Shadows at Stonewylde

4



‘Remember I’m going out this evening, Leveret,’ said Maizie as she wiped down the scrubbed table in the kitchen to remove all traces of their meal. ‘We’re meeting in the Barn to sort out the food for Samhain. It’ll be a really good feast this year with the harvest we’ve had. I want you to carry on with the weaving tonight while I’m gone.’

‘But Mother, you know how useless I am at weaving,’ groaned Leveret. She’d planned a pleasant evening in the scullery decanting elderberry wine ready to smuggle some up to Mother Heggy’s cottage at a later date. She intended to add it to another tincture she was preparing.

‘’Tis about time you knuckled down to learning these sorts o’ things,’ said Maizie firmly, wringing out the piece of cloth with a grip of steel. ‘You’re always saying that you want to stay at Stonewylde when you’re an adult, after you’ve finished your education, of course. So you’ll need to make cloth for your family like every woman does.’

‘But I’ll have different skills, Mother, which I can trade for cloth that other women have made. Like Hazel – she doesn’t weave.’

Maizie’s eyes gleamed.

‘Like Hazel? Are you saying that you want to be a doctor, Leveret?’

She stopped fussing over the kitchen surfaces and grasped her daughter by the shoulders, peering into her eyes. Leveret tried to look away, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

‘No, I meant …’

‘Because Leveret, I’ve said nothing until now, but ‘tis my dearest, dearest wish that you become a doctor like Hazel. Another proper doctor for Stonewylde.’

Leveret started to protest and tried to move away but Maizie gripped her harder and carried on relentlessly.

‘I’ve seen you messing about with potions and herbs, don’t think I haven’t noticed. I know you’ve a natural gift for healing. Remember when little Snowdrop had those awful stomach cramps and it was you that cured her? And when the chickens got that mange? And all the wild creatures you’ve healed? Oh Leveret, you’re a natural born doctor! I’ve talked to Yul about it and we thought—’

‘No, Mother!’ said Leveret firmly, pulling away. ‘I don’t want to be a doctor. I know what it means, all the years at university and in hospitals. I’ve told you: I’m not leaving Stonewylde. This is where I belong and where I want to be, not in some horrible place in the Outside World.’

‘But Leveret, ‘tis only a few years of learning and you’d be back in the holidays like all the others, helping with the harvest and suchlike. And it’d be worth it! Just think—’

‘No! I don’t want to go Outside at all.’

‘But you have to leave after your exams to go on to college for your higher exams. And if—’

‘No, Mother! You don’t understand – I’m not leaving at all. Not ever. I’ll do my exams here because you said I had to, though I’d rather have done the practical course like my brothers and Rosie. I only agreed to the exams because you said it’d make you proud, but I’m not doing any more after my last year at school here. I know exactly what I want to do and it’s not studying in the Outside World.’

Maizie stared at her youngest child in dismay, two bright spots of anger burning on her plump cheeks.

‘Oh, so you do know what you want to be, then? And what is that, Leveret? A farm labourer like Gefrin? Or a tanner like Sweyn? Or in the orchards with Geoffrey? Maybe thatching like Gregory? Or in the dairy with your sister?’

‘No, I—’

‘You’re the only one with a bright star inside you, Leveret! The only one who could go on to university and study and—’

‘Except for Yul.’

‘Well yes. Yul did it and you could be like him too! You’re a very clever girl – don’t throw it all away.’

‘I won’t throw it all away. I want to be a healer, a herbalist, and—’

‘Then be a proper doctor!’

‘NO!! I won’t go away and study to be a doctor! I want to be a Wise Woman, Mother, like there used to be at Stonewylde.’

‘A Wise Woman?’ Maizie’s voice cracked in disbelief. ‘You mean like that nasty old biddy Violet? And her crazed sister Vetchling? Is that what you mean?’

‘No! I mean like old Mother Heggy.’

There was a silence, then Maizie let out a harsh laugh and banged the iron skillet she was drying onto the table. She shook her head, the spots on her cheeks grown now to large flushes.

‘What would you know about that old crone? ‘Twas because of her and her mad prophecies that your poor brother suffered all those years. ‘Twas because of her that Magus turned against me and became such a wicked man. If she’d only kept her wild rantings to herself! She were raving mad and she’s a lot to answer for!’

