Shadows at Stonewylde

12



Leveret had concealed a draw-string flaxen bag and the special gathering knife in the large inner pocket of her cloak. She’d found the knife in Mother Heggy’s cottage at the same time she discovered the Book of Shadows and it seemed ancient; Leveret suspected it was much older than the crone herself. It was compact, fitting nicely into a small female hand, with a very smoothly-worn white horn handle – probably made from deer antler. The blade was of tempered steel, engraved with strange symbols, slightly curved and very sharp. Leveret had found a worn whetting stone inside the carved box with the knife and she was careful to keep the blade sharp. It was perfectly designed for a herbalist to harvest her ingredients and necessities, and when Leveret had made her find on her thirteenth birthday she’d been happier than at any other moment in her life.

The gathering knife was very different from the third object she’d found on her birthday; a ceremonial athame, wrapped in soft linen with an outer layer of oilskin. Leveret intended to use the gathering knife to collect the materials she’d use for her spell, and to use the athame during the spell-casting ritual. She knew how special tools became linked to those who used them, especially when the purpose was sacred and magical. Using the crone’s tools would create a strong bond between her and Mother Heggy and make contact easier. It also felt right deep inside, as if she were continuing the long tradition of magic passed on from woman to woman.

Leveret took an appreciative breath of the cold night air and looked up at the blazing stars twinkling in thick clusters across the velvet sky. The great Frost Moon, its face daubed with grey shadows, had cleared the Village Green treetops and was radiating magical light, bathing all in moon-dusted quicksilver. Leveret felt a thrill of energy, soaking its radiance and feeling the magic coursing through her veins. She was not especially moongazy but who could be immune to it on such a night as this? She ran lightly over the damp grass which would later be brushed with sparkling frost, towards the orchards.

Leveret knew exactly which tree bore the mistletoe she’d collect, for she’d been carefully planning this for a while. She’d noted the footholds and branches which would help her climb and ran now like a young deer, fleet and delicate of foot, to the gates of the vast orchards. The trees rose in moon-brushed blackness towards the starry heavens and Leveret felt another rush of emotion at such beauty. She loved this – she loved the night, the moon, the magic and the sheer poetry of Stonewylde at the Moon Fullness. Her breath caught in her throat and she thanked the goddess for giving her life and showing her such wonders. She thought of Mother Heggy who’d once walked these lands and had gathered sacred ingredients under the same moon with the same knife.

‘I’ll do everything right,’ she whispered into the silent darkness. ‘I work with love for the goddess in my heart, and honour for you and your wisdom, and I ask you to help me, Mother Heggy. Help me be a Wise Woman such as you were.’

Climbing the gnarled tree wasn’t too difficult for she’d selected a good one, and soon Leveret was up in the branches, as sure-footed as her oldest brother had once been. She paused for a while, feeling the spirit of the apple tree around her. It was a strange sensation, almost impossible to explain; there was a sort of aura that pervaded the whole tree, wreathed around the trunk and woven about the branches. It was a life-force, an energy that swirled slightly, ebbing and flowing as if the tree were breathing. It was a benign force and she greeted it respectfully, making the sign of the pentangle in the air.

Leveret sat in a cleft of branches for a while just feeling the energy and aligning her own energy with it, so they worked in harmony. Then she rose and reached up to the mistletoe, growing thickly in a huge clump. She knew the relationship between the apple tree and mistletoe was a strange one; she’d read that mistletoe was a parasite, but she knew instinctively it was a more complex partnership. She muttered the words she’d memorised from the Book for cutting the sacred plant; they meant nothing to her, for they were words from a different language that she’d never seen or heard before. Leveret wasn’t to know just how ancient these words were, passed down orally through the generations and only recorded in the Book of Shadows comparatively recently. She hoped she’d remembered them correctly and, just for good measure, added her own words of honour to the mistletoe, asking forgiveness for the cut.

Taking the white-handled knife from her pocket she made a clean, sharp cut and removed a good piece of the white-berried, sickle-leaved plant. She kissed it and carefully put it in her flaxen bag. Then with a farewell stroke of the tree trunk Leveret jumped down from the tree and ran silver-footed from the orchards back towards the Village Green. She’d become so engrossed in her mission that she’d forgotten all about Maizie and her own deceitfulness. She was heading for an ancient holly tree that grew slightly back from the Village Green on the far side. It was a beauty, its trunk silvery-grey and pimpled with tiny growths, enormous branches sweeping down to the ground all around it. It was covered with jewelled red berries at the moment and although they were not specified in the spell, Leveret thought they’d add to the potency if she gathered some with the deep glossy leaves.

