Phil Rickman - A Crown of Lights

Jane said, ‘Sometimes you just make me sick, you know that?’

Merrily put down her toast. ‘Jane, any other time I might be mildly affronted to think a bunch of loonies had put out a fatwa on me on the Internet, but right now... hold on, turn it up.’

Jane angrily turned up the radio far too loud. A woman said, ‘... remote Welsh border village of Old Hindwell, where the local rector has declared holy war on a community of witches occupying a one-time parish church. In Old Hindwell is our reporter, Tim Francis. Tim, what’s happening there?’

‘Well, not too much at the moment, Melissa, but I suspect this is merely the calm before the storm, because tonight is when the witches are proposing to actually reconsecrate this former Christian church to their own gods. Tonight is, in fact, the pagan festival known as Imbolc – I think I pronounced that right – which is apparently the first really important witches’ sabbath of the year .’

‘Gosh, that sounds rather sinister.’

‘Well, apparently it commemorates the start of the Celtic spring, which is not terribly sinister... However... what is seen by the rector, Nick Ellis, as a provocative gesture is the witches’ intention to celebrate that festival tonight inside the former St Michael’s Church, which in effect will make it into a pagan temple again.’

‘And are they going to dance in the nude, Tim?’

‘God,’ said Jane, ‘this woman is so sad.’

‘I would say that is, um, a strong possibility. Now, last night we saw the new owner of the church, Robin Thorogood, clearly trying to calm down the situation when he confronted Nick Ellis here at the entrance to his farm, also leading to the church.’

Clip of Robin Thorogood over rain: ‘We never touched your lousy church. There’s no dragon here, no Satan. So just... just, like, go back and tell your God we won’t hold you or your crazy stuff against him.’

Tim said, ‘However, Melissa, last night’s placatory attitude was to be short-lived. We believe about a dozen witches are now residing at the farm here, and their leader, the latest to arrive, is a former official of the British Pagan Federation and an outspoken proponent of pagan religion. That’s Ned Bain...’

Jane gasped.

‘... who joins me now. Ned Bain, the impression we all get is that you’re raising the stakes here. The very fact that you, a leading pagan activist, have come all the way from London—’

‘I think, Tim, that the stakes have already been raised enormously by Nicholas Ellis. He’s a driven man, a fanatic, who’s made life hell for two people who just wanted to be left alone to practise their religion.’

‘In a Christian church.’

‘In an abandoned church built on a site of ancient worship. Nicholas Ellis made the preposterous suggestion last night that he and his cronies should be allowed access to the site to carry out what amounts to an exorcism. Well, let’s not forget this land now belongs to Betty and Robin Thorogood. They’ve been faced with an army of militant Christians who’ve promised to turn up in even greater numbers. We’re here to support the Thorogoods.’

‘And you’ll be welcoming the Celtic spring with them tonight.’

‘Indeed.’

‘At the church itself?’

‘At a site of established ancient sanctity.’

‘And how many of you will be involved in that?’

‘A full coven. Thirteen members.’

Melissa said from the studio, ‘Ned, you going to be dancing in the nude?’

‘We shall probably be skyclad, yes, unless the weather is particularly inclement.’

‘You’ll be freezing!’

‘Melissa, our beliefs will keep us warm.’

‘Well, rather you than me. Thank you, Ned Bain, and Tim Francis. And we’ll keep you up to date with whatever happens. Now, here on 5 Live...’

Jane switched off. When she turned round, her face had darkened.

‘They’re not taking any of it seriously.’

‘Vicars and witches? What did you expect?’

‘How can you sit there and—’

‘Because I’m used to it. It’s a secular society and we’ve become a quaint anachronism. Of course they’re not taking it seriously.’ Unfortunately, they would do soon, if it came out that the police had interviewed Betty regarding Mrs Wilshire.

Jane pulled out a chair and sat down directly opposite Merrily. ‘You have got to listen to me, do you understand?’

‘I’m listening.’

‘Ned Bain—’

‘He’s a smooth operator. A clever man.’

‘It goes deeper. Up in the gallery, at Livenight , we found the researcher already knew all about you and Dad and how Dad died and where it happened and everything, and he told Irene he got that information from Ned Bain, and it’s all there on the Kali Three Web site with suggestions that you should be regarded as an enemy, like, by pagans and occultists everywhere.’

‘How do you know all that?’ The kid had her full attention now.

‘Because Irene spoke to Gerry, the researcher, afterwards.’

‘About your dad? They had all that? ’

For an awful moment, she was back in that stifling, oppressive studio, dry-mouthed, with Bain lazily watching her through what appeared, for just a moment, to be Sean’s eyes.

‘Everything,’ Jane confirmed.

And earlier that man smiling Sean’s pained, ‘Isn’t it all so tedious?’ smile. All of it following a Sean-haunted drive up the M5, and then, when returning home, on that same stretch of motorway, on the way back.

‘What we figured it means,’ Jane said, ‘is that people all over the world were probably sending you ill will at that point.’

‘Down their computers?’

‘Don’t try and laugh it off. You were crap on telly.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Maybe that wasn’t all your fault, you know? There’s a lot of really heavy people out there. They knew your weaknesses: your guilt trip about Dad and the Church.’

‘That’s... silly.’

‘And now Ned Bain’s in Old Hindwell.’

‘OK, not good.’

Two religious fanatics facing each other across the ruins of a church that was spiritually suspect. Both sides raising the stakes.

Betty Thorogood came down, wearing a sloppy old baseball sweater of Jane’s. She declined an egg, but accepted toast and honey.

She’d heard the radio report from upstairs.

She said she was going back to St Michael’s.

‘I don’t want that church reconsecrating – not in anybody’s name. I’m not forecasting some apocalypse scenario, I just don’t want it to happen. I’m stopping it.’

‘You’ve got thirteen people to persuade. All determined to celebrate Candlemas.’

‘They can bloody well do it somewhere else,’ Betty said flatly.

Merrily brought coffee. ‘Tell me exactly what happens at Candlemas.’

‘It’s the festival of Brigid, the triple goddess.’

‘Three stages of womanhood,’ Jane translated, ‘maiden, mother, hag.’

‘Imbolc means belly. It’s about Mother Earth giving birth to spring, so in Wicca we put the emphasis on the mother. Three women are involved in the rite, but the mother wears the crown of lights... that’s a headdress of candles. This is a festival of light and new awakening. Of all the sabbats, it’s probably the one closest to Christianity, I’d guess.’

Merrily nodded.

‘Normally, it would be an especially good time to consecrate a church or temple, simply because it’s coming out of a long period of darkness, reawakening to spring.’

‘Everything perfect, then,’ Merrily said neutrally, ‘for giving back Old Hindwell to the old gods.’