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 Diarmuid’s side. “Sage for protection against those who would harm us.” I sprinkled the flaked herb over Diarmuid’s head, then over my own. “Sage for the wisdom to fulfill the Goddess’s 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 Diarmuid’s 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? I’ve never been struck like that before.”
“I don’t know.” Diarmuid pulled me closer into the cradle of his chest. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“Just. feeling in a haze.” I brushed a lock of dark hair out of my eyes. I was stunned at the Goddess’s sudden attack. Had I displeased Her? “I’m so confused. Why did that happen to me?”
“I’ve 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 I’m 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 mother’s 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. She’s always checking my Book of Spells and trying to pry into my rituals. Truly, she has no confidence in me.”
“Well, on that she’s mistaken.” Diarmuid slid a hand around my waist, nearly knocking the air from me. “I’m sure you’re destined to lead your own coven—or 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.”
“I’ll 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 Witch’s 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 don’t believe you’ve ever done a witch’s jar before, have you?”
I shook my head. “No, but I’ve 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 you’ve 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.
“Something’s changed, like shifting winds.” She glanced up at me, her dark eyes locking on me. “Why do I have the feeling you’re 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 I’m better now. Still frightened, though. Why would the Goddess strike me down?”