Shadows at Stonewylde (46 page)

‘What about Leveret?’ said Swift.

‘
Her?
’ laughed Sweyn.

‘She’ll be fifteen too, won’t she? It could be her.’

‘They wouldn’t choose a scrawny little bitch like her,’ sneered Gefrin. ‘No, I think Bryony too.’

‘It could be Leveret,’ said Kestrel speculatively. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’

‘Goddess, can you imagine it?’ groaned Sweyn. ‘She’d embarrass us so much, the stupid little cow. I don’t think it’ll be her – it’s always someone really pretty.’

‘She is really pretty,’ said Swift. ‘I got the shock of my life at the Outsiders’ Dance when I saw her.’

‘She’s not pretty!’ scoffed Jay. ‘She were just tarted up, that’s all. It made me want to slap her, showing off to everyone like that. I was itching to bring her back down to earth with a thump. But I hear you were interested, Kes?’

He nodded and shrugged. ‘Yeah, I was surprised at the difference. She’s pretty in a different way to all the others. But no big deal – she’s just another unripe apple at the moment. This time next year and I’ll consider her of course.’

‘Eugh!’ cried Gefrin. ‘Not even you would have
her
, surely? That’s horrible!’

Kestrel laughed at this reaction and Swift smiled at her brother’s naivety. He was sure they’d choose Leveret as the Maiden – she’d be perfect.

While the boys and men down at the Village Green competed to be named the Archer, Maizie and Miranda went together to see Sylvie to discuss the forthcoming ceremony and choose the Bright Maiden. They found her sitting all alone in the huge room in the window seat staring out over the trees, a piece of embroidery for the quota untouched on her lap. She regarded the two women with weary eyes, her face pale and drawn. She’d had a bad night with Bluebell who’d woken screaming that someone was standing by her bed watching her. Terrified, Sylvie had turned on the lights to banish the shadows, which had then woken Celandine. They’d all three moved into the great four-poster for the rest of the night but sleep had eluded Sylvie. She was too frightened to relax and then she’d started worrying about the business with Buzz. By morning she was thoroughly exhausted and irritable.

Now, with the girls out of the way in the Nursery, she was trying to do some work but failing miserably as she just couldn’t concentrate. She hadn’t seen Yul at all since dinner the night before when they’d barely spoken, and he rarely ate breakfast with them anymore. When her mother and mother-in-law turned together up her heart sank – the last thing she wanted today was to face these two. But it had to be done so the three women sat around the table in the grand apartments and began to discuss suitable girls. There were several of the right age to choose from and Maizie was pleased when Sylvie mentioned Leveret. Miranda, however, frowned at this.

‘But she’s been dreadful recently, hasn’t she?’

‘No, ‘tis all sorted out,’ said Maizie comfortably. ‘She’s as good as a gosling now.’

‘But Yul was furious with her.’

What Miranda was really remembering was the rude flick gesture Leveret had made at her.

‘Well ‘tis all fine now.’

Maizie was hoping desperately that her daughter would be chosen but couldn’t be seen to favour her – it would’ve been an abuse of her position.

‘I think Leveret would be a good choice,’ said Sylvie warmly, remembering the poor girl’s sadness and the way her daughters had discovered a sweet side to her. This may be just what was needed to boost her self-esteem.

‘But what about … you know … about the mushrooms at Quarrycleave?’ asked Maizie.

‘That’s all in the past now, gone and forgotten,’ said Sylvie.

‘But surely it sends the wrong message if we pick her. Do something silly like that and you’ll get chosen as Maiden,’ said Miranda, frowning. She was anxious not to offend Maizie and this was a delicate matter, but she had genuine concerns about choosing Leveret.

‘I think the fact she was so unhappy as to even contemplate taking her own life, along with that strange boy Magpie, is all the more reason to choose her,’ said Sylvie. Maizie glanced at her gratefully, surprised at her support.

‘I still think it’s giving other girls the wrong idea – bad behaviour rewarded.’

‘Hardly bad – more like desperate,’ said Sylvie. ‘Poor Leveret has been through a terrible experience and this would be a good way to make her feel valued in the community. I choose Leveret.’

Miranda sighed and looked at Maizie questioningly.

