Chapter 24: Cauldron Dance

Sunday, 22 June 1969, very early in the morning

The cheers died and the priestesses gathered beside Rebecca and Wayne.

“We should take care of our criminal priest,” Judith said to Rebecca. “His presence in the circle is disharmonizing at best.” Rebecca turned her attention back to The Barber behind the altar stone where he was still held.

“And what shall we do with him?” she asked as he was brought forward.

“Geld him and send him ball-less into the night like Saturn sent Uranus and was himself deposed,” said the Priestess of Braithwaite. The Barber held his silence.

“Since he finds such solace in silence, let him keep it,” Rebecca said. “Hear me, Doctor McBride. You have bent yourself in pursuit of power over the cildru of Carles. You have exhibited that drive in attempting rape in the midst of the circle to forge a bond that was not rightfully yours. You brought an evil presence into our circle. Nothing is less in keeping with the tenets of our fellowship. As reward for your lust for power, I strip you of your priesthood, your crown, your sacred tools, and your name. Henceforth you shall be called ‘Silence’ for the power your voice shall have.” Rebecca raised her red staff as she faced him. “In the presence of the goddess, the cildru, and the Four Faces of Carles, I lay this geas upon you.”

“So mote it be!” affirmed the gathering. And so, the tools and ceremonial robe of the priest along with the string that held his measure were gathered and cast on the fire at the center of the circle. The Barber, now Silence, was led by his guards to the Northern Gate and was expelled from the circle. Judith closed the gate behind him with the ritual sword.

“Oh, goddess, I’m glad that’s over,” Rebecca sighed as she leaned against the older priestess. “We can get on with it now. Whatever it is.”

“There is still a small matter to be taken care of,” the priestess said. “There is a stranger in our circle. An uninitiate. Dare we proceed with even the most minor ritual with him here?”

“I will vouch for him, Counselor,” Rebecca answered.

“But will he prove himself?” the priestess asked. They looked over where Wayne had retreated to the altar stone as the former priest was expelled. His staff lay on the South. On the East, he had placed the former prop knife he had made. On the West was a coffee cup heavily inscribed with runes. He held a leather thong in his hand. Judith went to him.

“I think you need this,” she said, lifting the pentacles she had given him at Christmas from around her neck. He looked at her and smiled, relief on his face.

“Thank you, Swordmaster. It must have been very difficult for you without this for the past few months.”

“Yes. But it’s yours now. I told you. Forever.”

“Then you must take this,” he said lifting the leather thong to place it around her neck. Judith looked at the medallion and gasped.

“Oh, my Goddess. Do you realize what this is? How can you just give this to me?”

“I made it for you. Is it okay?”

“Okay? You overwhelm me, love.” She fell into his embrace and they held each other.

“Swordmaster,” Rebecca said softly. “You must give him formal challenge.” Judith separated herself from Wayne and looked into his eyes.

“Hang in there, lover. I think you know what comes next.” Wayne stood and moved to the opening between the stones from which he initially entered the circle. Rebecca stood beside him and Judith picked up the ritual sword. For the first time, Wayne looked at it and smiled. It was the sword he had crafted for her and given her at Christmas. He was ready for this.

Judith raised the sword and pressed it against Wayne’s chest. He knew how sharp this sword was; he’d whetted the edges himself. Judith was all business and Wayne realized he could still become a sacrifice. But he trusted them. In spite of their ups and downs, he trusted both Rebecca and Judith. He remembered his own recent, or distant past. He was not sacrifice, but Vagabond.

“Who stands before the gate of the dread Mighty Ones?” Judith demanded. The response came to Wayne as if he had rehearsed for this like any other play. It had been written in his uncle’s Book of Shadows.

“A child of earth.”

“Do you have the courage to make the assay? For know that it is better that you should fall on my sword here and perish than to assay the gates with fear in your heart.” He thought it was vaguely ludicrous to ask him if he had the courage to do it. What worse could happen than he had already been through? He looked aside at Rebecca and spoke his response directly to her, rather than to Judith.

“I enter the circle of your friendship with perfect love and perfect trust.”

“Who speaks for you?” Judith asked next. Rebecca stepped forward to pronounce her sponsorship before the Goddess, but Wayne raised a hand and held her back.

“There need none speak for me,” he said softly. There was a gasp among the coveners gathered behind Judith. “I claim sanctuary in this circle as Vagabond in your midst, a priest after the order of Merlin. I come as a messenger of the Goddess.”

There was a palpable silence in the circle. Judith looked questioningly at Rebecca but she was equally as surprised. It was Counselor, the Priestess of Braithwaite, who stepped forward to lay a gentle hand on Judith’s and point the sword away from Wayne’s chest and into the ground.

“It is written in the earliest of our records that the Vagabond is a priest without heritage. Thus it was when The Vagabond Poet came to us and others over the years. Truly, as he has brought to us the Athamé Creüs, he may be said to be the messenger of the Goddess. Your heritage, therefore, must stand unquestioned. But tell me, young Vagabond. By what name should we know you?”

“I am Promethean, The Unbound, heir of Prometheus, The Bound, a Vagabond Priest and Toolmaker.”

The old priestess stepped up to him and kissed him.

“Welcome to Carles Castlerigg.”

Judith, too, took him in her arms and kissed him. Perhaps it was less passionate than he had known her to kiss before, but at the same time, it was warmer and touched him more deeply. A third priestess, to whom he had not been introduced, kissed him in greeting. Then Rebecca was in his arms. He recognized her touch and the taste of her lips, before his eyes had opened to look into hers.

“Come then, Vagabond Priest. Meet the cildru of Cobhan Carles.” Suddenly the circle was moving, passing him from one to another, spinning him around and kissing him. They chanted, they yelled and they screamed. He was caught up in the dancing and celebration. At last the celebrants collapsed around the fire and Wayne lay between Rebecca and Judith.

