Page 83 of Circle of Days

“I agree with Ani,” Keff said firmly. “We should be strong and ready to fight, but we shouldn’t boast about it, because that will frighten people away—as well as offending the gods, who feel that they alone have the right to decide who wins and who loses.

Between now and midsummer, tell no one that we’re expecting an attack. ”

Jara said: “People will see the archery practice. It’s too difficult to hide.”

Ani said: “We could say we’ve heard that farmers are planning to steal cattle in the far west of the plain, and just in case the rumors are true we’re preparing to go and get them back by force.”

“Good idea,” said Keff.

Jara said: “It’s not many days now until midsummer. I suggest that every day I report to Keff and Ani on how the preparations are progressing. That way, Scagga, you’ll be able to concentrate on what you’re doing without the distraction of a meeting.”

And the elders could monitor the preparations without having rancorous conversations with Scagga, Ani thought. Clever Jara.

“Very good idea,” Scagga said.

The day before midsummer, Seft and his team came back from Stony Valley. All preparations had been made. The sleds were finished, the ropes stacked, the track ready.

There was food at the stopping places, and people to cook and serve.

When he arrived, Joia told him about the threat from the farmers. He was shocked and alarmed. This changed everything. If war broke out on Midsummer Day, no one would be dragging stones from Stony Valley to the Monument. The whole project was in danger.

He reckoned the farmer community must amount to about four hundred people. Leaving out children and old people, they could probably muster an army of two hundred. That many could do a lot of damage.

The danger had been kept secret. Even Joia could not count the number of people who had arrived in the days leading up to midsummer.

The visitors’ houses were crammed. Many slept in the open air as the weather was fine.

There was a good chance Joia would have the volunteers she needed. But they would not volunteer for a war.

Seft went home and took a nap before supper, tired by the long walk and happy to be in his own home.

He fell into a light doze and dreamed he was fighting Troon.

He knocked Troon to the ground and was about to kill him when he noticed that Troon had the face of Seft’s father, Cog. Terrified, Seft hesitated.

Then he woke up.

Joia was hoping that Dee and her year-old sheep would arrive early. She had been missing Dee for a whole year, and now the time had arrived when they would be reunited. But by midday on the eve of the Rite she had not come.

Joia told herself this was not surprising. A separation of a year could be fatal to a romance. Dee might have met someone else. Or her memory of Joia might have faded.

Even if it was like that for Dee, it could never be that way for Joia.

Dee might have other loves in her future; Joia never would.

For her it was Dee or no one. Her feelings had not changed at all in the past year.

She felt now the way she had when Dee had tenderly kissed her goodbye.

She might spend her life remembering that kiss, and never kiss anyone else.

The sun set. Joia was due in the dining hall for supper. Tonight, on the eve of the most important day in the priestesses’ year, she could not possibly be absent. She made her way there in the gloom of twilight.

She tried to hide her feelings during the meal, and she thought she had succeeded. When the meal was over, they all lay down to sleep.

Joia remained awake. Tomorrow morning she had to lead the sunrise service and then make a speech that would inspire hundreds of people.

She was so dispirited that she felt she could not do either.

She had no energy and no enthusiasm. She would probably fall off the climbing pole before she reached the top.

She stayed awake a long time, drowning in misery, but eventually she did sleep.

She was not the first to wake, which was unusual. Most of the priestesses around her were making bracelets of wildflowers and putting feathers in their hair. They had taken to heart her suggestion that they decorate themselves for public ceremonies.

Sary reported that she and Duna had put the climbing pole in place, up against the giant stone. They had also surveyed the Great Plain all around by starlight, and had seen no sign of a farmer army.

Joia joined in as best she could, faking enthusiasm and laughing when they laughed. She was not sure how well she was masking her feelings, but at least no one asked her what was the matter.

Dawn broke and the sky turned swan white.

The priestesses lined up in pairs. Joia went to the front and summoned up the energy to lead them.

They entered the Monument singing. A huge crowd was there, more like two thousand than one thousand, Joia thought, something that should have thrilled her, but left her cold.

There was only one person she wanted to see.

