Two Kinds Of Truth(48)

“Shall we do our circle together?” I ask Jamie.

“Aye, why not? That way anyone watching will think you’re the crazy person.”

“What? You really think people don’t know you’re loony?”

“Nah, they’ll just think I’m yir support worker.”

I let out a chuckle. “But you are my support worker…of sorts.”

“Then I guess you’d better get on with it before someone feels sorry for me and lets me escape.”

I narrow my eyes. “It’s a good job I’m not a witch or I’d put an evil spell on you right now.”

“Who say’s ye havenae done so already,” Jamie mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.

I give him a sharp dig in the ribs.

“Is everyone ready with their salt?” calls out the shaman, and I grab the carton from out of the carrier bag.

“Excellent. Now draw a circle along the ground and make sure it’s big enough for you to be able to walk around without bumping into the other people in the group.”

I let the salt spill onto the earth.

The shaman watches me and nods. “That’s it, and once complete, I’d like you to place the tealights onto the circle, creating compass points of north, south, east, and west.”

I pass the paper bag to Jamie and allow him to do the honours.

The healer claps her hands. “That’s wonderful. I’ll come to each one of you in turn with a lighted candle, so we can light the incense. Once it’s lit, please push it firmly into the ground.”

We follow the shaman’s instructions until we’re all ready for the actual casting of the circle.

“Let’s all read the words off the card,” says our host.

“May the guardians of this element guide and guard me as I welcome and honour their presence and power,” we all say together.

The shaman shows the couple beside us the next steps and Jamie follows suit, offering me the bottle of water. I open it and then walk around the circle, flicking droplets into the air. I then tear open the plastic bag and sprinkle the dirt along the ground.

“That’s it,” says the shaman. “Now, face one another and close your eyes. Use this moment to heal yourself with the river of forgiveness. Let go of any negativity and heartbreak which may cause you harm.”

I take several deep breaths as I close my eyes and prepare to relax my mind, then I feel Jamie’s fingers brush against mine. I reach out to hold his hand, and when our fingers entwine, I feel a connection between us as the wind blows softly against my skin. I open my eyes and lift my chin to stare directly into his eyes, at which his mouth twitches and his grip tightens. A shiver creeps down my spine.

“You’re shaking, Sassenach,” he whispers, and I nod, unable to let him go.

“And now we must close the circle,” says the healer. I turn towards her, a little confused. It’s as though, for just a second, Jamie and I were the only two people on the entire planet, but we break away from one another and go on to complete the ritual.

In the background, the musicians play on, their music wild and eerie, and before long, we say goodbye to the shaman and thank her for sharing her experiences with us.

As dusk falls, a bonfire is lit the darkening sky becomes ablaze with orange and gold flames. Close by, the memorial stone shines like a glowing beacon as the light from those same flames flicker along its surface.

Jamie murmurs in my ear, “Let’s make our way down to the water. It’s almost time for the new moon ritual to begin.”

I follow him and spot Rhona and Gordon sitting on the grass, just a few feet away from the stone. We’re lucky to have found them, for the entire brae is filled with all walks of life. We hurry over and join them.

Another druid walks by with a watering horn and I hold up my hand and give him a wave, and he comes and sits beside me. I take a long drink of sweet wine. It slides, smooth like honey, down my throat. When I take another, in seconds I feel lightheaded and giddy again.

I hear music, panpipes, and they’re accompanied by a single drum, a Bodhran. It’s a haunting melody which catches my attention. I close my eyes and lose myself in its rhythm, until the music stops abruptly, and I snap my eyes open.

The priestess appears from behind the stone, a thrum of excitement rippling through the crowd as she moves towards a makeshift altar. She’s wearing a light orange robe, a loose-fitting hood hiding her face, and in her hands she carries a silver bowl and a lighted candle, both of which she places onto the altar, side by side. Alongside her are five beautiful handmaidens, all in floating dresses and with flowers in their hair, each holding a flickering flame in one hand and something small, concealed, in the other. The beat of the drum begins again, and when it stops, the handmaidens blow out their flames and drop to the ground.

Although the priestess takes off her hood, I can only see the back of her head, but it all looks rather theatrical, her hair as black as night and coiled, like silken thread, on top of her head. Somehow, though, I sense she must be beautiful.

Jamie nudges me and I turn to look at him. He presses something that feels brittle into the palm of my hand, and when I unfurl my fingers, there’s a bay leaf resting there. I smile; I really thought Rhona might have been kidding me.

“Make yir wish,” Jamie whispers, and I glance over at Rhona who offers me a pen. I write my deepest desire in tiny letters on the surface of the leaf and close my hand, so no one else can catch sight of what I’ve written. There’s an odd sensation in the pit of my stomach, like a hundred butterflies flapping their wings, at which I let out a breath and clutch the bay leaf closer to my chest.