by Sandra Heath
“It’s a chest!” Conan cried.
Mr. Elcester was as amused as he was excited. “A treasure chest? Pirates could not have done better!”
Lord Carmartin chuckled, and nodded at the two men in the mud. “Well, heave ho, my hearties, let’s see what’s what.”
Conan and Theo struggled mightily to drag the chest out of the mud. It came away with a revolting sucking noise, and much of its rotten wood simply disintegrated, but it was lined with metal, which still held firm as the two men hauled it to the edge of the bank. As Mr. Elcester and Lord Carmartin helped to pull it up to the grass, Conan gave another cry. “There’s a second chest down here. Help me, Theo!”
Together they strove to lift the second chest, which soon joined the first on the bank. A third chest came to light, then a fourth and last. When all were lined on the shore, and Conan and Theo had clambered out of the mud, everyone gathered around to see the first chest opened.
Eudaf Hen’s treasure was indeed magnificent, an incredible hoard of gold, jewelry, weapons, precious stones, and coins that had to be seen to be believed. And as if that were not sufficient, as the sun began to set, and shadows lengthened in the other direction, Conan saw another shape in the mud on the other side of the pool, close to the hollow oak. It appeared to be a sunken Celtic ship!
Over the following days a small army of men dug away at the mud, until a well-preserved vessel, somewhat resembling a Viking longboat, was revealed. How it came to be there could only be imagined, for it must have required a great many men to carry it overland from the Severn, and its purpose was evidently for a funeral, maybe even that of Eudaf Hen himself. More riches were contained in the burial craft, and soon several rooms at the manor were filled with precious things that showed just how opulent the summer house of Eudaf Hen—and villa of Macsen Wledig—had been. This corner of Roman Britain had known a luxury that must have been held in awe at the time, for it was still held in awe now.
The story of the treasure was soon the talk of England. Newspapers eagerly spread the tale far and wide, and many came to admire the contents of Hazel Pool. Even the Prince of Wales came to see, and his presence ensured that most of high society came as well. That summer saw so many crowds that the villagers feared they were never to have any peace again, but grumbling wasn’t very great, for everyone prospered. Anyone who had a bedroom to let could be assured of a paying guest who was eager to see all he could of Eudaf Hen’s Treasure, by which formal title the discovery was now known. The path to the pool was soon very well-trodden indeed, and the Green Man so well frequented that it was the most famous inn in England. Elcester was no longer a quiet Cotswold backwater, but a place where it was the thing to go! Taynton and Vera did so well that Conan’s prediction soon came true, for they purchased a fine inn in Bristol, and another on Cheltenham High Street. Bath was next, with a particularly elegant property close to Pulteney Bridge. But the grandest of all was a prestigious hostelry on the Strand in London, where it was not long before many a stagecoach company chose to a site a ticket office, for any inn that was owned by Bellamy Taynton could be guaranteed to be good. His name was made, and so was his fortune; and he and Vera were so happy together that they could not believe they had wasted so much time—centuries!—before.
Daniel Pedlar did handsomely as well, for so many horses required new shoes that at one point he feared he would not be able to manage. But manage he did, and fill his purse he did, for many a fine lady and gentleman saw his work with wrought iron, and soon he had a full order book, even to providing new weathercocks for the Tower of London.
The Reverend Arrowsmith’s life had also changed for the better, although not materially, of course. His wife was a new woman, and he liked her far more than before. He wasn’t to know, of course, that she was leading a shocking double life, being mistress of the vicarage during the day, and a follower of the Green Man whenever she could at night. There wasn’t a ceremony before the yew that she did not attend, and over the following years she was very careful to initiate her twin sons into the old ways as well. Her clergyman husband would eventually go to his grave without realizing what had long been going on beneath his roof. He died a contented man, so it could not have been a bad thing.
Not long after the triple ceremony before the Black Druid, Theo and Eleanor were married a second time, at no less a place of Christian worship than Gloucester cathedral. Crowds turned out to cheer as the bride and groom drove through the city in an open landau, and after a honeymoon in Paris, the new Mr. and Mrs. Greatorex made their home at Carmartin Park, which was transformed from its bitter old days. Lord Carmartin himself was transformed as well, and was truly happy with the way things had turned out. At first he had been bent upon punishing Taynton for having abducted Eleanor all those years before, but when Eleanor herself begged him to forgive the innkeeper, what else could any loving guardian do but grant her wish? The leniency was helped along by Taynton’s own conscience, for he apologized time and time again, declaring that he could not now believe he had done such dreadful things. If only to silence this very vocal penitence, everyone soon went out of their way to reassure the reborn Cadfan Meriadoc that he was well and truly forgiven.
Mr. Elcester was happy too. His financial difficulty was a thing of the past, almost a bad dream, and he now had more Roman and Celtic artifacts to pore over than he had hours in the day! He was blissfully contented as he cataloged them all, and a certain lady of an antiquarian turn of mind happened to come to the manor one day. They hit it off so splendidly that soon there was talk of wedding bells for the father as well as the daughter.
Ursula and Conan chose to marry at Elcester, and their wedding bells rang out over Elcester only days after they’d married beneath the yew. Mr. Arrowroot, of course, knew nothing about what had been going on under his saintly nose.
It was a glorious day as the bride and groom stood before the altar, and afterward, when they were man and wife in their present faith, as much as they were in their previous faith, they went into the woods to consummate their love among the bluebells.
Later, as she slept in her husband’s arms amid the blue, scented flowers, with squirrels scurrying among the trees overhead, in the more secret glades deeper among the woods, the Green Man danced as he always had, and always would. And he sang as he danced.
“In and out the dusky bluebells,
In and out the dusky bluebells,
In and out the dusky bluebells,
I am your Master.
Tipper-ipper-apper—on your shoulder,
Tipper-ipper-apper—on your shoulder,
Tipper-ipper-apper—on your shoulder,
I am your master ....”
To my friend Joan King
Copyright © 2001 by Sandra Heath
Originally published by Signet (0451202694)
Electronically published in 2013 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part,
by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any
other means without permission of the publisher. For more
information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San
Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.RegencyReads.com
Electronic sales: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are
fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is
coincidental.
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