‘But I thought you all honoured her? Yul and Sylvie honoured her and I heard she was gifted and magical.’

‘Oh yes she was, and Yul and Sylvie did honour her right enough because ‘twas she as brought ’em together. But Old Heggy caused so much misery too, with her crazy caperings up at the Stone Circle when your brother were born, summoning the Dark Angel, blighting the boy’s childhood. And you want to be like her? Hah! If you want to end up a filthy old hag on a hill with no friends nor family, my girl, then good luck to you!’

Leveret looked sadly at her mother, who’d worked herself up into a spitting rage. She knew just how upset Maizie was but there was nothing she could do.

‘I’m really sorry, Mother. I don’t want to disappoint you, but it’s better you know now, isn’t it?’

‘Oh don’t you worry about how I feel!’ snapped Maizie, snatching her cloak from the peg. ‘Next year you’ll be living up at the Hall along with all the other fifteen-year-olds. Then I can wash my hands o’ the lot of you. Nearly twenty-nine years I’ve spent raising children and I’ll be glad to be done with it. ‘Tis a thankless task, I can tell you. You go ahead, Leveret, and become a “Wise Woman”. But don’t expect any customers. Folk at Stonewylde want a proper doctor nowadays, not some old biddy with dandelion tea and love potions, and Yul won’t let you do it for long. Everyone here has to earn their living and he’ll find you something fitting, I’m sure. Maybe he’ll let you grow vegetables up at the Hall. And in the meantime, my girl, I want this cloth woven tonight. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Mother.’

‘Sweyn should be here any minute and—’

‘No! Oh Mother, please don’t get him round! You know I’m behaving myself and I promise I’ll stay in and do the weaving. Please!’

But Maizie smiled tightly.

‘You let me down once too often and now I don’t trust you, Leveret. Sweyn’s coming to keep an eye on you and from now on him or Gefrin’ll make sure you behave yourself. I’m very glad Sylvie thought of it.’

‘Please, Mother, I beg you! You don’t know what he’s like when he gets me alone.’

‘You’re wasting your breath, Leveret, and talking rubbish too. I told you all this before, many a time – I won’t listen to your lies about your brothers. Sweyn’s a fine young man and I’m proud o’ him. That sounds like him now.’

The front door crashed open and Sweyn barged in. It was as if Alwyn had been reincarnated for his youngest son was the image of him, right down to the gingery bristles on his sausage fingers and the brutish under-bite of his pugnacious lower jaw. He even wore an enormous brown leather coat as his father had done, and he looked older than sixteen. The stink of the tannery came with him into the cottage.

‘Sweyn! Just in time!’

Maizie went over to peck his ruddy cheek and he hugged her gruffly.

‘Alright, Mother?’

‘I am now. I’ve left you cake and some nice cheese in the pantry, and there’s cider too if you fancy it. Take what you want, son.’

‘I will, Mother – you know how I miss my home comforts. Gefrin said he might come by too.’

‘Good. Thank you, Sweyn – I’m grateful for this. She shouldn’t need looking after at her age but there you are – she’s let me down once again.’

‘Has she upset you tonight? You’re looking like a rosy apple.’

Maizie bobbed her head, curls shaking, and patted his arm as he hung up his coat.

‘I should be used to it by now. But never mind that – I don’t want to think about it. She’s been told to weave tonight so you make sure she does. No sloping off to her room in a sulk – she’s got work to do.

Sweyn smiled and nodded.

‘Don’t you worry, Mother, I’ll sort her out.’

As soon as Maizie had gone, Leveret sat on the stool before the loom and started to organise the shuttles. She kept her head down so her hair hung over her face, hoping Sweyn would be distracted by the thought of food and drink in the pantry. He was as greedy as their father had been – not that Leveret remembered him, for she’d only been a year old when he’d collapsed in his chair. But she’d heard about him from Rosie, Geoffrey and Gregory, who remembered Alwyn with fear and loathing. Yet even now Maizie rarely spoke out against him. He was their father, after all. Yul never, ever mentioned him.

