Shadows at Stonewylde

14



The light was fading amongst the trees as the men and boys in the Wildwood cooked their feast on the fire, the meat on a spit and large potatoes wrapped and baking amongst the glowing charcoal. There were other treats spread out on rough trestle tables and a great barrel of cider too. Some of the men were drumming and everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves. Yul sat on a log slightly apart from everyone, his back against a tree trunk. It had been a very long day, as these days always were, joining in all the activities alongside the youngsters destined to become men in the morning.

All day Yul and some of the men had kept the boys in the Wildwood, away from the community, and engaged in physical endurance challenges. Yul was exhausted from the stealth games, tree climbing and archery, and he longed for a hot bath and bed. But there was the evening of feasting, singing and drinking to be got through first and more male bonding with the youngsters. They were all very excited about becoming men and receiving new ceremonial robes from their families and pewter pendants from their magus.

Yul fingered the pewter pendant on its leather thong around his own neck. He’d chosen the Green Man as his personal totem, and the other side was embossed with a sprig of mistletoe just as all these youngsters would have too. Tomorrow was his birthday – twenty-nine years old. Thirteen years since he’d become a man, although the occasion hadn’t been marked in this way. He hadn’t even taken part in the customary ritual up at the Stone Circle because he’d wanted to wait for Sylvie to reach her sixteenth birthday.

It had been a terrible day overall, though it had started well enough with the wonderful sunrise ceremony. The relief that his lifelong battle with Magus was finally over had been overwhelming, but all day he’d been haunted by the thought of that broken body lying at the foot of the Snake Stone amongst the boulders and stone rubble. Edward had dealt with that – and the other two bodies at Quarrycleave – and Clip and others had stepped in too, wanting to protect the boy from further distress. Yul distinctly remembered the strong sense of unreality that had clouded everything that Winter Solstice, and the feel of new beginnings for everyone at Stonewylde.

When the sun had risen over the Village Green and the community had arrived at the Great Barn for a Solstice breakfast, someone had discovered old Professor Siskin’s body curled up on the ground, all rimed with frost. Sylvie had been devastated; convinced his death was her fault. But worst of all, for Yul at least, had been the discovery of Mother Heggy’s death. He and Sylvie had walked to her tumble-down cottage later on that morning, still in their beautiful Winter Solstice robes, hoping to persuade her to come to the Barn for the festivities. Yul remembered noting the lack of smoke trickling from the crooked chimney, which was an ominous sign in mid-winter, and had pushed the door open with trepidation. He’d never forget the sight of the tiny crone still hunched up in the centre of her circle of salt, the five points of the pentangle marked with symbols of the elements, the little fire-cauldron cold and dead.

Mother Heggy had looked so small and helpless then, but she’d been so very strong for him. He’d cried on seeing her, great sobs of anguish and sorrow, and Sylvie had done her best to comfort him just as he’d comforted her a little earlier by Professor Siskin’s body. His sixteenth birthday had been a day like no other and he wouldn’t wish it on any of the boys here today. They seemed so young and carefree, yet they all knew so much more than he had at their age. He smiled wryly; if nothing else, he could feel a sense of achievement that the youngsters of Stonewylde were now educated properly and had many choices and opportunities open to them.

He sat there gazing at the revelry around him and wondered what Sylvie was doing now. She would have left the girls’ Rite of Adulthood events under the willows by the river and was probably back at the Hall putting their daughters to bed. Leveret could’ve been told to babysit of course, and Celandine and Bluebell would’ve loved that. Yul couldn’t understand why they’d formed such a strange attachment to their disgraced aunt and he was sure it wasn’t reciprocated in the least. Leveret had proved far too selfish to feel anything for them. He didn’t want her hurting their feelings and was determined to keep her away from them; she was hardly a good influence in any respect and seemed to constantly upset them with her ridiculous moods and dramatics.

