Diarmuid turned to the east and stretched out his arms. Ye Watchtowers of the East, I summon you, stir and call you, to witness this rite and watch over this circle. He waved his hand through the air, drawing something. A star? No, a pentagram.
I watched in wonder as he moved to the south quarter of the circle and beckoned the Watchtowers there. This was a practice I had never witnessed, and I wondered at the many things I might learn from him.
When he had called to the Watchtowers of the West and North, we ended up together in the center of the circle, facing the altar.
I lifted my hands to the moon. The circle is cast, and we are between the worlds. We are far from the bonds of time, in a place where night and day, birth and death, joy and sorrow meet as one.
The forest seemed suddenly silent, our circle a haven of peace apart from the wars of the nearby clans and dreary villagers.
O mighty Goddess, I have come this day to honor Your presence and to give thanksgiving for bringing Diarmuid to me. We who once were two will become one, Goddess, as we dedicate ourselves to You. I went to the altar and removed a pouch from my pocket. It was filled with dried sage, good for protection and wisdom. I poured the sage onto the altar, crushed it fine with a smooth stone, and pushed the tiny flakes onto the palm of my hand.
We offer sage, I said, returning to Diarmuids side. Sage for protection against those who would harm us. I sprinkled the flaked herb over Diarmuids head, then over my own. Sage for the wisdom to fulfill the Goddesss will. I held my hand to his face, and he tipped back his head. I sprinkled sage onto his tongue, then poured the remainder into my own mouth. Sage for protection and wisdom, I said, feeling a mist come over me.
But you are wise already, Diarmuid said, taking my hands. He began to turn us in a circle. We moved slowly, but the earth seemed to race under our feet. We have been chosen. The Goddess looks upon us with favor. How is it that She knows you so well?
I, Rose, am the Goddess incarnate, I answered. I was beyond thinking. Where had those words come from? Had I heard my mother chant them in an Esbat rite of long ago, or had the Goddess lifted my tongue like a winged bird at my back?
My whole world was spinning, my head dizzy with the whirring motion. Hands joined with Diarmuid, I lifted my face to the sky. It opened up upon me, sending a crushing blade of lightning to my chest.
The jolt lifted me off my feet. Suddenly my stomach was sour, my knees turning to mush beneath me. The ground seemed to rush up, sucking my body onto it.
The next thing I knew, my cheek was pressed to the earth, my knees curled beneath me like those of a child suckling its mother. My eyes were closed, but the whirring noise had stopped. The only sound was Diarmuids voice calling my name.
Rose? Are you all right?
His hands were upon me, rubbing my shoulders, stroking my cheek.
Aye. I sighed and sat up in his arms. What happened? Ive never been struck like that before.
I dont know. Diarmuid pulled me closer into the cradle of his chest. Are you sure youre not hurt?
Just. feeling in a haze. I brushed a lock of dark hair out of my eyes. I was stunned at the Goddesss sudden attack. Had I displeased Her? Im so confused. Why did that happen to me?
Ive seen something like that, but only once. Our coven was gathered in a circle for Esbat rites, and the Goddess struck one of the witches down, very much like that. The coveners saw it as the hand of the Goddess reaching down, pointing to Her chosen one, her priestess. Soon after, the woman was anointed high priestess of our coven.
High priestess... I rubbed my eyes, still queasy from a churning inside me. But Im not in a coven looking for a leader.
Ah, but the Goddess has chosen you, Diarmuid insisted. I know that deep down inside me, Rose. You are destined for greatness. Have you not thought of inheriting your mothers role as high priestess?
Aye, but not for many years. Ma is not ready to relinquish her role, and she still sees me as a babe in the ways of the Goddess. Shes always checking my Book of Spells and trying to pry into my rituals. Truly, she has no confidence in me.
Well, on that shes mistaken. Diarmuid slid a hand around my waist, nearly knocking the air from me. Im sure youre destined to lead your own covenor something even greater. You are special, Rose. Not just in my eyes, but in the eyes of the Goddess.
I have to get home, I said, trying to rise. I coughed, and Diarmuid knelt beside me, then lifted me to my feet.
