Shaman of Stonewylde (11 page)

‘Why don’t you want to walk with a boy?’ he pressed. ‘What if one were to ask you – perhaps at Beltane? I’ve heard there’re to be several handfastings at the Moon Fullness after Beltane so there’ll certainly be romance in the air. How would you feel about that?’

‘I’m not interested in boys!’ she retorted, flinging open the door and entering the corridor. She turned and headed for the Galleried Hall and the tower, regretting that she hadn’t gone home the outside way even though it took longer. She’d have avoided going past Martin’s cottage and all this pestering.

‘Now you’ve broken my heart!’ he laughed. ‘Why ever not?’

‘Because the Wise Woman is solitary!’ she snapped, and then wished she could snatch the words back.

‘
The Wise Woman
?’ He grabbed her arm and spun her round, staring into her eyes. ‘Oh Leveret, you’re making a big mistake if you think you’re destined to be the Wise Woman. Does Clip know? Oh, of course, I understand – he’s trying to teach you!’

Swift laughed sharply, ignoring her struggle to free her arm from his grip. He might be small compared to other sixteen-year-old Stonewylde boys, but he was strong.

‘Listen to me! My Granny Violet is Stonewylde’s Wise Woman. Traditionally the role’s passed on from one to the next – there isn’t room for two of them. You’ve no idea what you’re messing with here. Wait till she hears of this!’

‘I don’t care about that!’ retorted Leveret. ‘It’s nothing to do with Old Violet. She’s not the Wise Woman – she doesn’t help people. Nobody comes to her for healing.’

‘Some still do, and she has the power and knows the Old Ways. And
you
couldn’t heal a headache! You’re useless – you even got the wrong mushrooms when you tried to top yourself at Quarrycleave! What a joke – no wonder your brothers call you Harebrain! On second thoughts, I won’t come to see Clip after all – I’ll go and visit my grandmother instead. Won’t she have a laugh when she hears this piece of news!’

Up in the Art Room in the School Wing, Rainbow sat on one of the long tables swinging her legs. David was sorting the trays of watercolours, trying to bring about some semblance of order to his classroom after a day’s teaching. He still felt somewhat in awe of the rather exotic Rainbow, only knowing her as an acclaimed artist. He was a little shocked at how most of the Stonewylde community regarded her as an unwanted exile being given a second chance. She made him jumpy and she knew it, teasing him all the more.

‘Not long till the big day,’ she said. ‘Fancy you and old Dawn getting handfasted! I feel like a proper matchmaker as it was me who first told you of Stonewylde, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, and thank Goddess you did!’ he said. ‘The thought of living in the Outside World now . . .’

‘Do you appreciate just how honoured you are?’ asked Rainbow. ‘You’ll be the first Outsider to gain permanent residence since . . . oh, I guess since Sylvie and Miranda arrived.’

‘I know – I can’t believe how lucky I am,’ agreed David. ‘I never thought I’d find a woman like Dawn, nor a home like this. It’s not even a dream come true because I’d never dreamed of such a life.’

Rainbow rolled her eyes and pretended to vomit.

‘Come on, David, spare me the sentimental bollocks. You’ve fallen on your feet though, no mistake about that. Do you come across much hostility here?’

He thought about that for a moment.

‘I think there is amongst some of the older folk. But nobody’s said anything outright.’

‘You’re lucky! The other day an old boy bumped into me in the Village and he glared at me and muttered, “Scout!” like it was an insult. And when I told Dawn she laughed and said that at one of their stupid Elder meetings, some old fool had said I was the scout ant, sent in ahead of all the others! And soon Stonewylde would be swarming with ants.’

David regarded her steadily.

‘Yes, I heard that theory too. And are you the scout?’

Rainbow chuckled and launched herself off the table. She padded around the big Art Room, fiddling with things.

‘Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? But anyway, I guess you’ll be bringing guests into Stonewylde, won’t you? Both for the handfasting and afterwards, if you’re to live here permanently. I mean, people to stay for the weekend or whatever.’

‘That’s true, but they’ll all be my Druid friends and relations and they’ll understand what it’s all about here. I spoke to Yul first, obviously, and he’s very happy for me to bring visitors in. I think he’s hoping to attract more of my kind, if truth be told.’

‘Fresh breeding stock!’ laughed Rainbow. ‘Well, at least Sylvie likes you. She hates me.’