Once Yuletide was over he’d move her into a dormitory with other boarders – why should she have special treatment? Sylvie had said she felt sorry for the tragic teenager and wanted to talk to her about her side of the story, but Yul had been angry at the idea and forbidden her to talk to Leveret. The last thing he needed was his over-emotional and unpredictable sister setting off his unstable wife’s depression. Sylvie had given him one of those looks and he’d felt the resentment seething inside her. He knew she thought he was too dominating but he couldn’t help it; it was just his way and she’d known that all along from the start. She used to joke about it and call him the lord and master – now she seemed to hate it, but it was too late for him to change.

Yul admitted, reluctantly, that he was like his father in this respect. Magus had been dominating too, but how else could the leader of such a large community be? It was no use being weak and indecisive like Clip – surely Sylvie saw that. Everything he did was for her, with her comfort or happiness in mind. He didn’t want her getting involved with his wayward sister because it would only cause her heartache in the end. Sylvie was so kind, so gentle and soft-hearted, and she’d only get hurt. Leveret had turned out badly and she was his problem, not his wife’s. He needed to put his sister straight by whatever means he thought fit and it wasn’t Sylvie’s place to get friendly and act as if Leveret had done nothing wrong. In Yul’s books, upsetting their mother was one of the worst things anyone could do.

‘Meat’s cooked, Yul!’ called Edward, his face red and glistening from the heat of the roaring fire. ‘Are you going to help carve?’

‘No, I think Tom should help you,’ said Yul. ‘I’m after some cider. It’s time to get rat-arsed, as they say in the Outside World. It’s been quite a while since I did.’

Edward chuckled at this and lifted the roasting meat off the fire. Yul needed to let his hair down a bit, he thought. He’d seemed so distant and bad-tempered lately. Maybe with a few drinks inside him he’d forget his worries and go back to that lovely wife of his to end the day with the perfect celebration. He grinned at the thought and decided that maybe he’d do exactly the same when he got home. That’s what all this male bonding was about anyway – reaffirming the status of the man in society, or so he’d read somewhere. And there was nothing wrong with that at all.

‘Swift, take the magus a tankard of cider, would you, boy? And have one yourself – you’re far too solemn. This is your big day remember? You’ll be a man tomorrow and I expect my Kestrel will be leading you astray over Yuletide. That boy’s so popular with the girls – I wish I’d had his success at that age!’

Swift smiled politely and carried a dripping tankard over to where Yul sat against the tree. When the magus downed it in one he refilled it … and then made it his mission for the evening to ensure that the tankard was always full. He realised he’d never seen Yul drunk before and it would be interesting to watch.

Back in the Hall, Harold sat at his desk in the office as always, tapping away at the keyboard. It made no difference to him that it was Solstice Eve and everyone else was either drinking and making merry or preparing for the next day’s events. He’d been invited to join the youngsters at their Rite of Adulthood get-together in the Wildwood with some of the other men but he’d naturally refused. Harold wasn’t a physical sort and had grown from the nervous youth of the old days into a rather anxious and intense man, almost the same age as Yul. He hid behind an owlish pair of glasses and spent most of his life behind a screen in this room.

Harold jumped as Martin suddenly appeared – he hadn’t knocked and moved silently on the thick Aubusson carpet. Pushing his glasses back up his nose Harold swung round in the swivel chair to face the tall, silver-haired man who stood near the door staring at him.

‘Martin! You scared me for a minute,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Can I do something for you?’

‘I doubt it,’ said Martin, moving into the room and coming closer to the screen. Harold’s instinct was to try to block it as he was working on some rather confidential figures at the moment, but that would’ve been very rude. Martin’s wintry grey eyes flicked over the screen but showed little interest.

‘If you’re looking for Yul he’s out with the youngsters,’ said Harold.

‘I know,’ Martin replied coldly. ‘My son Swift is there. ‘Tis his Rite of Adulthood this Solstice.’

‘Ah yes, I’d forgotten.’

There was a pause and Harold wondered what Martin wanted.