Can you walk? he asked. For I can readily carry you there, such a wisp of a thing.
I tried a few steps. I can make it. But I hate to go.
Ill help you to the path, he said, lifting me into his arms.
I held fast to his shoulders, allowing myself a few moments of rest and protection in his arms. I had asked for protection, and the Goddess had answered already.
Diarmuid. He would be my pillar.
My soul mate.
5. The Witchs Jar: A Spell of Protection
As darkness fell, the whirring pain within me began to settle, though the memory of it still frightened me. As Ma and I ate our stew thickened with the potatoes from Diarmuid, I noticed that she was still in a dour mood. I kept myself steady, not wanting to draw her ire upon me.
After I had cleaned the supper dishes, Ma brought out a clay jar to prepare for the spell of protection. I dont believe youve ever done a witchs jar before, have you?
I shook my head. No, but Ive collected many sharp objects. Just as you said. I opened the thick pouch and shook its contents onto the table with a tinny clatter.
Fill the jar with everything youve found, Ma told me. And as I remember, there are a few herbs that need to be added. Let me see. She took her Book of Shadows from its hiding place under the eaves of the cottage roof and set it on the table. This is why I expect you to chronicle everything in your Book of Shadows, Rose. The mind does not always record as well as parchment and quill.
Another criticism. I dropped nails into the jar, wondering what I would have to do to please my mother in the ways of the Goddess.
My mother leafed through her book, her teeth pressed over her lower lip, until she found the right page. Aye, we need sage and ivy, she said. And a touch of bay should warn us of any further act of evil coming upon the MacGreavys. She ran her finger down the page, nodding. And marjoram. Do we have that in our collection, Rose?
I think so. I got up from the table to check the pouches hanging from the rafters. Aye, Ma, here it is. As I placed the pouch on the table, she caught my hand in hers.
Her touch sent a spark through me. Surprise, perhaps. Although I already knew I felt guilty for hiding so much from her.
Somethings changed, like shifting winds. She glanced up at me, her dark eyes locking on me. Why do I have the feeling youre not telling me something, Rose? Are you all right?
I nodded, trying to look away from her.
Ma rose to her feet, facing me. What happened to you today? Did something go wrong in your ritual?
I nodded again, too frightened of the painful experience to keep it pent up inside me. I was. I was thanking the Goddess when She struck me down from the sky. I clasped my hands to my chest. The force hit me here, knocking me to the ground. Twas like a lightning bolt on a sunny day and oh, Ma, twas painful.
She folded me into her arms. Child, child. Were you harmed?
I closed my eyes and pressed my head to her blouse, relieved to have the truth out. At first I could barely breathe, but Im better now. Still frightened, though. Why would the Goddess strike me down?
Tis hard to say. Ma stroked my hair, then moved me to a chair. Have you done anything that might offend Her? Think hard, Rose, and be honest. What kind of spells have you been working on of late?
I rubbed my forehead, wondering how to get through my web of lies without tripping over it. Surely my love spell for Diarmuid had not offended the Goddess so greatly? Well, there was drawing down the moon. I did that with Kyra.
Tis not a spell, though.
But we did work magick, I insisted. We had a charm that needed to be charged.
What sort of charm?
As soon as she asked the question, I knew trouble was brewing for me. It was a moonstone for Kyra, I said simply.
And the purpose of the charm?
To bring her the love of Falkner Radburn.
Oh, by the Goddess... Ma banged her fist on the table, making the witchs jar jump a bit. How many times have I told you not to meddle with a persons free will? You can make a charm or a poppet to attract love, but its wrong to ensnare the love of a specific person. To meddle with a persons life, to control his destiny. thats dark magick. She banged her fist again. Its wrong, Rose!
My insides turned stone cold at her anger. Couldnt she see I was just helping a very desperate friend?
Why is it that all my instructions to you fly through the air and fall to the soil? my mother asked. You are not listening, Rose, and today is just one example of how the power of the Goddess can harm if you dont practice witchcraft in the ways of the elders. Do you want to hurt people, Rose?
No, Ma, I said quietly. That much was true.