‘Surely not? I don’t think she—’

‘Oh, there’s no doubt about it,’ said Rainbow drily. ‘She’s not the first woman to take an irrational dislike to me of course – I should be used to it. But who cares – she’s not in charge here, luckily. As long as I keep Yul sweet, I can stay.’

‘But Yul isn’t actually in charge, is he?’ asked David.

‘Maybe not officially, but to all intents and purposes. Just like his father. You never met Magus of course, but believe me, Yul is exactly like him in every single way bar one.’

‘What’s that?’

‘His colouring – Magus had the Hallfolk silvery blond hair and very dark eyes. It’s really quite uncanny, the likeness between them both in looks and their ways. And of course, I know Magus’ other son, Buzz. Now he really is nothing like Magus, not as I remember him anyway.’

‘And there’s Rufus too, isn’t there? Magus’ other son, I believe,’ said David. ‘He’s a nice lad, always works hard in class though he’s not especially artistic.’

‘Haven’t spoken to him yet. He’s ginger isn’t he, like Miranda?’

‘I’d hardly call Miranda ginger! That deep auburn hair . . .’

‘True. And I met Magus’ other child a while ago – the Princess Faun. What a little madam! But she’s very picturesque and she has Magus’ colouring. Her mother was keen for me to paint her and I probably will, as she’s certainly got something.’

‘Have you started any painting yet?’ asked David, giving the room a final sweep of his gaze before shutting up for the night. He was longing to get down to the Village and see Dawn, who must be wondering where he’d got to.

‘No, not yet, though I’ve filled several sketch books and taken lots of photos. I want to meet that boy you talked about, David. Now I’ve seen some of his work I’m fascinated. I think you’re right – he’s a total natural and I really love his style. I was thinking I may be able to include some of his stuff in my exhibition perhaps, as complementary to my work. What do you think?’

Privately David thought this was a brave suggestion, for in his opinion – and much as he admired Rainbow’s art – Magpie’s
work
was superior. Or if it wasn’t now, by the time the boy reached maturity it certainly would be. Magpie had the makings of a truly great artist, and every time David heard talk of Stonewylde’s dire financial situation, he smiled. What no-one seemed to realise was that they had a potential goldmine in Magpie, the boy that everyone derided.

He nodded at Rainbow, thinking that he must beware of her. She wasn’t quite the woman he’d thought she was. He wouldn’t put it past her to exploit or even plagiarise Magpie, and David had no intention of allowing that to happen. Magpie was his protégé and he personally would protect him from predators such as Rainbow. Or, for that matter, Yul.

6

C
lip watched Leveret, knowing that something was troubling her. She’d been quiet ever since Sylvie and the girls had left. She was feeding Hare, who was now around six weeks old and weaned from the ewe’s milk that she’d thrived on. Leveret fed her on greens and Hare sat at her feet, eagerly taking leaves from her hand. The young hare was beautiful, growing steadily but still fluffy, with soft fur. She was very tame and particularly loved Leveret, whom she followed around the tower like a little shadow. Leveret had yet to take her outside, although she’d carried her up onto the roof, blocking off the gap leading to the outside stairs, and they’d sat basking together in the sunshine and fresh air.

Celandine and Bluebell had visited several times recently and were besotted with the young hare. On their first visit they’d sat completely spellbound, hardly daring to breathe, whilst the creature sniffed their shoes and then their hands, before allowing them to stroke her. They’d squabbled over whose turn it was to have her on their lap, and were disappointed when she’d hopped off both laps and chosen Leveret’s instead. They’d missed seeing her being fed with a teat, which Leveret had stopped as early as possible, as she’d read of the danger of milk inhalation. But they’d loved watching Hare lapping at her little bowl of milk, and they always arrived with handfuls of young dandelions and purple clover which Leveret had said were Hare’s favourites.

Clip was delighted, as he adored his two granddaughters and
had
always longed for more contact with them. They in turn had become very at home in the tower, which they both found fascinating.

‘Grandfather Clip, why do you have so many strange things?’ asked Celandine in wonder when they’d visited the tower earlier in the day with Sylvie.

‘Because I travelled all over the world in my younger days and collected them.’

‘Are they all magic?’ asked Bluebell, her eyes round as full moons.

‘Oh yes, lots of these things are magical,’ said Clip with a smile.

