The Twelve Maidens
"Dancing is forbidden on the Sabbath," said Brian, reading from the guidebook. He stood, in the warmth of the summer evening, amidst the blue meadow cranesbills and the creamy-white meadow-sweet. Their almond scent loaded the air so that it seemed drenched with sweetness.
Joe looked over the hedge at the field beyond. There was a group of standing stones, crude, rough-hewn slabs of limestone in a circle. They were grey and lichen-stained. Apart from that, the field was empty. No flowers grew; no birds sang. Just rank weeds and rye grass amidst the stones.
"Is today the Sabbath?" asked Joe, easing his back pack off a sore place on his shoulder. He and Brian had been hiking and camping for a week in the Cotswolds and, while lots of it had been fun, the days had merged imperceptibly with each other so that Monday, Tuesday etc had become indistinguishable though 'the day the tent was trampled on by a cow', 'the night it had rained torrents and got into their sleeping-bags' and the day Brian had nearly lost his left boot in a peat bog' stood out clearly enough.
"Depends if you're Jewish," said Brian. "In which case it would be Saturday. Or Christian, Sunday of course."
"What if I'm neither?" said Joe, more for the sake of carrying on the conversation than out of interest. He wanted more than anything to get into the next village, find a decent Bed and Breakfast, have a good meal and then sink into a soft, soft bed, preferably with Brian, to make gentle love until they both fell asleep. Sex in a sleeping-bag where there always seems to be a sharp stone in an inconvenient place, loses its charm after a while - however bright the stars are overhead and balmy the night air.
"If you're a witch, there are four Greater Sabbats - Candlemas (2nd February), May Eve (30th April), Lammas (1st August), Halloween (31st October). Then there are the Lesser Sabbats which are the two equinoxes (spring and autumn) and the two solstices (summer and winter)."
"How do you know all this?" asked Joe.
Brian waved the guidebook in the air, disturbing some gnats which were making a halo round his hair. "It's all here... Now ask me what it's got to do with those lumps of rock over there." He waved disparagingly at the stone circle, which did its best to ignore him - and succeeded.
"What's it got to do . . . ." began Joe obediently.
"Ah! Thought you;d never ask. Well, according to legend, they were once twelve maidens who were persuaded by the Devil to break the Sabbath and dance. The Devil always has the best tunes, you know. They started on Saturday night - which was OK, of course - but as midnight approached, when they should have stopped, the Devil played on his violin faster and faster . . . "
" . . . sort of Paganini," said Joe.
"Yes, whatever, and Bingo! As the church clock struck midnight they were turned into stone - and there they remained ever since." He paused and stared critically. "They're not very comely wenches, sort of a bit over-weight. Oh and it says you can't count them. Most of the time they're twelve but occasionally there are thirteen because the Devil himself comes back from time to time to join them."
"What a load of rubbish!" Joe shrugged off his pack and dumped it on the ground next to him. "I bet you I can count up to twelve." He walked down the lane to where a wooden stile gave access.
Once in the field he walked between two of the stones into the circle. Near to, they were even bigger than they had seemed before, and closer together, crowding. Each must have been at least two metres high and most were a metre wide - at least at the broadest part. There was a silence all around as if the air was static, imprisoned between the limestone bars of a cage.
"They were big girls," he remarked to Brian who had joined him. They stood in the middle of the circle but once there realised that it was hardly a true circle. The stones were scattered, some behind each other so that it was difficult to count all of them from one particular position. Added to that the sun was low behind a bank of clouds towards the west and the air was grey and crepuscular with a thin mist weaving tendrils across the grass and the furthest stones were almost invisible in the half light.
"Perhaps that's what it means," said Joe. "You can't count them from one particular spot."
"Tell you what," said Brian. "I'll stand here and you go round counting." He stood with his back against a stone, his arms spread wide, almost as if he was crucified against it. The sun came out briefly from behind the clouds and lit up his blond hair, his white T-shirt, a smile that was so devilishly attractive that it could persuade Joe into doing absolutely anything. "But kiss me before you go."
"Go?" said Joe, looking mystified. "I'm only walking around the ring."