Judith heaved a deep breath which raised her breasts delightfully in front of Wayne. He felt himself responding to her. She stood and faced the coveners.

“The Hart, The Huntress of Carles, was selected as High Priestess at Litha last year. She was challenged. She has fulfilled all aspects of this challenge, even beyond what the challenger intended. She has gathered into our circle the Four Faces of Carles from the places they were concealed. Therefore, as Swordmaster and as Priestess of Threlkeld, I declare the challenge fully met and declare that Threlkeld recognizes Sadb, The Hart, The Huntress as High Priestess.” The older priestess stood then.

“Braithwaite acknowledges that The Hart has succeeded in her challenge and by all rights of the Great Circle, Braithwaite recognizes Sadb, The Hart, The Huntress of Carles, as High Priestess.” She looked pointedly at the third priestess. The mousy woman stood.

“High Lodore acknowledges the fulfillment of the challenge and recognizes Sadb, The Hart, The Huntress as High Priestess,” she said. “But please. I ask of my circle to begin selection of a new priestess, for I have failed in keeping our former High Priest in check. As priestess of High Lodore, I must fulfill my duties, but as a wife and mother, I must excuse myself and follow my husband. There may yet be salvation.”

With that, she dropped her tools, her robe, and her measure into the fire with her husband’s and moved to the Northern Gate. Judith rose and opened the gate with her sword.

“Merry meet and merry part and merry meet again,” the circle intoned. The priestess stepped through the gate and Judith sealed it as the woman walked away from the circle. Everyone was silent. Finally, Judith faced the remaining members of the circle.

“Who speaks for Skiddaw?” she asked. A man about Rebecca’s age stood.

“Skiddaw accepted Sadb, The Hart, The Huntress as both priestess and High Priestess when it was announced last year. We have not wavered in our acceptance. We further ask that the High Priestess accept the Fourth Face of Carles, the pentacles Enceladus, as a sacred trust from her brothers and sisters and that she hold it on behalf of our circle for the Great Circle of Carles.”

Rebecca bowed to the man and the members of his circle voiced in unison, “So mote it be.”

“By consent of the lesser circles, we accept and affirm The Hart as High Priestess of Cobhan Carles,” Judith declared.

“So mote it be,” shouted all those gathered.

“It remains,” said the Priestess of Braithwaite, “for our new High Priestess to gaze into the Cauldron Ops. However, we are without a High Priest and need a champion for this ritual.” She looked pointedly at Wayne. Before he spoke, he turned to Judith.

“Um ... this is a little outside of what I’ve been taught. What am I supposed to do?”

“Unbound...” she began and then dropped her voice to a whisper. “Wayne, do you love me?” There was so much yearning in her voice that Wayne nearly broke down in tears to hear it. Because he knew that in the circle they only used ritual names, he dropped his voice to a whisper as well.

“Judith, when I look at you I know that all I want for my future is in your arms. When I saw that priestess leave the circle because the asshole was her husband, all I could think was that if it was you who had been expelled, I’d do the same thing. It wouldn’t make a difference to me what you had done or why. I would want ... I would need to be by your side. I love you, babe, and if you walked from here right now, I’d be right beside you.”

“I don’t plan to share you,” she said. “Not unless it’s really good for me, too. But our High Priestess needs a champion. I want you to be with her.”

“With her?”

“In any way that is needed,” Judith clarified. Wayne hemmed.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Help her. Raise the power she needs to descry the cauldron. Support her. Protect her. Once the scrying ritual begins, no one else in the circle will be able to do more than feed it power.”

“But if I’m supposed to ... you know ... have sex? How can I do that to you? How can I do that in front of all these people?”

“Darling, don’t you love her?” Wayne stopped his response short. Did he love Rebecca Allen, the professor who nearly flunked him? Perhaps not. But the woman who saved his life? The woman he sat beside when she was injured? The woman who shared her tools with him? Yes. He loved her. He nodded.

“Do what is necessary,” Judith whispered. “And you’d better be damned sure she enjoys it!” she laughed. Wayne turned red and then faced Rebecca.

“High Priestess.” He bowed. “As Vagabond Priest after the order of Merlin and Melchizedek, I am sworn to protect, help, and defend my brothers and sisters in the Art. As Promethean, The Unbound, I offer myself as your champion, yours to command in this ritual.”

Rebecca rushed to him, but instead of embracing Wayne, she embraced Judith.

“Thank you. Thank you.”

“Hey. There’s nothing saying you can’t enjoy this,” Judith smiled. She caught Wayne in her arm and pulled him into the hug. “We might have to explore this further one day,” she whispered. Both Wayne and Rebecca looked at her sharply and then began to laugh.

“In my dreams,” Wayne said. “In my dreams.”

Rebecca and Wayne placed their tools around the fire, joining the Four Faces of Carles. With three sets of tools arranged, they moved to the East and Wayne picked up Creüs, the Athamé that had been in his care for six months. Rebecca joined him and he raised the knife in his right hand. She placed her left hand over his and both felt the tingle of power and sexual energy that coursed through them. Rebecca invoked the powers of the East as the circle of dancers moved around them.

Holding the blade was like holding the tail of a cyclone. They made a full circuit of the fire, following the dance, and Wayne could feel the wind picking up as they passed each quadrant. The wind whipped through their hair and against their naked bodies. It tore around the circle in the wake of the dancers building into a towering cone of power around them. From each direction, the wind blew as it would in its season, but the four winds met at the tip of Creüs and mounted up from there to a point high above them. It seemed only slightly out of place to Wayne that the winds of all four corners of the earth should blow at the same time on the same point where they focused the energy of the knife.