‘I remember when I first came to Stonewylde,’ said Sylvie, ‘and I was a little younger than Auntie Leveret is now, and Grandfather Clip held a Story Web in the Great Barn. He made magic then – he told us the story of the Rainbow Snake and he turned his ash staff into a real snake!’

Both little girls gasped in amazement, gazing at their grandfather with renewed respect. Clip chuckled at this and nodded.

‘Your father was only a lad then, and he came up onto the stage and held the snake for me,’ he said. ‘And you should’ve seen his face when it changed back into my staff at the end of the story.’

‘Wow!’ breathed Celandine. ‘That must’ve been so wonderful!’

Both children stared hard at the old ash staff propped against the wall.

‘Can you do it now?’ asked Bluebell, trotting over to Clip and earnestly gazing up into his silvery wolf eyes. ‘Please, Grandfather? Magic your stick and turn it into the Rainbow Snake just for us?’

‘I think some of my powers aren’t quite as strong any more,’ he said ruefully.

‘I bet they’re just as strong!’ said Celandine loyally. ‘Maybe you just need a bit of practice?’

‘Why don’t you do another Story Web?’ asked Sylvie. ‘They
used
to be so very special and everyone loved them. You haven’t done one for ages.’

‘No, I haven’t. I’m not sure why – they didn’t really seem appropriate any more, not now everyone reads books and watches television and films in the Hall. Do you think folk would like a Story Web?’

Leveret, sitting silently by a window, looked across at him, so thin and earnest in his old robes with battered felt slippers on his feet. He’d been such a lonely man for many years, yet here he was now with her, his daughter and his granddaughters all together in his tower, the centre of attention. She was so glad for him, even though she wasn’t particularly keen on Sylvie being here. Leveret really loved Clip and the closer they became, the more she respected him for his wealth of knowledge and kind wisdom.

‘I think everyone would love a Story Web,’ she said. ‘I can barely remember the last one you did. Maybe you could do one at Beltane?’

‘That doesn’t really give me much time to prepare,’ he said. ‘I think perhaps the Midsummer Holiday would be better, at the Solstice. I could do it in honour of your birthday, Sylvie!’

‘That would be lovely,’ Sylvie said. ‘But don’t drag me into it, please. I’d be so embarrassed.’

‘I’ll tell you all what,’ said Clip, beaming at his granddaughters. ‘I’ll prepare a very magical Story Web especially for all the children at the Solstice.’

‘Ooh yes, yes!’ squealed Celandine and Bluebell, and then Clip looked across at Leveret.

‘But only on one condition. Leveret must assist me with the story and the magic.’

‘What?’ she gasped. ‘Oh no, not me, Clip! I couldn’t, and especially after what happened at Imbolc.’

‘That was entirely different,’ he said. ‘And anyway, Leveret, if you’re to be the next Shaman of Stonewylde, you need to learn how to keep everyone spellbound, don’t you?’

After a bit of cajoling from Clip and the girls, Leveret had
accepted
the challenge. Sylvie kept out of the discussion as she knew Leveret was still rather hostile towards her, as she’d always been. It was a shame and she wanted to make things right between them. Maybe now, with everything so changed around, it was time to try and build a better understanding between them. Sylvie knew it wouldn’t come from Leveret so it was up to her. Clip was showing the girls some tiny mommets he’d brought back from Russia many years before, and telling them the story of the terrifying old witch, Baba Yaga, with her iron pestle and mortar, and her house built on chicken legs. They were engrossed, so Sylvie plucked up courage and asked Leveret for a private word outside on the roof top where she knew they’d be alone. The girl’s reluctance was obvious but Sylvie was determined.

‘Sorry, Leveret, but we really do need to have a chat,’ she said, once they were outside. Leveret stood by the crenellated edge, gazing out at the trees bursting into bud in the parkland. The birds were singing their hearts out and the late afternoon sun was warm. Sylvie watched her, struck again by her likeness to Yul. Leveret was blossoming and had lost her air of haunted desperation. She no longer looked like a grubby little urchin who sidled around trying to avoid contact with people. She hadn’t grown physically, yet her stature had changed. She held her head up, looked people in the eye and moved with far more assurance and confidence now. But, Sylvie noted wryly, her scowl was the same.

‘What do you want, then?’

‘I just thought maybe we should try to talk.’

Leveret shrugged, continuing to gaze out over the landscape.

‘So, we’re talking. What did you want to say?’