back into the starry night and then she bent and scattered what she could see of the salt with her hand, breaking the ring of protection. She’d finished and she’d done her very best. She could now feel the absence of the power that had gathered around her in the darkness. She blew out the tiny lantern and began to pack all the things away into her bag. Carefully she wrapped the sphere in a piece of cloth ready for its resting place tomorrow. Finally she lifted the chunk of bark that had served as a rough altar, but as she did her hand touched something which made her jump back with a cry. The hair on her arms rose in fear. Gingerly she reached forward again, groping in the freezing grass, and her fingers closed around the smooth bone handle of the gathering knife. Leveret knew for certain that it hadn’t been there when she started – Mother Heggy must have been with her all along.
18
The festivities of Yule were finally over and life at Stonewylde felt a little bleak. Days were short and nights long and it seemed ages until the next festival: Imbolc at the beginning of February. Folk used the dark evenings productively; the flax weaving and dyeing was completed and the bolts of new linen cloth cut and sewn into clothing and bedding. Patchwork quilts were started so no scraps were wasted and the carded wool was knitted into yet more garments. A lot of felt was made too and used to line coats and boots as well as make lovely bags, hats and slippers. The Stonewylders were industrious and took pride in their crafts. Leveret was surprised to find she enjoyed helping Maizie and learning more about how to make functional but beautiful things.
But there was dismay when it was announced that every household must contribute a set number of specific items for Stonewylde.com before the growing season began. Harold had made lists of what was required to keep the warehouses well stocked for the season ahead, and these were posted in the Great Barn and the Galleried Hall. Young people boarding at the Hall spent the long evenings sewing quilts and whittling figurines and candlesticks, whilst those Village women gifted at embroidery decorated the delicate and much sought-after white linen nightdresses. Slippers and hats made from Stonewylde’s thick, high-quality felt were in great demand and every evening Villagers gathered in the Laundry House to make more felt, whilst others worked in the Barn on the finished material, cutting and sewing.
Harold had commissioned a Stonewylde logo which was put on every product – a beautiful curly S that looked like a snake. Harold was really proud of his branding and the Internet mail order company was growing amazingly fast. Selling out of so many products before Yule had whetted the public’s appetite and there were now waiting lists for many of the goods. A feature in a quality Sunday newspaper alluding to a mysterious private estate deep in Dorset that produced hand-made, organic goods for the luxury market had only added to the interest. Harold became increasingly excited at the prospect that Stonewylde.com was about to become something huge and he warned Yul that they must be ready for it.
The high quality leather produced in the tannery was tremendously popular, and Harold urgently requested that more people learn the craft of leather work. Orders for shoes, boots, jackets, belts and bags were pouring in and demand far outstripped supply. Meetings were held with Edward to discuss the economics of raising more cattle for their hides, and of the impact the extra beef would have on the balance of agriculture that had always been so stable in the past. Yul threw himself into the logistics of organising the economy, glad of the extra work to fill his interminable evenings while things were so difficult between him and Sylvie.
They’d reached a careful truce after the events of Samhain and Yule, knowing they couldn’t carry on like this indefinitely but both unable to make it better. Yul deeply regretted the terrible night on Solstice Eve when he’d drunkenly forced himself on Sylvie. He’d apologised at length, his remorse genuine and profound, and they’d skirted around the issue that had led to his need to do it in the first place. Sylvie had toyed with the idea of telling him the truth, but how could she explain that Magus was haunting her? She knew how ridiculous it sounded