the Spring Equinox he had to have the problem sorted and he glanced over to Sylvie who was talking with Greenbough. She must start moondancing at Hare Stone again – maybe that’d do the trick.
As he dwelled on his problems Leveret, standing near Sylvie and her mother, started to hallucinate. The ground was rising and falling in great waves which made her feel dizzy. She looked across the great Circle; Greenbough had moved away to speak to Martin and Edward near the entrance to the Long Walk, and Yul still stood by the bonfire.
‘Who’s that man with Yul?’ she asked, her voice sounding faraway in her ears. Maizie and Sylvie looked up.
‘What man?’ asked Maizie. ‘There’s no man with Yul.’
‘Yes there is – a tall man. Look, standing right by him.’
They both frowned at her.
‘Really there’s no one there, Leveret,’ said Maizie. ‘’Tis just Yul on his own, warming his hands. It must be the firelight playing tricks with your eyes.’
Leveret stared again.
‘There! He’s moved around the fire and now he’s facing us.’
Sylvie had turned very pale all of a sudden and she closed her eyes in despair. The man looked up then, staring straight across the Circle at Leveret. His silvery hair gleamed in the firelight as he smiled at her, bowing his head in a gracious gesture of deference to the Bright Maiden. Leveret smiled back and then blinked in surprise as he seemed to dissolve before her eyes, leaving Yul standing alone by the flickering flames of the Imbolc fire.
Two carriages were waiting at the end of the Long Walk as Sylvie had arrived in one too; it was important that the women’s lovely white and silver robes and dresses remained unmuddied. Sylvie climbed into the same one as Leveret, so Maizie and Miranda shared the other one and everyone else walked as usual. As they drove back to the Village Sylvie looked sideways at her sister-in-law, who sat bolt upright staring ahead.
‘Are you feeling alright, Leveret?’
She was feeling far from alright. The tiny carriage seemed to be breathing around her, closing in on her and then receding again. She felt very strange indeed and wished that Clip were here, but he’d told her that today he must celebrate privately in the Dolmen.
‘Yes.’
Sylvie swallowed and clasped her hands to stop them trembling.
‘That man you saw in the Circle near Yul – can you tell me what he looked like?’
‘I don’t know,’ mumbled Leveret, trying to focus her eyes.
‘Please, Leveret, it’s really important,’ said Sylvie urgently, her heart beating wildly. ‘Please try and describe him. I have to know what you saw.’
‘He was big and tall and he had blond hair like Martin’s and Clip’s. But … it was strange … apart from his hair and his age he looked exactly like Yul.’
Sylvie sat back in her seat abruptly and took a ragged breath, relief flooding through her.
‘Thank you, Leveret,’ she said quietly, her voice shaking. ‘At least I know now I’m not going mad.’
Breakfast was laid out in the Barn – sweet crescent-shaped rolls and a warming brew of milk, honey and malt. Leveret could face none of it and sat silently in her own world as people gradually started to arrive for the day’s festivities. After breakfast there was a brief opening ceremony led by Sylvie, who passed another beribboned besom to the Bright Maiden who must ceremonially sweep away the winter debris ready for the shoots of spring.
Then the Green Archer had to perform his first duty of the day. A tall ladder was brought in, also decorated with white ribbons, and placed upright against a rafter. After bowing to his Bright Maiden, Kestrel began to ascend steadily, the crowd chanting as each rung was climbed, until he reached the rafter. There lay the great Corn Spirit dolly on a nest of woven straw. Carefully Kestrel lifted the huge spiralling neck of woven and plaited stalks, its wheat ears still fanned out at one end, though spilling a few kernels, the red, gold and green ribbons dusty and a little cobwebbed. He placed the huge dolly, as long as his arm but even thicker, into a wicker pannier strapped to his belt. He descended to excited cheers and solemnly handed the dolly to Leveret with a sweeping bow. She took the huge dusty neck in her arms and stared blankly at him.
‘Put it on the table, Leveret!’ he whispered helpfully, worried that she was becoming overcome with nerves. ‘Remember? “The Corn Spirit has survived the