Page 67 of Circle of Days

Next year, in the days preceding the Midsummer Rite, Joia anxiously watched the early arrivals.

She and Seft had agreed that the least number of volunteers needed to move the stone was two hundred.

She had taken time teaching Seft the priestesses’ way of counting, and he had grasped it quickly.

“No less,” he had said. “I wouldn’t mind a few more.

” The old and the very young were not included, of course, only fit and strong adults.

As the visitors arrived, in ones and twos and families, Seft and Joia worried whether attendance would be high enough.

Seft had built the track, a remarkable achievement. Most of it consisted of branches and earth, but the steepest climbs had a surface of embedded logs that would make the work of the volunteers less difficult and faster.

Chack and Melly had organized the feeding of two hundred people for four days.

The drought was over, and in addition the herders had called on their reserves.

At Stony Valley, and at scheduled stops between there and the Monument, there were sheep and cattle to be slaughtered and roasted and baskets of vegetables and early wild fruit.

Members of the Chack-and-Melly clan would head off at the end of the Rite, to get ahead of the volunteers.

Joia planned to speak to the crowd immediately after the sunrise ceremony, but she and the volunteers would depart the following morning.

Seft had worried about this. “I wonder whether you should set off right after the ceremony, when you’ve got them all worked up.

During the rest of the day and overnight they could go off the boil. ”

Joia shook her head. “I don’t want to ask them to give anything up. They’ll want to trade. Then they’ll be looking forward to the feast and the poets and the revel. The next day will be different. Then they’ll welcome an excuse to extend the festivities. That’s what I’m hoping, anyhow.”

Seft nodded. “We’re not sure of anything at this point, are we?”

That was the truth.

She sent the priestesses out to mingle with the visitors and tell them there would be a big announcement tomorrow after the ceremony. “Don’t say what it is. Say you don’t know, but be excited.” She wanted everyone to be curious and expectant.

On the day before the ceremony, people began to arrive in big numbers, and Joia was somewhat reassured. The effect of the rival farmer feast had worn off, and everyone wanted to know what was going on at the Monument. They had come, and now it was up to her to win their support.

Her mother was thrilled by the high attendance. “They’re inquisitive,” she said. “They know something big is about to happen and they can’t wait to find out what it is.”

Joia agreed. People on the Great Plain traveled more than they needed to because they wanted to know what others were saying and doing.

Toward sundown Joia ran into the farmer Duff. He looked well, she thought. His curly hair was longer, which suited him. Farmer women still could not attend Rites, so Joia asked Duff about Pia and their baby. “They’re wonderful,” he said.

Joia was glad that Duff was enthusiastic about his stepson.

“Let me ask you something,” Duff said. “Why is Troon telling us farmers not to let you lead us on a wild goose chase?”

Joia was immediately concerned. “What has he been saying?”

“Something about a giant stone. He’s been talking to Scagga.”

So Scagga was trying to discourage volunteers even before they had been asked. Shrewd of him. “I’m going to make an announcement tomorrow morning,” Joia said. “You’ll know everything then.”

Duff grinned. “I can hardly wait.”

Joia wondered how much effect Scagga’s insinuations would have. Not much, she began to think. Troon was a famous killjoy. Young farmers such as Duff might even be attracted to something because the tyrant banned it.

She left Duff and returned to the priestesses’ quarters.

Previous High Priestesses had occupied a house, sometimes with a lover.

Joia had never had a lover and she preferred to bed down in a communal building with her sister priestesses around her.

She found it reassuring to hear them breathing and shifting as she drifted off.

“I didn’t become a priestess to be alone,” she sometimes said.

The night was warm and most of them slept naked.

Joia lay down next to Sary, her Second High Priestess, and they discussed the number of visitors.

There were fewer than in the glory days, but many more than at the last Spring Rite.

Everything would depend on how they reacted to Joia’s rallying cry.

“There’s nothing more I can do until tomorrow,” she said, and soon after that she was asleep.

