Ritual Reality
25 Fifth Circle
Sunday, 22 June 1969, near dawn
When Wayne awoke seconds later, Judith already cradled him against her breasts, her hand stroking his hair. A bird chirped somewhere in the distance, the only sound breaking the silence, and Wayne’s first clue that the night was far advanced and dawn would soon break.
He looked up, searching for Judith’s eyes, but found that they were focused on a spot beyond him. He followed her gaze to the broken cauldron and the fountain of steam that was still rising from it. It rose only some six feet above the altar stone and was not dissipating. Wayne craned his head around to find Rebecca also staring at the cauldron’s remnants. She was in the care of the other priestess. He scrambled to sit upright next to Judith, finding that he needed her support. That last effort drained him.
“Oops,” he whispered, looking at the broken kettle.
“Shh,” whispered Judith. The entire circle stared at the relic and Wayne focused on the shifting steam rising from the cauldron. There in its midst, he saw a shape solidifying as if it could will the molecules of escaping steam into a form. And then he recognized her.
“Chameleon!” He struggled to his feet and lurched toward her.
“Unbound. You did it,” she answered. She hugged Wayne to her, supporting his weight.
“Wait! How do you know her?” Judith demanded.
“It’s the… uh… doughnut lady.”
“It’s me,” Lissa said simply. “It gets harder to surprise you blokes every time.”
“Theatre person?” Wayne asked Judith.
“The best.”
The entire circle broke into applause and laughter and a dozen people moved to hug her in welcome. Rebecca joined Wayne and Judith.
“Is there something I should be doing about this?” she whispered to Judith.
“No. She belongs here,” Judith answered. “Though how she got in through the wards, I don’t know.”
“They all fell apart when The Unbound cracked the pot,” Lissa said.
“Damn, it’s good to see you, sister,” Judith said hugging the newcomer. “But you have a lot of explaining to do. You were training him?”
“Someone had to. You and The Hart were bollixing things up royally.”
“That means you taught him… You bitch! With my boyfriend!”
“Uh… Swordmaster,” Rebecca whispered. “Maybe we should hear the story first. Not that I’m one to speak…”
“Sister, it was for the circle. I’m going to assume this was, too.”
“It was, love,” said Lissa. “You can’t imagine how hard it’s been to be so close to the two of you and not be able to reveal myself. I was tracking what The Barber was doing and trying to protect the three of you as best I could.”
“Protect us?”
“Have The Unbound tell you about the tornado on Oester,” Lissa laughed. “I taught him every defense I knew and then he kept coming up with things I’d never taught him. I’d like to know who else was teaching. I thought it was you two!”
“Only when we realized he was being taught,” Judith said.
“Uh… He’s right here, you know. He might even have one or two answers,” Wayne said.
“Sorry, babycakes. I didn’t mean to be condescending,” Judith said.
“Have you all been naked all night? It’s freezing up here,” Lissa said. She reached behind the stone for her robe and pulled it on. The rest of the coveners took that as their sign to do the same. Wayne pulled his shoulder bag open and got his own black robe out of it.
“Now that I’ve got most of my memory at my command, the three of you and my uncle all assumed way too much. And assume makes an ass out of u and me.”
“Your uncle?” Rebecca asked.
“I know the wards are down, but I think we should have them before I talk further,” Wayne said. He gestured and the gathered celebrants were wreathed in light as the dome took shape.
“Whoa!” Lissa said. “Who taught you that one?”
“If any of you had let me have all my wits about me, this might have been easier,” Wayne began. “As it was, The Swordmaster gave me a gift of pentacles and swore me to secrecy with a blood oath. When I was puzzling this out while visiting my uncle at New Year’s, he thought that meant she was training me. He had things to give me—pass on to me—and couldn’t wait, so initiated me and gave me the knife that everyone’s been so crazy to get. My uncle is a solitary called The Bound, initiated by the Vagabond Priest you all once knew as The Firebrand. Others of us found his name in certain rare manuscripts.” He looked at Rebecca and Judith, knowing that they understood this was Benjamin Wilton.
“So, your uncle, The Bound, was training you?” Rebecca asked.
“Indirectly. He gave me the Athamé and his Book of Shadows. I’ve been learning from it.”
“From what I’ve seen, The Bound’s Book of Shadows should be entered in the records as a grimoire,” Lissa said.
“I thought it was The Swordmaster who was training you,” Rebecca said. “So, when I realized you were a toolmaker, I thought I’d help with some of the lore. I didn’t attempt to train you beyond that.”
“And I thought it was either you or The Swordmaster, so I was just going to supplement with the secrets of Ops,” Lissa said. “I’d figured out it wasn’t the tool-making that killed great-grandmother, but the scrying.”
“Mari was your great-grandmother?” Wayne asked.
“Well, there’s a couple more greats in there,” Lissa answered. “But like you inherited your uncle’s Book of Shadows, I inherited Mari’s.”
“That brings us to tonight,” Judith said. “For such a bunch of fuck-ups, we seemed to have come out okay. Are you all right, sweetie?” Wayne hugged Judith to him.
