I could hear my mother laughing with friends as we left the circle. Within minutes we were a distance away, and I was saying good-bye to Kyra.
“Be careful!” she whispered before Falkner pulled her away with the others.
I just smiled as I walked quickly through the dark night.
Diarmuid’s dark figure was unmistakable. Standing naked under the maypole tree, he was silhouetted by the small fire he had lit in the north quarter of the circle. Now my eyes feasted on what my hands had explored, his rounded muscles, long limbs, smooth skin. He was a god. The red and white ribbons fluttered in the air over his head; the same wind feathered the hair from his noble forehead. The night was dark, the new moon having just passed, but Diarmuid’s skin seemed to glow from across the clearing as I paused.
The space between us seemed alive with warmth. Around us the forest sang, its crickets and toads and swaying trees a symphony so clear and sweet, even a deaf man could hear its answer.
I loosened the girdle at my waist, then dropped my own gown to the ground so that I was wearing only a shift. The rustle of cloth made him turn my way, and he smiled. I ran across the clearing, and Diarmuid caught me in his arms against his warm body. We were meant to be together, to participate in this rite tonight. I noticed that he had already lit the candles, so I swept the circle while he called upon the four Watchtowers, drawing pentagrams in the air. Then we went to the maypole and each took a ribbon.
“’Tis a time for joy and a time for sharing,” I said as I started to walk around the tree. “The richness of the soil accepts the seeds. For now is the time that seed should be spilled.” I knew the words to most Greater Sabbats by heart, but today this particular ritual seemed so fitting! “Let us celebrate the planting of abundance,” I went on. “The turning of the Wheel, the season of the Goddess. Let us say farewell to the darkness and greet the light.”
“The Wheel turns,” Diarmuid said. He walked behind me, wrapping his ribbon over mine.
“Without ceasing, the Wheel turns.”
“And turns again,” he said as our ribbons twined as inexorably as our love.
When the tree was wrapped with a lovely weave of red and white, we went to the altar, where the crown of early red roses and daisies lay. Diarmuid lifted off my shift, then picked up the crown and held it over my head.
“The Goddess has brought us through the darkness to the light,” he said. He lowered the crown to my head, and I felt the heady fragrance of the roses surround me. “Now our Goddess is among us,” Diarmuid whispered, his eyes sparkling. “Speak, Lady.”
“I am the one who turns the Wheel,” I said evenly. I felt the pulse of the Goddess within me, steady and strong, hungry and ravenous. My body was ready to take on his seed, my spirit prepared to mingle with his. “When you thirst,” I said, “let my tears fall upon you as gentle rain. When you tire, pause to rest upon the earth that is my breast. Know that love is the spark of life, the fire within you. Love is the beginning and the end of all things.”
I opened my arms to Diarmuid, the light of the fire dancing over my naked body. “And I am love,” I whispered.
The next morning I left my bed at dawn to bathe in the spring. Most days I simply wash with a rag, but today I went to the deep part of the brook for a more thorough cleansing.
On the grassy bank I glanced around to make sure no one else was afoot. A peahen rushed through the bushes, but otherwise the woods were quiet. Quickly I slipped out of my robe and stepped into the brook. The water was cold, barely two lunar cycles away from the last winter snow, but I ventured all the way in, submerging myself to my neck, just below where my hair was knotted.
A cleansing.
And an offering.
I touched my belly, wondering at the tiny babe inside me. I had a new life to offer up to the Goddess—Diarmuid’s baby. Already I knew it to be true, but my secret would grow safe within my belly for a few months. There would be enough time to work on our two clans, time to help them accept Diarmuid and me as man and wife.
Waving my arms through the water, I smiled. My whole body felt aglow with the promise of motherhood. This child would tie us together in a physical way. I knew our baby was another part of the Goddess’s plan, which was slowly being revealed to us. I was eager to tell Diarmuid, but for now I would keep my secret as a delightful surprise to be enjoyed after our love was sanctioned by the clans.
Feeling cleansed and refreshed, I arose from the waters and climbed onto the muddy bank. Quickly I pulled on my robe and stepped into my sandals.
But what was that noise?
I peered out of the bushes, searching the path. There was no one in sight, though I felt a strong sense of another’s presence.
Had someone been watching me?
8. Esbat Rites, Mid-July
“When the moon is full and the sky is dark,
We meet within our circle.
Now hear the singing of the lark
And dance in the circle, move in the circle.
Do what thou wilt if it harms none,
As the Goddess wills it, may it be done.”
A covener sang as we stood in the coven circle, surrounding the High Priestess Síle. Falkner played a pipe, and Kyra joined in the music by beating on a small drum. I think she and Falkner had devised the ruse of practicing their music in order to spend time together—as if their parents weren’t wise to their swelling emotions. Kyra had mentioned something of it, but I had been so wrapped up in attempting to see Diarmuid that I’d lost track of the details.
The music ended, and Síle called two coveners—Kyra’s parents—to come forward for the cake and wine ceremony. Side by side, Lyndon and Paige stepped before the altar, where Ma handed Paige a goblet of wine.
Paige lifted the goblet with both hands and held it between her breasts. Facing her, Lyndon took his athame and held the handle between his two palms, the blade pointing down.
Slowly he dipped his blade into the wine, saying: “In like fashion may male join female for the happiness of both.”
“Let the fruits of union promote life,” Paige responded. “Let all be fruitful and let prosperity spread throughout the land.”
Lyndon raised his athame, and his wife held the goblet to his lips so that he could drink. When he finished, he held the goblet for her affectionately.
Watching them, I felt a stirring inside me. Could it be my child waking lazily? My belly had not begun to grow yet, but I had noticed a heaviness in my breasts. Diarmuid had noticed, too, and had teased me that I was coming into womanhood. I still had not told him, and he did not yet realize that my body was preparing to nurse a child. Glancing around the circle, my eyes fixed upon Kyra, whose face was alight tonight, probably warmed by her love for Falkner. A few times I had almost slipped and told her about my baby. I wanted her to know in the worst way but didn’t think it fair for her to find out before Diarmuid.
As the wine was passed, I thought of all the couples blessed by the Goddess: Kyra and Falkner, Lyndon and Paige, Diarmuid and me. We had been together for over three months now, seeing each other nearly every day despite the obstacles. Last month we had celebrated the summer solstice by coming together in our circle, surrounded by red feathers for passion. I was more in love with him now than ever, still happy to guard our secret love, our secret child, but I had to admit, I wanted more. Watching a ceremony like tonight’s, I realized that change must come. If we were to raise our child together, in a strong coven, it was time to reveal our love to our clans.
After the wine and cakes were passed around, the talk turned to spells to be cast and tales of witch hangings. One covener reported that a Wyndonkylle woman from a village to the south had been pulled from her home and charged with human sacrifice. She was still in prison—if the frightened guards had restrained themselves from burning her without trial.