Sweyn had sat down comfortably in the great armchair by the fire; the late October nights were getting chilly. He relaxed into the old, soft leather and surveyed his younger sister. Far from resenting his mother’s request, he was delighted. He’d moved up to the Hall last year along with the others in their final year at school, and had been missing his favourite pastime – tormenting Leveret. Over the years he and his older brother Gefrin had developed it into a fine art. Although neither of them was very bright, they were inventive in their torture and clever at avoiding detection.

Leveret had never known anything but their constant bullying, and if something were ever noticed, it was always put down to the rough and tumble of growing up in a large family. A small girl with older brothers, so Maizie had always said airily, should expect some teasing and Leveret was the youngest of seven. Since they’d left home she’d generally been able to avoid them and was no longer bruised by their casual violence or intimidated by their constant tormenting. But by asking them to keep an eye on her, Maizie had given them the perfect opportunity to resume their cruelty.

‘Go and get me the food she’s left,’ commanded Sweyn, watching Leveret fiddling with the loom. She decided not to protest and went into the pantry to fetch the cake and cheese. She was sure he’d already have eaten a good meal in the great Dining Hall tonight, but Sweyn could always find room for more. He took the plate from her without a word and began to eat. The moment she sat down he spoke again, through a mouthful of food.

‘Get me some cider too.’

She stood up once more and poured him a tankard of cider from the small barrel in the pantry. She hoped he wouldn’t drink too much because he never held his drink well. But he downed it in one long, noisy draught and demanded another. It was when she sat down again and was commanded once more to get up and stoke the fire that Leveret realised he didn’t plan to let her do any weaving at all.

The door opened and Gefrin stood at the threshold grinning. At seventeen he was a year older than Sweyn but seemed the younger of the two. He was lankier and more scrawnily built, although the two years spent farm labouring had developed his strength and stamina. He had an inane grin that rarely left his face and took his lead from Sweyn, who was marginally brighter than him. They were close as brothers, paired by their position in a large family and united in their enjoyment of teasing Leveret, whom they both deeply resented.

‘Alright? Mother gone already?’

‘Yeah. Get Gefrin a tankard too, Hare-brain.’

When she returned with it they both sat and looked at her.

‘Don’t improve with age, does she?’ laughed Sweyn.

‘Still ugly and skinny. I pity the man who ends up with her.’

‘Doubt anyone’d have her – nobody’d be that desperate.’

Leveret ignored them. They’d been mocking her looks since she was a small child and by now she thoroughly believed what they said.

‘Is there anything else or can I get on with the weaving now?’ she asked evenly.

‘Are you getting uppity?’

‘No.’

‘Is she meant to be weaving then?’ asked Gefrin, gulping at his cider.

‘Yeah, and she’s upset Mother good and proper tonight. Her cheeks were bright red – you know how they go when she’s rattled.’

‘Can’t have that, can we?’ giggled Gefrin, shaking the lank hair from his face.

‘No we can’t,’ agreed Sweyn. ‘Poor old Mother. Things have slipped since we left, haven’t they? I think Leveret needs to be taught a lesson tonight.’

‘Yes, a good lesson. What did you have in mind?’

‘Let’s have a little think. More cider, Lev! More cider, and then you can wait out in the scullery. Shut the door behind you.’

They wouldn’t let her take a cloak or shawl and made her stand in the chilly scullery for a good half hour. When she was summoned back inside she was shivering and pinched with cold.

‘Don’t stand next to the fire!’ said Sweyn sharply. ‘No point trying to warm up, not where you’re going.’

‘No, not where you’re going!’

They both laughed and Leveret took a deep breath, keeping her eyes down. She contemplated running, but there was little point – Gefrin’s long legs were faster than hers and having to chase and catch her always made them worse.

‘Mother’ll be really angry if I don’t do any weaving,’ she said neutrally.

‘Too right she will,’ agreed Gefrin.

‘I expect she’ll punish you for it. Poor Lev.’

Sweyn heaved himself up from the chair and burped loudly. He gripped her arm and swung her round so she stumbled into him. Then he pushed her away into Gefrin who also shoved her hard, making her fall into the table and bang her hip. They laughed again; this had been a favourite childhood game they called ‘Pass the hare’.

