Scarlet From Gold (Book 3)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “Let’s go downstairs and join Lady Iasco for dinner. That’s what Mitment came up to tell me, was that the lady was sitting down to dinner,” Marco stood up. “Won’t you come down to dinner, please?” he pleaded.

  “Of course, Marco,” Mirra said in a neutral tone, and they walked downstairs to the dining room together, where Lady Iasco sat alone eating dinner, as Mitment hovered nearby.

  Marco held Mirra’s chair for her, then took his own seat, and they began to eat in silence.

  “Lady Iasco,” Mirra put her fork down after just three bites, “Marco tells a story about a companion,” she began, before Iasco interrupted.

  “Mitment?” she asked, as Mirra nodded.

  “Is she here?” Iasco asked Marco.

  He nodded, and pointed to the corner where Mitment stood.

  “She was a very devoted guard when she lived on the island, and she was well liked among the women she served with. She was bold and boisterous and supremely confident. But when Marco came to the island, the very first time, before anyone knew all the details of the prophecy, she was very upset with him,” Iasco spoke to Mirra.

  “So what do you suppose she decided to do?” Iasco asked Mirra.

  “Throw him off the island?” Mirra ventured a guess.

  “If only,” Iasco said. “No, she decided to kill him.”

  Mirra gasped a small gasp of surprise.

  “I don’t know that I really wanted to kill you completely,” the guard spoke to Marco.

  “And instead, Marco killed her first,” Iasco reported.

  “Oh no!” Mirra said.

  “She ambushed me at night on the beach, and I just defended myself with my sword.” Marco blurted out.

  “You make it sound so simple and clean,” Mitment said softly. “But I know I was sneaking up on you, when suddenly you flipped through the air, and then your sword was in my chest.

  “I screamed – there was such pain, and then I couldn’t breathe, and then I was suddenly standing up – my spirit was – looking down at my body on the beach, before I started heading towards Station Island,” Mitment recited the story to herself as much as to Marco.

  “What is it Marco?” Iasco asked, as he stared away from the table, lost to the conversation of the living as he listened to the guard relive her death.

  “It’s Mitment,” Marco said quietly. “She just told me what it was like to die on the beach that night.”

  “I didn’t even know her name at the time,” Marco said. “It wasn’t until I was marooned in the underworld on my first journey there that she told me her name.”

  “You’ve met this ghost in the underworld before?” Mirra asked incredulously.

  “My lady, please tell me, as one woman to another, what parts of Marco’s stories are true? I thought I knew him, the boy I met before he went away, but now, it’s just one fairy tale after another,” she said sadly.

  Iasco stood up and glided around the table to stand beside Mirra, and pull the young woman’s head into a hug against the lady’s chest. “Child, this boy loves you. And he has told you the truth, I’m sure. He would not lie to you, and his adventures in the past year are so unbelievable, he has no reason to lie.

  “You must believe him, and hold faith in him. He is going to be sorely tried in the days to come, and he must know that you will wait for him,” the lady told Mirra, her hands cradling the young woman’s head tenderly. “Your love will be the rock that his heart will swim toward when the night is longest and darkest.

  “Can you do it Mirra, knowing that he has been honest and faithful to you?” Iasco asked.

  “I can, my lady, and I want to. I know the boy I met in Barcelon, the one who was so kind and thoughtful and so great at alchemy, I know I would wait for him forever,” Mirra looked up at Iasco, then over at Marco.

  “You will not receive that boy back when I am done with him,” Iasco answered. “That boy is already disappeared after surviving all that Ophiuchus has put him through. He is growing up, and I will make him grow up a great deal more. But he will come back as a man who has those same qualities, just polished by all the rubbing and chafing and friction he will encounter. And his heart will be faithful to you, I know.”

  Marco listened to Iasco’s words, and took a deep breath, wondering what it all meant. Mirra’s chin dropped, and she turned her head into Iasco’s midriff momentarily as she listened, then she turned to look at Marco.

