was a long time since Violet, Vetchling and Starling had attended any ceremonies or festivals. They kept to themselves in their cottage at the end of the lane and conducted their own private rituals to mark the turning wheel of the year. But they were perfectly entitled to join in if they wished and, with a bit of disruption, space was found for them at the end of long table. The two crones hobbled towards their seats, muttering and casting malignant glances all around as people stared at them. Starling waddled along in their wake, more used to contact with the community as she was a frequent visitor to the food stores in the Village.
They established themselves around the end of the table with much fussing and grumbling. Starling began to eat steadily while the crones sucked and smacked their gums on whatever soft morsels they could manage. Everyone was speculating about their unforeseen attendance but kept their glances surreptitious, not wanting to be caught by the crones. Marigold hovered protectively by Magpie whom she’d seated near the kitchen entrance where she could keep an eye on him. She was so proud of him, sitting up at the table using his cutlery with reasonable accuracy for the very first time at a public festival. He looked clean and smart, his face glowing and hair glossy, and she wasn’t going to let those evil witches spoil his day. He’d jumped up in fear when they’d entered but Cherry and Marigold had pulled him back down in his seat, soothing him and promising that nobody would let the three women take him back to the hovel at the end of the lane.
Leveret had stared in horror as the three black birds hopped down the Barn to sit at the far end. She could see them pecking at their food, gobbling and squawking. Then she noticed her brothers and Jay sitting further down another table but constantly looking her way and laughing. Jay caught her glance and raised a hand in greeting, grinning from ear to ear. She saw his face splitting open like an over-ripe peach, all red inside, and she gasped in horror and made the sign of the pentangle on her chest for protection. Several people nearby watched her in fascination for she was acting very oddly indeed.
Kestrel was feeling increasingly uncomfortable about her behaviour and looked around for somebody he could voice his concerns to. She’d not eaten or drunk anything and barely said a word to him, and what had started out as funny behaviour was now becoming serious. He could see Maizie but she was very busy, as were many of the older women, bustling about with large plates of food and jugs of drink and making sure the tables were well stocked. Sylvie was sitting far away with all the little maidens in their white dresses and Yul was over by the bar. The whole Barn was alive with movement and merriment but there nobody he could confide his misgivings to. He even looked about for Hazel but she was nowhere to be seen. The afternoon was going to be long and arduous and he couldn’t see how Leveret would cope. He wished that the bubbly and vivacious Faun could take Leveret’s place. They should never have chosen her as Maiden.
Finally the feast ended. The tables were cleared and stacked away and the floor prepared for the afternoon’s events. Many people went outside onto the Green for a stroll and some fresh air and some even went home to their cottages for a rest. Kestrel rose and looked down at Leveret, who still sat bolt upright staring blankly ahead as if she were in another world. He shook his head in despair – he had a horrible feeling she was going to make him look like a fool this afternoon.
‘Up you get, Leveret,’ he said, putting a hand on her arm and encouraging her to rise. She gazed up at him and he was shocked at the vacancy in her eyes. She stood, swaying like a sapling in a gale, and he grabbed her to stop her falling.
‘The birds are coming in to roost,’ she mumbled. ‘All the birds are gathering.’
Faun caught his eye and burst into peals of laughter.
‘It’s not funny, Faun,’ he said desperately. ‘I’ve got to dance with her. What the hell am I going to do?’
‘I should’ve been the maiden,’ she murmured, rubbing against his arm. ‘I wouldn’t let you down.’