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Best to gather them up now, before they get overtired and cranky, she thought. Besides, there's grown-up business to attend to.
She shivered at the thought, then managed to push it away for the moment. Chuck and Judy caught the eye of Daniel and Sanjay and Mary; they herded the preteens together and brought them over to the little hillock where the musicians had sat.
None of the children were shy around her anymore; certainly not Chuck and Judy's Mary, who had brass enough for three and a real feeling for music.
"Can we sing the hymn now?" she said eagerly. "Dad said we could."
She's calling Chuck Dad so natural now, Juniper thought behind her smile. Now, is that a sad thing, or happy, or both at once? At that, she and Daniel didn't have much of a father or mother before the Change, as far as I can tell. Why bother to have children at all if you don't want to spend time with them?
"That you can," she said aloud. "But first, since Mabon's the Wine Harvest, you should all have a wee glass-it's a special occasion, to be sure."
The children were eager; chances were they wouldn't actually like it much-dry red Pinot Noir was an acquired taste-but it was a chance to play grown-up. Small cups clutched in small hands, they filed past the big wickerwork, vine-woven figure behind her dressed in their Mabon best with ribbons of red, orange, russet, maroon and gold, each pouring a libation for the Green Man and the tree before drinking down the rest themselves.
Which will make them sleepier, she thought. And it's a cu
Mary cleared her throat impatiently and Juniper gave them the note, the fiddle singing long and pure. Judy tapped her bohdran. They'd all practiced hard, and everyone came in on the beat, although there were a few wobbles to be corrected with desperate speed:
"Autumn colors of red and gold
As I close my eyes tonight
Such a wonder to behold
I feel the Goddess hold me tight
Watch leaves turning one by one
Though it grows dark, I shall not fear
Captured bits of Autumn Sun
For Divine Love protects all here
Soon they'll fall and blow away
Through the night, until the morn
The golden treasures of today
When the shining Sun's reborn
When the trees are bare
Time to sleep, time to dream
And the ground grows cold
Till warm gold rays upon me stream
These warm memories
I'll still hold… "
The adults behind broke into a chorus of claps and cheers as they finished; dogs ran about; it was another twenty minutes before the children were all through the gatehouse and abed, or led off to the tents that housed the visitors and the clansfolk from the outlying duns. While that was going on Juniper headed for the tables and loaded a plate, resisting temptation and making herself take some potato salad despite how sick she'd gotten of the spud in general.
"Which isn't surprising, considering how often we all meet Mr. Spud when it isn't a festival day," she muttered to herself. "Mashed, boiled, roasted… "
At least there was plenty in the way of fresh greens and tomatoes, which her mouth still craved, and Diana had managed to make plenty of wine vinegar. Most of it had gone into pickling and preserving, but there was enough for dressing, another taste everyone had sorely missed. Everyone with inclinations to cooking had contributed something; De
The bread was excellent, though less of a novelty now that a two-pound loaf was the basis of everyone's daily diet; but for today there was cheese-bread as well, and some with caramelized onions in the crust, and varieties done with honey and nuts…
A good old-fashioned Wiccan potluck… but blessed be, no tofu!
It would have been a valuable source of protein, but fortunately the soybean didn't grow around here. She'd always loathed the bland custard-like dish, no matter what people claimed they could do with seasoning. Eating seasoned tofu was like licking a rubber snail dipped into garlic butter and calling it escargot.
And hard it was to escape tofu, at our gatherings before the Change;you'd think it was sacred.
Full of virtue, she added a single slice of ham and one of roast venison. Another month and they'd be slaughtering more-getting the necessary salt for laying down salt pork was proving difficult-but for now pig meat was short, and they always had to be careful with the deer for fear of hunting out the vicinity. Being cautious with the gifts of the Goddess was more than a principle now, it was necessary.
The second set of fiddlers came on with "Bully of the Bayou"; they were from Sweet Home, refugeed out a month ago when that town broke up in internal fighting. When she got back to the oak tree and the table beside it, she found Sheriff Laughton waiting, along with several of the other guests-ranchers from across the Cascades. They'd come over the mountains in a body, with armed guards from their… Well, I suppose you could call it their retainers, she thought. Anyway, their cowboys and all those people from the towns they've taken in.
All the bigger ranches on the eastern slopes were like hamlets themselves now, she'd heard, or at least the ones that didn't absolutely need power-driven pumps to survive.
And the ranchers like little lords on their properties, getting used to having their own way, she thought. It'll be a good long while before we know all the things the Change has brought on us.
They were influential men, most in their thirties and forties-the half-year since the Change had not been kind to the elderly anywhere, even in favored areas like theirs.
Mostly lean-looking as if they'd always been lean-and weathered; and not a few were looking distinctly nervous at the tall bushy figure of the Green Man beneath the tree, and the Horns of Plenty and ribbons hung from the branches.
They were all impressed by the feast, though, and by the tall log walls of Dun Juniper, and by the exhibition of massed archery the clan had put on earlier that afternoon.
Everyone can shoot in the general direction of the enemy, and then we have a few like Aylward and Chuck who do marksmanship, and they think all of us can shoot like that. Would that it were so!
"Ah, Lady Juniper, I didn't want to intrude on your, well:-" Laughton began.
Being polite, she thought. Actually, he's frightened.
"Don't worry," she said soothingly; Laughton was still a little uncertain about what being a member of the clan meant. "This isn't a religious ceremony, not really. We've already had that."
Searching for a comparison: "It's just like, oh, having a turkey di
De
Any High Priestess was automatically, if your coven split off more than a couple of daughters, which hers had- several times over. That didn't mean all that much, besides prestige and people asking for your advice; the Craft didn't have popes or ayatollahs or anything resembling them. And of course, you got to put some doodads on your garter…
Or at least it didn't mean much before the Change, she thought uneasily.