She skipped lightly across the huge expanse of grass and felt a tingle of something ancient, some pattern that must be traced and grounded. She began to leap and twirl, following a blueprint laid by many feet several millennia ago in this ancient woodland temple. It was the dance of the moon, the earth, the life force – the Dance of the Goddess.

Leveret was not a natural dancer but she moved gracefully around the empty ground as if in a trance, her feet stamping and pointing, jumping and tiptoeing to the ancient pattern. She heard a primeval drumbeat reverberating in her soul, a rhythm that marked the dance, and it felt so good to be alive, so powerful. She raised her arms and shook her wild dark curls in joy, spinning with her cloak billowing out around her. She felt the energy from all the different trees crowding around the Green, the eddies and swirls of tree spirit energy that flowed around her almost giving her wings. Here too was the potent spirit of the Green Man; Leveret sensed the myriad energies and felt herself becoming part of the whole ecstatic dance of life.

Inside the Barn, Maizie had finally completed the baking rota to her satisfaction. The labour was fairly shared and nobody felt put upon or left out, which was no mean feat. She looked across to the trestles where people still worked busily on the Yule decorations. The huge Barn interior was alive with the buzz of conversation and the lilting sounds of a group of musicians practising some of the Yule jigs. They’d recently been persuaded to record some of their songs, and Maizie had heard that Harold and Yul were trying to arrange something for them in the Outside World.

Maizie couldn’t see Leveret’s distinctive dark curly head amongst the people working diligently at the lanterns, but assumed she’d simply gone to the privy. She rose a little stiffly and went over for a word with Rosie. Her elder daughter’s cottage was right over the other side of the Village so they rarely bumped into each other in passing, especially as Rosie worked full time at the dairy. Maizie was proud of what her daughter had achieved. Her handfasting with Robin was a good one and he’d proved to be a fine husband. Their two children, Snowdrop and Edrun, were happy in the Nursery every day with all the other little Stonewylders whilst their parents worked.

Robin was in charge of the enormous dairy which had become a huge enterprise, particularly since the cheeses had taken off at Stonewylde.com. Rosie had risen to the challenge of helping to breed a large herd of goats and she supervised the production of goat’s milk and cheeses as well, which were in high demand amongst Outside World customers. The kid-skin products had recently become another profitable side-line along with goats’ meat and Rosie was keen to develop this offshoot of the dairy, wanting to do her bit to help Stonewylde’s economy. But consequently mother and daughter had little private time together for a quiet chat, primarily seeing each other in the Barn when they were involved in community events like this one.

‘Who’s sitting with the little ones tonight?’ asked Maizie, looking at the Yule socks Rosie’s group had been knitting. They were still making up for lost time at the Dark Moon at Samhain.

‘Robin’s sister has them staying at her cottage,’ said Rosie. ‘She really don’t mind and they’re good company for her two.’

‘You know Leveret would come and sit with them, don’t you?’ said Maizie.

Rosie grimaced at this and shook her head.

‘I don’t think Robin’d allow that,’ she said. ‘He don’t think too highly of her and to be honest I’m not sure I trust her either.’

‘Oh Rosie! How can you say that about your sister?’ said Maizie in dismay.

Rosie shrugged and began casting off stitches, as deft at handicrafts as ever.

‘I’m sorry, Mother, but she’s been awful lately and I wouldn’t want to leave my little ones in her care.’

‘Well Sylvie told me that Celandine and Bluebell think the world o’ her,’ said Maizie stoutly. ‘And she’s been very helpful lately. I can’t speak highly enough of the effort she’s been making since she came back from her stay with Yul and Sylvie.’

‘Where is she now? Are Sweyn and Gefrin keeping an eye on her for you?’

‘No, Rosie, our little Leveret has been here all evening making lanterns! I’m surprised you didn’t notice her. She were over there …’

‘So where is she now?’

‘I expect she’s in the privy. She’ll be back any minute now I’m sure, and then I’ll take her home. She’s been peaky lately and she needs her sleep. The girl’s worked hard tonight and I’m proud o’ her.’

‘Well I got here a good half hour ago and I’ve not seen her,’ said Rosie. ‘Are you sure she’s not out gallivanting in the Moon Fullness? You told me she were with that daft Magpie last month and …’

Rosie trailed off guiltily at the stricken look on her mother’s face.

