Solstice at Stonewylde (10 page)

‘That’s a great idea! Let me know if I can help? And do try to persuade Yul to learn too – Magus would hate it! Did you know Magus is his father?’

‘Reckon the whole o’ Stonewylde knows that now, miss,’ chuckled Harold. ‘What a thing! Who’d have thought it, the way Magus treats him? Mind you, I always thought Yul were a bit special.’

‘So did I,’ said Sylvie with a smile.

It took several days for the effects of the paralysing draught to wear off and for Yul’s body temperature to normalise after the hypothermia. But he was young and fit and began to recover from the near fatal experience that Magus had subjected him to. Maizie kept him indoors and made up a bed in the parlour for him, because it seemed that most of the Village wanted to bring little gifts and wish him a speedy recovery. She couldn’t have them all trooping up and down the rickety wooden stairs to the attic where he normally slept.

In the Village there was a backlash of anger against Magus. The main cause, apart from his brutal and inexcusable treatment of
Yul, was Jackdaw’s return from banishment. Most people had been deliberately kept unaware of his presence at Quarrycleave earlier in the year, and he hadn’t shown his face in the Village. But now the man had been brought back to Stonewylde without any explanation or apparent retribution, and many felt he hadn’t been punished at all. People muttered and held whispered conversations, but such was Magus’ power that nobody dared to criticise him openly. So solidarity was displayed in a show of support for Yul instead and he became the focal point for the Villagers. Maizie found her house crowded every evening with well-wishers.

Sylvie managed to get away one morning during a rare free hour. She’d been working as hard as she could in the evenings and was beginning to make a little headway in catching up with the work she’d missed. She was still struggling to cope with everyone’s censure, but had persuaded Hazel that a daily walk was beneficial to her recovering good health. She slipped out of the Hall and went straight down to the Village to find Yul’s cottage, having first checked with Harold exactly where to go. She was nervous about sneaking into the Village like this. She’d been at Stonewylde long enough now to know what was acceptable and what wasn’t, and Hallfolk simply didn’t visit Villagers in their homes.

Sylvie received puzzled looks from the Villagers out and about on their business. There was no festival and it wasn’t the Dark Moon – why would Hallfolk be coming down here? The Village was bustling with women wrapped in warm shawls, leather boots on their feet and wicker baskets on their arms, gossiping to each other as they went about their errands. A group standing outside the baker’s collecting their daily bread turned and stared at her, but she wished them a cheerful good morning and they smiled and greeted her in return. It was the same by the butcher’s, the Village pump, and the laundry. Her presence in their territory was startling, and every time she passed a group she felt all eyes upon her and heard their barely concealed squawks of surprise. But Sylvie found that her friendliness was returned each time so,
reassured, she continued her walk past the pub and the Green, and along the track leading to Yul’s cottage.

She began to feel anxious as she approached. She’d never seen Yul like this before as their friendship and developing relationship had been conducted in the fields, woods and hills of Stonewylde. She was also a little scared of meeting his mother face to face. But she found the cottage and walked up the path to the front door, her heart beating faster and her mouth dry.

Maizie recognised the beautiful ethereal girl at once, shimmering on her doorstep like a star. She smiled warmly, dried her hands on her apron, and opened the door wide. Yul, lying on his made up bed in the corner, looked up as the door opened and his wan face flooded with joy at the sight of her. Sylvie’s shyness with his mother was forgotten as she flew across the room and knelt by his bedside, flinging her arms around him. She sensed Maizie’s discreet withdrawal into the kitchen and held him in a fierce embrace, tears welling up and scalding her cheeks. She clung to him, her face buried in his dark hair, his arms holding her as tightly as she held him. At that moment she understood how much she loved him; he was more precious to her than anything or anyone and she knew with absolute certainty that they truly belonged together.

Sylvie cried as she held him, realising how close she’d come to losing him forever. He was so thin under the shirt; she could feel his ribs and shoulder blades. They finally pulled apart and when she looked into his deep, smoky eyes she saw that he still wasn’t right. His pupils were a little dilated and his eyes seemed enormous in his pale and hollow face. His suffering was very apparent, even worse than the previous time in the summer, and something about him was different. It was as if he’d been to a place where no one should go; had seen things that nobody should see. Yul had looked death in the face and had only turned away at the very last minute.