  “If he comes back in need of comfort and love and support, I will be here waiting for him, my lady,” Mirra said firmly.

  “That’s what I wanted to hear,” Iasco said happily. She left Mirra to return to her seat.

  “You’re lucky the Lady likes you,” Mitment commented. “If it weren’t for her, that girl would be throwing you out of the house right now.”

  Marco bit his tongue as he held back a retort, and the conversation turned to mild discussion about the crops planted around the estate, and the conditions of the roads the travelers had experienced.

  “I’ll be leaving you tomorrow,” Lady Iasco said as dessert was served, “and I expect Marco is coming to meet me in Barcelon the day after. Why don’t you come to the city with him, and we’ll all go to call upon the Duke together before Marco and Mitment and I leave for our next destination?”

  “I haven’t been to court in several weeks,” Mirra weighed the option. “It would be nice to be there with Marco for a change; yes, I’ll plan to go,” she agreed.

  “My lady,” Perago entered the room, “would you care to go over the finances of the estate this evening, as we usually do?”

  Mirra looked over at Marco. “No, Perago, I’ll be with my lord this evening,” she said, and she smiled in response to Marco’s pleased smile.

  After the meal they went for a walk in the evening twilight, as Mirra showed Marco the grounds, which he had never seen during warm weather, and she pointed out the flower gardens she enjoyed most.

  “So there’s really a ghost traveling with you?” she asked as they walked.

  “At the moment she should be with Lady Iasco,” he answered.

  “And you were the one who killed her? Doesn’t that make your journey tense? Do you trust her?” Mirra followed up.

  “We’ve traveled together for a long way now, and the first time we met in the underworld she was so hostile towards me that I think we got all the conflict – well most of it – out of the way. Plus, I did save her in the underworld when she almost fell into the River Acheron,” Marco said. “And we both want to do the same thing, protect Lady Iasco, and we both know that we can contribute to the cause.”

  When they returned to the castle after their walk, Marco played with Sybele, who was shy at first, but was enchanted by Marco’s trick of making his hand glow. Marco stayed with Mirra until late that night, then slept a sound and happy sleep.

  The next morning he and Mirra and Perago saw Iasco and Mitment leave the castle on their way to Barcelon. “I’ll arrange for an audience with the Duke for tomorrow evening, Marco, if you’ll be able to join us,” the priestess of Ophiuchus said.

  Marco pledged that he and Mirra would be in Barcelon the following evening, and Iasco left the castle at a casual gait. After watching Iasco leave, Marco went to his long unused alchemy workshop and put together a portable selection of items that he thought would prove useful during the future travels that Iasco had planned for him.

  “Shall we go for a ride in the mountains?” Mirra asked Marco after he came back up from his workshop. “There’s a pretty little lake up above the castle. Sheafield has been teaching me to ride a horse better,” she referred to the chief huntsman for the castle, “and the lake is one of the places we rode to.”

  They were soon saddled on horses from the castle’s stables, with a picnic basket packed, and Mirra led Marco up a game trail that followed a steep valley into the mountains. The valley was dense with fragrant fir trees, but when they emerged at the top of a ridge that was a saddle between two mountains, the tre
es were aspens, light and musical, setting a mood of peace and harmony as Mirra pointed out the small lake that lay below the ridge on the far side. They rode down together, talking to one another about their childhoods. Mirra had grown up half-neglected in the city, while Marco had grown up in the country, but in a settled country of farmland and pastures; for each of them, the forests and mountains represented a new environment, and the beauty of the scene made it a romantic and enchanting one.

  They tied their horses to a bush, and Mirra spread a blanket in the shade next to a tree trunk as Marco brought the picnic basket. He poured wine for them both as Mirra served the cheese and bread and other foods.

  “Let’s go swimming!” Mirra unexpected proposed as Marco poured more wine into their emptied cups.

  “We went swimming on our first date,” she added.

  “We had to skinny dip, if I remember correctly,” Marco said with a raised eyebrow.

