Good day! Kyra called, waving wildly.
Falkner stopped his horse as it reached us, then swept down and landed at Kyras feet. Would you like a ride? he offered Kyra and me. Ive got to return the horse. Da just fixed his shoes, but you may ride along the way.
Im headed off into the woods, I said, but Kyra has been afoot all day, preparing for tonight.
Are you tired, then? he asked her, the fondness in his eyes unmistakable.
She nodded at him sweetly, and he boosted her up onto the horses back. There you go.
Thank you. Gazing down at him, Kyra seemed like a different person. Not the gawky braided girl who used to skip over stones in the brook, but. a woman.
The image stayed in my head as we parted ways. On my way through the woods I stopped by the brook and sat down at the waters edge. Here the water slowed into a clear, still pool, where tiny minnows darted through the weeds and bugs skittered along the glassy surface. I reached down to cup a drink of water but stopped, startled. Staring back at me was the face of the Goddess.
No, twas but a reflection of a woman. Me.
I had grown in the ways of the Goddess, and I was ready to take the next step. For Beltane was not only a feast of love, it was a feast of fertility. It was a time for joining two halves to make a wholethe third entity. And although every young witch knew the spell to cast to close the door to the womb, I would not speak that spell. My lunar bleeding was but a weeks past, and my body was ripe for his seed.
Tonight we would make a child.
Laughter rumbled through the forest as the covens Beltane celebration wound down. Sitting on a log, Kyras father strummed a lute and another covener piped, making merry music for revelers to enjoy. In another part of the circle I sat with the young coveners, finishing up the last of the cakes and wine.
There you are, Falkner said to Kyra, who giggled behind her hand. I tell you, it looks quite fine that way, unbridled and untethered. He had removed one of the braids from her hair and was now combing through it intimately with his fingers.
Kyra pressed a fat flower into his face. You are such a silly goose, she teased.
As far as I was concerned, they were both quite silly, but perhaps I was just impatient to be off to my own Beltane celebration. And worried. What if Ma would not let me go? What if Diarmuid could not get away?
Tis time to leave the circle to the elders, I told the others around me. Kyra agreed, and plans were made to head off to Falkners cottage. I crossed my fingers as we went to our parents for approval, but the festive, relaxed mood prevailed. Just beware that you are not spotted traveling in a group, my mother advised us.Tis a night to revel, but we must not let the Christians get wind of our celebration.
I could hear my mother laughing with friends as we left the circle. Within minutes we were a distance away, and I was saying good-bye to Kyra.
Be careful! she whispered before Falkner pulled her away with the others.
I just smiled as I walked quickly through the dark night.
Diarmuids dark figure was unmistakable. Standing naked under the maypole tree, he was silhouetted by the small fire he had lit in the north quarter of the circle. Now my eyes feasted on what my hands had explored, his rounded muscles, long limbs, smooth skin. He was a god. The red and white ribbons fluttered in the air over his head; the same wind feathered the hair from his noble forehead. The night was dark, the new moon having just passed, but Diarmuids skin seemed to glow from across the clearing as I paused.
The space between us seemed alive with warmth. Around us the forest sang, its crickets and toads and swaying trees a symphony so clear and sweet, even a deaf man could hear its answer.
I loosened the girdle at my waist, then dropped my own gown to the ground so that I was wearing only a shift. The rustle of cloth made him turn my way, and he smiled. I ran across the clearing, and Diarmuid caught me in his arms against his warm body. We were meant to be together, to participate in this rite tonight. I noticed that he had already lit the candles, so I swept the circle while he called upon the four Watchtowers, drawing pentagrams in the air. Then we went to the maypole and each took a ribbon.
Tis a time for joy and a time for sharing, I said as I started to walk around the tree. The richness of the soil accepts the seeds. For now is the time that seed should be spilled. I knew the words to most Greater Sabbats by heart, but today this particular ritual seemed so fitting! Let us celebrate the planting of abundance, I went on. The turning of the Wheel, the season of the Goddess. Let us say farewell to the darkness and greet the light.
The Wheel turns, Diarmuid said. He walked behind me, wrapping his ribbon over mine.
