The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [43]
Then she touched the water in the bowl with the tip of the dagger, murmuring something; next she did the same to the salt. After this she transferred three tips of salt on the dagger point into the bowl of water and stirred, still murmuring softly.
Next she took the bowl of water and performed sprinklings, three times each, in four places round the imaginary circle, which Adela realized must be the four points of the compass. She took a tiny glowing shard from the fire, whispered something and snuffed it out, watching wisps of smoke drift upwards. Then once again she went round the four points, making curious signs at each.
‘Do you always move round the same way, from north to east to south?’ Adela ventured to ask.
‘Yes,’ came the reply. ‘If you go the other way we call it moving widdershins. Don’t talk.’
Now, a third time, she was going to the compass points around the circle, holding the dagger, and at each one she made a curious casting in the air. At the first Adela thought it was a random sign, but she realized that the second was identical. At the third she understood: the witch was drawing a pentagram, the five-pointed star whose structural lines have no break or ending, in the air. And though the fourth casting took place behind her head, she had no doubt it was the same. Finally the witch made a pentagram at the centre of the circle. ‘Air, Fire, Water, Earth,’ she said quietly. ‘The circle is made.’
Picking up the wand, she went round once more, repeating the pentagrams. Then, satisfied, she stood in the centre of the circle, not looking at Adela but apparently at the points on the circle’s edge, speaking softly to each before at last sitting down on the stool and quietly waiting, like a householder expecting visitors.
Adela, too, sat quietly waiting – she was not sure for how long. Not long, she thought.
At first, when Puckle’s wife had told her to imagine herself a tree, she had experienced a vague downward pressure on her body. After a little, to her surprise, she found she could not only imagine herself in this transformed state, she could actually feel the roots extending out of the soles of her feet and then from her spine, seeking their way down into the dark earth. She could feel the earth, as though she had acquired several new sets of hands and fingers: it was cool and damp, musty but nourishing. This downward sense continued. If she wanted to move, she realized, the roots would hold her down, keeping her in this single place. At first this seemed a little irksome. I’m not a free animal any more, she thought, I’m a tree, I’m trapped, a prisoner of the earth.
But gradually she began to get used to it. Although her body might be rooted in the earth, her mind seemed to have gained a new freedom. It was a peaceful, pleasant feeling. She felt as if she were floating.
Some time passed. She was aware of the shadowy room, the gentle glow of the fire, the witch’s quietness. But then one or two strange things happened. The grey cat began to grow. It roughly doubled its size and then started to change into a pig. Adela thought this rather funny and laughed. Then the pig floated out of the window, which seemed sensible enough, since a pig obviously belonged outside.
A little later she realized something else. It had grown dark outside, but she could see the sky and the stars through the cabin roof. This was remarkable. The branches, the twigs and moss were still there, but she found she could see straight through them. Better yet, it seemed that she herself, being a tree, was growing up through the roof now, opening out her canopy of leaves to the night.
And now she was flying. It was so simple. She was flying in the night sky under the crescent moon. Her clothes were no longer on her, nor did she want them. She could feel the cool air with a hint of dew on her skin. She was high over the Forest and the stars in the sky were clustering round her, tapping on her skin like diamonds. For a short, wonderful time she flew around over the woodlands, which rippled gently like