A Dark Night Hidden (19 page)

Then Meggie burped loudly and Joanna, smiling, found herself abruptly brought back to Earth.

Nothing could have prepared her for what happened that night.

The babies and children were settled and two of the older women were left to watch over them; they would be relieved after a time and others would take their place. ‘Not you,’ Joanna had been told when she had offered to share in the duty. She had felt a faint shiver of apprehension.

She was taken out of the encampment and led away, apart from the other young mothers, to a place deep in the pine trees where someone – a man, she had no idea who he was – gave her a white robe. She was ordered to strip off her own robe, wash herself and then put on the white garment. A bowl of very cold water had been put out for her and, forcing herself to ignore the shivering protest of her naked flesh, she washed herself thoroughly. Then she dried herself on a linen towel and put on the white robe. It was simply made and hung down straight from the shoulders, flaring out generously towards the ground-brushing hem. The sleeves were long and deep. When she was dressed, the man wrapped a green sash over her right shoulder and tied it in an intricate knot on her left hip. He put a garland of ivy and evergreen leaves on her head and wrapped her in a cloak of some dark material.

Then he said, ‘Behind you is a bunch of the first flowers. Pick them up.’

She did so; they were snowdrops. She felt something hidden among the slim, delicate stalks of the flowers and, looking down, saw that it was a small beeswax candle, set inside an open-topped cone of some hard, transparent substance. It was a long time since she had held in her hands so costly an object as the candle. She bent to smell its sweet scent.

Then the man put a blindfold over her eyes. ‘You will be left alone here,’ he intoned. ‘You must find your way into the circle, where we shall be waiting for you. Do not set out from this place until you hear the hoot of the owl.’

Trembling, the sense of unreality growing rapidly, Joanna stood, blind, and waited. After what seemed a very long time, she heard the owl.

Holding the snowdrops in her left hand, she put her right hand up to hold the bear’s claw. As her fingers closed around it, she seemed to see his eyes. They were warm with love and she felt her fear begin to diminish. When she felt brave enough to put one foot in front of the other, she set out.

She had no idea in which direction the stone circle lay. There was a path by which she had arrived – should she get on to it, follow it back to the camp and make her way from there to the summit of the hill? But where was the path? And how, blindfolded as she was, would she find it?

Something that had just flashed through her mind seemed to call her attention back to it. She waited, stilling her thoughts. It returned:
the summit of the hill
.

Of course! The stone circle was at the top of the slope, so all she had to do was to walk uphill.

Still clutching the snowdrops, she put her right hand out in front of her face and tried a few steps, first one way, then another. One way led her straight into a bramble bush; the next went, she was almost sure, downhill. She tried again, and then again. She was just beginning to feel the unpleasant, unwelcome sense of her fear returning when she half-tripped on something, lurched forward and took three or four short, involuntary steps. They were enough for her to discover that she was climbing. Eagerly she started to go on up the hill, stepping tentatively at first – she met another bramble and felt the low branch of a pine tree whip her left cheek – but then, as the path appeared to open out, she began to go faster.

Because her eyes could not see, her other senses had sharpened. And, although she did not then appreciate it, Mag’s teachings and almost a year of learning the old ways had changed her subtly. The combined effect was that she knew, suddenly, that the stones were close; she could feel their power. Putting out her right hand, she extended the fingers . . . and touched cold stone.

Which way now? They would all be out there watching, even if she could not yet sense them; she did not want to stumble about, perhaps in quite the wrong direction, and trip over her own feet. Although the impulse to hasten on was strong, she made herself stop. Standing quite still, she quietened her breathing and waited until her racing heartbeat had slowed down.

Then she listened. And, with her newly sensitive skin, felt. She thought: power from the stones
there
 . . . and
there
. So the line of the circle must run around just in front of me. The open space has to be right before me, and so the people must be standing over there . . .