Without ceasing, the Wheel turns.
And turns again, he said as our ribbons twined as inexorably as our love.
When the tree was wrapped with a lovely weave of red and white, we went to the altar, where the crown of early red roses and daisies lay. Diarmuid lifted off my shift, then picked up the crown and held it over my head.
The Goddess has brought us through the darkness to the light, he said. He lowered the crown to my head, and I felt the heady fragrance of the roses surround me. Now our Goddess is among us, Diarmuid whispered, his eyes sparkling. Speak, Lady.
I am the one who turns the Wheel, I said evenly. I felt the pulse of the Goddess within me, steady and strong, hungry and ravenous. My body was ready to take on his seed, my spirit prepared to mingle with his. When you thirst, I said, let my tears fall upon you as gentle rain. When you tire, pause to rest upon the earth that is my breast. Know that love is the spark of life, the fire within you. Love is the beginning and the end of all things.
I opened my arms to Diarmuid, the light of the fire dancing over my naked body. And I am love, I whispered.
The next morning I left my bed at dawn to bathe in the spring. Most days I simply wash with a rag, but today I went to the deep part of the brook for a more thorough cleansing.
On the grassy bank I glanced around to make sure no one else was afoot. A peahen rushed through the bushes, but otherwise the woods were quiet. Quickly I slipped out of my robe and stepped into the brook. The water was cold, barely two lunar cycles away from the last winter snow, but I ventured all the way in, submerging myself to my neck, just below where my hair was knotted.
A cleansing.
And an offering.
I touched my belly, wondering at the tiny babe inside me. I had a new life to offer up to the GoddessDiarmuids baby. Already I knew it to be true, but my secret would grow safe within my belly for a few months. There would be enough time to work on our two clans, time to help them accept Diarmuid and me as man and wife.
Waving my arms through the water, I smiled. My whole body felt aglow with the promise of motherhood. This child would tie us together in a physical way. I knew our baby was another part of the Goddesss plan, which was slowly being revealed to us. I was eager to tell Diarmuid, but for now I would keep my secret as a delightful surprise to be enjoyed after our love was sanctioned by the clans.
Feeling cleansed and refreshed, I arose from the waters and climbed onto the muddy bank. Quickly I pulled on my robe and stepped into my sandals.
But what was that noise?
I peered out of the bushes, searching the path. There was no one in sight, though I felt a strong sense of anothers presence.
Had someone been watching me?
8. Esbat Rites, Mid-July
When the moon is full and the sky is dark,
We meet within our circle.
Now hear the singing of the lark
And dance in the circle, move in the circle.
Do what thou wilt if it harms none,
As the Goddess wills it, may it be done.
A covener sang as we stood in the coven circle, surrounding the High Priestess Síle. Falkner played a pipe, and Kyra joined in the music by beating on a small drum. I think she and Falkner had devised the ruse of practicing their music in order to spend time togetheras if their parents werent wise to their swelling emotions. Kyra had mentioned something of it, but I had been so wrapped up in attempting to see Diarmuid that Id lost track of the details.
The music ended, and Síle called two covenersKyras parentsto come forward for the cake and wine ceremony. Side by side, Lyndon and Paige stepped before the altar, where Ma handed Paige a goblet of wine.
Paige lifted the goblet with both hands and held it between her breasts. Facing her, Lyndon took his athame and held the handle between his two palms, the blade pointing down.
Slowly he dipped his blade into the wine, saying: In like fashion may male join female for the happiness of both.
Let the fruits of union promote life, Paige responded. Let all be fruitful and let prosperity spread throughout the land.
Lyndon raised his athame, and his wife held the goblet to his lips so that he could drink. When he finished, he held the goblet for her affectionately.
Watching them, I felt a stirring inside me. Could it be my child waking lazily? My belly had not begun to grow yet, but I had noticed a heaviness in my breasts. Diarmuid had noticed, too, and had teased me that I was coming into womanhood. I still had not told him, and he did not yet realize that my body was preparing to nurse a child. Glancing around the circle, my eyes fixed upon Kyra, whose face was alight tonight, probably warmed by her love for Falkner. A few times I had almost slipped and told her about my baby. I wanted her to know in the worst way but didnt think it fair for her to find out before Diarmuid.