Then why do you insist on meddling with a persons will? Tis not right, Rose. When you go out to gather plants, do you strike down a plant without apology? Do you slash through stems at will, taking more than you need, harming nature?
No. I dug my fingers into my hair, dropping my chin against my chest. I hated being chastised this way. I thought of Diarmuids comment that he had seen a woman struck down the same way because she was destined to be the high priestess of the coven. Why could my ma not even entertain the thought that there was a positive reason? Could it be that she knew I had been chosen by the Goddess for greatness, and she was jealous of my connection to Her? My face burned at the thought.
So why would you strike out at a person that way, tampering with his destiny?
There was no answerat least, none that would suit herso I kept quiet.
You must go back to your earlier lessons, Ma said sternly. Starting tomorrow, you will look over your Book of Shadows from the beginning. You will spend less time afield with your friends and more time studying from my Book of Shadows, too. And you will stop making up your own spells until I can be sure youre fulfilling the Goddesss will. Do you understand?
I understand, I said. I pressed my teeth into my lower lip, wondering if she would realize that I had not promised her anything.
It was all so unfair. I had tried to gain my mothers support by telling her about the painful strike from the sky, and in turn she merely wanted to cripple me. If Síle the high priestess had her way, Id be locked in the cottage, drying herbs and inscribing spells.
How could I stop making spells when I knew the Goddess was calling me to Her? How dare my mother try to interfere with the Goddesss destiny for me?
Ma did not understand about my powers. And from her tart reaction on that front, I knew that it would be a catastrophe to tell her about Diarmuid.
For now he would be a secret, and until my mother learned to see me as more than her incapable daughter, he would remain a secret.
Down the dark road, Miller MacGreavy led the way. He was followed by his wife, who walked beside my mother, their voices lowered so as not to wake anyone in the cottages we passed. I walked behind them, feeling dull and tired. The nights Esbat rites had hardly moved me. They had only emphasized how Síle and her coven were following a weary, timeworn road while I was on the verge of opening an exciting new doorway to the Goddess.
The breeze rustled the trees so ripe with bud; their clattering branches reminded me of the bell rung at Esbat.
Three times.
An ye harm none, do what thou wilt, Síle chanted.
An ye harm none, do what thou wilt, we all repeated.
Thus runs the Witchs Rede, Síle went on. Remember it well. Whatever you desire; whatever you would ask of the Goddess, be assured that it will harm no onenot even yourself. And remember that as you give, so it shall return threefold.
I trudged along, trying to clear my mothers voice from my head. I had heard her words in the circle so many times, I could recite them by heart.
I am She who watches over thee, said High Priestess Síle.
Mother of you all. Know that I rejoice that you do not forget me, paying me homage at the full of the moon. Know that I weave the skein of life for each and every one of you...
Enough, enough, enough! I grumbled through gritted teeth. I had heard my mothers words so many times, they had become meaningless for me.
As we neared the mill, I wondered if Mas spell of protection would work. At least this was something that interested me, as Id never worked one before. Miller MacGreavy unlatched the big door to the mill, and the four of us filed inside. During the Esbat rites, Ma and the MacGreavys had summoned the Goddess to protect them and the mill, so I imagined that this would entail more spell casting than the ritual had.
Soon Ma had candles lit, and Mrs. MacGreavy set her tools on the table, which we assembled around. Normally I would have helped with preparations, but since Ma had made it clear I was being punished, I held back. Ma had already placed herbs in the witchs jar, which now sat at the center of the table, but I knew there was something more to be added before we sealed it.
Closing her eyes, Ma held up her hands, opened to the Goddess. With this witchs jar we will cast a spell of protection over this mill and this millers family, she said. Looking down at the table, she moved the jar toward Mrs. MacGreavy. Twill need a drop of blood from you. Take your bolline and give your finger the slightest prick.
The millers wife pressed the sharp end of her bolline against her fingertip. A crimson drop began to form, and she squeezed it into the jar.
Then my mother passed the jar over to the miller. Spit in it, she said. He did so. Then Ma began to seal the top of the jar, using hot candle wax. As she worked, she chanted:
Protect this mill, protect these folk,
Guard them from illness and harm.