‘Didn’t you want to join them?’ he asked eventually. ‘I thought the fathers usually—’

‘I’m far too busy on Solstice Eve to go off drinking in the Wildwoods,’ replied Martin stiffly. ‘There’s work to be done and I can’t rely on these youngsters and their rotas to do things properly. ‘Tis not like in the old days when staff were trained properly, is it? Not that you ever finished your training, did you?’

To Harold’s astonishment, Martin sat down in the other leather swivel chair – Yul’s chair.

‘Well, no I didn’t, but then …’

‘I know – everything changed and you started school again. Pah! Though I seem to recall they found you could already read and write a bit, didn’t they?’

‘A little,’ said Harold. He had no idea why Martin was here and talking like this to him. Normally the older man maintained a dignified and formal distance.

‘Always did have ideas above your station,’ muttered Martin. ‘And look at you now; in on everything, thinking you control it all—’

‘No!’ said Harold, pushing back his glasses and jerking his long wrists in dismay. ‘I don’t think that, Martin. I do what I can to help, that’s all.’

‘You were just a pot-boy,’ said Martin bitterly. ‘Someone to clean out the fires and polish the Hallfolk’s shoes. And now you’re sitting in the magus’ office with all his private things at your fingertips thinking you rule the roost. I know what you’re up to, young Harold!’

‘No, that’s not it!’ cried Harold, his voice squeaking. ‘I don’t—’

‘If you recall, it were on this very night thirteen years past that I asked you to help me as I lay on the floor in Magus’ chambers bleeding. This very night that you refused to help and locked me in there, left me for dead!’

‘No, Martin, I—’

‘Yes you did! They didn’t find me till the next morning and I were almost dead! ‘Tis a wonder I didn’t die in the cold night with that head-wound. I haven’t forgotten, Harold, don’t think I have. Every Solstice Eve I think on it, and tonight’s no exception. I warned you at the time there’d be consequences. As I said, I know what you’re up to and I shall put a stop to it. You won’t get away with it.’

Martin rose and glared down at the younger man whose Adam’s apple was working furiously in his throat.

‘The vipers will be cast out!’ Martin muttered, leaving the room. Harold stared at the door long after it had closed, trying to make sense of his words.

*

As darkness fell, Clip hunched over the kindling in the Dolmen and nursed the small fire into life. He fed sticks into the flames, gradually adding larger ones until the warmth spread and permeated his thin limbs. The back of the Dolmen was shadowy, the bracken and rug that Leveret had slept on at Samhain still there. He sat down on a log next to the fire, making sure he could still see outside; it was important to see the stars if he could. He took a swig of water from his bottle and glanced at the bag of fruit and nuts. But he had a journey ahead of him tonight and had been fasting for three days as he generally did – food would have to wait until the Solstice tomorrow. Clip was so used to this aesthetic lifestyle that it was no hardship at all. His body had long since learned that sending hunger signals to his brain would make no difference. His abdomen was hurting right now, though not with hunger. This pain had begun to gnaw at him regularly and he thought of it as the serpent within his belly. He was learning to live with it and even spoke to it sometimes, but tonight it would be easy to ignore. Once he’d left this realm, he’d feel nothing anyway.

Clip knew this would be his last Winter Solstice at Stonewylde. By this time next year he could be anywhere in the world – maybe in the Australian Outback or with a tribe in North America. He wanted to visit Peru and the Steppes, Tibet and the Amazon; Clip had been captive here for thirteen long years and longed to be free to roam. He’d only ever been the custodian – never the guardian – of Stonewylde, always haunted by the bad things that nobody else seemed to notice. He knew of the evil up at Quarrycleave that lay waiting for new victims. He knew too of the corrupting influence of power and he wanted nothing of it.

Clip didn’t remember his own father, but he recalled the terrible way his Uncle Elm had lived, debauched and utterly selfish, spoiling everything around him. He’d heard of the rape that had resulted in his own conception up at Mooncliffe and the torment his mother had suffered every single month, with his brother also born out of such brutality. The taint of power had all passed on to his brother and Clip knew only too well just what an evil man Sol had been. The sophisticated, charismatic persona had been a mere mask which had slipped alarmingly by the end of his life.