‘Well, o’ course I’d love her to be Maiden but I can’t favour her.’

‘Fair enough – we’ll have Leveret then, if you both think she’s the best choice. You know Kestrel’s the Archer again?’

‘He’s a fine young man, Edward’s son,’ said Maizie, beaming with joy. ‘He’ll be a good partner for Leveret. The ceremony will be lovely.’

‘And Celandine has a special solo part in the dance,’ said Sylvie, smiling at the memory of her daughter’s excitement and dedication to making her performance perfect. ‘Apparently all the women in the Nursery were so impressed by her dancing that Rowan arranged it specially, which was kind of her.’

‘Goddess bless her, dear little soul! ‘Twill be a very special Imbolc for us mothers, won’t it? Just a shame Rufus isn’t quite old enough to be Archer yet. Well, I’d better get sewing then,’ said Maizie. ‘My girl must look beautiful. I’ll go down to the stores now and get some o’ the best white linen. She were going to wear last year’s Imbolc dress with a little alteration but if she’s to be Maiden I need to make her a new outfit altogether. Harold’s blooming quotas will have to wait.’

Sweyn, Gefrin and Jay were not impressed that Leveret had been chosen as the Maiden. They discussed it one evening in the pub when Jay had returned from college, Gefrin had come back from the fields and Sweyn had finished his work in the tannery.

‘I’m on my way to visit the three biddies,’ said Jay. ‘I’m dying for a smoke. Now that bastard cousin of mine has moved out I have to chop firewood for them every night and get the water too. It’s no bloody joke, I can tell you.’

‘We still do it for our mother,’ said Sweyn.

‘Yeah, well there are two of you. And anyway, Magpie’s always done all the heavy work – it’s all the thick git’s capable of. Why should I have to start doing it? Come and give me a hand, would you? I’ll get ’em to give you a pipe too.’

The brothers agreed and they left the pub and walked along the lane towards the dirty cottage down at the end.

‘What about your sister being the Maiden then?’

‘Stupid bloody choice!’ muttered Sweyn. ‘Goddess knew why they chose
her
– she’s going to be so cocky about it.’

‘Then we need to put her in her place,’ said Jay. ‘We’ll have to plan something good and we never did follow through after Yule, did we? She must think she got away with it.’

‘What shall we do?’ asked Gefrin excitedly. ‘Something terrible – something that’ll really show her up.’

‘But no one must guess it’s us,’ said Sweyn, ever mindful of Maizie.

‘Let’s ask the crones,’ suggested Jay. ‘They’ll think of something awful.’

The two old women cackled with glee at being asked to help and put their evil minds to the task of finding something nasty for Maizie’s daughter. Having finished their supper they were sitting smoking their pipes when the boys arrived, whilst Starling finished off the day’s bread with a big bowl of gravy. Everyone was entitled to fresh bread daily and she liked to finish the loaves every evening, along with the milk and anything else left over. Food wasn’t rationed in any way and she could collect as much as she wanted from the stores each day. She sat like a great hog bent over the bowl on her lap, a huge hunk of bread clutched in her fat hand, the gravy greasing her lips and chin as she dunked and ate, dunked and ate. Sweyn and Gefrin watched her in fascination for a while, finding the sight of such compulsive eating quite compelling. Finally it was all gone and she sat back replete. She sighed with contentment and let out a long and loud burp. Gefrin in particular found this very amusing.

‘’Tis Imbolc – the wells and springs are sacred to the Maiden. There’s something there,’ said Old Violet.

‘Aye, sister, something there alright,’ piped Vetchling with her reedy voice. ‘Put her down the well! That’d be a fine to-do – Maiden in the well!’

‘It’s a bit public,’ said Sweyn. ‘It has to be secret so nobody knows we did it.’

‘Don’t see why! Meddling girl – ‘twas her fault they took the boy away.’

‘Aye, all her fault. She took him up Quarrycleave to poison him and now they’re making her Maiden! ‘Tis all her fault and we’re going to set her straight. Meddling, that’s what she is.’

‘Why don’t you poison her then?’ suggested Starling, reaching for her pipe now that her belly was finally full. She shifted her huge bulk to pass wind, like a low rumble of thunder. ‘She wanted poison so let’s give her poison.’