‘I’ve been so scared for you, Yul,’ she sobbed, the tears streaming down her face. ‘I don’t ever want to be without you again. I love you so much.’

He tenderly wiped away her tears with his sleeve and kissed her mouth, gently but leaving her in no doubt that he felt exactly the same. Then he held her tight again, pulled her into his chest, kissing her hair and cradling her in his arms.

‘We’re almost there now, Sylvie. We just have to get through the next few weeks until the Winter Solstice and then we’ll be free of him.’

There was a cough from the kitchen and Maizie appeared with rosehip tea and honey cakes. She smiled again at Sylvie and sat down with them, Leveret following her in from the kitchen. The little girl stared at their beautiful silver-haired visitor in fascination. She stood in her home-spun pinafore dress, the thick woollen socks slipping down her tiny legs into her little boots, and shook the mop of dark curls out of her eyes exactly as her oldest brother did. Then she too smiled and Sylvie was enchanted by her dancing green eyes and white pointed teeth, like a row of perfect seed pearls. Maizie gathered the child up onto her lap and surveyed Sylvie with equal intensity.

‘Well, I can see right enough why my son’s been so moonstruck these past few months,’ she said, in the embarrassing way mothers have. ‘And I must say ‘tis good to be called on by Hallfolk for a friendly visit.’

‘Oh please, don’t think of me as Hallfolk,’ replied Sylvie, unsure how she should address Yul’s mother. ‘I really hate all that stuff and I’d much rather live in the Village and be one of you. I’m not very popular up at the Hall – I don’t belong there at all.’

Maizie nodded at this and handed her a heavy pottery mug of warm rosehip tea.

‘Yul says that you’re one of Magus’ victims too. He’s told me about your moongaziness and I’m sorry you’ve suffered so much, my dear.’

‘Thank you, though it’s nowhere near what poor Yul’s been through at his hands – at least Magus wants me alive. That man has a lot to answer for.’

‘Aye, he has!’ agreed Maizie, her face grim. ‘And he will answer for it too, I’m sure o’ that.’

Sylvie managed to spend quite a bit of time with Yul over the next few days, snatching precious minutes alone with him in the cottage as his mother went about her daily routine. Sylvie dashed down to the Village every day when her lessons were finished, ostensibly on a healthy walk, and soon found she was warmly greeted by everyone she met. Word had spread that she was Yul’s sweetheart even though she was Hallfolk, and this latest titbit fuelled gossip even further, as everyone was already reeling about the revelation that Yul was Magus’ son.

Sylvie still found it hard to accept, although it was now so obvious. Their difference in colouring had masked the likeness between them but she wondered why nobody had realised before. She discussed it with Yul on one of her visits, not sure how he felt knowing that their enemy was in fact his father.

‘In some ways it’s a relief,’ he said. ‘It explains so much – I’ve spent my whole life wondering why Alwyn hated me.’

‘So he knew all along?’ asked Sylvie.

‘Mother says it was impossible for my father to be anyone other than Magus. She and Alwyn didn’t get together until after I was born, though she was forced to say they had. Apparently Alwyn had been keen on her for ages but she never liked or encouraged him. He was very jealous of Magus, but he was a Villager and couldn’t compete with the master. Village men keep away from a woman if they know that Magus is interested.’

‘How mediaeval – the droit du seigneur. But why did Alwyn pretend you were his when he knew you couldn’t be?’

‘Magus insisted. It was all part of the deal. After I was born he ordered Maizie and Alwyn to be handfasted straight away. Mother told me that she fought it of course, and at first refused to lie about whose son I was. But Magus turned really nasty. He publicly denounced her and denied fathering me, saying he’d been tricked by her. What could she do? She was only a young girl and everyone practically worshipped Magus for coming back and setting Stonewylde to rights.’

‘Your poor mother – that must’ve been so humiliating and hurtful.’

‘Yes, especially as apparently they’d been really close before, though I really can’t see that myself. I just can’t imagine Mother and Magus as a couple.’

