the Hare Woman transformed back into an ordinary young girl, sitting on one of the logs with a carved stick by her side. Clip slowed and the drums beat slower too – until they stopped.

‘And behold!’ said Clip. ‘The magical Hare Woman has vanished, and in her place is a simple, ordinary Stonewylde maiden called Leveret. But look, children – what’s this in her lap?’

Everyone craned forward in their seats and there was another collective gasp.

‘It’s Hare!’ shrieked Bluebell, unable to stop herself. ‘I know Hare!’

And everyone clapped like mad as Clip took a bow, and Leveret stood up, holding the hare in her arms with the creature’s head looking over her shoulder and her ears lying flat. Leveret bowed too and the applause was wild. She grinned at Clip and he beamed back at her.

‘And that is the other role of the shaman,’ he said to her over the noise. ‘To bring magic to the folk’s lives and break any wicked spells that might be hanging about!’

‘I don’t want you to go in the morning,’ he said petulantly, lying on his side and stroking her smooth belly with a dried stalk. ‘Stay a bit longer – until the autumn, when I go off to university.’

‘I’ll be back long before then!’ she laughed, stretching with a sigh of pleasure on the fragrant hay. The late afternoon sun poured in above them through the open shutters of the hay loft, and the air was thick with dancing motes.

‘But when? When will you be back? How will I survive without you?’

‘Oh Kestrel, don’t be silly. This was only ever a bit of fun,’ she teased. ‘Anyone would think you’d fallen in love with me!’

‘I have fallen in love with you,’ he said quietly. ‘I can’t bear the thought of you leaving tomorrow. Please, Rainbow, please—’

‘Stop it, Kes. Really, it’s not funny. This was only ever a game.’

‘Not to me,’ he said bitterly. He’d swum and worked in the fields every day, and the sun had tanned him a deep golden
brown
and bleached his curly hair a bright hazelnut-gold. Rainbow smiled up at him, tracing the definition of muscle on his naked torso. He’d certainly helped her while away the rather boring evenings at Stonewylde on many an occasion; she hoped he wasn’t going to prove too difficult now.

‘Kes, you’re a grown man and always knew the score,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back long before the autumn when you leave for uni, so don’t worry. And there are plenty of lovely girls at Stonewylde to keep you busy.’

‘I’ve already had most of them,’ he said moodily, ‘and I don’t want any of them anyway. They’re not a patch on you.’

She shook her head in exasperation and rolled over onto her front, revealing her lithe back with the ribs just nudging at her golden, downy skin. Her hair was spread over the hay, a tangle of tawny tresses glinting gold. Kestrel traced the whorls of blonde down that furred her back, so fine and soft, with the gentlest of touches.

‘Mmn, that’s nice,’ she purred, closing her eyes and flexing a little.

He gazed down at her and his eyes filled with tears.

‘Rainbow, if you really must leave, please say I can visit you? Or could I come to London with you tomorrow? I won’t be any trouble, I promise.’

She chuckled drowsily and wriggled in the hay; a shaft of sunlight now fell onto her skin and she glowed gold, like an idol.

‘Kes, you have no idea of my lifestyle in London,’ she murmured sleepily. ‘I’d be a laughing stock if I came back with an eighteen year old country lad on my arm, however gorgeous he might be.’

‘I’m almost nineteen!’ he protested. ‘And I’ve been at college for two years now – I know all about the Outside World!’

This really made her laugh and she rolled over again and gazed up at him, her sea-blue eyes heavy.

‘Kes, shut up. See if you can please me all over again, there’s a good boy. And no more whingeing about me leaving in the morning or I’ll ignore you when I do come back. You’re not the
only
good lay at Stonewylde, you know – there are plenty more fish in the sea.’

Yul and David, meanwhile, struggled up the great staircase with the canvas. They had to carry it over their heads to clear the newel post and balustrade, and then negotiate the half-landing very carefully. For a terrible moment Yul thought it wouldn’t fit through the huge doorway, but by using the highest point of the arch it just squeezed through.

‘Which wall will you hang it on?’ asked David, looking around the grand apartments with interest.

‘I have no idea!’ snapped Yul. ‘Just prop it up here for now.’

‘It would fit over there,’ said David, pointing behind the desk, ‘if you moved that other painting. Or perhaps if you hung the mirror somewhere else, it could go over the fireplace? That would—’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Yul. ‘Anywhere other than downstairs for all the world to see!’

David gazed at him in bemusement. Yul looked really rough today; blood-shot eyes, a crumpled shirt and he stank of alcohol. David realised he hadn’t seen Yul about at all since Sylvie’s birthday party at the Solstice, when he’d suddenly appeared in the Art Room. Had he been holed up in here ever since? It certainly smelled like it.

‘Where would Sylvie want it hung, I wonder? As it’s her birthday present,’ he said mildly and the look Yul gave him would have withered a lesser man.

‘I don’t give a damn where she wants it hung!’ he thundered. ‘It’s not to go on public display ever! How dare that boy paint my wife like this?’

