Solstice at Stonewylde (43 page)

Sylvie looked out of the window at the blue sky, cold and crisp in the December sunshine. Wood pigeons called softly from the delicate pattern of the trees’ bare branches and she suddenly thought of Professor Siskin up in Oxford. She had an image of a large, comfortable room, as ancient as this one, and the old man sitting at a desk in an oriel window gazing out at the cloistered green below. She felt, in one of her occasional flashes of intuitive empathy, his infinite sadness and longing. In that moment she understood just how passionately the professor loved Stonewylde and how very much he missed being here. In the autumn she’d decided to invite him back to Stonewylde as soon as Magus was gone, but why not invite him home for the Solstice? Then he could see Yul become the new magus and be a part of the transition himself. She remembered how taken he’d been with Yul, and his preoccupation with both the ancient Green Man of Stonewylde and the wood henge of the Village Green.

Magus must have been gone for some time, but if she were quick she might be able to e-mail the professor before her captor returned. Sylvie raced through the chambers to her bedroom and looked around frantically for her computer, brought here when she thought she could do some school work. She found the bag and hurried all the way back to the sitting room where she could access the Internet, knowing it may not work well further down the long wing. Sylvie furiously typed an e-mail to the professor, briefly explaining the new turn of events. She suggested that he travel to Stonewylde tomorrow on Solstice Eve, so he’d be ready for the sunrise celebrations the day after at the Winter Solstice itself. She also mentioned her original idea that he move to Stonewylde permanently once Yul had become the new magus. Her fingers trembled as they flew across the keyboard, making stupid spelling mistakes in her nervousness. She sent the message the second she was finished and took a deep breath of relief.

Sylvie stuffed the computer back in its bag, not daring to wait
for a reply, and then remembered what she’d hidden in the side pocket. She unzipped it and carefully drew out her precious photo of Yul, just what she needed to give her heart now. She sat down on the window seat and gazed longingly at that beloved face smiling dreamily out at her from a halo of leaves. Yul’s deep grey eyes stared into hers and she felt a great surge of love for him, so powerful and overwhelming that tears came to her eyes. If anything were to happen to him tomorrow night at the Moon Fullness … If anything were to go wrong …

She heard the key turning in the lock of the great oak door and hastily slid the photo between the pages of a book lying on the cushions. She held the book in trembling hands and pretended to read, the weak midwinter sun washing her face. The heavy door was flung open and Magus crashed in. She’d never seen him so angry and her heart leapt frantically in her chest. His lips were a thin white line in a face dark and mottled with fury. He strode over as she shrank back in the seat trying to curl up small, cowering before his wrath. Grabbing her wrist, he yanked her roughly to her feet. The book fell to the floor and he kicked it right across the room.

‘WHERE ARE MY MOON EGGS?’ he roared into her face.

Cherry returned to the kitchens pale and shaken. She banged the tray onto the enormous scrubbed table and looked around the crowded room for her sister. The vast area was filled with Villagers scurrying about preparing the next meal for the Hallfolk, whose numbers were hugely swollen by all the extra visitors arrived for the Winter Solstice and Yule celebrations. The white-aproned servants worked diligently at their tasks, with a flushed and sweating Marigold bellowing orders and chivvying everyone in sight.

‘Oh dear Goddess, I don’t like the turn o’ things,’ said Cherry, shaking her head.

‘What? What’s ado, sister? Clover, do NOT put the egg whites in that bowl! What are you thinking of? And hurry along with them parsnips, April. They should be in the stove by now!’

‘’Tis the master. I never seen him like this afore – he’s gone barking mad!’

‘Why? What’s happened? No, Clover, not
that
one! Cherry, I don’t have time now – you see how rushed ‘tis in here. Tell me later, my dear.’

‘Aye, I will, but I’m that worried for the little maiden. I didn’t use the dumb waiter and took the tray up myself so as I could see what’s going on in there – and ‘tis worse than I’d ever thought.’

‘Is she alright? She looked starved yesterday – never seen a girl so thin and pale.’

