Solstice at Stonewylde (9 page)

She glared up at Magus.

‘You knew he were alive!’ she choked. ‘Yet you were prepared to burn him, your own son. I won’t forget this, Magus. Nobody will forget this. The folk have seen what you tried to do here tonight and now they all know of your wickedness.’

‘Maizie, you must—’

But she stood abruptly, ignoring him. She picked up the sled’s rope and began to pull, dragging it slowly away from the centre and around the curved path. Several men in the crowd came forward to help and soon they were out of the Stone Labyrinth. The path back to life and rebirth had been trodden, and Yul emerged from his near death a different person – and one who now knew his true blood.

Tom had brought the cart and Yul was lifted up and laid carefully in the back, his head cradled in his mother’s lap, covered warmly with people’s shawls and cloaks. The crowd surrounded
the cart as it moved away, the procession lit triumphantly by their blazing torches. The few grieving relatives who remained watched in silence as Magus and his assistants continued with the Samhain rite of burning the bodies.

Magus’ face was as dark as the crows and rooks that perched on the stones. The pyre whooshed into crackling life and the birds rose as one. As the ashes floated high above the Stone Circle, the air was filled with the beating wings of hundreds of birds, speeding the four souls to the Realm of the Otherworld.

M
agus stood looking out over the grey gardens. Dew and cobwebs laced the shrubs around the French windows in a delicate white shroud and the trees reached up to the overcast skies with bony black fingers. There was a desolate feel to the early morning that belied the excitement of the previous day’s festival. Sylvie paused silently in the doorway of his office, loath to disturb the reverie of the man before her. He seemed dejected. There was something bleak in the set of his shoulders and his absolute stillness. He wore a dark business suit which gave him an Outside World air.

Sylvie had been summoned by a dour-faced Martin, who’d informed her coldly of Magus’ request. He’d barely spoken a word as they made their way along the gallery of the wing and into the main body of the Hall. Martin’s wintry grey eyes and air of disapproval had quashed her attempts at conversation and she struggled to keep up with his long strides, still feeling weak and shaky this morning. Sylvie still knew nothing of Yul, for as yet she’d seen nobody else this morning. Her mind raced with speculation as to why Magus should send for her so early, before everyone else was up and about for the New Year’s Day breakfast.

Her tentative feelings of sympathy for him, standing so alone and pensive, were quickly dispelled when he turned and fixed her with an icy glare.

‘Come in and close the door behind you,’ he said tersely.

They sat on the sofas and his gaze scoured her face.

‘I told you that we’d speak today, but this isn’t the conversation I’d envisaged. Due to … unforeseen events, I’m going away for a week or so. There’re a couple of things I need to say before I leave. I’ve obviously reached you before you heard the gossip that will doubtless rage at the breakfast table today, once it’s filtered up from the Village.’

Her heart jumped at this, dreading his next words.

‘I wanted to tell you this myself, in case you get any ideas.’

He paused and saw the fear in her eyes. His face was impassive as he continued.

‘Last night during the Samhain rituals up in the Stone Circle, I made an announcement. I let it be known to all that Yul is my son.’

He waited as Sylvie absorbed this astonishing news. She stared at him in mute incredulity and he watched the succession of emotions flit over her face, before finally reaching acceptance and understanding.

‘You—’

He waved her to silence.

‘I’m not discussing it other than to remind you that you’re forbidden to have any contact with that boy. This changes nothing.’

‘But—’

‘No! He remains an ignorant, uncouth woodsman and nothing more, despite being sired by me. You’re out of his league and you’re to keep away from him. That is and remains my final word on the matter.’

Sylvie’s eyes met his and she tried to mask her intentions, knowing only too well how perceptive he was.

‘Is he alright? There was something wrong yesterday. I could feel it.’