“Yeah. I still need to get used to all this, though. I’ve only been getting it together since earlier this evening. Chameleon managed to get through most of the barriers you two set. Losing the pentacles was disorienting. Then The Bound appeared on the spirit level and released the last geas. He told me I had taken an oath to protect my brothers and sisters in the craft. And I’d sworn to Chameleon to protect The Huntress. I came up over the hill and saw that priest fellow with a knife at Re…The Hart’s throat and went crazy.”
“You did the right thing. Slaying the demon was unbelievable.”
“It was like the knife took control and told me what to do.”
“But… if I may interrupt,” the other priestess said, moving closer to the four, “the circle is gathered to know the substance of The High Priestess’s vision. Can you tell us what happened? We participated in the visions that were occurring in the cauldron and frankly were all passed out by the time The Unbound broke the spell.”
“And the kettle,” Wayne muttered.
“You’re a toolmaker. You can make another,” Judith giggled. Wayne groaned.
“The visions were coming too fast for me to separate,” Rebecca began. “I was being overwhelmed until one image solidified.”
“Your daughter,” Counselor said.
“Yes. But I don’t know what it means other than she apparently is the one to release my husband.”
“That is undoubtedly a part of her mission, but our lore holds another answer as well,” the old priestess said. She walked over to the broken cauldron. Wayne stepped behind Judith and made himself as small as possible.
“What other answer, Priestess?” Rebecca asked.
“The great cauldron Ops is broken,” the Priestess intoned. “It requires that the circle dedicate another to take its place. Alas, that is where this evening began and is not where any of us wish for it to end. But the absence of a tool is not unknown to us. Over the centuries tools have been lost, hidden, and broken. Each time, a toolmaker has come into our midst. And each time a new tool has been forged. But these tools have not always had a physical manifestation as knife, wand, cup, and pentacles, or even cauldron. That is why there are four circles that make up the Great Cobhan Carles Castlerigg. In the absence of the tool, the lesser circle can be dedicated as the embodiment of that spirit, just as Threlkeld has functioned as the Athamé for these past fourteen years. The same is true of the cauldron. But we have no circle dedicated to Ops. It is my opinion that there must be a new circle with your daughter as its center, as the vision showed us.”
“No!” Rebecca gasped. “She’s too young.”
“Agreed, but things take time. Has she apprenticed yet?”
“I have raised her in the ways of the circle.”
“This is as it should be. It is time to take that a step further. A representative from each of the lesser circles should surround her and take her into their care and training.” Judith immediately stepped forward and raised her hand, Lissa just a step behind her. Two other women from the other circles also stepped forward. “That was easy,” the Priestess said. “But there is one more thing. A toolmaker.” She looked directly at Wayne. “Vagabond. Can we commit this circle into your care to forge it into a tool of the coven? This has ever been the role of a vagabond in our midst—one who is not a part of any circle.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Wayne responded. “How can I help?”
“I think you will figure it out,” Rebecca laughed. “You seem to have figured everything else out this evening. But…” Rebecca came up close to Wayne and whispered into his ear. “Wayne. Can I trust you with my daughter? She is only fourteen. Please…” Rebecca was silenced when Wayne dropped to his knees and placed one hand under his foot and the other on his head.
“All between these hands I commit to the Goddess. I, Promethean known as The Unbound, do of my own free will most solemnly swear to protect, help, and defend my sisters and brothers of the Art. I take this vow as Vagabond Priest and as champion of the High Priestess… and her daughter. So mote it be.”
“So mote it be,” echoed the circle.
The four volunteers knelt before Rebecca as well and placed a hand on Wayne.
“High Priestess,” Judith spoke for them. “You we know as The Hart and The Huntress. We of the fifth circle, known henceforth as the Circle of Castlerigg, accept the task of training your daughter, protecting her from all ill, and in league with your champion will forge the cauldron Ops of our own bodies, souls, and spirits. So mote it be.”
“So mote it be.” And with that, the ritual was over. Wayne dismissed his wards and the coveners went about gathering their tools, their clothes, and whatever other items they brought within the circle. The fire was doused and covered with soil and sod. The small stones were moved to the outskirts and into places next to the standing stones. In half an hour, the moor was pristine. Everyone was dressed in their street clothes again and Wayne threw his cape over his shoulders as he put an arm around Judith. Rebecca put an arm around him from the other side, careful to avoid his walking stick with her own.
“What happened to Chameleon?” he asked casually. “I didn’t see her leave.”
“That’s the fun thing about Chameleon,” Judith said. “You never know exactly where she is or when she will show up.”
“Oh, come on,” he said exasperatedly.
“Well, you tell me. She’s a star. She likes to be cloaked in illusion.”
“I’ll say,” Wayne chuckled.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He looked up the hill. He was sure she was there, just at the crest watching them leave in the dawn’s half-light. He smiled as words came to him from some remembered passage.
If we shadows have offended.
Think but this and all is mended.
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
He yawned. For all he knew, he could be asleep now. He walked toward town with Judith and Rebecca.
