Protect this mill, protect these folk,
Guard them from illness and harm.
Send back the darkness to those who sent it.
Cast a light of goodness around,
Let love and protection abound.
Glancing up from the sealed jar, my mother told the MacGreavys to join hands. You must remain here in the mill while Rose and I circle it with the jar. Three times. She pulled on her cloak and went to the door. Well be back when the spell is finished.
Silently I followed my mother. I was allowed to hold the jar as we traced a wide circle around the mill. On the side where the brook ran deep and fast, there was a crossing bridge. But as we reached the shallows on the other side of the mill, it was clear there was no way across.
No way across but in, Ma said, gathering up her skirts. Pull up your gown, Rose. Well be walking through the Goddesss waters tonight. She stuck out her foot, eyeing her sandal. Too bad its not a cobbler were casting a spell for. Well be in need of new footwear after this.
I laughed, taken aback at Mas impetuous humor. This was a side of her I rarely saw. I hitched up my skirts and stepped into the brook. Cold water swirled around my legs and mud seeped into my shoes, but I tramped on beside Ma, the witchs jar tucked into the crook of my arm.
We circled the mill three times, then ducked inside with sodden shoes and wet legs. The cold didnt bother me. It was sort of refreshing on a warm night, and I counted this spell as something of value, certainly worth including in my Book of Shadows.
Inside the mill, the MacGreavys waited in the flickering candlelight.
The spell is done, Ma said. We need to bury the jar, but theres no safe place around here. Rose and I will hide it in the woods where no one will find it.
The miller went over to my mother, clasping her hands. Thank you, Síle.
She nodded. And now I think I need a rag to wipe down my shoes. Seems that Rose and I had to go for a late-night dip in the brook. She pushed off her shoe, and it flopped onto the floor like a dead fish.
Oh, my! Mrs. MacGreavy laughed, rushing off to find some cloths.
The miller brought out chairs and wine for all of us, and he and his wife talked in the quiet, dark room while Ma and I dried our feet. I took a sip of winesweet and heady. Just like Diarmuids kisses. Of course, nearly everything made me think of Diarmuid. It was an effort to concentrate on what was before me instead of the lovely picture floating in my mind of him. And at the moment, the conversation was so gloomy, with the miller complaining of slow business, that I preferred to dream of my love.
At least it was our slow season, Mrs. MacGreavy was saying.
Aye, but if we dont get that broken gear fixed soon, well have no business at all, Miller MacGreavy said. Its all a result of the curse upon us, probably from those vile Burnhydes. He turned to Ma. And I thank you for wiping it away. Our luck will change now, though I cant say that I see better days ahead for the Seven Clans. Its an age-old battle were fighting, and its getting worse instead of better, with curses and sheep thieves and vendors picking on innocent young girls at market. His eyes burned with conviction as he glanced at me, and I bit my lower lip, wondering if everyone in the Highlands had heard of my escapades at the market. If the story was floating around, soon the real detailsof the boy who had saved mewould wend their way to my mother. More trouble for me.
Ian... The millers wife tried to soothe him, but he forged on.
I say its high time we Wodebaynes stopped taking the prejudice against us, he insisted. Time to use magick to fight back.
Closing her eyes, my mother shook her head gently. No, Ian, thats not the answer.
Well, then, how are we going to stop it, Síle? the miller asked. You know the storiesthough there are so many, Ive lost count. A Leapvaughn tricking a Wodebayne farmer out of his land. A Ruanwande casting a spell that makes a Wodebayne girl go mad. Even your own husband, Gowan, was prey to the prejudice, Síle.
My father? I dropped the rag on the floor. So long had I craved to hear stories of my father, Gowan MacEwan, but every time I asked, my request was headed off by a severe look from my mother. Tell me, I begged, turning to the man.
Tis not much of a story, Rose, the miller said, touching his beard. But one day, when your father was on the road traveling to a nearby village, he came across a Wyndonkylle man on a horse. The horseman rode past without incident but then returned to harass your father. He accused your father of looking upon him with evil in his eyes. Then, when he learned that your father was a Wodebayne, he reared up his horse and trampled your father under its hooves.
