Page 76 of Circle of Days

She heard a rising noise of people reacting to this and commenting to those around them. She caught Seft’s eye: he was open-mouthed in astonishment. She had not forewarned anyone of this.

“Spread the news!” she cried. “Next year we want to see a huge attendance at the Midsummer Rite! Every person in the Great Plain who has a sense of adventure, and many more from farther afield, will come to the Rite. They will attend the ceremony of the sunrise, they will trade, they will feast with us, and the next morning we will all march again to Stony Valley.”

She needed them to commit. “Shall we do this?”

There was a shout of “Yes!”

Joia felt inspiration seize her. “Shall we please the Sun God?”

They shouted louder. “Yes!”

“Shall we go again to Stony Valley?”

Now the volunteers joined in. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Shall we bring back nine stones? Nine stones? ”

Loudest of all: “Yes!”

They continued to cheer as Joia got down from her platform, shaking with emotion.

The applause went on. She had won them over.

She felt woozy with success. She saw Dee in front of her and felt faint.

Her vision blurred and she fell forward.

She knew that she was caught in Dee’s strong arms, and then she passed out.

Joia recovered quickly, and life began to return to normal with a speed that felt a bit disappointing. As noon approached, Dee asked if she could share the midday meal with the priestesses. “I’d like to know more about them,” she said.

“You’re welcome, of course,” Joia said.

They sat on the ground in the dining hall and ate cold meat left over from the volunteers’ breakfast with some of the vegetable leaves that were plentiful in summer. Dee sat next to Bet, a small, round-faced girl who always had a happy smile. Dee said: “What made you become a priestess, Bet?”

“When I was a little girl, I always loved the way they sang and danced at the Rites,” Bet said. “And then when I was older my father died, and my mother got a new partner who didn’t really like me.”

“And now you dance and sing with the priestesses.”

“To be honest, I’m not naturally very graceful.”

The other priestesses protested. “You’re fine,” said one.

“Well, I’ve improved.”

Dee said: “Don’t you get bored, doing the same thing every day?”

“No! It’s hard to remember the songs. We have hundreds of them. Joia knows them all, and so does Sary, but I’m still learning them—and I’ve been here five midsummers.”

Dee turned to Sary. “Do you really know hundreds of songs?”

“Yes, of course,” said Sary, being uncharacteristically curt. “That’s what being a priestess is all about.”

Joia was surprised at her abrupt tone. She wondered whether Dee had done something to offend Sary. She could not think what it might have been.

Dee showed no sign of having noticed. “And you all must feel favored by the Sun God.”

“We hope so,” said Bet.

The flint miner Bax came into the room and said: “Forgive me for interrupting. I came to say goodbye to Dee. I’m heading home.”

Dee stood up. “I’ll walk a little way with you.” She looked at the priestesses. “Thank you all for sharing your meal with me.” She turned to Joia. “I’ll see you this evening.”

They left, and the others broke up to do their afternoon chores.

Outside the hall, Sary confronted Joia. “May I have a few words?”

“Of course.” Now, Joia thought, I’ll find out why she was unfriendly to Dee.

Sary said: “If Dee becomes a priestess, are you going to make her Second High Priestess instead of me?”

Joia was surprised by the question. “Why do you think Dee will become a priestess?”

“Why do you think she came to eat with us?”

Joia was taken aback. “Well, she’s never said anything about becoming a priestess.”

“It’s obvious to everyone else. She’s been sleeping next to you every night.”

“I don’t know what that’s got to do with anything.”

“Don’t you? Why did she say she would see you this evening?”

“Because she’s coming to supper with my mother.”

“Really?”

Joia got fed up with this. “Look, Sary. You’re Second High Priestess and that’s not going to change, no matter who may join us. You’re good at what you do and you’re a very good friend. I’m sorry if I’ve done something to make you think that’s going to change, because it’s not.”

“All right.”

“You do believe me, don’t you?”

“I suppose so.”

“Will you give me a hug, then?”

Sary stepped forward and they hugged.

