Rowan’s mouth twisted bitterly at the thought of Sylvie, feeling free to do so in the privacy of her own home. Sylvie was just over a year younger than her, for Rowan had reached her sixteenth birthday at Beltane in the year that Sylvie and Miranda had moved to Stonewylde. That Beltane was the zenith of Rowan’s life, the high spot which she relived constantly to the point where every other part of her life seemed meaningless and pale in comparison.
Rowan, like all the other girls, both Villager and Hallfolk, had always been in Magus’ thrall. Every girl dreamed he might partner her in the Rite of Adulthood, which in those days had involved sexual initiation up at the Stone Circle when all the other festivities were over. Rowan had always hoped desperately that she’d be chosen for her special night. She wasn’t the only girl reaching sixteen at Beltane and Magus could’ve chosen another. Then she’d have had to make do with a Villager and there hadn’t been a single boy she found in the least attractive – not compared to Magus.
She’d almost fainted with ecstasy when he’d found her out one day in the Hall laundry where she worked, and told her solemnly that not only would he be happy to partner her for her Rite if she wished, but had also chosen her to be his May Queen. Rowan had replayed that moment so often in her mind, remembering how she’d been hanging out sheets on the great drying racks at the time in one of the hot basements of the Hall where fires and a boiler roared. She’d been sweating in the heat, her sleeves rolled up and her uniform unbuttoned a little. She’d looked a mess, she thought, her long brown hair tied back in a glossy ponytail with stray curly tendrils stuck to her perspiring cheeks and forehead. She was flushed and damp and the sight of Magus striding through the maze of hanging white sheets calling her name had made her cheeks even rosier. He’d looked down at her, towering over her despite her own height, his dark eyes gleaming and flushed himself from the heat of the place. He’d been wearing his riding clothes and smelt of horse and fresh air.
Rowan closed her eyes and relaxed further back in her chair as she relived the memory for the ten thousandth time. Magus had smiled at her, that enigmatic smile that made the lines around his mouth deepen and showed his white teeth. Then he’d asked her so eloquently if she’d partner him, as if there may be a question of her having to think about her reply. He always did this apparently, never wanting to force a girl who wasn’t eager. She’d gasped with joy and beamed at him, wiping her damp forehead with the back of her hand and stammering her delighted acceptance of the great honour. He’d bowed slightly, told her the honour would be his, and that she’d be taught the rituals she needed to know for the part of May Queen as well as being measured up for her costume, headdress and robes.
‘As for the other side of it, Rowan – we can make that up as we go along. I can promise you it’ll be a memorable experience. It’s slightly more involved as you’ll be the May Queen and I’ll be the Green Man so it won’t just be the simple initiation rites in the Stone Circle. We’ll need to go into the woods for most of the night, for this is a fecundity ritual as well as being your initiation. Can you cope with that, do you think? It can be quite an ordeal and you’ll be exhausted in the morning. I know I always am.’
She’d assured him it would be fine, completely melting inside at the thought of spending the whole night with him in the woods. She’d heard tales from other girls – that he was gentle at first and very skilful, making the experience so pleasurable and unforgettable. How lucky was she? Not only to be initiated by Magus for her Rite of Adulthood but to be his May Queen too! She’d have him all to herself for the night of Beltane Eve in the woods and be by his side all day during Beltane itself, with perhaps that night as well if she proved herself worthy of it. She couldn’t wait to tell her parents – how proud they’d be that