She woke before dawn, as always. She put on her ankle-length leather tunic, then made sure everyone else was awake. She went to the dining hall, drank some water, and ate a slice of cold mutton.

Looking into the Monument circle, she saw visitors gathering for the ceremony in the moonlight.

There were many people standing on the earth bank for a better view.

The circle was not packed full, as it had been in the past, but she estimated there were six hundred people.

If one in three volunteered she would have enough.

She knew what she was going to say to them, but not the exact words. She had practiced the speech often, but it came out slightly different every time. If she tried to say it exactly the same, she found herself hesitating and speaking mechanically. She had to be natural, even though it felt risky.

Joia picked up a heavy pottery disc that was part of the ritual. It had a lightning zigzag marked on its face. Then she lined up the priestesses in pairs, ready to begin. She and Sary were side by side at the front. Sary was smart and well-liked, and might well end up as High Priestess one day.

The singing and dancing needed to be perfect today. Joia wanted to impress people before asking them to do something unprecedented. We’ve rehearsed enough, she thought; it should be stunning.

A narrow smear of grey appeared at the eastern end of the black sky. The crowd in the Monument went quiet. Joia began the chant and moved forward. Glancing behind, she saw the priestesses all moving together and in time. A good start.

They entered the circle and Joia carefully placed the pottery disc in front of the first of the upright posts to her left, indicating that today was the first day of the first week of the new year.

Tomorrow another disc would be put on top of the first. The priestesses had twelve altogether, each with a different symbol carved into its face, and when they were all used up it was time to move to the next upright and a new week.

At the end of the final week, in almost a year’s time, the Rite would move to the central oval, and five different discs would be placed, one per day, in front of the paired uprights.

There were three hundred and sixty-five days in a year, and this number was the core of the priestesses’ knowledge.

Joia had known that for so long that she found it difficult to imagine how ordinary people could not even count that high.

She also knew that every fourth year had an extra day, and there was a special ceremony for that.

Having placed the disc, Joia led the group in a dance around the entire timber circle, singing a song that counted the posts, as the dawn light spread across the sky.

Finally the priestesses knelt on the ground, still in pairs, facing east. They sang as they watched the eastern sky turn slowly from grey to pale yellow to red.

Then a bright gold orb inched up over the edge of the world.

For those spectators in exactly the right position, it was seen to appear exactly between two uprights, as if in a doorway.

The priestesses sang louder, coming to a climax and stopping precisely when the low edge of the orb broke free of the earth.

After a moment of dramatic silence, the crowd roared their delight that the Sun God had once more kept the promise.

Now Joia had to move quickly. She ran across the middle of the timber circle, followed by Sary.

When they reached the posts at the halfway mark, at the point farthest from the entrance, Sary cupped her hands, Joia stepped on them, and Sary heaved her up far enough to scramble onto the wooden crossbar, where she stood up.

This had never happened before, and people stared in surprise. Some of the crowd had started to leave, but they turned back to see what was going on. And Joia began to speak.

“Herders—farmers—miners—visitors—I have news for you.” She had learned to speak in a carrying voice, louder and deeper than her normal tone, and they all seemed to hear her. “I have found…” She paused for effect. “…the biggest stone in the world.”

Their expressions said: Is this true? It’s interesting, true or false.

“And tomorrow I am going on a walk. And I want you to come with me.”

To her dismay, a few people looked away and moved on. She was in danger of losing them, she saw. That last part had been uninspiring.

She tried again. “We will all go together on a holy journey—to see that giant stone!”

That was better. A murmur of interest arose.

“It is one day’s walk from here, in the North Hills, and I will leave tomorrow. And if you are fit and strong you must come with me. Because we are not going merely to look at the stone. Do you know what we’re going to do? With the biggest stone in the world? We’re going to bring it here!”

There was a buzz of conversation. Now they were really interested. She felt a thrill at her power to hold their attention.

“We are going on a sacred mission to please the Sun God. We will tie ropes around the biggest stone in the world. And we will bring it home to the Monument!”

She felt they were getting excited.