Clip acknowledged that he too had behaved very badly, although Miranda had told him kindly it was just as well or she’d never have had Sylvie nor her wonderful life at Stonewylde. But that didn’t detract from his own wicked act. And now Yul seemed destined for the same fate. Today he was a far cry from the passionate, idealistic boy who’d fought his father thirteen years ago. Clip sighed – he’d done his best and stayed here all these years from a sense of duty and guilt. It had to be enough. Stonewylde and her demands had bled him dry and now he wanted to wander the world and honour the Goddess in all her guises, not just her Stonewylde robes. That’s all he’d ever wanted to do – to be free of this place.

He settled into his customary position and began to clear his mind; usually the process was quick. An empty, clear mind, a bright shining radiance filling his head … his totem, the silver wolf, would appear and lead him through a strange, symbolic landscape, feeling a sense of heightened perception. There’d be some sort of entrance – maybe a cave, or passing beneath a waterfall, or even through a foxhole – and then they’d be in and the journey could begin. Clip fidgeted, his bony bottom uncomfortable.

He glanced into the shadows at the back of the cave again, seeing only the bracken and blanket where Leveret had slept. Should he be acknowledging another presence tonight? Had a spirit joined him? No, it wasn’t that. He stared deep into the heart of the fire, trying again to clear his mind. Empty, just a bright, shining radiance … he glanced again into the cave’s shadowy depths. Something was pulling at him, nagging at his subconscious – something he should understand. He sighed again and stared into the dark shadows, letting his mind wander freely.

All was bright and here was his silver wolf at last, slinking through the trees, his eyes so wise as he led Clip towards a great cave-mouth. Clip walked, one hand on the wolf’s head and the other holding his ash staff. As they approached the mouth, Clip felt a tingle of fear and looked around. The landscape was bizarre, huge, pale boulders and outcrops of Fly Agaric, the brilliant red startling against the white rock.

Clip hesitated at the entrance, frightened to go inside. He looked up and saw two huge pointed stalactites of stone curving down from the roof. Passing between them he shivered, thinking they looked like fangs, but the wolf urged him onwards and Clip followed … into the darkness of the cave and then, too late, he understood. He was inside a serpent, and travelling deeper, down into the long tunnel of its body. This wasn’t a journey he wanted to make and he halted, reluctant to continue deeper into the snake’s body, which had become labyrinthine in its twists and turns.

‘I don’t want to go any further,’ Clip said to his spirit guide. ‘This place is evil and it frightens me.’

The wolf turned his silvery eyes to Clip’s and looked deep, deep into his soul.

‘The time has come,’ said the wolf, ‘to face all those things that you fear the most. Now is your chance to right all wrongs, to prove yourself a man of honour. You’re the saviour and you must act now.’

Clip looked ahead, peering into the long tunnels and saw a tiny hare crouched in the shadows. He felt a tug at his heart and stepped towards it, wanting only to scoop it up and keep it safe.

‘Now awaken,’ commanded the silver wolf. ‘You know where she is and what she will do. Don’t let the evil claim her for its own.’

Clip’s eyes flew open and he lurched to his feet in the entrance of the Dolmen, almost stumbling into the small fire. He poured his water onto the embers, and taking up his staff, hurried down the hill in the deepening dusk.

‘Can you sit up, Maggy? We need to eat our special mushrooms now.’

He struggled upright, groaning at the pain in his ribs but wanting to do as she asked. He leaned against her heavily and she almost toppled over, the mushrooms dropping from her hands onto the stone.

‘No! Oh, here they are. Be careful, Magpie – we mustn’t lose these. They’re going to take us to the Otherworld.’

Leveret peered at the dried and shrunken caps in the gathering gloom, hoping desperately they were the right ones. She knew how potent Death Cap was; there really was no escape, no antidote. She wanted the end to be quick although she knew there’d be some pain as the lethal toxins entered their nervous systems, destroying their livers and kidneys. It could take some hours. She’d done her research on the Internet and learned far more details than the Book of Shadows had offered her.