This will be a disaster if I don’t pull myself together, she thought; but she could not pull herself together.

Scagga was standing on the ridge of the earth circle, looking west. Jara was beside him. They were watching out for the pillar of smoke that would serve as the alarm. Evidently they had so far seen nothing to worry them.

Joia scanned the crowd—and there, near the front, was a mass of fair curls like a tree in autumn, and under the curls a wide mouth and two rows of even teeth.

Dee had come after all. Joia almost left the procession and ran to embrace her, but managed to control herself. Then, amazingly, Dee caught her eye.

And smiled.

Joia smiled back. Melancholy left her like a black crow taking flight, and she was herself again.

She sang louder, stepped more lightly, and smiled at the world.

She was able to concentrate on the dance and song, and effortlessly led the priestesses through the ceremony.

When it ended, and most of the priestesses headed out of the circle, she ran with Sary and Duna to the climbing pole.

She gained an extra burst of energy knowing that Dee was watching.

She ran up the pole a little too hastily, and slipped halfway up.

Sary and Duna held the pole steady. Joia banged her shin but regained her footing.

She went more carefully up the rest of the way and stepped onto the top of the great stone.

As before, she raised her hands in a victory gesture, and as before, the crowd went wild. She turned through a full circle, and saw Dee again, smiling. Joia quieted the crowd, then took a deep breath and spoke with the carrying voice she had learned.

“Tomorrow,” she began, and they cheered again, so that she had to pause and wait. “Tomorrow,” she said again, “will be the greatest day of my life—and the greatest day of your life, if you join me.”

She turned slowly as she spoke, so that everyone could get a look at her face. She also checked that there was no smoke signal.

“At a holy place in the North Hills there are nine stones which were put there by the gods when the world was young. They are for us, so that we can build a stone Monument. They are waiting for you and me to come. This is their destiny—and ours!”

The cheering told her that she did not need to say much more. They were already converted devotees. She did not need to whip up their enthusiasm, arouse their passion, ignite their spirits. They were with her already.

“Tomorrow morning we meet here at dawn. We will set off when the sun rises. We are going to build a Monument that people will marvel at forever. People unborn today, and their unborn children, will look at our stone Monument and ask: ‘Who were the people who conceived this? What brave men and women overcame all obstacles to create this? Who were the giants who made it?’ And the answer will be—us!”

The cheering was so loud she could hardly continue.

“If you want to be one of those giants, join me here tomorrow at dawn. Will you come?”

They shouted yes.

She repeated: “Will you come?”

They yelled louder.

“Will you come?”

They roared their answer, and Joia waved, then climbed down the pole and ran back to the priestesses’ quarters.

She lay down, limp with exhaustion. She wanted to see Dee, but if she went back out there she would be mobbed. Besides, she had no energy left, and in moments she was asleep.

Pia and her family were waiting for the guard to remove the wicker gate to their house and take them, one by one, to the river. After a while Pia shouted: “Guard! Guard! We’re all awake now.”

There was no reply.

She peered through the gaps in the lattice and saw no one.

“I think he’s gone,” she said.

Duff looked out. “No one there,” he said. “I’ll break us out.”

It did not take long. The gate was made of interwoven branches and secured with light withies. After a few kicks it fell over.

They all stepped outside: Pia, Duff, and Yana carrying Olin. The sun was shining. Pia half expected to see the guard on the ground, dead of some sudden seizure, but there was no sprawled corpse. “It must be Midsummer Day,” Pia said. “I think we’re free.”

She looked at the fields. They were overgrown with weeds. The sooner the family went back to work, the better.

First they went to the river to wash. It was a delight to be all together outside. Duff played a game with Olin, disappearing under the water then surfacing in a different place, which made Olin squeal with laughter.

When they got out, Pia looked up and down the river and across the fields, and said: “I don’t see many people.” There was an old woman washing laundry in one direction, and a man watering cows in the other.

Pia recalled Katch’s warning: Don’t let Duff go on the mission . The farmers were on the warpath, she felt sure.

They walked along the bank to the man, who turned out to be Bort. Pia said: “Where is everyone, Bort?”