The thin, white-haired man gazed out unseeing across the landscape from the Solar at the top of the mediaeval tower. His pale grey eyes were vacant as his thoughts rambled unchecked, like a dragonfly dancing on water. He’d been standing at the pointed window, lost in reverie, for over an hour. His hollow-cheeked face was deeply lined and Clip looked far older than his fifty-three years. His stomach growled with emptiness, which he ignored as he was fasting in preparation for a journey at Samhain. This year he’d decided not to join the community at all for the celebrations. Yul could manage it all, he was sure. Clip would be in the Dolmen alone, in body at least, whilst his spirit journeyed to other realms. He sensed a major change ahead, a shift of events that would affect everyone at Stonewylde. At present he had no idea what was to happen but he hoped to find out at Samhain. He was, after all, the shaman of Stonewylde.
The thirteen years since his brother’s death at Quarrycleave had been tortuous for Clip. He’d only ever wanted to be a shaman, never the leader of such a complex community, and despite being the legal owner of Stonewylde he’d always taken a back seat in the running of the estate. But the death of Magus had been a huge and shocking blow to the community, even to those who’d wanted him gone. In the aftermath, Clip had had to step into the void and assume the role he’d always been happy to leave to his brother. Tough as they were, Yul and Sylvie had been far too young to take charge. But perhaps now, thirteen years on …
There was a knock on the door two floors below which Clip, deep in his dreaming, failed to hear. Cherry bustled in from the corridor connecting this tower to the oldest part of the Hall, the Galleried Hall, and stood at the bottom of the stone spiral staircase looking up.
‘Master Clip!’ she called. ‘May I come up?’
Although the whole tower was private and used exclusively by Clip, he rarely used the circular room on the ground floor where it joined the Hall. The middle floor was his bedroom with a small bathroom enclosed within it, and the top floor – the Solar – was where he spent most of his time surrounded by his books, gongs and collection of sacred objects.
Cherry huffed her way up the staircase carrying a tray and Clip started with surprise as her grey head appeared.
‘You’ve had no food for days now,’ she gasped, her large bosom heaving. She set the tray down with a crash on an old chest, covering the papers and drawings that lay scattered across it. ‘Oh my stars, that don’t get any easier!’
‘Here, sit down and catch your breath, Cherry,’ said Clip quickly, clearing a space for her on the battered sofa. ‘You shouldn’t be carrying heavy trays upstairs, though it’s very kind of you I must say.’
‘Well, a body must eat,’ she wheezed, looking around the circular room with a frown. ‘Oh Master Clip, do let me send someone in to give this place a dusting.’
‘No, Cherry. We’ve discussed this before and you know I don’t like the thought of some youth poking about amongst all my precious things,’ he replied.
‘Then I’ll do it for you!’ she said, shaking her grey head in disapproval. ‘’Tis a mess and all that dust can’t do you no good. I’ve heard your cough many a time, and—’
‘That’s nothing to do with dust,’ he chuckled. ‘That’s too many nights spent out in the cold taking their toll, I’m afraid. No, really, Cherry, please don’t fuss about my tower – you know this is how I like it.’
‘Mmn,’ she muttered. ‘’Tis not fitting for the Master o’ Stonewylde to be living in such a muddle, but there’s naught I can do if you won’t let me clean it. But please do eat some o’ this food. Marigold prepared it specially for you – look, there’s a lovely piece o’ beef pie and some jam sponge pudding too. We don’t like seeing your bones poking out the way they do.’
‘Thank you, Cherry, and please convey my thanks to your sister too. It’s very kind of you both and I’ll eat a little later on. Now, if you’ve got your breath back …’
‘Aye,’ she grunted, heaving herself to her feet, ‘I best be getting along.’