But now we have peace, she thought. And new beginnings.
"I'm sorry we were too busy at Beltane," Nigel murmured.
"Mabon is a good time for handfasting too. It's a season of fruitfulness, isn't it?" she said, and laid a hand on her stomach for an instant. "I wasn't going to tell you just yet, but I want you to be as happy as I this moment, my darling nervous one."
For a moment his reserve cracked into incredulous joy, and she laughed at the sight; and again at how quickly again a tinge of worry crept in. He would always be concerned for her, and that was like welcoming light burning through a window on a winter's night, when you'd traveled through sleet in darkness.
"My beloved, I'm a mother twice over, remember, and neither birthing gave me the slightest problem, and Judy is the best midwife in all the Willamette country. Have some confidence! Shall we name her Maude?"
His brows went up under the wreath; she reached out and straightened it.
"It: it: " He stuttered for a second, and she basked in the look he gave her. Then he won back to self-mastery, as this man of hers always would. "It, ah, might be a boy."
"No, somehow I don't think so." She looked at him slyly, green eyes glinting from under her fox red brows. "And I'm a witch, you know."
To herself: And there's power in names. All our loves return to us, my poor, strong, stoic darling. We and they are braided together, the dancers and the Dance.
More flowers starred the sides of the pathway, planted by nature or patient hands. Today there was an arch of roses over the place where the pathway gave onto the flat knee that stood out from the mountainside.
Music played as they emerged from the close hush of the forest into the open wind and the vast blue distances of the mountainside clearing; flutes like that wind given form, the sweet eeriness of the uilleann pipes-the great hoarse war-drones were put aside for this-a harp, a rattle of bodhran-drums, and a choir of girl-children singing:
"A Bhennain, a bhuiredain, a bheichdain bhinn
Is bhinn linn in cuicheran do ni tu sin ghlinn"
"Antlered one, belling one, you of the sweet-tongued cry, we love to hear Your song in the glen," Nigel murmured, surprising her for a moment.
The High Priestesses and High Priests waited for them there, robed, crowned with the Moon or masked with the muzzle and stag antlers of Cer-nunnos, with opal and silver and tricolored belts, staffs and wands in their hands; Dennis solid and smiling beside his Sally, Judy and Chuck as familiar as they'd been so many years, Melissa Aylward grave and matronly with a twinkle breaking through now and then and Larry Smith the shepherd doing his game best beside her, Tom Brannigan and Mora all the way from Sutterdown.
Behind them scores of friends waited on the meadow and around the pool, Sam Aylward with his arm in its sling, looking on with pride-and relief, she thought, that he wasn't wearing the stag-mask: even Eric Larsson and his Lu-anne and Will Hutton and Angelica from over in the Bearkiller territories, both given special dispensation by Abbot Dmwoski. They grinned and waved; Juniper answered in kind, and even Nigel did as well. Smiles were well-omened on a day like this.
Children raced around, or stood importantly holding their pieces of the ceremony, her own Rudi among them, and his friend Mathilda standing back looking envious. Adults passed canvas chagals of wine from hand to hand-it was Mabon, wine-harvest, after all, and there was an occasional shout of "lo, lo, lo, evoii!"
She took one and squirted a mouthful in a single stream past her lips, tasting the blood of Earth, wild and strong; then she passed it on and threw her arms around Nigel for a long, lingering kiss, ignoring the whooping and cheers and bawdy good wishes shouted in the background, for those were also luck-bringing.
The great circle of oaks stood ready, rough-barked columns thicker than her body and a hundred feet tall, the tattered late-season lushness of their leaves making an arch around the Circle itself, streaked with old-gold yellow as they caught the setting sun high above. Today they were draped and joined with ropes of garden blossoms and great wreaths at the Quarters as well. The same light glinted on the spring-fed pool beside the nemed and the place water tinkled downward over rocks, glowed on the nodding flowers of the alpine laurel that grew thick around it, deep pink bowls above the low matted leaves.
Juniper gave Nigel's hand a final squeeze. Then she caught her daughter's, and she her anamchara Astrid's, until all the women were linked. The music grew wilder, and they danced out to the spring, the laughing crowd giving way before them and following in their wake as they coiled around the waters with feet skipping on the soft, dense turf amid a chime of silver bells, their unbound hair tossing beneath the flower-wreaths. Juniper lifted her strong soprano in a high wordless note for an instant, and then they sang together as they danced:
"Sister of Waters
Daughter of Light
Dreamweaver, spelldancer
On scented air
Teach me Your magic
That I may this night
Make love like fine music
Both glorious and rare-"
Then solemn quiet fell, as Judy cast the Circle and admitted the celebrants: "I conjure you, O Circle of Power-"
Salt and water and incense smoke and steel, and the crackling of fire in the central hearth of the nemed. The other pairs of High Priest and Priestess stood at the Quarters, and the ritual went forward.
"-as in the Beginning, so it is now. As above, so below. The Two are One."
Juniper took up the torque, and Nigel bowed his head as she spoke and placed it around his neck. "As symbol of my love, I give you this token. I will comfort and honor you in all our days."
He was smiling as he rose and took the torque he'd made for her in his hands; smiling more deeply with his eyes than his lips.
"As a symbol of my love, I give you this token. I will honor and protect you in all our days."
They each took a taper and lit the offered candle, and faced the altar as the High Priestess brought the ribbons from the cauldron. Her face was still graven with sadness, but there was happiness there as well when she met her friend's eyes.
I wish Aoife could be here too, and her Liath, Juniper thought, and knew the thought shared. They were brave and glorious and full of life and love. But they're together in the Summerlands, and we'll see them again, even if we call them by different names.
Judy bound the ribbons about their crossed wrists.
"Ribbon of white, for the Maiden and the Son; new life and beginnings. Ribbon of red, for the Mother- and the Father-of-All; growth and change. Ribbon of black, for the Wise One and the Keeper-of-Laws; death and the silent rest that comes before renewal. Can you walk this path together; bound by the freedom of your choice; to be as one, yet also Two; your love the fire that warms without destroying?"
"I can," Juniper murmured softly, and turned her hand within the loose circle of the ribbons.
Nigel's fingers gripped hers, and his voice was firm as he answered: "I can."
Judy removed the ribbons and placed them on the altar knotted together. Then she lifted the chalice and cried: "By the Lord and the Lady, I call down blessing on these two. As the Lord and Lady join in the Sacred Marriage from which springs all creation, so are they joined. By the power of the Goddess, as Her priestess, I decree it. Blessed be!"