She strained to hear. Nothing. But then, as she tried harder, she seemed to sense a tension in the air as if a great crowd waited expectantly.

Yes. They’re there.

She stepped forward confidently into the stone circle.

Instantly, where there had been silence came noise. And, even through the cloth covering her eyes, she could vaguely see them, running and dancing, jumping for joy. Somebody behind her whipped off the blindfold and in the light of the waxing moon she saw the stones circling the summit of the hill, the protecting trees crowding around as if they, too, were eager to be a part of the celebration.

The circle itself was empty. But, as she had suspected, the people were gathered all around it, the majority of them on the far side. Seeing her standing there they began to cheer, smiling at her and calling out her name.

With tears streaming down her face, she smiled back at them. She could not think of any moment in her entire life when she had been quite so happy.

Then one of the oldest of the women stepped out of the shadows and walked towards her. She was holding a flaming torch in her hand. By its light, Joanna could see her face. The deep-set dark eyes held the wisdom of years, although the skin was smooth, like a young woman’s. The long hair was silver. The woman wore a dark robe over a gown that sometimes appeared white, sometimes silver. It looked almost as if it had been made out of moonlight.

Around her neck she wore a heavy silver lunula.

Joanna knew who she was. Although she had not met her before, they all spoke of her. In whispers, with awe and wonder in their voices.

She was oldest of the old, wisest of the wise. She was the Domina.

She removed Joanna’s cloak, revealing the white robe and the green sash. Joanna heard a sigh like a soft breeze flow through the assembled crowd. The woman indicated the snowdrops and the candle that Joanna carried. She put up her hand and the woman lit the candle from her torch. Then she said, ‘Give the people light.’

Joanna walked slowly around the circle, holding up the candle in its sheltering cone, protecting the flame with her other hand. The others put their candles to hers, lighting them and carefully shielding them, taking them to light a series of small fires all around the circle.

Then the Domina led Joanna back to the centre of the circle. She said, ‘Joanna, you have passed the test and found your way to your people. By so doing you have proved that you belong with us. You have spread the Light. Now the moment has come for your initiation.’

Smoke from the fires filled the stone circle. Joanna caught the sweet-sharp scent of some herbal mix, and knew that the people were using their skill and their wisdom to cleanse the sacred space and enhance the mood. She watched as, slowly at first and then with accelerated speed, the great crowd outside the circle began to move. Round and round they went, always outside the standing stones. Then, at some signal that Joanna did not perceive, they all advanced inside the stones’ encircling ring. As they went – closer to her now and faster, and with a repeated pattern of steps as if they were dancing – she heard the chanting.

Beside her the Domina stood utterly still. There was such power in her that some element of her reached out and compelled Joanna to be equally still. Staring out at the standing stones, it seemed to Joanna that she was the hub of the great wheel that they formed on the hilltop. Then, as if the image developed by itself, without prompting from her, it seemed that the wheel of stones was moving, turning on itself. On she who, with the Domina, stood as its axis.

The purifying smoke, the movement and the endless chanting combined into a great force. Before Joanna’s entranced eyes there appeared to grow out of the circle a faint cone of bright, pure white light, its point shooting straight upwards into the night sky. Aiming for the Moon.

And then at last the Domina broke her stillness and her silence. Moving a pace or two away from Joanna, she stood right in the centre of the circle. Raising her arms, she cried out in a surprisingly powerful voice, the words soaring up into the sky. Joanna did not understand all that she said, but it did not matter; she knew that the Domina was making her invocation to the Goddess. On behalf of the people, she was making the ritual observance of Imbolc.

When she had finished – Joanna had lost track of time and could not have said how long the chanting went on – she lowered her arms and slowly turned to face Joanna. In the firelight, Joanna could see exhaustion in the old face; the Domina at last looked her years. Putting out her hand, the Domina said, ‘Come, Joanna. Come and stand in the centre of the power.’