She held the four caps in her cupped palms and thought carefully. Was she doing the right thing? For herself, she was absolutely sure. She no longer wanted to live. She had no future – the heaven of Stonewylde wasn’t meant for her. She wished that she was good enough and had so desperately wanted to be the Wise Woman one day. But she’d failed in every sense and this was the only way out of the misery she’d endured these past few days. All her life she’d suffered at the hands of her brothers and she could see it stretching away endlessly into a bleak, loveless future. Inside she felt cold and blank.

And Magpie – did he have a future? Was there any way his life could become worth living? She knew that without her the answer was no. Without her he’d be at the mercy of Jay and Starling. Even when alive she had no power to protect him. So yes, this was the right thing for both of them and best to get it over and done with now. She squeezed the dried caps and felt their sponginess. This was it – this was the way their world would end. No more life, no more Stonewylde, but at least they’d find peace in the Otherworld.

Leveret looked at where the sun had gone down in a bloody puddle of glory. The darkness was crowding in and once more she sensed something down in the quarry. She peered below, sure she could hear a rustling noise in the ivy. Well, if it was a carnivore it would be welcome to their carcasses, and if it was something else, something less tangible – they’d soon be gone into the Otherworld and oblivious to anything in this one, however frightening it was. She felt the mushrooms in her hands – they were so light. Would they work? How could something so small and insubstantial do something so immensely powerful? There was only one way to find out. So why was she feeling so reluctant to do it when she knew it was the right thing?

‘Mother Heggy, speak to me, please! Is this right? Should we do this?’

But there was no answer, only more stirring in the quarry below. A cold shiver began to spread over her skin despite the warmth of Magpie propped against her. Leveret sensed a deep hunger all around her that craved and craved.

‘Mother Heggy, will you be there on the other side of the veil waiting for us? Please give me a sign that this is the right thing to do.’

She felt the thing below creeping closer and had a sudden image of death, of broken and bloody bodies lying amongst blasted stone and thick choking clouds of stone dust, of something feeding on the death. And then there was another image of weapons – piles of bloodied weapons and more bodies, mutilated beyond recognition, and more feeding. But the hunger couldn’t be satisfied. She saw a man with silver hair and black eyes laughing, but then the hunger devoured him too.

Leveret shuddered, knowing that they had no choice now – Quarrycleave had them and they too must feed this hunger with more bodies, poisoned ones. This was why she’d been called here and it was the right thing to do, to join her Stonewylde ancestors at this special place.

‘Maggy, you must eat both these caps quickly now so we can go to the Otherworld together and find Mother Heggy. Look, see Levvy doing it? Mmn, delicious. Eat yours too – good boy. Swallow! Is that both of them gone? I know they taste a bit funny but never mind. Have you swallowed them both? Now we’ll curl up together here and go to sleep.’

He squeezed her hand and she felt the radiant love in his heart.

‘I love you too, Magpie. We’ll be together in the Otherworld, don’t you worry. I’ll always look after you, I promise.’

Strangely, as she closed her eyes she thought she heard the long, anguished cry of a wolf howling in the winter’s night. But that was ridiculous. Leveret smiled with relief – they’d done it and now they were free. There was no turning back now.

By the time Clip arrived in the old Land Rover they’d been asleep for a good couple of hours. He’d first had to get back down to the Hall from the Dolmen and find a vehicle. The place was deserted – many of the senior adults were involved with the Rites of Adulthood events, others were observing the Solstice Eve at the Stone Circle and most of the young people who lived in the Hall were down in the Village, presumably helping with the final decorations around the Village Green. Clip had no idea what he’d find when he reached Quarrycleave, but he threw in a first aid kit just in case he wasn’t too late and could do something to save them. He also brought blankets and water, and then thought of torches too.