Send back the darkness to those who sent it.
Cast a light of goodness around,
Let love and protection abound.
Glancing up from the sealed jar, my mother told the MacGreavys to join hands. You must remain here in the mill while Rose and I circle it with the jar. Three times. She pulled on her cloak and went to the door. Well be back when the spell is finished.
Silently I followed my mother. I was allowed to hold the jar as we traced a wide circle around the mill. On the side where the brook ran deep and fast, there was a crossing bridge. But as we reached the shallows on the other side of the mill, it was clear there was no way across.
No way across but in, Ma said, gathering up her skirts. Pull up your gown, Rose. Well be walking through the Goddesss waters tonight. She stuck out her foot, eyeing her sandal. Too bad its not a cobbler were casting a spell for. Well be in need of new footwear after this.
I laughed, taken aback at Mas impetuous humor. This was a side of her I rarely saw. I hitched up my skirts and stepped into the brook. Cold water swirled around my legs and mud seeped into my shoes, but I tramped on beside Ma, the witchs jar tucked into the crook of my arm.
We circled the mill three times, then ducked inside with sodden shoes and wet legs. The cold didnt bother me. It was sort of refreshing on a warm night, and I counted this spell as something of value, certainly worth including in my Book of Shadows.
Inside the mill, the MacGreavys waited in the flickering candlelight.
The spell is done, Ma said. We need to bury the jar, but theres no safe place around here. Rose and I will hide it in the woods where no one will find it.
The miller went over to my mother, clasping her hands. Thank you, Síle.
She nodded. And now I think I need a rag to wipe down my shoes. Seems that Rose and I had to go for a late-night dip in the brook. She pushed off her shoe, and it flopped onto the floor like a dead fish.
Oh, my! Mrs. MacGreavy laughed, rushing off to find some cloths.
The miller brought out chairs and wine for all of us, and he and his wife talked in the quiet, dark room while Ma and I dried our feet. I took a sip of winesweet and heady. Just like Diarmuids kisses. Of course, nearly everything made me think of Diarmuid. It was an effort to concentrate on what was before me instead of the lovely picture floating in my mind of him. And at the moment, the conversation was so gloomy, with the miller complaining of slow business, that I preferred to dream of my love.
At least it was our slow season, Mrs. MacGreavy was saying.
Aye, but if we dont get that broken gear fixed soon, well have no business at all, Miller MacGreavy said. Its all a result of the curse upon us, probably from those vile Burnhydes. He turned to Ma. And I thank you for wiping it away. Our luck will change now, though I cant say that I see better days ahead for the Seven Clans. Its an age-old battle were fighting, and its getting worse instead of better, with curses and sheep thieves and vendors picking on innocent young girls at market. His eyes burned with conviction as he glanced at me, and I bit my lower lip, wondering if everyone in the Highlands had heard of my escapades at the market. If the story was floating around, soon the real detailsof the boy who had saved mewould wend their way to my mother. More trouble for me.
Ian... The millers wife tried to soothe him, but he forged on.
I say its high time we Wodebaynes stopped taking the prejudice against us, he insisted. Time to use magick to fight back.
Closing her eyes, my mother shook her head gently. No, Ian, thats not the answer.
Well, then, how are we going to stop it, Síle? the miller asked. You know the storiesthough there are so many, Ive lost count. A Leapvaughn tricking a Wodebayne farmer out of his land. A Ruanwande casting a spell that makes a Wodebayne girl go mad. Even your own husband, Gowan, was prey to the prejudice, Síle.
My father? I dropped the rag on the floor. So long had I craved to hear stories of my father, Gowan MacEwan, but every time I asked, my request was headed off by a severe look from my mother. Tell me, I begged, turning to the man.
Tis not much of a story, Rose, the miller said, touching his beard. But one day, when your father was on the road traveling to a nearby village, he came across a Wyndonkylle man on a horse. The horseman rode past without incident but then returned to harass your father. He accused your father of looking upon him with evil in his eyes. Then, when he learned that your father was a Wodebayne, he reared up his horse and trampled your father under its hooves.
I winced. Thats a terrible tale. But Da survived it.