Joanna did as she was commanded. As she joined the Domina on that central piece of the springy green turf, she felt a forceful jolt enter her body and she was shaken from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. Her face must have expressed her shock, for the Domina, studying her intently, gave a sudden brief smile.

‘Good,’ she murmured, ‘very good.’

Then, opening her arms, she took Joanna in a close embrace and hugged her to her breast. She whispered, for Joanna alone to hear, ‘Welcome, child. Welcome to your heart’s home.’

As they stood there so close together, Joanna felt the bear’s claw on its leather thong pressing into her breast. The Domina must have felt it too, for, breaking the close contact, she reached out for the thong and pulled it and the claw out from where they had lain concealed beneath Joanna’s white robe.

The Domina held the claw out so that the firelight fell on it. She ran her fingers up and down its length and felt the sharp tip. Then her deep, dark eyes met Joanna’s. She said nothing, but Joanna had the strong impression that she was surprised.

Joanna wanted to explain, to say how the man of the forest people had slipped away from the Yule festivities to visit her and remind her that they had not forgotten her in all the revelry. She opened her mouth to speak but the Domina gave a faint shake of her head.

Then she replaced the claw inside Joanna’s gown.

The power was still singing and crackling through the air all around the circle. Now the Domina stepped forward and, once more raising her arms, began to chant again. Joanna, so close to her, felt the strength flow from her as she earthed the power. Then, her voice taking on a different timbre, the Domina, at long last beginning to droop, gave thanks.

And, finally, broke the circle.

Some time during the long night of celebration that followed, a woman whom Joanna did not know sought her out and said that the Domina wished to see her.

Feeling very nervous, Joanna followed where the messenger led. In a clearing in the pine trees, a short distance away from the stone circle and the lively gathering of happy people, a small shelter had been made. Like the dwellings of the camp, it too was constructed of dead wood and bracken. This one, however, was only big enough for one person. Inside, wrapped in luxurious furs before a fire burning in a small stone hearth, sat the Domina.

She seemed to have recovered some of her strength. She had eaten – there was an empty platter at her feet – and she was sipping at some drink in a pewter cup that gave off curls of steam and a wonderful aroma. The Domina’s dark eyes were very bright.

‘Sit, Joanna,’ she ordered, with a wave of her hand. Joanna obeyed. ‘You have done well this night, child,’ the Domina went on. ‘The faith that your teachers have in you is justified.’

‘My teachers?’ She must mean Lora and the others, Joanna thought, since she speaks of them in the present tense. But then that means that she’s forgotten about Mag Hobson, who was my first teacher and, really, the one who—

‘Of course I have not forgotten her.’ The Domina’s voice held faint amusement. ‘She would not let me, even if I would have it so,’ she added in a murmur. Eyes boring into Joanna’s, she said, ‘Mag was one of our great ones, child. Did you not know?’

‘I – she died for me.’ Joanna found that she was fighting back tears.

The Domina regarded her intently. ‘She gave up her earthly body, yes,’ she said. ‘For which act she had a very good reason.’

‘She died because she would not reveal my whereabouts!’ Now the tears were streaming down Joanna’s face. ‘And I
miss
her, I still miss her so much!’

The Domina waited until the storm of grief eased. Then she said, ‘But, child, she is still with you. Have you not felt her presence?’

Joanna had no idea how to reply. What was she expected to say? Mag still with her? No, that could not be so; Mag was dead.

And yet there were those strange moments in the peace of late evening, after the sun had set, or in the bright early mornings when, alone and thinking of nothing in particular, suddenly Joanna would feel a lift of the heart and begin to sing. One of the old songs that Mag had taught her. And there were the times when, with the other forest people far away, some minor crisis would occur, usually to do with Meggie; it was not easy, Joanna had discovered, to bear sole responsibility for the health and well being of a beloved child. Sometimes, feeling close to despair, she had heard Mag’s wise voice speaking inside her head.
Do this, comfort her in this way, make her a drink out of this
.