‘Yes, he is alright. And I heard of the part you played in this. Thanks to your meddling and scaremongering my plans for the future are now in jeopardy. You’ve a lot to answer for, and when I return I shall make sure you do. In the meantime, you’re to attend all your classes every day and ensure that you work
extremely hard. I’ve left a note for your tutor. When I get back I expect a full report from him on the progress you’ve made since coming here in March, and a complete record of your attendance. You’re slothful and lacking in motivation. Your attitude is a mockery of all that we strive for at Stonewylde. This is your final year of secondary education and at this rate you’ll fail your exams miserably. It’s not acceptable. So whilst I’m away I expect you to make a concerted effort to cover the work you’ve missed. Now go back to your rooms and tell your mother that I wish to see her immediately. That’s all, Sylvie.’

‘But it’s not—’

‘I said
that’s all
. I shall take this up with you when I return.’

His face was like stone. Sylvie stood up, smarting with the injustice. She knew exactly what she intended to do at the first opportunity.

Miranda returned a little later with an equally grim expression.

‘Come on – breakfast time. Get a move on, Sylvie.’

As they made their way again down the long gallery she turned on her daughter.

‘Things are going to change, Sylvie, starting from today. I’ve been far too soft with you. You’re to sit with me at meal times so I can make sure you’re eating properly. When you’ve finished breakfast this morning you’re to see your tutor and find out what you need to do to catch up with your work. Then go and see Hazel in the hospital wing. Magus had told her to do a complete health check. And your weight’s going to be monitored closely.’

‘What? But Mum, why—’

‘I don’t want to hear it, Sylvie. Your attitude is just not good enough. You’re going to spend every evening working in our rooms where I can keep an eye on you. You’ve so much ground to cover.’

‘But it’s not fair! I’ve only missed so much school because he made me ill! If you—’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous! It’s
not
Magus’ fault. You’ve been selfish and lazy, expecting us all to run around whilst you take to your bed and deliberately make yourself ill. I used to worry that you
were anorexic, and now it’s clear that you refuse food to weaken yourself intentionally and then get us all fussing over you. Well it’s going to stop! I’ve the baby to think of now and I don’t have the time or inclination to pander to you any more. Magus is very annoyed and it’s up to me to sort you out.’

‘Mum, I can promise you I’ve never deliberately made myself ill! I want to be fit and healthy and eat normally, believe me! You know how bad I was in London and why we came here – how can you even think I want to be sick again? It’s Magus who’s—’

‘How
dare
you? We’ve discussed this before, Sylvie, and I’m appalled at you. It’s thanks to Magus that you’re alive today. He saved your life by bringing us here, and then healing you with his amazing gift. How you can blame him for your dreary hypochondria and self-harming behaviour is beyond belief. I’m ashamed of you, Sylvie!’

Sylvie’s tutor was a rather grumpy middle-aged member of the Hallfolk, staying at Stonewylde for a couple of years whilst he completed his thesis. She’d never really taken to him but had found him to be generally amenable if not disturbed too much. Today he was curt and her heart sank. He glowered at her, furious to have his New Year’s Day holiday taken up like this. He’d hastily compiled a list of coursework and areas of study where she must catch up, and presented it to her with a bad-tempered flourish.

‘I’ve had to speak to all your subject teachers at extremely short notice when we thought we had the day off. Now that I’ve looked into it, I’m shocked at your attendance since the summer. You made a reasonable start in the spring but it very quickly deteriorated and you’re now behind in every subject. You’ve a considerable amount of work to catch up with and I want to see you every morning with the fruits of the previous day’s efforts. The last thing I need is Magus breathing down my neck. You’ve let us all down and there’s serious work to be done, young lady, if you’re going to even scrape through your exams.’

Even Hazel was cool with her. She gave Sylvie a comprehensive medical and drew up a chart to record her weight. The doctor
frowned as she sealed the blood and urine samples in a box to be sent off for analysis.

‘I’m really disappointed in you, Sylvie,’ she said. ‘I feel responsible for you being here, and I was so pleased that you’d made a full recovery from your illness in London. But this – this is something different. Magus says you’re deliberately malingering to get attention, and that there’s nothing physically wrong with you. I must say that apart from your obvious exhaustion after the full moon, and the fact that you lose so much weight by refusing food, I’m inclined to agree with him.’