Ma nodded. Aye, but he walked with a limp ever after.
As Mr. MacGreavy went on lamenting the clan differences, I thought of my father. He had died when I was young, so I remembered little of him. Id heard a few dark rumorstales that he had been interested in dark magickthough no one spoke of him to me directly. And my mother refused to fill in any of the missing details. Why was she so reluctant to speak of him?
After the conversation and wine ran out, we said our good-byes and headed home. Ma and I were across the river and down the road a bit when she realized we had forgotten the witchs jar.
Make haste and fetch it, she told me. I shall wait here.
Lifting my skirts, I ran back along the road. But as I approached the mill, I saw a solitary candle burning upon the threshold. I slowed my pace as my feet silently crept over the cooling earth. There was magick hereI felt the boundaries of a witchs circle, and I was forced to stop at its perimeters. I used my magesight to study the details. Was that a pentagram drawn in the dirt by the door? But it was upside down! Twas not part of the spell Ma had cast.
As I stood in the shadows, a figure loomed in the open doorwayMiller MacGreavy. He did not sense my presence as he leaned out and poured a dark liquid over the pentagram, all the while uttering words I did not understand. I gasped, realizing that the liquid Ian MacGreavy was using was blood.
The very tone of the scene made me shudder. Twas as if a cold wind had swept up the river, turning everything in its path to ice.
Dark magick. I gasped.
Miller MacGreavy twitched in fear, darting a look toward me. Rose? he asked suspiciously. What are you doing here?
The witchs jar, I croaked in fear. We. we left it behind. He scowled at me, then ducked back inside. A moment later he reappeared with the jar, stepping around the pentagram and drawing a door in his circle to step out toward me.
His eyes glittered in the candlelight as he handed me the jar. Begone with you, Rose MacEwan, he said angrily. And not a word to anyone of what you witnessed here tonight.
Aye, sir, I said breathlessly. Although I feared his magick, I knew it was not cast against me. Still, his warning frightened me. Best to keep it to myself. After all, it appeared he wasnt harming an innocent.
Yet even as I tucked away my memory of Miller MacGreavy, I decided not to let the matter of my father rest. On the way home from the mill that night I waited until my heartbeat slowed to a more relaxed pace, then launched into the subject. I was glad to hear the story of Da, I said, walking slowly under the orange moonlight. We set a place for him every year at the Samhain table, yet you never tell me stories about him. You never speak of him, Ma. Why is that?
My mother took a deep breath, searching for the answer. It always pained me to speak of him. The way his life was snuffed out. the way it ended. It was a terrible thing, Rose. She linked her arm through mine. I supposed I thought that if we didnt talk about it, you might be spared the pain that I felt.
I shook my head. When I think of him, theres no pain, really. Just curiosity.
What do you remember of him?
Thinking of Da, I smiled. His largeness. He was a bear of a man, was he not?
Quite large, Ma agreed.
I remember riding on his shouldersbig, broad shoulders. And his hands. They were so huge, my little hand disappeared inside his. I remember his deep, ringing laugh. And a trip to the coast. Did he take me to the seacoast?
My mother nodded.
Ive heard the rumors of him, I said. That he subscribed to dark magic. Is that true, Ma?
No, she said gently. Ill never believe that. He was a good man; he loved his family, his child, his clan. He was simply misunderstood.
Like me, I thought. Ma didnt understand my powers or my adventurous spirit. She couldnt accept that her path to the Goddess was not the only way.
I wish youd had a chance to know him well, my mother said.
We walked for a few moments, then I asked, What of his death? Did he not die in his sleep?
He did.
Then what of all the rumors? That he was cursedor poisoned by a rival clan?
That is the most difficult part, my mother admitted. His death was suspicious. Sudden and unexplainable. Some say a rival clan cursed him in retaliation; I dont know.
Retaliation for what?
Ma shook her head and her mouth grew tight. I cannot speak of matters that I know nothing of. When she turned to me, tears glimmered in her eyes. And I tell you truly, Rose, I do not know the truth of his death.
She fell silent, but that silence haunted me as we walked on. Aye, Ma might not have understood Das death, but certainly she knew more of the details than I. As usual, she wasnt giving me enough pieces to patch the thing together in my mind.