‘Come on then, up you go,’ said Sweyn, pushing her towards the stairs.

‘Where?’ she whispered, her heart sinking.

‘You know where,’ said Gefrin. ‘Have a guess.’

‘Your favourite place!’ chuckled Sweyn. ‘Somewhere you haven’t been for a long time.’

‘Far too long, seeing as how you used to love it when you were little. Good job you’re still little.’

Leveret stopped at the foot of the staircase, panic rising within her.

‘Please!’ she said quietly, her mouth dry. ‘Please don’t put me in there. I didn’t fit inside last time and that was over a year ago.’

Gefrin giggled and poked her in the back sharply.

‘Upstairs, Lev. You’re going in the cupboard and we’ll make you fit.’

‘Please! Sweyn, please, I—’

‘Shut up, Leveret – you should’ve thought before you upset our Mother. Good job we came round tonight to put you straight. UPSTAIRS!’

They dragged and pushed her up the staircase to the first floor and then up the wide ladder to the attic above, where Rosie and Yul had slept all those years ago in the tiny bedrooms under the eaves. In one of the rooms, tucked in a nook between the roof and a wall, was a small cupboard built into the recess and extending back under the eaves. It was here that, as a small child, they’d locked Leveret in the darkness for hours on end.

They’d filled her head with frightening tales which they elaborated on each time, of how a child had once died in the tiny space and how, if she were very quiet, she’d hear his ghostly heart-beat and soft breathing. It was in here that her trances had begun, for they’d made her so frightened that she always lost consciousness. Not that the boys knew this – once the door was bolted, they assumed her silence was down to terror and when they dragged her back out they put her paleness and trembling down to fear.

It was their favourite torture and the one they generally reserved for occasions when they had plenty of time and were bored with everything else. The fun lay in getting her up the stairs and stuffing her into the cupboard; once she was actually in there they lost interest and sometimes they went off and forgot about her. They’d warned her once, long ago, of the folly of calling out. That was what had happened to the other child, they said – he’d tried to call out and a rat had leapt at his throat in the darkness and he’d bled slowly to death. She’d learnt to keep quiet early on; the sound of her strangled voice in the darkness just frightened her more.

‘Didn’t think we’d be doing this again,’ laughed Gefrin as they crowded into the cramped room that had once been Yul’s. Sweyn leant over and pulled back the bolt of the cupboard door. It was low and had never been high enough for her to stand in, even as a child; now she couldn’t even sit up in it.

‘It’s her own fault for being such a naughty girl,’ he grunted, shoving Leveret towards it. ‘Get in there – you’re wasting time. Move!’

‘No!’ she cried, wriggling and trying to get away from the dark, gaping mouth of the tiny cupboard. ‘I’m not going in there! No!’

Gefrin crushed her down, twisting her flailing arms, and Sweyn kicked her hard. Together they manhandled her onto her knees and forced her to crawl into the small space. She had to crouch sideways with her knees bent up to her chin and her head wedged down. Her shoulder and arm still poked outside but Sweyn started to shut the old wooden door, pushing and squeezing her in.

‘No, no, please Sweyn! I beg you – don’t!’

He stopped and looked at her, with her face squashed up and twisted sideways against her knees.

‘What?’

‘Please don’t do this,’ she whimpered, her voice high with terror. ‘I can’t breathe – it’s too tight and I might die in here. Please don’t shut me in.’

‘Well, I’m not sure. What do you think, Gef?’

‘Ooh, I don’t know. Shall we let her out? It’s so hard to decide, isn’t it?’

‘Let her out or lock her in? Choices, choices. I think … LOCK HER IN!’

With a yell he shoved violently on the door and her arm and shoulder were crammed inside. He pushed and pushed on the thick wooden door, harder and harder. Gradually the breath was forced out of her and somehow her body squeezed and squashed into the tiny space. The crack of light gradually disappeared and the bolt was finally driven into its socket. The darkness was complete and the smell made her heart almost stop – the smell that haunted her nightmares, of old wood and damp thatch with something decaying too. If she’d been rational she’d have realised it was only a mouse or bird, but the tale of the dead child still lingered in her subconscious.