‘But it’s his fault, Hazel! He makes me stand on the rock up at Mooncliffe and it drains my energy. He knows exactly what’s wrong with me!’

‘Oh come on!’ said Hazel sceptically. ‘Don’t start fantasising as well as faking illness. Magus told me months ago about your so-called “moongaziness” and how you insist on going up to Mooncliffe each month. He’s doing you a kindness, when he could simply lock you up in a room like your mother had to in the old days, to keep you safe. Don’t pretend this is his fault when all he’s doing is trying to help – that’s a load of nonsense and I won’t hear it!’

Sylvie stared at her helplessly.

‘But Hazel …’

‘No, Sylvie. Magus warned me you’d try to blame someone else for your apparent malaise but I can’t believe you’re blaming him of all people. You’ve got to face the facts – you love the attention that illness brings and that’s all there is to it. It’s a common enough syndrome but not something I’d have expected from you.’

‘But I don’t pretend to be ill!’ cried Sylvie, her voice cracking. ‘It’s real!’

Hazel shook her head and stood up, ignoring Sylvie’s tears and firmly ushering her from her office.

‘I’m sorry, Sylvie. I just don’t believe you so don’t waste your time crying – it won’t wash with me. Of course if these tests throw up anything, I’ll reconsider. That’s why Magus ordered
them – to be absolutely sure we’re not misjudging you. But you need to do some hard thinking about your life at Stonewylde. You didn’t come here to mope about being pathetic, did you?’

‘No, Hazel,’ sobbed Sylvie, ‘I only want to be happy here. Please, please believe me, I’m not putting—’

‘Don’t try to play on my sympathy, Sylvie. If you put me in a position where I must choose sides between you and Magus, I’m afraid you’d be the loser. He’s been so kind to you and it’s about time you woke up and started acting a little more appropriately to your situation. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for your weigh-in.’

The turn of events had thoroughly depressed Sylvie. She recognised Magus’ attempts to punish her for alerting Maizie to Yul’s presence in the Stone Circle at Samhain. She was anxious for news of him, although judging by Magus’ displeasure, Yul must be alright. A couple of evenings later, having endured dull days of endless school work and disapproval from all the adults responsible for her, Sylvie at last heard the good news she’d longed for. Harold caught her alone as she walked through the Tudor gallery. He emerged from the shadows of one of the doorways leading to guest rooms, and had clearly been waiting for her to pass by.

‘Sorry, miss, to startle you. I got a message from Rosie for you and I been trying to find a way to get you on your own.’

‘A message from Rosie? That’s brilliant! Thank you, Harold.’

Sylvie was so relieved. She’d heard gossip and had gathered that Yul was now safely at home, but other than that there’d as yet been no details. She’d been wondering how to find out more and desperately wanted to see him, but didn’t know where they could meet. She smiled encouragingly at Harold, who shyly scuffed his shoe along the deep wooden wainscot of the gallery. He was the same age as Yul, but much less sure of himself.

‘Well? Can I have it then?’ She held out her hand, but Harold shook his head.

‘’Tis spoken, miss – Rosie can’t write. She said Yul’s on the mend, but he’s still very weak and their mother’s keeping him indoors. She said Yul wants you to go to their cottage and see him, any time you like, he said. And he misses you. And … and he loves you.’

They both looked embarrassed at this but Sylvie grinned with bubbling happiness.

‘Please tell him, or Rosie if that’s easier, I’ll come down to the Village just as soon as I get the chance. Everyone’s on my back at the moment but I promise I’ll visit. Tell him I love him too. Sorry, Harold. This is awkward I know. I wish he could read, then I’d write him a note.’

Harold looked up and nodded eagerly, his eyes alight.

‘I told Yul I’d teach him.’

‘You can read? How come?’

‘I’m teaching myself though I’m not very good yet.’