across the nave of the cathedral. It seemed strange to the people that the priests should have chosen to use this ancient symbol, since it was not of their own new religion but had come down out of the secretive, dark past. The people understood its power and its potential, although the elders doubted that the priests did. That was to their advantage, though; the labyrinth being one of their own symbols, it would be relatively easy to put their power into it. It was as if the priests had unwittingly given them a little door through which to pass, and the people fully intended to use it.
Joanna had no idea yet what role she would play in the ceremony. Whatever it was, she vowed she would ignore her fatigue and a persistent, nagging backache and throw her whole self into it. Since she had arrived in the secret encampment at the beginning of May she had done everything demanded of her, from taking her turn at the domestic chores, such as food preparation and clearing-up, to sitting in the meditative state for hours on end as she strove to join her consciousness and her power with that of her companions. Uniquely for Joanna among the specially selected of her people, there were extra complications. She had Meggie with her, and the demands of a six-year-old child did not always blend harmoniously with the sacred duty of a power figure of the people.
When Joanna received notification in the middle of April that she was to return to Chartres, she did what she had done twice before and sent word to Josse, asking him to come to the forest to collect Meggie and care for her while she was away. On the previous two occasions, Josse had arrived swiftly, willing and eager to accept his charge. This time, Joanna had sent her message via Thomas the tinker; two days later, it had not been Josse but Thomas who had turned up at the meeting place on the edge of the forest. Sir Josse was not at home, he told Joanna; what was more, the young couple who now lived with him at New Winnowlands said he had gone to France and they did not know when he would be back.
Joanna had managed to hide her reaction while Thomas was with her but, as soon as he and his squeaky handcart had trundled off down the track, she had collapsed on the fresh green grass and wondered what on earth she was going to do. Initially she had been furious with Josse — How dare he go off like that without telling me! I need him and he’s not here! — but she had come to her senses and realized that since she frequently went away without informing Josse, it was not unreasonable for him to do the same. Besides, he’d have come to tell me if he’d had time, she thought, I know he would.
She realized that she had not seen him since the previous autumn equinox, when he had joined in with her people’s great ceremony and afterwards stayed for several days with her and Meggie in the forest hut. The fact that she had not found the time for him since then made her feel guilty.
However, the fact remained that he had gone to France for some unknown purpose — perhaps to do with the old king’s death or the new king’s succession? — and he was not there to take care of Meggie. Over the next couple of days, Joanna thought up various alternatives. Ask the nuns at Hawkenlye to look after Meggie? Ask some of the many forest people who would not be making the journey to Chartres? Ask the pair at New Winnowlands — unlike Thomas the tinker, Joanna knew them to be the Abbess Helewise’s son and his wife — if they will care for her? But there seemed to be a good reason why she could not adopt any of these ideas. In the end, she dismissed all the possibilities and went for the obvious solution: she would take Meggie with her. Here they were, then, she and her lively, laughing daughter, in their own neat and tidy quarters within the hidden encampment.
Tonight, Joanna would have to ask one of the other women to watch over Meggie, for she had been commanded to attend a meeting of the elders. They were going to explain to her about the labyrinth and how they intended to use it. Joanna was excited, resolved to do her very best and, she had to admit, decidedly nervous. The afternoon and evening crawled by and her agitation increased; she seemed to feel watchful eyes on her and sometimes they had an intensity that made her skin crawl.
At last night came. The sounds of the day gradually faded, and in the distance the lights of the town went out. In the encampment, those not attending the meeting settled in their beds. The woman who was looking after Meggie brought her bedroll and made herself comfortable in Joanna’s usual place. Meggie, already fast asleep, did not stir.
The woman must have noticed Joanna staring down at her daughter. ‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered, briefly touching Joanna’s hand. ‘No harm will come to her. Not here.’
Joanna nodded, forced a smile and then slipped out of the shelter and into the darkness. Someone was waiting for her; a cloaked figure moved out of the deeper shadows and said softly, ‘You are Beith?’
It was the name that her people had bestowed on her. ‘Yes.’
‘I am called Ruis. Come with me.’
She fell into step beside him and they set off at a swift pace out of the encampment. To Joanna’s surprise, they did not go away from the city, as she had expected, but towards it. It seemed illogical to hold a secret meeting within the town but, as Ruis led her up a track that widened into a street and emerged between houses on Chartres’s central square, she realized that this was what they were doing.
With a quick look to right and left, Ruis took her hand and they ran quickly from the shadow of the houses across to the walls of the new cathedral, already soaring high above their heads. This meeting of the elders of her people to which she had been summoned was to be held within the cathedral.
Ruis picked up her astonishment. He smiled, leaned down and said softly in her ear, ‘They may possess it in the day but this place is ours too and by night we reclaim it.’
Yes, she thought as they slipped through a gap in the wall between the huge foundations of two buttresses. Yes, that is, after all, our right.
She and Ruis had to hide in the shadows while a pair of night watchmen paused on their rounds for a leisurely gossip. Then, when the men had gone, Ruis grabbed her wrist and raced across the bare floor, ducked through a doorway and led the way down a low, narrow spiral staircase whose treads were slippery with moisture. He was careful with her, making sure she did not miss her footing. They emerged into a dimly lit open space and, gazing around, Joanna saw that it was a vast crypt. She sensed rather than saw how far it stretched, for the single lantern only lit its immediate vicinity. It had been placed on the floor in front of a massive wall and it illuminated what appeared to be a well.
Ruis led her forward and said, ‘This is our sacred place. The water wells up from deep in the earth, where the wouivre glides through the ground and brings the power and the blessing of the Great Mother up to her children.’
Wouivre. Joanna knew she had heard the word before… Yes. Her venerable teacher in Brittany had explained about the strange currents that snaked and wove their way deep within the earth, some of them harmful, some beneficial. Some, such as those that came to the surface at the holy places, were so strong and brought such open-handed munificence that even the uninitiated could sense them. She had been to many of her people’s sanctuaries and she thought she had experienced the full range of the Mother’s powers; standing there in the dark crypt, she realized how complacent she had been. She had never felt anything like this.
She closed her eyes, surrendered herself and let the force surround her. After a time — she had no idea how long — she became aware of quiet humming. Was it chanting? Were her people responding to the power, honouring it by singing its praises? Or did the unearthly sound emanate from the earth itself? She did not know. It did not really matter.
Presently she felt a touch on her arm. Opening her eyes, she saw that a slim, grey-clad figure stood beside her. Bowing low, not in the least surprised to see the Domina here so far from home — if, indeed, the Great Wealden Forest was her home — she greeted the revered elder.
The Domina, now holding Joanna’s arm, led her away from the well. Instantly she sensed a diminution in the power that had thrummed around her; it was a relief and yet, oddly, as soon as it faded she missed it. The Domina was walking purposefully down the crypt into a far, dark corner. There, as Joanna’s eyes adjusted, she made out a group of figures standing in a circle. Two of them parted to make room, and the Domina and Joanna took their places.
The man who then began to speak was tall and broad-shouldered. Joanna had the impression that he was quite young for a Great One of the people, but his face was shadowed by his deep hood and she could not see whether her impression was accurate. His voice was low-pitched and he spoke softly; sometimes it sounded more like the wind in the trees than a human voice. Perhaps he wasn’t human. Joanna arrested the fanciful thought. Of course he was human!
She made herself concentrate on what the man was saying. He was describing the labyrinth and, although some of what he said was familiar, he also spoke of matters so far beyond her knowledge or experience that she could only gape. He spoke of an island deep down in the purple southern sea where, hidden in a maze, a king