‘No, she seems even worse today and he wouldn’t let her have any o’ these sandwiches, not one! But she’s still knocking back the mead at his say so, and he’s shouting and ranting at her. She looks more poorly than when she came here a nine-month ago. And he’s got that glint in his eye – you know what I mean, Marigold. The man’s gone dog-demented, almost foaming at the mouth and I fear for that poor girl trapped all alone in there with him. ‘Tain’t right.’

‘We’ll feed up the poor maid when it’s over, and ‘tis not for much longer.’

‘Aye, and just as well. Don’t reckon she’d last much longer, way she looks now. He’s a wicked man and he deserves what’s coming.’

‘True enough. And at least we won’t have to cook all that fancy stuff them bloody Hallfolk clamour for at Yule. ‘Twill be plain, wholesome Stonewylde fayre and nought else, after Solstice Eve. About time too!’

Old Greenbough yelled grumpily across the Circle at the men finishing off the great Solstice Bonfire. Like the one in the summer, it was built towards the edge of the Circle, on the opposite side to the Altar Stone. There was a platform with a beacon to be lit, and a ladder in the centre with a tiny entrance. The woodsmen were filling in the gaps between the large branches that formed the outer framework, and Greenbough
stomped around issuing orders and muttering complaints.

‘I miss Yul, I really do,’ he said to nobody in particular. ‘Like a squirrel he used to be as a lad, racing up and down the bonfire so agile. Nobody else comes close.’

‘Aye, well, he won’t be building no more o’ these, will he, sir? Not when he’s our new magus,’ mumbled a huge man, chopping up extra wood for padding out the fire.

‘Ssh!’ hissed Greenbough, glancing at the Hallfolk who were with Merewen and a group of Villagers putting the finishing touches to the paintings on the stones. Fennel looked up sharply and glanced at his sister, Rainbow. They raised their eyebrows at each other, feeling the strange atmosphere in the Circle – suppressed excitement, anticipation, but also fear.

They continued their painting: mistletoe, holly and ivy, and the rising sun picked out in gleaming gold. The Altar Stone was decorated with evergreens around the base, and there were torches and braziers all surrounding the great Stone Circle. The entire Winter Solstice festival was a celebration of the return of light, the coming of the sun.

‘Do you reckon what they’ve been saying at the Hall is true?’ whispered Rainbow. ‘That Yul will become the new magus tomorrow night?’

‘I don’t know,’ muttered Fennel, ‘but I bloody well hope not. Village bastard! I wish Buzz was still here so we could give him a good thrashing like we used to.’

‘But what will happen to Magus? I don’t understand; how can Yul just take over? Magus would never let that happen – we all know how powerful and fierce he is.’

‘I don’t know, Rainbow. It’s a load of stupid Village talk I expect. We’ll be celebrating the Solstice as usual from tomorrow evening, and Yule for the twelve days, and then off to Switzerland. Don’t worry about it – Yul’s just a Village peasant and nothing will come of all this bloody daft gossip.’

They fell silent as Merewen approached, filthy in her paint-stained overalls, curly hair springing in profusion around her no-nonsense face.

‘Good, nice work. Rainbow, come and help me over at the big stone behind the altar – I need your fine hand.’

Rainbow glanced in surprise at her teacher as they surveyed the largest of the stones where the key image for the festival was being painted. Merewen had outlined something totally out of place at the Winter Solstice.

‘I don’t understand! Why on earth are we painting a Green Man?’

But Merewen merely smiled and handed her a paintbrush.

Down in the Village there was a great deal of activity in preparation for the feasting and dancing that would begin the following night and continue for twelve days, with dances, dramas, singing, musical events and games. The Great Barn was decorated with evergreens and many candles and the Yule Log already lay in the enormous fireplace, ready to be lit. Every cottage in the Village had an evergreen wreath on its front door, representing the wheel of the year, and Yule candles stood in parlour windows to welcome the return of the sun. The trees around the Village Green had been hung with small lanterns to be lit each night. There was an air of anticipation trembling amongst the bare branches and trunks of the trees that formed the circle. The children ran wildly around the Green in their warm homespun jackets and pointed felt hats. They spoke excitedly of the Yule elves, dressed in green leaves, who’d visit their homes tomorrow night and leave little gifts in the knitted socks hanging over every hearth; honeyed cobnuts and creamy fudge, and carved animals or bead necklaces.