‘We can’t kill her!’ said Gefrin, balking at going that far. ‘We just want to hurt her or do something nasty to upset her.’

‘Poison don’t have to kill,’ mused Old Violet. ‘Poison can just make you feel like your guts are turning inside out, or make your mind wander and stray. ‘Tis a good idea, Starling. I’ll think on it, lads. Who wants a pipe now?’

They sat in cosy companionship, the three women in their rocking chairs and the boys on pieces of log that served as stools. Jay drew on his pipe with expertise, savouring the heady experience that he thought of with longing most afternoons. It was worth keeping in with the crones just for this – nobody else at Stonewylde mixed a pipe like they did. Sweyn and Gefrin coughed and spluttered on the strange mixture of dried herbs and plant material that Vetchling had tamped into the bowls of the clay pipes, but then it started to take effect and they relaxed into a haze of gratification. Starling sent Jay to get the cider from the kitchen and they all indulged in this pleasure too, their tankards being topped up at regular intervals.

‘I remember your father,’ mused Vetchling, looking at the two visitors in their midst.

‘Aye, I remember Alwyn,’ added Violet. ‘A fine figure of a man he were.’

‘A real man – you’re like him,’ said Starling, regarding Sweyn’s heavy, flushed face.

‘Terrible what happened to him,’ said Violet, sucking on her pipe. ‘He were cut down in his prime like corn not ready for the harvesting.’

‘Aye, sister, cut off afore his time and we know who’s doing that was.’

‘Aye, we know. We know ‘twere dark work afoot there.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Gefrin, his head reeling with the smoke and alcohol.

‘He choked,’ added Sweyn, equally addled. ‘Our father choked and had some sort of stroke, Mother said. He held on for months but he never got his health back and he were a Death Dancer at Samhain that year.’

The crones cackled at this.

‘Aye, my good lads, he choked alright. But there were dark work afoot.’

‘Aye, meddling and dark work and poor Alwyn were cut down before his time.’

‘Are you saying it weren’t an accident? Someone killed him?’

The old women looked at each other, their toothless mouths puckered in their attempts at a smile.

‘Aye – someone hexed him. And apart from us there were only one other it could’ve been,’ said Starling, regarding them over the mound of her stomach spread hugely before her as she relaxed back in her chair.

‘Who?’ cried Gefrin. ‘Who hexed him?’

‘Old Mother Heggy!’ said Jay. ‘Who else?’

‘And we know why, don’t we, sister?’

‘Aye, we know why. Alwyn did a good job on the bastard in his midst. Kept him in his place, kept him down where he belonged.’

‘You mean Yul?’

The crones spat into the fire in unison.

‘Aye, we mean him. Alwyn treated the boy hard, as he deserved. Whipped him and beat him regular. What man wouldn’t, forced like a cuckold to raise another’s as his own?’

‘But then that bitch Heggy had to meddle, her and her scrying and her prophecies. She were the one who hexed your father.’

‘Aye, sister, and she didn’t work alone. She got the dark-haired one to aid her, do her bidding. He were the one who carried out her hex.’

‘I don’t understand! You mean Yul did it? Yul killed our father?’

‘Yul didn’t kill him,’ said Starling. ‘But he did Heggy’s bidding and made it happen. ‘Twas down to him the hex worked.’

Sweyn jumped up and almost toppled into the fire. He stood there swaying, huge and sweating, his fists clenching and unclenching. Starling regarded him admiringly. He was as fine a figure as his father had been – pity he was so young.

‘I’ll kill him!’ the boy cried. ‘I’ll avenge my father!’

‘And me!’ said Gefrin, his rat face twisted with bitterness. ‘All these years we thought it were an accident!’

‘’Twas no accident, be assured,’ muttered Old Violet. ‘But steady, lads – not so hasty.’

‘No, not so hasty. It must be done right. There’s other things to be thought of.’

‘You won’t succeed if you rush in,’ said Starling. ‘You must listen to the old ones, lads. Bide your time and be patient.’

‘’Tis not yet time,’ crooned Old Violet. ‘But it will be soon, and then we’ll be ready. The dark-haired one will be cut down and the silver one put in his rightful place.’