Leveret reached the other side of the Green following her circuitous, spiralling route, not hearing the sounds of merriment spilling from the Jack in the Green, and not noticing the light blazing from the windows of the Great Barn where people were still busy with their Yuletide preparations. She was oblivious to everything except her quest to harvest some sprigs of holly. She ran through the special words for the holly tree in her head, hoping again that she’d remembered them correctly. It wasn’t until she’d almost reached the edge of the Green where the trees stood in a deep fringe of protection that she heard the sound of high-pitched terror. She stopped dead, the spell broken and her heart suddenly hammering.

The sounds were coming from under one of the many sweet chestnut trees, set back from the Green as the holly was, in the thicker part of the wood that surrounded this far end. She started to walk towards it, feet dragging and scared of what she’d find but knowing she had to investigate. With a feeling of dread she recognised her brothers’ voices amongst the jeers and laughter and then realised with horror that the squeals of distress were Magpie’s.

She broke into a run but then slowed again, trying to see what was going on and what they were doing without being spotted herself. Still standing on the Green with her back to the distant Barn and the pub, she peered into the darkness ahead. In the gaps between the thick trunks she made out lights and movement under the hanging boughs of an enormous chestnut tree. There were several youths, all contemporaries of her brothers, along with Jay, of course. They crowded around something which she guessed must be Magpie but they were blocking him from view. A couple had candle lanterns and there were also Outside torches, powerful ones that created harsh spotlights that arced about as the youths moved. There was a flickering fire too and she could smell not only the woodsmoke but also roasted chestnuts and the sweet smell of cider. They’d obviously been having some sort of a party – and Magpie must be their entertainment.

There was a great deal of raucous laughter, the horrible, primitive laughter of young men engaged in something cruel; something that involved a gang and a victim. She saw the small barrels of cider being passed around, the spouts open and liquid pouring into gaping, tipped-back mouths. She still couldn’t see Magpie, only hear his continuous whimpering and distress. Her stomach knotted with pity and anger and she stepped closer. Then she heard Jay’s deep, harsh voice full of taunting cruelty.

‘But I thought you was hungry, Magpie! I thought you was so hungry you had to steal food from the pantry and gobble it down in secret like the dirty animal you are. What’s wrong with this food then? I know you love rabbit.’

There were shouts of laughter at this.

‘Give him some more!’ called Gefrin, his voice slurred. ‘Make him eat some more, Jay.’

‘Your friend here thinks you’d like some more,’ said Jay. ‘Would you like some more rabbit, Magpie?’

There was a terrible screech.

‘Sorry, can’t understand you. Yes or no? More rabbit or not? If you don’t say no then it must be yes. Well?’

Another desperate screech.

‘Looks like he wants some more. Are you ready, Sweyn?’

The bodies parted slightly as Jay moved forward and Leveret was transfixed at the spectacle before her. Magpie was on his knees with Sweyn standing directly behind him, holding him down. Magpie’s upper body was upright and bent back slightly, his hands tied in front of him. Sweyn grasped a handful of his hair and forced his head backwards mercilessly. Leveret let out a mew of horror when she saw that Magpie’s face was covered in glistening blood. But as Jay advanced she realised it wasn’t Magpie’s blood she was looking at. It was worse than that. In his hands Jay held the bloody carcass of a skinned rabbit, pink and raw as a new-born baby, which he began to jam into Magpie’s mouth. The boy struggled, fought and squealed but the bloody flesh was shoved in his face, with Sweyn behind making sure he couldn’t move.

‘Eat!’ yelled Jay. ‘Eat it, you moronic, half-witted bastard! Eat it I said!’

He kicked Magpie hard and continued to force the dead animal into the boy’s mouth. Magpie was gagging, his body convulsing, but still the raw meat was rammed into his mouth which was then held shut, forcing him to swallow or choke.

‘STOP!’ cried Leveret, unable to watch any more. She knew she should run and get help but she couldn’t leave Magpie with them like this. ‘STOP IT NOW!’

They spun around and she heard the awful sound of Magpie vomiting again and again. The flushed, sweating faces stared at her in shock and then Sweyn broke into laughter.

‘It’s our little sister come to save her boyfriend!’

They all roared with laughter and hands grabbed her and yanked her forward. Sweyn let Magpie go and kicked him over so he toppled into a heap on the ground next to his puddle of bloody vomit, whimpering and sobbing between the retching. Sweyn advanced and grasped the front of her cloak, pulling her up onto tiptoe so their faces were close. She could smell the cider on him and the rank odour of his sweat. He looked more pig-like than ever, spittle flecking his mouth.

‘What are you doing out tonight, Hare-brain? I thought you were being a good little girl helping Mother.’

‘I am,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘I have been helping her.’

‘So what are you doing out here in the woods?’

‘Nothing.’