Leveret would’ve been trembling violently with absolute terror, but she was so tightly squashed and contorted that no movement was possible. Very quickly she felt her feet and hands go numb and she couldn’t take a proper breath for her lungs were so compressed. She had to take small, shallow breaths that hurt and made her feel dizzy. She heard muffled laughter on the other side of the door and then footsteps receded as her brothers left her trapped in there. Leveret took a constricted breath and her eyes rolled up in their sockets.

In the office, Yul and Clip sat on the leather sofas facing each other in silence. Yul sipped his coffee and regarded his uncle steadily. Lamplight fell onto Clip’s lined face and Yul thought how he’d aged lately, becoming more other-worldly than ever before. He seemed never to change his threadbare blue robe and his long white-blond hair was stringy and matted. Only his eyes blazed as brightly as before, pale grey in his thin, whiskery face.

Clip was thinking that he’d stepped back in time. Were it not for the glossy dark curls and deep grey eyes, the handsome man opposite him, as taut and controlled as a coiled spring, could’ve been his brother. They were virtually identical; that chiselled face, the powerful body – Yul even tapped his thigh impatiently in the same way that Magus had done and spoke in the same deep, softly resonant voice.

‘I want to abandon the Death Dance altogether this year,’ said Yul without preamble. ‘It’s a disgusting custom and has far outlived its original purpose.’

‘It’d be a mistake to just abandon it,’ said Clip quietly. ‘I agree it’s outmoded and unnecessary, but to simply forbid them to do it this year at such short notice would be cruel. You know how the older folk value it. Let it be known that next year the labyrinth will no longer be built in the Stone Circle. People could continue the custom up in the clearing by the Yew of Death if they wanted, which would still be appropriate with the pyre built there. But you need to give the people some notice rather than announce it now.’

‘I don’t want it to take place this year,’ said Yul, almost as if Clip hadn’t spoken. ‘I said so last year and the year before that I wanted it stopped once and for all.’

‘You did, and I advised against it,’ replied Clip evenly. Yul could be as dominating and even as arrogant as his father, but Clip wasn’t scared of him as he’d been of his brother. If Yul possessed a similar cruel streak then he had it firmly under control, for Clip had never seen any evidence of it. Nor was he manipulative or devious, as Magus had been. If Yul had an opinion he expressed it directly, although sometimes this forthrightness had its own difficulties.

‘I don’t want it taking place this year,’ Yul repeated. ‘I intend to tell the Elders at the Council Meeting tomorrow.’

‘No,’ said Clip quietly. ‘You have—’

‘Yes!’ said Yul. ‘I won’t allow it! As the magus I think I have the right to decide on anything to do with ceremonies and rituals. It’s my decision to make, not yours.’

‘You have to give people notice,’ insisted Clip. ‘You can’t act so suddenly like this. Wait until next year, Yul – by Samhain next year … things will be different.’

Yul put his coffee cup down onto the table and looked hard at Clip.

‘What do you mean by that?’

Clip also set down his cup and gazed back at Yul. His likeness to Magus really was uncanny. He recalled sitting here all those years ago with a cake tin in his lap whilst his brother overrode his feeble objections and disquiet. He hated being in this position; all he wanted was peace and harmony, not power struggles.

‘Well?’

Yul was as still as a panther about to spring. Clip sighed and turned his gaze to the framed photo of Sylvie on a side table, hoping that he was taking the right course of action. There was a sense of inevitability about it all.

‘I’m prepared to step down this coming year. By next Samhain I’ll be gone and then you can do what you like.’

Yul jerked and his eyes widened. His sharp intake of breath told Clip just what a surprise this was, but he quickly regained his composure.

‘Excellent news!’ he said slowly. ‘What’s brought this on? It’s thirteen years since my father died and I was beginning to think you intended to lead the community for ever.’

‘That was never my intention. You know I’ve never wanted leadership of Stonewylde.’

‘Precisely! You promised that as soon as everything was on an even keel you’d leave me in charge, but it’s been so many years that I wondered if you’d ever hand over. Why the change of heart?’

‘Because you’re ready now.’

‘Clip, I’ve been ready for years! Of course I was too young when Magus died, but when I came back after University you should’ve retired then.’

