I want to burst into giggles as Demeter disappears behind a tree. It’s amazing how an otherwise intelligent person can become a credulous fool as soon as you mention the words “organic,” “authentic,” and “Gwyneth Paltrow.”
But I don’t giggle. I remain in character, gathering mud and twigs from the ground and putting them into a wooden bowl. As Demeter emerges, looking very awkward in the sack, I clamp my lips shut, desperate not to explode.
“Perfect,” I manage at last. “Now, as I said, we begin with Beauty. The mud in this wood has a special nourishing quality for the skin. The Druids knew that, and so every ceremony began with applying the mud to the face.”
“Mud?” Demeter looks at the bowl, and I can see the dismay in her eyes. “That mud?”
“Think of it as a Druid facial. It’s totally natural and organic, with ancient nutrients.” I rub the mud between my palms. “Look at that. Beautiful.”
It’s not beautiful. It’s crappy, smelly mud that I’m sure has a few cowpats mixed into it.
“Right.” Demeter is still eyeing the mud warily. “Right. So…does Gwyneth Paltrow do this too?”
“I’m sure she does,” I say with a serene smile. “And have you seen her complexion? Close your eyes.”
I almost think Demeter’s going to refuse. But then she closes her eyes, and I start applying mud to her cheeks.
“There!” I say brightly. “Can you feel the natural warming qualities of the mud?” I scoop up more mud and smear it all over her face. I smear it in her hair too and rub it in. “It acts as a hair mask too,” I add. “It stimulates growth and prevents hair from turning gray.”
God, this feels good. I start slapping Demeter’s head as I apply mud to her hair, and that feels ever better. Slap-slap-slap. That pays her back for making me do her bloody roots.
“Ow!” says Demeter.
“Just improving your circulation,” I say briskly. “And now, the bark exfoliant.”
“What?”
Before she can say anything else, I start rubbing twigs across her face.
“Inhale,” I instruct her. “Long, deep breaths. Then you’ll gain the benefit from the natural bark aromas.”
“Ow!” says Demeter again.
“This is doing wonders for your skin,” I say. “Now another mud mask…this will really penetrate….” I slap on another layer of mud, then take a step back and survey Demeter.
She looks a sight. The sack is sitting lopsided on her shoulders. Her hair is all matted. Her face is smeared thickly with mud, and as I watch, a small clod falls off.
Another laugh is building inside me, but I can’t let it out. I mustn’t.
“Very good.” I somehow manage to stay straight-faced. “Now onto the first active part of the ceremony. We call it Truth.”
Demeter gingerly touches her face and flinches. “Have you got some water?” she asks. “Can I wash this off?”
“Oh no!” I say, as though in great surprise. “You leave the mud on, then you get the full benefit. Come on.”
I lead her out of the copse, into the field. I can see Demeter trying to dodge cowpats in her bare feet, and another giggle rises. Oh God. Don’t laugh.
“So.” I come to a halt. “Stand opposite me. Let us be still for a moment.” I put my hands in a yoga-type prayer pose, and Demeter does the same. “Now, bend over so your hands are touching the ground.”
Promptly, Demeter bends to the ground. She’s pretty flexible, actually.
“Very good. Now, raise your right hand to the sky. This pose is Meaning.”
Demeter immediately lifts her hand high in the sky. God, she’s a try-hard. I know she’s hoping I’ll say, Wow, you’re better than Gwyneth Paltrow, or something.
“Excellent. Now lift your opposite leg to the sky. This pose is Knowledge.”
Demeter’s leg rises, a bit more shakily.
“Now lift your other leg too,” I say. “This pose is Truth.”
“What?” Demeter raises her head. “How can I lift my other leg too?”
“It’s the Truth pose,” I say with an implacable smile. “It strengthens the limbs and the mind.”
“But it’s impossible! No one could do that.”
“It’s an advanced pose,” I say with a shrug.
“Show me!”
“I’m not wearing a Vedari gown,” I say regretfully. “So I’m afraid I can’t. But don’t worry; you’re a beginner. So don’t push yourself. We won’t try the Truth pose today.”
This is like a red rag to a bull, just like I knew it would be.
“I’m sure I can do it,” says Demeter. “I’m sure I can.”
She tries to launch her other leg into the air and falls down, into a cowpat.
“Shit.” She sounds totally hassled. “OK, I’m just not doing this right.” She tries again and falls once more, into a different cowpat.
“Watch out for the cow manure,” I say politely.
Demeter has five more attempts at the pose and each time falls into a cowpat. She’s totally smeared with cow shit, her face is red, and she looks furious.
“Enough,” I say in a serene voice. “Vedari says one must not exert oneself beyond the limits of one’s age.”
“Age?” Demeter looks livid. “I’m not old!”
“Let us now move on to Contemplation.” I beckon Demeter to a patch of grass free of cowpats. “Lie down and we will use the ancient Druid stones to release your muscles and your mind.”