Monday, 23 June 1969
The troupe boarded the bus for London. They would see a show at Stratford-upon-Avon by the Royal Shakespeare Company, then in London they would see at least two more shows. All day Sunday, he and Judith had stayed in his room—naked. Between lovemaking and running out to get food, they talked about what they wanted to do and see in London.
“London Bridge,” Wayne said. “I just have to walk across and look up at those towers.”
“Okay. Well, two problems with that. First, London Bridge doesn’t have towers. That’s, appropriately enough, Tower Bridge by the Tower of London. Second, London Bridge was not falling down, it was sinking into the Thames. The City sold it to some Yank who is moving it out in the desert in America someplace. Right now, there is no London Bridge.”
“How can you deflate my hopes and dreams so cavalierly?”
“So far, babycakes, I haven’t seen anything deflate since we came to bed.”
Wayne boarded the bus and passed Dr. Allen seated in the front making notes in a small book. She looked up and smiled. Wayne was about to speak when she winked at him. He lost the words.
While he was stopped in the aisle, Glenn ran into him from behind. Wayne turned around and pushed him playfully backwards.
“Who’s there?” he demanded. Glenn charged forward, rushing the smaller man down the aisle where he slid swiftly and silently into a seat beside Judith. Glenn jumped into the seat in front of them knees first. He turned Gail’s head back to see Wayne.
“Would you look at this?” he said. “I think the boy has gone Republican on us.”
“My God, Wayne! What did you do to your hair and beard?” Gail asked.
“I always figured I’d try shaving after the show was over,” he answered lamely. The bus lurched and began moving out of town by a circuitous route.
“You’ve got such a babyface!” Gail laughed.
“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Judith responded. “I like it this way. It’s sort of naked and it doesn’t scratch when he gets it between… Oops.”
“Oh, I get it,” Glenn said. “You two finally found yourselves a hideaway, didn’t you? Come on, old man, you can tell me. Where have you been for the last two days?”
“In bed.”
“Whose?”
“In my room, you numbskull,” Wayne said.
“I’ll vouch for that,” Judith said, adding fuel to the fire. “He was in bed the whole time.”
“Oh! Hothothothot!” Gail said, hauling Glenn down next to her.
“And I think it’s a good idea to keep that arrangement,” Judith whispered.
“You’re incorrigible,” Wayne said as he kissed her.
“I hope that means sexy and available,” she said.
The bus driver announced various sites and they settled back to watch the scenery. Wayne nodded off a little, but each time he closed his eyes, visions of the past two days swam into his conscious. Had he really made love to Rebecca? And Lissa? And Judith? All in the same waking period? It just seemed too fantastic to be true. Like picking up a kettle of boiling water right out of the fire. He glanced down at his arms. He had to have imagined some of it. Just not all of it. He was sure.
A smile still played on Rebecca’s lips as Wayne was rushed down the aisle by his friend. She would have to talk to him about what had happened Saturday night. But there was time for that. It was too bad he and Judith were students and she was faculty. Then again… well there was always Lughnasad.
“Wayne!” He jerked his attention back to Judith who was waving a hand in front of his face. “Hey! Where you at?” She followed his line of sight to where Rebecca was sitting. “I see. Come back to this plane for a while, would you?” She planted a sound kiss on his lips. “Look. You’ve got to pay attention up here. Now watch.”
The bus rounded a curve in the road and Judith pointed at a stone cottage just below the roadway at the north end of Thirlmere Lake. It was a little cottage that looked like it was right out of a storybook.
“What is it?” he asked. She gave him a playful shove away from her.
“It’s my home,” she said. “I told you I had a cottage out here.”
“You left that to come to Indiana? How could you?”
“It wasn’t easy.” He watched out the window until the cottage disappeared behind them.
“Wow.”
“Like it?”
“Love it.”
“Play your cards right and you could get an invitation to visit.”
“When?”
“Oh, I don’t know. When does this tour end?” she asked.
“You mean…?”
“It wouldn’t be hard to get your ticket changed. You want to stay till after August first, don’t you?”
“August first? You mean…?” he pointed his thumb vaguely back over his shoulder toward the stone circle.
“Lughnasad. The commissioning of the new circle,” she said. He thought for a moment and cocked his head to one side.
“Classes don’t start until after Labor Day.”
“Then you don’t have to hurry, do you.” She kissed him again.
“Think you can keep me occupied that long?”
She grinned as wickedly as he could ever have fantasized. This was going to be one hell of a trip to England.
“Well, if all else fails, we could take a walking tour north, over to the Isle of Man and up into Scotland,” she said.
“Walk to Scotland?” he asked. “Can that be done?”
“It’s been done before,” she said. “And you already have a walking stick.” His arms slid around her and they didn’t hear anything else until they reached Stratford-upon-Avon.
Wednesday, 19 August 1818—Mrs. Dilke’s Diary
John Keats arrived here last night as brown and as shabby as you can imagine; scarcely any shoes left, his jacket all torn at the back, a fur cap, a great plaid, his knapsack, and a thick stick in his hand. I cannot tell what he looked like—such a vagabond!
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