Clip stood in the kitchens frantically wondering if there were anything else he should bring. His heart was pounding and he felt scared, knowing the urgency of the situation but not used to acting so decisively. He phoned up to the hospital wing hoping to find Hazel but she was down in the Village, so he raced around to the barn near the stable block where the vehicles were kept. He spotted Tom’s son, Fletch, and asked him to come along to help. Luckily the keys sat in the Land Rover; Clip felt very strange sitting in the driver’s seat. It was so long since he’d driven but Fletch had already had a couple of glasses of cider and was worried about driving all the way to Quarrycleave, especially over the rough ground. Soon they were bouncing up the track and then turning onto the ridgeway, Clip calling on the Goddess to save the youngsters’ lives and not let them die. He should’ve known! Leveret had as good as told him and he hadn’t listened. If he were too late he’d never forgive himself.

After an interminable journey the Land Rover pulled up at the quarry mouth and Clip and Fletch jumped out. They hurried through the quarry calling Leveret, their voices bouncing strangely off the rock faces.

‘How do you know they’re here?’ asked Fletch. ‘Did Leveret tell you?’

‘Not in so many words,’ replied Clip, ‘but I know they are. I can feel it … and something else too. Come on, we need to get to the head of the quarry and climb up to the top of the Snake Stone. That’s where we’ll find them.’

The relief Clip felt at discovering their bodies on top of the Snake Stone was short-lived. At first he thought they’d merely meant to jump but had changed their minds and were now sleeping here for the night. But when he tried to awaken them and found them drowsy and confused, he feared they’d taken an overdose. Magpie woke up fairly easily but he couldn’t speak, and Clip tried desperately to wake Leveret up enough to find out what exactly they’d taken.

But then a mushroom rolled out of Magpie’s hand and Clip realised: of course Leveret would choose something natural like mushrooms. He peered at the shrivelled cap in the torchlight but it was impossible to identify. He knew enough about mushrooms to understand that death was not instant, even with the most lethal ones, and several hours could pass before symptoms manifested. He guessed at this stage they were only sleeping, exhausted from the long walk here and probably very hungry and cold too. He carefully put the remaining cap in his pocket – there was one person at Stonewylde who could identify it, if she had a mind to co-operate. Then he set about trying to wake Leveret, whilst Magpie cried into his hands in fear and distress, scared by the turn of events and the bright light in his face.

Leveret was groggy but furious when they managed to rouse her. The next person she’d expected to see was Mother Heggy, not Clip and certainly not Stonewylde. But he and Fletch managed to get them both into the Land Rover eventually, after a nightmare trek in the dark back down the boulders and through the black labyrinth of stone. All around then the quarry breathed and sighed its disappointment and by the time they reached the Land Rover all four of them were completely spooked.

They sped along the tracks, Leveret and Magpie bundled up in blankets, and Clip questioned Leveret as he drove.

‘What have you taken?’

‘Death Cap,’ muttered Leveret. ‘It’s no use, Clip. There’s no antidote and you shouldn’t have interfered. I wanted us to pass on to the Otherworld at the Place of Bones and Death with our ancestors.’

‘I don’t think it could’ve been Death Cap,’ said Clip. ‘You’d be feeling some symptoms by now. You’re not in any pain, are you?’

‘No,’ said Leveret. ‘But maybe it’s still too soon. I’m sure they’re Death Cap. I checked …’

She huddled miserably in the blanket, cuddled up to Magpie who was moaning with terror at the ride in the vehicle and pain from the bumpy track.

‘Well I think you’ve taken something else. Thank goddess – and my silver wolf!’

They soon arrived at the Hall. The youngsters were taken straight to the hospital wing where a nurse was on duty keeping an eye on a couple of elderly patients with bronchitis. Having left Leveret and Magpie in safe hands, Clip drove fast down to the Village. Hazel was soon located in the Barn whilst Maizie was just leaving the girls’ Rite of Adulthood party under the willow tree to see to her baking for the morning. She went completely to pieces when she heard what had happened, screaming with distress and clutching at Clip desperately. He tried to reassure her that he thought Leveret had taken something other than the fatal mushroom, and Hazel quickly took over as Maizie was becoming hysterical. Clip left the two women to drive back to the Hall in the Land Rover whilst he hurried down to the dirty cottage at the end of the lane. He hoped Old Violet was in a good mood.