As the wine was passed, I thought of all the couples blessed by the Goddess: Kyra and Falkner, Lyndon and Paige, Diarmuid and me. We had been together for over three months now, seeing each other nearly every day despite the obstacles. Last month we had celebrated the summer solstice by coming together in our circle, surrounded by red feathers for passion. I was more in love with him now than ever, still happy to guard our secret love, our secret child, but I had to admit, I wanted more. Watching a ceremony like tonights, I realized that change must come. If we were to raise our child together, in a strong coven, it was time to reveal our love to our clans.
After the wine and cakes were passed around, the talk turned to spells to be cast and tales of witch hangings. One covener reported that a Wyndonkylle woman from a village to the south had been pulled from her home and charged with human sacrifice. She was still in prisonif the frightened guards had restrained themselves from burning her without trial.
Tis worse than you say, said Ian MacGreavy. For that womans coven believes that she was turned in to the authorities by two of our own! Theyre accusing Wodebaynes of naming her as a witch!
No! everyone grumbled. It cant be!
But there are no Wodebaynes residing in the south, said Falkners mother.
Aye, but at the time two of our own happened to be traveling south, right through the Wyndonkylles village, the miller answered.
Will we never have justice? one elder railed. It was Howland Bigelow, an old woodcrafter. Once again were being blamed for someone elses evil! Why dont they just heap more condemnation upon our already burdened reputation?
I felt the ire of the coveners rising as folks broke into smaller groups to tell their own tales of hateful acts against Wodebaynes. A few times in the past we had discussed bigotry in the circle, but never with this level of unrest and anger. The glitter of hatred in Ian MacGreavys eyes harkened me back to the time I had witnessed him casting a dark spell, and I wondered if any of the other coveners had turned to black magick in private. Perhaps Aislinn, the young rebel, not much older than me, who often railed against the bigots who hated us?
I pressed a hand to my bodice, worried about the child within. I was convinced my bairn was a girlanother future high priestess. But she could not come into a world of hatred and chaos; this rancor had to subside before my child entered this life.
Twould be wise to calm your tempers and your fears, came a firm voice. Coveners looked to my mother, who spoke with the authority of the high priestess. I daresay this is nothing new.
But Síle, its getting worse! old man Bigelow claimed. Ive half a mind to cast a dark spell upon the Wyndonkylles to show them what real black magick is. Were taking the blame for it; we might as well do the deed!
My mother remained quiet while people grumbled, then answered, Howland, I know you are far too gentle a man to ever wish harm upon another.
Oh, I can wish, he said. I can wish the Goddess would send a mist over their fields to dampen the soil. Ruin their planting!
Hes right! Aislinn pushed into the center of the group. Havent we endured enough hatred? Isnt it time to fight back?
People murmured in approval, nodding.
I couldnt believe how eager the folks in our coven were to engage in a war between clans. I winced, realizing how impossible it would be to see Diarmuid if we took to fighting.
That is quite enough! Síle said sternly.
The coveners fell silent as she demanded their attention. Well have no more talk of evil spells. Have you all forgotten your own initiation into the circle? Your vow to do the Goddesss will? Have you forgotten that you committed yourself to foster love and peace under the Goddesss sky?
Aislinn tucked a loose tress of red hair behind her ear and let out a disappointed sigh, but most of the others seemed thoughtful. They seemed to be listening to Mas words.
Remember the Witchs Rede? Síle asked in a commanding voice. Whatever you desire, whatever you ask of the Goddess, let it harm no one. And remember that as you give, so it shall return threefold.
Tis right thinking, Síle, Ian MacGreavy said. This coven will never engage in dark magick, so tis futile to waste words upon it.
I looked at him in awe, remembering his own dark rite. What a hypocrite he was!
But Ma seemed satisfied as the coveners broke into small groups and talked of other matters. My mother had calmed the uproar, but discontent hung in the warm summer night. I worried that this could brew into a terrible storm and vowed to share my fears with Diarmuid.