I winced. Thats a terrible tale. But Da survived it.
Ma nodded. Aye, but he walked with a limp ever after.
As Mr. MacGreavy went on lamenting the clan differences, I thought of my father. He had died when I was young, so I remembered little of him. Id heard a few dark rumorstales that he had been interested in dark magickthough no one spoke of him to me directly. And my mother refused to fill in any of the missing details. Why was she so reluctant to speak of him?
After the conversation and wine ran out, we said our good-byes and headed home. Ma and I were across the river and down the road a bit when she realized we had forgotten the witchs jar.
Make haste and fetch it, she told me. I shall wait here.
Lifting my skirts, I ran back along the road. But as I approached the mill, I saw a solitary candle burning upon the threshold. I slowed my pace as my feet silently crept over the cooling earth. There was magick hereI felt the boundaries of a witchs circle, and I was forced to stop at its perimeters. I used my magesight to study the details. Was that a pentagram drawn in the dirt by the door? But it was upside down! Twas not part of the spell Ma had cast.
As I stood in the shadows, a figure loomed in the open doorwayMiller MacGreavy. He did not sense my presence as he leaned out and poured a dark liquid over the pentagram, all the while uttering words I did not understand. I gasped, realizing that the liquid Ian MacGreavy was using was blood.
The very tone of the scene made me shudder. Twas as if a cold wind had swept up the river, turning everything in its path to ice.
Dark magick. I gasped.
Miller MacGreavy twitched in fear, darting a look toward me. Rose? he asked suspiciously. What are you doing here?
The witchs jar, I croaked in fear. We. we left it behind. He scowled at me, then ducked back inside. A moment later he reappeared with the jar, stepping around the pentagram and drawing a door in his circle to step out toward me.
His eyes glittered in the candlelight as he handed me the jar. Begone with you, Rose MacEwan, he said angrily. And not a word to anyone of what you witnessed here tonight.
Aye, sir, I said breathlessly. Although I feared his magick, I knew it was not cast against me. Still, his warning frightened me. Best to keep it to myself. After all, it appeared he wasnt harming an innocent.
Yet even as I tucked away my memory of Miller MacGreavy, I decided not to let the matter of my father rest. On the way home from the mill that night I waited until my heartbeat slowed to a more relaxed pace, then launched into the subject. I was glad to hear the story of Da, I said, walking slowly under the orange moonlight. We set a place for him every year at the Samhain table, yet you never tell me stories about him. You never speak of him, Ma. Why is that?
My mother took a deep breath, searching for the answer. It always pained me to speak of him. The way his life was snuffed out. the way it ended. It was a terrible thing, Rose. She linked her arm through mine. I supposed I thought that if we didnt talk about it, you might be spared the pain that I felt.
I shook my head. When I think of him, theres no pain, really. Just curiosity.
What do you remember of him?
Thinking of Da, I smiled. His largeness. He was a bear of a man, was he not?
Quite large, Ma agreed.
I remember riding on his shouldersbig, broad shoulders. And his hands. They were so huge, my little hand disappeared inside his. I remember his deep, ringing laugh. And a trip to the coast. Did he take me to the seacoast?
My mother nodded.
Ive heard the rumors of him, I said. That he subscribed to dark magic. Is that true, Ma?
No, she said gently. Ill never believe that. He was a good man; he loved his family, his child, his clan. He was simply misunderstood.
Like me, I thought. Ma didnt understand my powers or my adventurous spirit. She couldnt accept that her path to the Goddess was not the only way.
I wish youd had a chance to know him well, my mother said.
We walked for a few moments, then I asked, What of his death? Did he not die in his sleep?
He did.
Then what of all the rumors? That he was cursedor poisoned by a rival clan?
That is the most difficult part, my mother admitted. His death was suspicious. Sudden and unexplainable. Some say a rival clan cursed him in retaliation; I dont know.
Retaliation for what?
Ma shook her head and her mouth grew tight. I cannot speak of matters that I know nothing of. When she turned to me, tears glimmered in her eyes. And I tell you truly, Rose, I do not know the truth of his death.