She peered at the shrunken cap and sniffed it.

‘Leveret said it was Death Cap. Is she right?’ he asked anxiously. The crone continued to examine the dried, spongy fragment with her twisted and blackened fingers. ‘Is it Death Cap, Violet? Could it be something else?’

‘Death Cap, Death Cap,’ she muttered. ‘Good old Death Cap. Quite slow, she can be, but always brings the Dark Angel with her, though he may have to wait a while at the door.’

‘Aye, sister,’ chipped in Vetchling. ‘The Dark Angel never leaves her side unsatisfied.’

Clip stood there with fear in his pale eyes, his wispy hair sticking out wildly. He was feeling very strange himself, having fasted for three days and then rushed about all over the estate. He should be in a peaceful trance right now.

‘But is this mushroom a Death Cap, or did Leveret get it wrong?’

‘Did she get it wrong? There’s a thing – did the girl get it wrong? She worked alone, you can be sure.’

‘Doesn’t it bother you that Magpie has taken it too? They’re both in the hospital wing right now.’

‘Pah!’

She spat viciously into the fire.

‘Please, Violet, is it Death Cap or not?’

‘Don’t know why you’re in such a bother,’ she said grumpily, eyeing him through her tufted white eyebrows. ‘If ‘tis Death Cap, there’s no remedy, none at all. Not even in your fancy hospitals.’

‘Aye, not even them fancy hospitals can banish the Dark Angel,’ croaked Vetchling. ‘He’ll come with his burning eyes if ‘tis Death Cap and no use you fretting.’

‘If you can tell me what this mushroom is, I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.’

‘What with?’ said Starling, still sitting by the fire and apparently unconcerned that her son had tried to kill himself. She shifted her great bulk to break wind. ‘What’ll the reward be?’

‘Oh Goddess, I don’t know! What do you want?’

‘Mead!’ she replied. ‘We want mead and we want it for the Solstice. Three bottles o’ good stuff like you lot have up at the Hall. Strong stuff.’

‘Of course. So—’

‘And pastries and cakes, them special ones they make at the Hall for Yule, with lots o’—’

‘Yes, yes – you can have any food or drink you want! Please, Violet, is it Death Cap?’

She stared at him, her crumpled face malignant.

‘No.’

He stared back.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Aye.’

‘What is it then?’

‘’Tis False Death Cap – not poisonous at all. Stupid girl! She should’ve come to me and I’d have given her Death Cap, no mistakes. Old Violet knows.’

‘Aye, sister, you know Death Cap. Stupid girl – Maizie’s daughter, what do you expect?’

‘Bring the mead in the morning,’ said Starling. ‘And a whole basket o’ cakes and pastries. Send it all up with Jay and he can have a drop o’ mead too.’

Clip turned and stared at her, dizzy with relief that it wasn’t a poisonous mushroom. His heart was hammering in his chest now the terrible tense moment of truth had passed.

‘Your son could’ve died tonight, Starling. Don’t you care at all?’

‘No – a dog’s got more sense than him. And at least a dog can bark.’

She smiled at Clip as he stood there staring at her incredulously. As her lips stretched the crooked brown stumps behind them became visible.

‘I remember you when you were a young man,’ she leered. ‘Not looking too good now, are you?’

Violet leant forward in her rocking chair and to his dismay, placed her gnarled hand on his abdomen.

‘Been hurting, has it? If you need something for it, Violet can help.’

‘Aye, Violet can help,’ cackled Vetchling. ‘For a price, mind you. Nice little remedy to take the pain away, sure enough. We know, we understand. A nice little remedy can make you feel good, so you come to us and forget them fancy hospitals when it gets too bad. Old Violet can help.’

The three of them sat laughing as Clip stumbled out of the stinking cottage and out into the starry Solstice Eve. Once more he was reminded of the crones’ power and it shook him to the core. How on earth had they known about the serpent that writhed in his belly?