He laughed and let her go, looking down at her and breathing heavily, his small eyes alive with excitement.

‘Hold on to her, Gef,’ he commanded, and turned to Jay for a whispered conference.

‘She said she were going to get her own snips,’ said one of the women at the table. ‘But that were a while back and she never showed her face again.’

‘Well, I expect she felt tired and stayed on at home,’ said Rosie quickly, putting an arm around her mother.

‘But Rosie, what—’

‘Come on, Mother, let’s get you home and we’ll see if she’s there,’ said Rosie. ‘If Leveret’s been so good lately and really turned over a new leaf, I’m sure she will be. And if she’s not, we’ll come back here and wait for her. There’s bound to be a good reason why she’s disappeared like this so don’t fret.’

They fetched their cloaks and made their way out into the brilliantly moonlit night, their breath clouding around them. Their boots clattered on the cobbles as they walked along the wide paved area outside the Barn. When they reached the Jack in the Green, the noise and brightness flared out at them. Many men helped out with the Yule preparations in the Barn, but others felt they’d earned a few tankards of cider after a day’s hard physical labour and left the ceremony provision to those who still had some energy left in the evenings.

The two women walked past briskly to the darker, quieter lane ahead, radiating out of the heart of the Village like a spoke on a spider’s web. An owl flew past, it’s white wings ghostly in the darkness, and everywhere the moon cast her silver glance. Her beams were caught in the shadowy thatch of the cottages, glinting off the little panes of glass in the windows, dancing back from any shiny surface she could find. The Bright Lady walked the night in her silver shoes and the dew turned imperceptibly to glittering frost. It was a beautiful, magical night.

‘Oh, Rosie, what you said about her gallivanting out with Magpie …’

‘I wish I’d never said that! This is our Leveret we’re talking about. She’s not a bad girl, not in her heart. I’m sure she’ll be curled up at home by the fire with her nose in a book and the Yule decorations completely forgotten.’

‘I hope so, Rosie,’ said Maizie dejectedly. ‘She promised to be good for me and I trusted her. If she’s let me down again …’

A minute later the other youths were told to untie Magpie, who lay in a heap apparently unable to move however much they encouraged him with their boots. One of the small barrels was brought across and the spout tipped over Magpie’s face so the cider washed him, removing the rabbit’s blood.

‘Take him back to his cottage,’ said Jay to the youths. ‘Don’t disturb the women as they’ll be busy during the Moon Fullness. Just kick him through the gate – even that idiot can find his own way from the garden gate. We don’t want him wandering around like this on the Green in case any questions are asked.’

The youths nodded, staggering slightly, and hauled poor Magpie to his feet. He could barely stand as they prepared to frog-march him home. He didn’t even seem aware of Leveret’s presence but was making a horrible noise – a combination of sobbing and screeching.

‘Oh, one more thing before he goes,’ said Jay casually. Entirely without warning he bunched his great fist and punched Magpie full in the stomach. It was a mighty blow and the grunt of air escaped from the boy’s lungs in a sickening burst. Magpie jackknifed instantly but the youths on either side wrenched him back upright, retching and groaning, and began to drag him home, skirting around the edge of the Green. Which left Leveret alone with Jay, Sweyn and Gefrin.

‘Shall we give her some delicious rabbit as well?’ asked Gefrin, who still had her arm twisted up behind her back in a painful grip. ‘I reckon she needs feeding up, skinny little runt that she is.’

The other two laughed but Sweyn shook his head.

‘What have you been doing, Leveret?’ he asked again. He seemed to have calmed down from his earlier excitement and she wondered if maybe he was going to let her off lightly after all.

‘I was helping Mother in the Barn,’ she replied, trying very hard to keep the fear from her voice for she knew it only egged them on. ‘I just went home to collect some snips for cutting the lanterns. That’s all.’

Jay surveyed her with narrowed eyes. His face was beaded with perspiration despite the cold night and like Sweyn he stank of sweat and cider. His belligerent face loomed closer and peered into hers.

‘She’s lying. She ain’t been home at all.’

‘No, I don’t think so neither. Let’s see what she’s got hidden under her cloak.’

Leveret began to struggle then, terrified they’d take the sacred knife from her, and she moved so suddenly that Gefrin lost his grip. She managed to wriggle free and stood with her knees slightly bent, eyeing all three like a cornered animal ready to launch into flight.

‘Don’t even think about it!’ warned Sweyn, edging closer to cut off her retreat. But she did. With a sudden sideways leap she darted off, jinking across the grass with the three young men hot on her heels. There was a moment when she thought she might get away but it was short lived – she didn’t stand a chance against them. Jay brought her down hard, launching himself into a tackle that knocked her flying. He landed squarely on top of her, crushing her so she couldn’t breathe, and laughed triumphantly.