Joia went to Ani’s house. She had not yet had a chance to talk properly to her mother. She found Ani cleaning the inside of a sheep’s skin, using a wood scraper so as not to tear the hide. Joia sat beside her, enjoying resting in the summer sun.

While Ani worked, Joia told her the whole story of the mission. Remembering everything that had happened, she was quite shocked at all they had done. They had dealt with one problem at a time, but now that she related them one after another they made a formidable list.

“You were clever,” Ani commented.

“Seft was the clever one, really, thinking up ways to do things that have never been thought of before. I just tried to make sure the volunteers kept their spirits up.”

“Which might have been the most important thing of all.”

Joia lay on her back. It was a pleasure to be still and not have to go anywhere or heave on a rope. She closed her eyes. “I don’t think it was the most important thing of all,” she said. “But it was important.”

Ani said something that Joia did not hear well, but it did not matter. She was luxuriously weary and the sun was a warm blanket. In a few moments she was asleep.

Ani woke her, shaking her shoulder. “You slept all afternoon!” she said.

“Did I?” Joia was momentarily confused. She looked at the sky and saw that it was evening. “Why did I sleep so long?”

“Because you’re tired. Dee is here.”

Joia turned her head and saw Dee smiling down at her. “You were sleeping like a baby,” Dee said.

Joia sat up, afraid that there was something she had failed to do; then she remembered that the mission was over, and she had no obligations, not today anyway. She could relax.

Ani had put away the sheepskin and was stirring a pot at the edge of a fire. Joia smelled sorrel and mutton. She felt happy. The three of them would eat and talk as long as they wanted to. She could not think of anything nicer.

Ani got bowls and spoons and served meat and small white carrots in a stew. When they had eaten their fill, she said to Dee: “I guess you became a shepherd because your parents were shepherds.”

Dee nodded. “Both my mother and father died when I was quite young. I’d seen only twelve midsummers when I was left to look after my little brother.”

Joia had not known this. “That must have been hard!” she said.

“Well, I knew how to look after sheep, which was the important thing.”

Ani said: “Did neighbors help you?”

“A little, but shepherds aren’t very neighborly. They live far apart, and anyway they tend to be independent types. But my grandfather helped me. He’s a shepherd, Joia has met him.”

“And now?”

“I live with my brother and his woman, and we take care of the sheep together.”

“What’s his woman like?”

Ani often questioned people this way, but they never seemed to mind. She had a way of doing it that disarmed them. She never judged them. And they were flattered that she was so interested in them.

Dee said: “I get on all right with her, though I sometimes feel the two of them could manage the flock without me. All those years it was my responsibility to keep my brother alive—but now he doesn’t need me.”

“Do they have children?”

“A baby girl.”

Something else Joia had not known.

There was more that she wanted to know, but Dee asked Ani about her life, and Ani told her of the deaths of Olin and Han, and talked about what it was like to be an elder. The evening passed quickly and darkness fell. The three women lay down to sleep in the house.

Joia thought over the conversation and concluded that Dee was restless. She was feeling superfluous in her own home. Perhaps she was looking for a new life.

Or was that just wishful thinking?

Dee was returning home in the morning. Joia had the feeling that in the last five triumphant days she had somehow missed an important opportunity.

For breakfast they ate the cold leftover stew, then Joia said: “I’ll walk with you to the river.”

They passed through the village, which was waking up to the morning light. Joia had a hundred things to say but did not know how to say any of them. They walked to the start of the long path that led to Upriver and beyond. There they stopped to say goodbye.

Feeling desperate, Joia said: “You don’t always come to our Rites.”

“My brother used to bring the hoggets to trade on Midsummer Day, but now he wants to stay home with the baby.”

“So will you come again next midsummer?”

Dee said: “Do you want me to?”

“Oh, yes, I want you to,” Joia said fervently.

Dee smiled. “Then I’ll come back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Dee kissed Joia’s lips gently and tenderly, and the kiss lasted longer than Joia expected. She could have held it forever, but Dee broke the embrace. “Goodbye, dear Joia,” she said.

“Until next year.” It sounded like forever.

Dee turned and walked away, and Joia watched her until she turned around a bend and was out of sight.