I thought of Ian MacGreavy, of the way his body had loomed over the bloody pentagram. Had my father dabbled with taibhs, too? I cast my eyes to the distant moon, wondering.
The next day, after hiding the witchs jar in a deserted thicket, I met Diarmuid at our secret place in the woods. On this day we wasted no time with small talk or teasing. He pulled me into his arms and placed his lips on mine. The kiss stole my breath away, and we tumbled onto the green moss and lay there, kissing and holding and stroking each other until the sun ventured below the treetops.
He told me that the magick in his own Esbat circle had paled in comparison to what we had done together.
Aye, I told him, I felt the same way last night. I went over to my small, makeshift altar and smoothed my hands over the surface of the boulder. Looking around, I realized that this was the perfect place for a circleour circle.
I grabbed my broom and with measured steps walked farther than I had before. I would make the circle wider, this time including the moss bed we liked to frolic upon. Was not our love dedicated to the Goddessa result of her blessings?
Diarmuid went to the four corners of the new, bigger circle, where he summoned the Watchtowers once again, drawing a pentagram in the air each time. Watching Diarmuid, I felt my world swelling with newfound knowledge and love. The rose stone between my breasts set my heart aglow, reminding me of my good fortune at having found a true love who was also a blood witch.
The day after that we met again, same time, same place. And the day after that and the day after that. My spring afternoons were lush affairs of lips trailing on skin and countless whispered dreams under the cool cover of spring leaves. Each day we maintained our altar, always thanking the Goddess for bringing us together, for bringing us so much pleasure.
Our destiny is not clear to me yet, I once told Diarmuid. But I know theres a reason weve been brought together.
He dipped his face into the bodice of my gown, nuzzling there seductively. Tis not enough that we were brought together to love?
Love is a gift, indeed, I said, slipping my hands into the top of his shirt to find his gold pentagram. But Im talking about a greater purpose. Bringing the Seven Clans together, perhaps.
He moved up to kiss my neck. Our love is truly beyond all others. He stopped kissing me to look me in the eye. Ive known people who say they are mùirn beatha dàns. They truly believe they are soul mates for life. But I cant imagine that they would understand the way I feel about you.
He smoothed his hand over my bodice, cupping one breast gently. I love you, Rose.
I gasped, feeling myself melt at his fingertips. I had never known a man before, and Diarmuid swore I was his first love, yet he seemed to know so much of a womans bodythe places to stroke, to brush, or to touch ever so lightly. Now he was down at my feet, his hands gliding up under my skirts. His fingers whispered over my knees to my thighs until I was unable to still the trembling inside me.
Well be together forever, he whispered.
Well have no secrets, I vowed.
I shall be your first and only love, he said, moving his hand up between my legs. And you shall be mine.
So mote it be, I whispered, offering our love to the Goddess.
There, in our secret circle in the woods, we met every afternoon. One day as Diarmuid and I lay together on the moss, I realized that we had been together for nearly a full cycle of the moon. The May celebration of Beltane was but a few weeks away, and Diarmuid and I had met just before the full moon of April.
I thought of the two charmed gemstones that had been the seeds of love: the rose stone and Kyras moonstone. Two charms with very different powers.
Oh, Kyra and Falkner were still together and very much in love. But not like Diarmuid and me. Just that morning I had seen Kyra at Sunday mass, and she had been full of giggles and squeals for her boy. Like a child. She knew that I met Diarmuid each day, and she couldnt believe Id allowed him a kiss, let alone other pleasures.
But what do you do with Falkner? I asked.
I bring him biscuits and shortbread every time Ma and I bake, she said. And he stops by the cottage if he has to deliver a newly shod horse nearby. Which isnt often. So sometimes Ma allows me to accompany her to market in Kirkloch and we stop in at the blacksmiths shop.
Oh. I didnt tell her that it all sounded tedious and lackluster to me. If it suited Kyra, that was fine. But hearing about her love for Falkner made me realize the level of maturity Diarmuid and I had reached. We were far beyond blushes and giggles. Our love had ventured into passion, promise.