‘Any other girl lying under me on the grass at Moon Fullness would be fair game,’ he said, his breath wafting over her in foul waves. ‘But this one – eugh! She’s got to be the ugliest girl at Stonewylde and she’s more like a boy than a girl. So not tonight, darling – sorry to disappoint you.’

He shifted his weight and pushed himself off her, still pinning her arms to the ground.

‘I’d kill myself before I went with scum like you!’ she hissed. ‘You stink like a torn cat and you’ve all the wit of a farmyard animal. I’m not into bestiality – sorry to disappoint you.’

With a swift swipe he clouted her hard around the side of the head so she saw violent colours and her skull rang with noises.

‘Bitch!’ he spat. ‘Don’t you speak to me like that!’

‘No!’ cried Sweyn. ‘For goddess’ sake, don’t hit her hard or there’ll be proof.’

‘Never hit her very hard,’ added Gefrin. ‘You got to do things that don’t leave marks.’

They dragged Leveret to her feet and took her back to the fire that still smouldered under the chestnut tree.

‘I’ll search her,’ said Jay, eyes still dark with anger at the way she’d insulted him. He’d never been spoken to like that before, enjoying a certain elevation amongst his peers. The fact that it had come from such a small, young girl only made it worse. He wrenched her cloak open and began to frisk her roughly, deliberately poking her hard and offensively.

‘Get your hands off me!’ she growled through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll tell Yul that you’ve assaulted me.’

He jabbed her ribs at this.

‘Don’t flatter yourself! You got the most disgusting body I ever seen. Nobody in their right mind would assault you, you ugly little bitch. And Yul wouldn’t believe you anyway.’

He’d found nothing, of course, but then her cloak fell to the floor and he saw the way she glanced at it.

‘There’s something in her cloak!’ he said triumphantly, whisking it off the ground, and when she began to struggle in Sweyn’s grip they knew he was right. She closed her eyes in sorrow, knowing they’d desecrate the precious gathering knife. Finding the big pocket sewn inside the cloak, Jay rummaged and then pulled out the flaxen bag with a flourish and a whoop of delight. Sweyn and Gefrin laughed in anticipation and all three crowded round the torchlight to see inside the bag.

‘Mistletoe!’ he exclaimed incredulously. ‘Is that it?’

Her heart sank as he turned again to the pocket; she knew the knife was nestling in there, tucked into the seam. But after groping around inside, he shook his head.

‘That’s it.’

‘This is good!’ said Sweyn. ‘She’s been out on her roaming again, gathering things. Fancies herself as a bit of a witch, does our Hare-brain, and Mother told us she wants to be the new Wise Woman. Competition for Old Violet!’

‘Mother’ll go mad with her!’ said Gefrin gleefully, following his brother’s train of thought. ‘Lev’ll be in big trouble now!’

‘Yeah, just when Mother thought she could trust her little girl too. She’s going to be so angry and disappointed when we tell her.’

To her dismay Leveret burst into tears at this, sobbing but unable to hide her face in her hands for they were pinned behind her by Sweyn. He jeered as she cried, and the others joined him in his mockery.

‘Pathetic little cry-baby!’ said Gefrin. ‘Just like you’ve always been.’

‘Was that a bit close to the truth, Leveret?’ laughed Sweyn. ‘I think we should get her back to the Barn right now, boys, and let Mother see what sort of a daughter she’s got.’

‘What, and that’s it? Aren’t we going to do anything to her first?’ asked Jay, unable to contain his disappointment. ‘Not have any fun with her at all?’

‘No … unless … lie her down on her back a minute. I’ve got an idea.’

Jay held her down on the ground, prickly with fallen chestnuts cases, whilst Sweyn picked up the barrel and began to pour cider into her mouth. She kept it shut and twisted her face to one side so the sticky liquid ran off into her hair and all over the grass. But then Gefrin grabbed hold of her head to keep it still and Jay sprawled across her, pinning her arms painfully to the ground by her sides. He held her nose shut and grasped her chin. She could barely breathe anyway and had to open her mouth, her eyes wild and pleading. Sweyn poured the cider in steadily – although much of it still ran down the sides of her face – and she started to choke.

‘Mother’ll be upset Lev’s been up to her old tricks again, sneaking about in the night. But when she sees Hare-brain drunk as well …’ he chuckled. ‘I reckon our little sis might even have to miss Yuletide for this.’