She fell silent, but that silence haunted me as we walked on. Aye, Ma might not have understood Das death, but certainly she knew more of the details than I. As usual, she wasnt giving me enough pieces to patch the thing together in my mind.
I thought of Ian MacGreavy, of the way his body had loomed over the bloody pentagram. Had my father dabbled with taibhs, too? I cast my eyes to the distant moon, wondering.
The next day, after hiding the witchs jar in a deserted thicket, I met Diarmuid at our secret place in the woods. On this day we wasted no time with small talk or teasing. He pulled me into his arms and placed his lips on mine. The kiss stole my breath away, and we tumbled onto the green moss and lay there, kissing and holding and stroking each other until the sun ventured below the treetops.
He told me that the magick in his own Esbat circle had paled in comparison to what we had done together.
Aye, I told him, I felt the same way last night. I went over to my small, makeshift altar and smoothed my hands over the surface of the boulder. Looking around, I realized that this was the perfect place for a circleour circle.
I grabbed my broom and with measured steps walked farther than I had before. I would make the circle wider, this time including the moss bed we liked to frolic upon. Was not our love dedicated to the Goddessa result of her blessings?
Diarmuid went to the four corners of the new, bigger circle, where he summoned the Watchtowers once again, drawing a pentagram in the air each time. Watching Diarmuid, I felt my world swelling with newfound knowledge and love. The rose stone between my breasts set my heart aglow, reminding me of my good fortune at having found a true love who was also a blood witch.
The day after that we met again, same time, same place. And the day after that and the day after that. My spring afternoons were lush affairs of lips trailing on skin and countless whispered dreams under the cool cover of spring leaves. Each day we maintained our altar, always thanking the Goddess for bringing us together, for bringing us so much pleasure.
Our destiny is not clear to me yet, I once told Diarmuid. But I know theres a reason weve been brought together.
He dipped his face into the bodice of my gown, nuzzling there seductively. Tis not enough that we were brought together to love?
Love is a gift, indeed, I said, slipping my hands into the top of his shirt to find his gold pentagram. But Im talking about a greater purpose. Bringing the Seven Clans together, perhaps.
He moved up to kiss my neck. Our love is truly beyond all others. He stopped kissing me to look me in the eye. Ive known people who say they are mùirn beatha dàns. They truly believe they are soul mates for life. But I cant imagine that they would understand the way I feel about you.
He smoothed his hand over my bodice, cupping one breast gently. I love you, Rose.
I gasped, feeling myself melt at his fingertips. I had never known a man before, and Diarmuid swore I was his first love, yet he seemed to know so much of a womans bodythe places to stroke, to brush, or to touch ever so lightly. Now he was down at my feet, his hands gliding up under my skirts. His fingers whispered over my knees to my thighs until I was unable to still the trembling inside me.
Well be together forever, he whispered.
Well have no secrets, I vowed.
I shall be your first and only love, he said, moving his hand up between my legs. And you shall be mine.
So mote it be, I whispered, offering our love to the Goddess.
There, in our secret circle in the woods, we met every afternoon. One day as Diarmuid and I lay together on the moss, I realized that we had been together for nearly a full cycle of the moon. The May celebration of Beltane was but a few weeks away, and Diarmuid and I had met just before the full moon of April.
I thought of the two charmed gemstones that had been the seeds of love: the rose stone and Kyras moonstone. Two charms with very different powers.
Oh, Kyra and Falkner were still together and very much in love. But not like Diarmuid and me. Just that morning I had seen Kyra at Sunday mass, and she had been full of giggles and squeals for her boy. Like a child. She knew that I met Diarmuid each day, and she couldnt believe Id allowed him a kiss, let alone other pleasures.
But what do you do with Falkner? I asked.
I bring him biscuits and shortbread every time Ma and I bake, she said. And he stops by the cottage if he has to deliver a newly shod horse nearby. Which isnt often. So sometimes Ma allows me to accompany her to market in Kirkloch and we stop in at the blacksmiths shop.
Oh. I didnt tell her that it all sounded tedious and lackluster to me. If it suited Kyra, that was fine. But hearing about her love for Falkner made me realize the level of maturity Diarmuid and I had reached. We were far beyond blushes and giggles. Our love had ventured into passion, promise.