‘You weren’t ready then – you thought you were but you weren’t, and neither was Sylvie. But now … I’m longing to leave Stonewylde and travel the world, to follow my star. I want no more responsibilities or ties, just freedom.’

‘I take it you’ve told no one else this news yet? Not Sylvie?’

‘No, you’re the first. I’ve been thinking about it very carefully. I want to do what’s right and not shirk my duties, but I think I’ve paid my dues now, done everything I can to redress my past laziness and wrong-doing. The slate is clean and I feel the time has come where I can leave Stonewylde with a clear conscience, knowing I’ve done my best for everyone. So during the year ahead I’ll shift all the responsibility to the pair of you and I’ll legally sign everything over as well.’

Yul nodded but then frowned.

‘You said to the pair of us. I realise that on paper it’ll be shared, of course. But I’ll be running Stonewylde, not Sylvie. I don’t want her put under any sort of pressure or stress – you know how delicate she is. She can take part in some of the ceremonies if she wants, but all decision making and actual leadership of the estate will come to me.’

Clip looked into Yul’s eyes. They met his unwaveringly.

‘How does Sylvie feel about that?’ he asked. ‘I thought she believed it would be an equal partnership. Does she want you to do everything and not make any contribution herself?’

‘I expect so. She’ll agree if I say so.’

Clip raised his eyebrows at this.

‘I think you’re being a little high-handed, Yul. Surely Sylvie has some say in this? She seems—’

‘This is one area where I won’t compromise. I won’t do anything to risk her becoming ill again. Hazel said it was due to too much pressure, too many demands on her. So there’ll be no pressure and no demands. All she has to worry about are the girls and they’re at Nursery anyway.’

‘It wasn’t pressure that caused Sylvie’s breakdown, surely? We all know it was a hormone imbalance after Bluebell was born – puerperal psychosis. She’s long over that, Yul, and she’s perfectly healthy now.’

‘Yes, because I’ve made sure she leads a stress-free life. She has no worries or burdens at all and she’s completely carefree.’

‘That’s as may be, but she’s not happy.’

‘Of course she’s happy!’ he snapped, stung by Clip’s observation.

‘I really don’t think she is. Why not talk to her and find out what’s wrong. But don’t assume she’ll do everything you say – my daughter has a mind of her own and she’s much tougher than you give her credit for. I’m not prepared to hand anything over to you alone if Sylvie isn’t in complete agreement.’

Yul glared at him.

‘I’ll thank you to keep your views on our marriage to yourself. I think I know whether or not my own wife is happy, and her happiness has no bearing on running Stonewylde anyway. Sylvie wouldn’t have a clue where to begin. It’s such a complex venture with so many difficult issues and problems – she doesn’t have the knowledge or skills to deal with any of it.’

‘I recall she studied agricultural management and business studies at university especially so that she could one day run the estate,’ said Clip mildly. ‘I’d say Sylvie was far better trained in the skills needed to run Stonewylde than you’d appear to be. You chose to study the Arts.’

‘On yours and Miranda’s advice,’ muttered Yul, scowling. ‘You said I should broaden my intellect and understanding of the world.’

‘Quite so. You couldn’t even read until the age of sixteen and had no knowledge of – or interest in – anything outside Stonewylde. You needed to expand your horizons and I’m sure you don’t regret it.’

‘Of course not. But since then, I’ve also studied estate management, agriculture, sustainability, alternative power, ecological issues … you know I never stopped studying. There’s so much I still don’t know and I want to learn it all. But I think I know a great deal more than Sylvie about the best way to run Stonewylde, whatever she may’ve learnt years ago at university.’

‘Just talk to her – see what she has to say on the subject.’

‘I know what she has to say about it. Sylvie and I talk all the time. You’ve got the wrong idea about her and what she feels – she’s perfectly happy and she’ll willingly do whatever I advise her.’

Yul stood up and stretched, seeming to fill the room. Looking down at Clip he indicated subtly, but leaving no doubt, that the conversation was now over.

‘If this really is your final year then I’m prepared to allow the labyrinth to be built one last time up at the Stone Circle. But I shall let it be known at the meeting tomorrow that this will be the final one. Thank you for your time, Clip – and your wonderful news.’

As Clip left the office he felt like a servant who’d been dismissed.