‘Yul, I’m sorry,’ said David gently. ‘I had no idea you felt like that about it. I’m sure Magpie meant no harm. He didn’t realise that—’

‘I know that – but it’s not the point!’ Yul spat. ‘This moondancing at Hare Stone – it was something private, something precious between me and my wife. And now . . . just go, David!
Thanks
for helping me carry it up here, but just go!’

‘Yul, please – I’m sorry. Can I get you something? You’re not looking too good, and—’

‘Get out!’

Hazel had persuaded Yul to join her outside in the maze for a stroll in the late afternoon sunshine. He’d refused point blank to come to the hospital wing and didn’t want her in his rooms. Alerted by David, she realised as soon as she saw the wildness in his eyes that something was really wrong.

They walked now around the gravelled paths of the maze, surrounded by walls of deep green clipped yew. It was warm and peaceful, and Hazel glanced sideways at the tall man by her side. David had said he was in a mess, but he looked as if he’d just had a still forbidden shower and was wearing clean, fresh clothes. This made it harder for her to broach the subject of his health.

‘Hazel, I know you mean well but I’m fine,’ he said wearily, sensing her hesitation. ‘I haven’t been sleeping properly in this heat and I miss Sylvie. That’s all. And I was very upset by that damn painting and this afternoon I lost my rag with David a little.’

‘Okay,’ she said gently. ‘He was concerned about you. So how are you now?’

‘Absolutely fine other than, as I said, missing my wife and children.’

‘It must be hard. But it’s not permanent, is it? I thought they’d just gone down to stay with Maizie to keep her company for a while, now that Leveret’s left home and she’s all alone.’

‘Between you and me, Hazel, that’s only the half of it. I don’t want to discuss it, but there’s more to it than that and I want her back. How do you think she is herself, health-wise?’

‘Actually, Yul, I really think she’s a lot better than she was. She’d lost weight and was looking very careworn, but in the past month or so she seems to have perked up no end. I know that doesn’t sound a very professional diagnosis and I haven’t given her a check-up yet, but that’s how it seems to me. She’s
brighter
and chirpier and putting on some much-needed weight. Obviously Village life and Maizie’s cooking agrees with her.’

He nodded at this.

‘I thought the same. She looks a lot better lately and although I’m very pleased, I can’t help but think it means she won’t want to come back to the Hall.’

‘Why don’t you go down to the Village then, just temporarily? If you were staying in the cottage too . . .?’

He gestured towards a bench tucked into an alcove and they sat down. A tiny wren soon appeared and hopped around on the gravel before them, flicking her wings and tipping her tail. Hazel glanced at Yul and saw the dejection and despair on his face. He gazed at the little bird without seeing her and his face was hollowed, full of angles and shadows. His dark curls were long, having dried in the sun in a tangle around his face. Hazel felt a twist of sympathy for him. Whatever their problems were, Yul’s love for Sylvie wasn’t in doubt.

‘I don’t think she’d have me.’

‘But you don’t know that, Yul. You must try, if you’re to be reconciled. I can’t speak for Sylvie of course, but I do know that she loves you more than anything. She’s found you . . . over-dominating in the recent past. And you know this, I’m sure. So start again – woo her, bring some romance into your marriage, win her back. I don’t think you’d find her unreceptive.’

He leant forward and put his head in his hands.

‘Oh Hazel . . . if only it were that simple.’

The pert little wren had flitted over the wall of yew into the alcove behind, and perched on the bench arm. She didn’t notice someone already seated there, silent and completely still, listening to the private conversation. A smile spread over the boy’s handsome young face and as Yul and the doctor stood up to leave, he flicked the blond fringe from his eyes and quickly rose too.

Swift knew the maze better than anyone at Stonewylde, for he’d grown up nearby and had spent many an hour playing in
here
whilst his mother wore herself out trying to get the cottage up to his father’s exacting standards. As he sped out of the maze ahead of Yul and Hazel, he thought about all he’d just heard and filed it away in his archive of eavesdropped information. Nobody knew for sure why Sylvie was living in Maizie’s cottage, although speculation had been rife. But now, Swift felt, he knew more than anyone else. It also explained why only the night before, when he’d just been casually passing Yul’s rooms, he’d heard harsh sobbing.

Leveret lay on a sofa in the tower with Hare on her lap, and Clip sat opposite in his chair.

‘We need to get back down to the Village in a minute,’ he said. ‘We must be in very good time for this evening’s Story Web. It really doesn’t do to arrive late or in a fret about the time.’

‘I’m ready to go when you are,’ said Leveret. ‘I’ve got the outfit and everything ready.’

Clip smiled at her fondly.

‘You were very good this afternoon,’ he said. ‘The children loved you and you have a natural gift for performance. The adults this evening will love you too.’

She wrinkled her nose at this.

‘That’s kind of you, Clip, but honestly I don’t have a gift in that area. I was terrified the whole time and I was shaking terribly.’

‘Well, it didn’t show and you handled it all beautifully.’

‘And as for my wonderful Asklepian wand – wow! That was such a lovely surprise.’

‘I had it carved for you a while back. Every magician needs a wand, and every healer needs a Rod of Asklepius. You know it’s the ancient symbol of medicine, don’t you?’