‘People change,’ said Sylvie a little sadly, thinking of her own mother. ‘They were probably very different in those days. But what about Alwyn? Surely he argued about having to pretend you were his baby?’

‘Alwyn accepted it because you don’t question Magus – and he was delighted to take Mother for his wife. He’d been after her for a long time but she’d always turned him down, so this was wonderful, having her handed to him on a plate. But he hated having to acknowledge me as his son and he took it out on me because he couldn’t take it out on Magus. I suppose it’s understandable.’

‘No it’s not!’ said Sylvie fiercely, remembering the bruising and scarring she’d seen on Yul and realising that was just the tip of the iceberg; the emotional scars must go even deeper. ‘It’s child abuse and that’s never understandable! It wasn’t
your
fault.’

‘True, but Mother said every time Alwyn looked at me he was reminded of Magus, as apparently I’m so like him. Alwyn started mistreating me when I was still very young and Mother was terrified he’d go too far one day and kill me. She begged Magus to take me in as a Hallchild but he refused – I suppose because it would’ve looked like perhaps I was his after all.’

‘That’s awful,’ said Sylvie. ‘To know that physical abuse was going on right under his nose but not put a stop to it – that’s really terrible.’

‘Mother says Magus never said anything to Alwyn – never told him to lay off me or control his violence. So it was clear Alwyn could do whatever he liked and Magus wouldn’t interfere. It was as if Magus wanted me dead, and of course now we know he did.’

‘And it’s all because of this prophecy?’

‘Yes. And Sylvie, you have to go and see Mother Heggy. I’m not allowed out of the house yet, and my mother’s been through
so much recently I don’t want to upset her by disobeying her. You know Alwyn died at Samhain? It was no great loss and I won’t pretend I’m sad, because I hated him. But it’s not so easy for Mother – despite everything, they were handfasted for years and he fathered my brothers and sisters.’

‘Are they alright?’

‘Yes!’ he chuckled. ‘He might’ve been their father but they hated him too. They had to watch him beating me, remember, and they were terrified of him. Please go and see Mother Heggy, Sylvie, today if you can. The crow keeps visiting me and pecking at the window and it’s driving Mother mad. She really doesn’t like anything to do with Old Heggy. She even told Gregory to take a pot shot with his catapult!’

‘I’ve seen the crow too so it must be a summons. I’ll go right now and make up some excuse for being late back.’

‘Could you take her some of the things people have brought me? We’ve got so much jam and wine and cake and she’d appreciate some treats, poor old thing.’

The crow was hopping around outside as Sylvie left with a laden basket for Mother Heggy. It flapped up onto her shoulder, cawing loudly in her ear.

‘Yes, I understand,’ she said with a smile as it scrabbled to hold on. ‘I’m on my way.’

It stayed with her for some time as she walked through the Village, gripping clumsily onto her jacket. Several Villagers noticed and pointed it out to each other, remembering the crow on Yul’s shoulder at the Summer Solstice ceremony. They knew it was Mother Heggy’s creature and many made the sign of the pentangle in the air and touched their chests. The Villagers understood that Yul and Sylvie were under her protection.

‘My little bright one!’ crowed Mother Heggy at the sight of Sylvie on her doorstep. ‘At last you’ve come. And only just in time, for ‘tis the Dark Moon tomorrow.’

She pulled Sylvie inside the smelly cottage, shooed the cat off the chair and sat her down. The crow hopped about on the table
after a scrap of meat as Sylvie handed over the basket to the old woman.

‘Very tasty too,’ cackled Mother Heggy, smacking her shrivelled lips as she rummaged about inside it. ‘And how is my boy? Does he heal well? I been sending reviving potions for him.’

‘Yes, but … he’s changed. There’s something different about him and I don’t think that will heal.’

‘No, ‘twon’t. He saw the Dark Angel at Samhain and he’ll never be quite the same. There’s a shadow on his soul now, but ‘twill make him stronger and he’ll need that strength. We’re on the final path now, Sylvie. You know Sol must die, and ‘twill not come about easy. Yul will need all his power and energy so tell him to get up to that Circle just as soon as he can.’