Around her neck she wore a heavy silver lunula.
Joanna knew who she was. Although she had not met her before, they all spoke of her. In whispers, with awe and wonder in their voices.
She was oldest of the old, wisest of the wise. She was the Domina.
She removed Joanna’s cloak, revealing the white robe and the green sash. Joanna heard a sigh like a soft breeze flow through the assembled crowd. The woman indicated the snowdrops and the candle that Joanna carried. She put up her hand and the woman lit the candle from her torch. Then she said, ‘Give the people light.’
Joanna walked slowly around the circle, holding up the candle in its sheltering cone, protecting the flame with her other hand. The others put their candles to hers, lighting them and carefully shielding them, taking them to light a series of small fires all around the circle.
Then the Domina led Joanna back to the centre of the circle. She said, ‘Joanna, you have passed the test and found your way to your people. By so doing you have proved that you belong with us. You have spread the Light. Now the moment has come for your initiation.’
Smoke from the fires filled the stone circle. Joanna caught the sweet-sharp scent of some herbal mix, and knew that the people were using their skill and their wisdom to cleanse the sacred space and enhance the mood. She watched as, slowly at first and then with accelerated speed, the great crowd outside the circle began to move. Round and round they went, always outside the standing stones. Then, at some signal that Joanna did not perceive, they all advanced inside the stones’ encircling ring. As they went — closer to her now and faster, and with a repeated pattern of steps as if they were dancing — she heard the chanting.
Beside her the Domina stood utterly still. There was such power in her that some element of her reached out and compelled Joanna to be equally still. Staring out at the standing stones, it seemed to Joanna that she was the hub of the great wheel that they formed on the hilltop. Then, as if the image developed by itself, without prompting from her, it seemed that the wheel of stones was moving, turning on itself. On she who, with the Domina, stood as its axis.
The purifying smoke, the movement and the endless chanting combined into a great force. Before Joanna’s entranced eyes there appeared to grow out of the circle a faint cone of bright, pure white light, its point shooting straight upwards into the night sky. Aiming for the Moon.
And then at last the Domina broke her stillness and her silence. Moving a pace or two away from Joanna, she stood right in the centre of the circle. Raising her arms, she cried out in a surprisingly powerful voice, the words soaring up into the sky. Joanna did not understand all that she said, but it did not matter; she knew that the Domina was making her invocation to the Goddess. On behalf of the people, she was making the ritual observance of Imbolc.
When she had finished — Joanna had lost track of time and could not have said how long the chanting went on — she lowered her arms and slowly turned to face Joanna. In the firelight, Joanna could see exhaustion in the old face; the Domina at last looked her years. Putting out her hand, the Domina said, ‘Come, Joanna. Come and stand in the centre of the power.’
Joanna did as she was commanded. As she joined the Domina on that central piece of the springy green turf, she felt a forceful jolt enter her body and she was shaken from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. Her face must have expressed her shock, for the Domina, studying her intently, gave a sudden brief smile.
‘Good,’ she murmured, ‘very good.’
Then, opening her arms, she took Joanna in a close embrace and hugged her to her breast. She whispered, for Joanna alone to hear, ‘Welcome, child. Welcome to your heart’s home.’
As they stood there so close together, Joanna felt the bear’s claw on its leather thong pressing into her breast. The Domina must have felt it too, for, breaking the close contact, she reached out for the thong and pulled it and the claw out from where they had lain concealed beneath Joanna’s white robe.
The Domina held the claw out so that the firelight fell on it. She ran her fingers up and down its length and felt the sharp tip. Then her deep, dark eyes met Joanna’s. She said nothing, but Joanna had the strong impression that she was surprised.
Joanna wanted to explain, to say how the man of the forest people had slipped away from the Yule festivities to visit her and remind her that they had not forgotten her in all the revelry. She opened her mouth to speak but the Domina gave a faint shake of her head.
Then she replaced the claw inside Joanna’s gown.
The power was still singing and crackling through the air all around the circle. Now the Domina stepped forward and, once more raising her arms, began to chant again. Joanna, so close to her, felt the strength flow from her as she earthed the power. Then, her voice taking on a different timbre, the Domina, at long last beginning to droop, gave thanks.
And, finally, broke the circle.
Some time during the long night of celebration that followed, a woman whom Joanna did not know sought her out and said that the Domina wished to see her.
Feeling very nervous, Joanna followed where the messenger led. In a clearing in the pine trees, a short distance away from the stone circle and the lively gathering of happy people, a small shelter had been made. Like the dwellings of the camp, it too was constructed of dead wood and bracken. This one, however, was only big enough for one person. Inside, wrapped in luxurious furs before a fire burning in a small stone hearth, sat the Domina.
She seemed to have recovered some of her strength. She had eaten — there was an empty platter at her feet — and she was sipping at some drink in a pewter cup that gave off curls of steam and a wonderful aroma. The Domina’s dark eyes were very bright.
‘Sit, Joanna,’ she ordered, with a wave of her hand. Joanna obeyed. ‘You have done well this night, child,’ the Domina went on. ‘The faith that your teachers have in you is justified.’
‘My teachers?’ She must mean Lora and the others, Joanna thought, since she speaks of them in the present tense. But then that means that she’s forgotten about Mag Hobson, who was my first teacher and, really, the one who-
‘Of course I have not forgotten her.’ The Domina’s voice held faint amusement. ‘She would not let me, even if I would have it so,’ she added in a murmur. Eyes boring into Joanna’s, she said, ‘Mag was one of our great ones, child. Did you not know?’
‘I — she died for me.’ Joanna found that she was fighting back tears.
The Domina regarded her intently. ‘She gave up her earthly body, yes,’ she said. ‘For which act she had a very good reason.’
‘She died because she would not reveal my whereabouts!’ Now the tears were streaming down Joanna’s face. ‘And I miss her, I still miss her so much!’
The Domina waited until the storm of grief eased. Then she said, ‘But, child, she is still with you. Have you not felt her presence?’
Joanna had no idea how to reply. What was she expected to say? Mag still with her? No, that could not be so; Mag was dead.
And yet there were those strange moments in the peace of late evening, after the sun had set, or in the bright early mornings when, alone and thinking of nothing in particular, suddenly Joanna would feel a lift of the heart and begin to sing. One of the old songs that Mag had taught her. And there were the times when, with the other forest people far away, some minor crisis would occur, usually to do with Meggie; it was not easy, Joanna had discovered, to bear sole responsibility for the health and well being of a beloved child. Sometimes, feeling close to despair, she had heard Mag’s wise voice speaking inside her head. Do this, comfort her in this way, make her a drink out of this.