In the cottages and at the Village bakers and butchers, people were busy cooking and preparing food for the feasts. Every household was filled with the fragrance of herbs and spices, the mouth-watering aroma of baking. Tomorrow was the Frost Moon and every Villager was aware of its significance and what would take place before the sun rose the following morning. In the cottage down the lane, Maizie tried to concentrate on her baking but when Sweyn and Gefrin, the two youngest boys, came tearing
into the kitchen for the umpteenth time and knocked Leveret flying, she finally snapped.

‘Get out, you little brats!’ she shrieked. ‘Get out of here and don’t come back till I’ve finished the baking!’

Rosie was busy polishing everyone’s festival boots in the parlour and came hurrying in, alarmed at the note of hysteria in her mother’s voice. She found Maizie crying into the bowl of flour while Leveret howled on the floor.

‘Oh Mother, don’t cry! Geoffrey! Gregory! Take the boys down to the Green to play, and keep them there.’

She scooped up Leveret and put an arm round her mother’s shaking shoulders.

‘He’ll be alright, Mother. Don’t cry – our Yul will be alright.’

‘We don’t know that, Rosie! Magus is strong and clever, and Yul’s only a boy, for all his new power. I can’t bear it!’

‘Think o’ the prophecy, Mother. You know what Edward and Tom and everyone’s been saying, about this being the right way. How ‘twas destined to be since Yul’s birth.’

‘Aye, Rosie, that damn prophecy’s been ringing in my ears for sixteen years! Don’t mean it’ll come to pass though. Old Heggy was a Wise Woman, but where are her powers now? She can’t help our Yul and he’s on his own.’

‘No, Mother, he has the folk behind him, just like the prophecy foretold. He’s got lots o’ help.’

‘You’re wrong there, my girl. Oh aye, I know the folk are behind him and they want Magus gone as much as we do. I know they’ve all been meeting and planning and hatching, and all that talk about what will be, when Magus is gone – all the dreams about a Stonewylde run by the Villagers. But in the end ‘tis Yul who must face Magus alone; ‘tis my boy who must bring this all about. That’s what’s going round and round in my head like a ferret in a trap – my poor son, only a lad, up against that strong and desperate man. I don’t think Yul stands a chance.’

Preparations for Yule were also taking place at the Hall. As in the Barn, evergreens hung everywhere and the Galleried Hall was
particularly beautiful. The ancient vaulted roof and the gallery balustrade were woven with ivy and holly, and great bunches of mistletoe hung in white-berried magical splendour over every arched doorway. There were myriad pale beeswax candles on massive wrought-iron candle-trees standing in the corners. A huge evergreen tree had been decorated with tiny carved birds and animals and woven straw fairies and elves, all hanging from the tree with scarlet ribbons. The silver, twinkling lights were the only concession to the twenty-first century, sparkling amongst the branches. Another great Yule Log lay in the long hearth, decorated like the one in the Village with skeins of ivy and straw birds.

The Hallfolk went to the Great Barn for many of the entertainments, dances and feasting, but they also held their own private celebrations here. Galloping around the Barn with the Villagers and quaffing cider and hearty food was all very well, but there was much to be said for the more refined pleasures of the Hall. Trying to play charades and other more cerebral party games with illiterate Villagers was no fun at all. The Hallfolk, whose sophisticated palates craved more subtle pleasures, enjoyed fine champagne and exotic delicacies throughout the Twelve Days of Yule.

The atmosphere in the Hall was expectant, but also uneasy. Somehow the servants’ gossip had become common knowledge and there was much speculation about the so-called prophecy of long ago. Most Hallfolk were outwardly loyal to Magus, but privately, many had recently become rather disillusioned. He’d been harsh and uncaring towards some, and seemed irrational and even a little unhinged at times, when he could be bothered to show his face at all. The sinister events of Samhain were known to all, even though Magus had tried to gloss over what had really happened. The incident at the Dark Moon when he’d terrified some Hallfolk girls and slapped Holly hard was discussed at length, and the sight of Sylvie in the Galleried Hall, clearly underfed and ill, had really worried people. The revelations of that morning had shocked many as Magus had told them
outright lies for no apparent reason, and hadn’t either apologised or explained himself since.