  Mirra sat up straight, and raised her blouse over her head in response. “Last one in the water has to give the other one a back massage!” she challenged him. She stood and stripped her skirt down from her waist to the ground, then unlaced her boots, as Marco sat on the ground staring at her with his mouth gaping open, both surprised by the sudden nature of the challenge as well as the entrancingly delightful view of her sleek body.

  He belatedly shook his head and hastily began to pull off his own shirt, then stopped midway through to try to remove his boots, and finally succeeded in both as he saw Mirra go sprinting to the lake and diving in with a shriek. “It’s cold!” she shouted.

  Marco came charging across the lawn and jumped in near Mirra, splashing water on her and making her shriek again, then splash water back at him. They played in the water until Mirra saw a snake swimming towards them, and they beat a retreat back to their blanket.

  “You owe me a back rub,” Mirra reminded Marco as she flopped down on the blanket, and looked up at him over her shoulder.

  Marco was overwhelmed with enchantment as he saw the coy expression on her face. He knelt beside her, and reached down to roll her over onto her back, then bent down wordlessly, and began to kiss her passionately.

  He distantly heard a twanging noise, and a second later a loud thunking sound of impact as an arrow passed through the space his head had occupied a fraction of a second before.

  He raised his head in shock to look around, and raised his hand to instinctively create a protective shield around Mirra and himself.

  “Marco! What’s happening??” Mirra asked in astonishment.

  Through the tinted yellow energy of the shield, he saw Perago standing a hundred yards away, his bow held taunt, pointed at Marco.

  Perago abruptly shouted. His bow dropped from his suddenly lax fingers, and a bloody red bloom appeared on his chest. Perago’s head tilted to the side, then he collapsed to the ground, and standing behind him Marco saw the shadowy figure of Mitment, her sword held in her hand.

  “Mitment, what are you doing here?” Marco shouted, releasing his protective use of his energy, and rising to his feet.

  “Marco!” Mirra said fearfully, rising on one elbow and holding a hand up towards him.

  Mitment came striding out of the forest and into the open green space that was between them.

  “What happened Marco? Did you do something to him with sorcery? Is that ghost here? Why would Perago do that – he tried to kill you!” Mirra began to react to the shock of the situation.

  Marco briefly touched Mirra’s hand. “It’s okay now,” he told her. “Mitment killed him. Let me go talk to her.”

  He gently released his hold on her, then strode towards the spirit. “What is all this about?” he asked.

  “It’s about you standing there as naked as a jay bird trying to carry on a serious conversation with me,” Mitment said as she stopped in her tracks. “Go put some pants on for goodness sake!”

  Marco’s heart was racing so rapidly from the nearly successful attempt on his life that he didn’t feel any embarrassment at his state of undress. He stalked over to the clothes by the blanket, where Mirra was pulling her blouse on over her head. She handed his pants to him, anticipating his need.

  Marco stepped into the pants and returned to Mitment.

  “Her ladyship told me that she sensed treachery here at your castle, and she asked me to come back to watch over you. Of course, she actually only spoke the command, assuming I heard it, and for some reason I chose to obey,” Mitment said. “As I returned to your castle, I saw you and the lovely lady – you were wearing clothes at that point – riding up into the forest. Two minutes later your steward started riding up the same way.

  “I’d heard some of the kitchen staff gossiping about Perago’s attention to your lady, and I halfway suspected that Lady Iasco might have known what she was talking about after all. I ran up the trail close behind the steward, and kept an eye on him as he kept an eye on you,” she went on.

  “And of course, you and the lady gave him quite an eye full,” she smirked. “Then, when you went back to the blanket and were about to get serious, something must have snapped inside him. He just whipped that bow up into place and fired his first shot just like that,” she silently snapped her fingers.

  “And I had to take action quickly before he took his next shot, I decided,” Mitment said, “so I charged at him and used my sword.

  “Mitment saw Perago follow us and watch us, then attack us,” Marco reported to Mirra, who came running over to join him.

  “Is she here, now?” Mirra asked. “Please tell her thank you.”

  “She is standing here,” Marco held his hand out, just an inch from Mitment’s body, “And she heard your thanks expressed.”

  “I can’t imagine how someone like you found yourself connected to a woman as beautiful as her,” Mitment told Marco. “I don’t doubt that your steward there was besotted with your Mirra, living here in this castle with her every day. Then you come along and seem to just interrupt everything and sweep her off her feet. He couldn’t take it,” she shook her head.

  “Thank you Mitment,” Marco said. “I thank both you and her ladyship for looking after me.”

  “Well, shall we go back home?” Marco asked.

  “What about Perago’s body? What should we do?” Mirra asked. She looked down once, then looked away.

  “You say Sheafield showed you this lake? I’ll have him bring men up here to retrieve the body,” Marco answered.

  They were silent as they packed up the remnants of their tragically-interrupted picnic, then climbed aboard their horses and rode back down to the castle. Mirra went inside – accompanied by the unseen Mitment, while Marco went out to the stables with the hands who took their horses, and found Sheafield.

  “My lady Mirra took me to a pretty lake up in the mountains today,” Marco told Sheafield, and explained what had happened, without mentioning Mitment. “So please have his body retrieved and brought back to the castle,” Marco said.

  He went into the castle without waiting for questions, and found Mirra up in her bedroom suite, rocking in a chair with a napping Sybele. “I was having a wonderful afternoon with you Marco,” Mirra told him as he sat down with her.

  He felt his heart swell, and he knew he didn’t want to leave the woman behind without something more to cement their relationship; impulsively, he knew he had to act to salvage an act of beauty from the afternoon that had turned ugly. He slipped out of his chair, and knelt in front of hers, drawing an inquisitive study. Marco’s heart was pounding wildly as he took one of her hands in his, and he saw her grow pale as she guessed what he was about to do.

  “Mirra, will you marry me, tonight, right now?” he asked her. “We can ask the chaplain to come to the manor tonight and have a ceremony for us right here. Then you could ride with me to Barcelon tomorrow and we could announce our marriage to the court and Lady Iasco!” he spoke enthusiastically, and hopefully.

  “Yes Marco,” Mirra continued to rock while holding the baby,
“I will marry you today. I will happily marry you today!” and in her smile Marco saw sincere pleasure. He stood up, then bent and kissed her passionately, before leaving the room to set the hastily conceived plan in motion.

  Within minutes he had the entire household in an uproar, as the head matron of the staff protested that she needed weeks to arrange all the decorations for the castle, but then proceeded to move with gusto to have foods quickly prepared and have traditional wedding icons displayed.

  Mirra’s maid immediately agreed to serve as her first witness, but Marco was at a loss as to who he knew well enough to have them stand with him and hold the ring on his behalf.

  “Mitment!” he called at last as he ran down the stairs to his workshop. “Mitment!”

  “What is it, oh frantic groom?” Mitment’s voice called from the top of the stairs, as she descended behind him.

  “I want you to serve as my witness, to hold the ring for me until I give it to Mirra,” he said, as he started sorting through his alchemy supplies and miscellaneous items he had stored. He had found a plain metal band to use as the ring, and he planned on mixing a number of ingredients together in a hastily conceived attempt to create a wedding band. He madly mixed together two formulae, than focused all his attention on the ring, placing it on a sheet of glass, and placing the two containers of his mixtures in shallow dishes on either side of the ring.

  He had a vision of something he could do to make the ring unique, hopefully attractive enough to be worthy of Mirra’s affection. He had an idea that was based on the torq he wore; Mirra had admired the braided appearance of his wedding piece, and he wanted to create a similar look on the ring he had sitting in front of him.

  “What idiocy are you talking?” Mitment asked as she came down into the workshop.

  “I,” Marco paused as he closed his eyes and began to try to weave razor thin threads of the two alchemical mixtures through the air, and to apply them to the surface of the ring. “I need someone to stand up with me, and frankly, I know you better than anyone else in the castle,” he told her.