Priestess had given him would lead them to another refuge…
They made their way back to the house, slightly wet, a good catch of trout in tow and laughing (as instructed) with the appearance of easy camaraderie. Conal looked up to see Tamworth in an upper window watching their return and he waved cheerfully to his host. Coughlin and Rathborn were lounging on a bench near the maze enjoying a smoke. Tonight, Conal thought, it would have to be tonight or it may be never.
Back in London at the apothecary shop Emrys had a visitor. She didn’t come through the front door but simply appeared in the same comfortable chair Bishop had sat in just the other day. Pulling back the hood that covered her dark hair she smiled at the old man who calmly waited for her to fully materialize, something she could do in the magical safety of this place with none being the wiser.
“Emrys my dear,” she held out her hand to him and with a smile full of love he took her hand in his, bending to kiss the long delicate fingers.
“Nimue my love, as beautiful as ever,” he pulled up a chair and sat across from her.
“Thanks to you my darling Merlin, my Welsh hawk,” she said with equal tenderness and love in her voice.
“I see the spell continues to work? No complications?” he asked with concern.
“Nothing other than being tired of the transformation from one incarnation to the next and your insistence I should always look the same when I visit,” she laughed a little.
“I loved the way you looked. If the world were to change around me I wanted what I loved most to at least stay the same. Maybe when all this is done I shall return to my own appearance for you, but for now this serves well enough,” he sighed. “What I hate is the way the story was twisted to make you out to be some soul sucking evil witch who ensnared me,” he grumbled.
“The story has served its purpose, all the stories since have served their purpose. Mallory did just as we asked him and confused it just enough to throw any off the scent, yet preserve the faith in the blood, in Arthur. Surely that was the most important darling? It also helps that people believe, Gooar included, that you’re trapped in a cave of crystal uselessly asleep.”
He sighed, ‘Yes, of course but it is sometimes hard to see you so lovely and me so old. It also is hard to see book after book, tale after tale told of me being a silly old man beguiled and tricked by a heartless, ambitious woman. Who knew that the Cauldron would be latched onto so easily as a cup belonging to someone else? We had no idea what we were starting with that story,” he shook his head in amazement. “So many lies my darling,” he said sadly.
“We have waited so long for this to end, to be free, our people free, a little more patience and I believe we shall be together again. I think we both grow impatient with age,” she joked as they both were nearing their fourteenth century of life. So many years were a burden. She could never understand why, without vital purpose, anyone would want to live forever. She thought briefly of Flamel and his obsessive work to achieve immortality. It was not a boon but a curse for those who lived it. If she didn’t know his history, she would wonder why Olav would desire to live so many years. She wondered sometimes if he had hoped with time he would forget, or his pain would lessen, but her senses told her it was not so. Some events, some loves, some hates remained as acute, as fresh to the mind and eye as if they had happened yesterday.
“Much as I love to see you Nimue, what has happened and what do you need me to do? I have kept watch, I have laid the trail as we agreed. This must be a special request as I have continued to do my usual work. Did you watch in the wee hours and today? Wasn’t it lovely?” he smiled at the recent memory of what he had seen in his sphere.
“It was enough to renew all my faith. Nothing ever goes on the path we set exactly. While we had planned it to unfold otherwise, it is their lives after all. Free will is a beautiful gift. Events once again move in new and unexpected directions,” she paused. “While their danger grows we have another we must help sooner my dear. Today Conal and his men shall need help getting free of Menwith. I cannot do a spell of that magnitude outside the Kingdom. I need you to put all at Menwith to sleep but for Conal and his men.”
“Can you guide him to safety once I cast the spell?”
“He has one of our compasses and if he will follow, I will lead him where he needs to be,” she stated simply.
“Then exhaust yourself no more my dear,” he patted her hand gently seeing the toll it took to project herself here with him.
“The next visit is your turn Merlin Emrys,” she admonished him saucily with an impish smile.
“As soon as I have them all to you I shall be there, but I can’t leave until they are all in your hands now can I? Responsibilities must be met here, and I cannot leave anything undone,” he smiled gently and kissed her fingers one last time before she faded, leaving behind a soft whisper of love.
He got up and began the preparations for what he must do tonight, heavy in thought. He had not performed a spell of this magnitude in many years and he would need a great deal of preparation. He stepped outside to have a small talk with a certain salamander over his door. He passed on his instructions for the day and night while the jewel bright eyes took in his words. He could trust his little friend to keep good watch and protect him as he worked.
Back at Jessamy’s house the satchel had been unloaded and they all sat staring at a stack of journals dating over twenty years of entries. To read them would be a daunting task for which they hadn’t the time right now. The two boxes worried Sebastian the most. He wasn’t willing to open them in Jessamy’s parlor and part of his mind was detached hoping that Mick had managed the delivery of the priest’s body to Bishop.
The vicar for Martin’s church had already shown up and the undertaker had come for his body. Sebastian had insisted, despite Jessy’s protests, to pay for the burial and a headstone. He somehow did not think any of them would be able to attend a service. He felt sad for that, but each member of the house had provided something to be put in the coffin with him, small and personal things to show their appreciation for the young life taken.
He needed a space to cast a circle, but he had noticed as he stared at the boxes that Jessamy was eying him with a considering look as if she was trying to make up her mind about something serious. He could clearly see that telltale crinkle above her nose. It was frankly making him uneasy. He did not want to find out her declaration of love was either going to be rescinded or not lead to her accepting that she would be marrying him properly as soon as possible.
He also did not want any questions about his expurgated version of the past years events, especially related to anything he had done to her last night. He had to remind himself to focus.
“I can’t do this here,” he stated to the room. “It may be too dangerous. Considering that you have now revealed to me your parents were either crazy or smart enough to not only steal away most of the treasury of Celtica but then left it sitting in a vault in a common bank? Who knows what they put in these boxes!” He was still shaking his head over what a feat it was to have spirited away most of the kingdom’s treasure. Jessy had also shown him the protection symbol traced garnet necklace that he absolutely knew had to have belonged to the Lady of Rhiannon. Her parents had been even deeper involved than Bishop had ever let on, if even Bishop had known.
“You need a larger space? Maybe an open space?” David asked. He had been watching Jessy too and had a very good idea what else was occupying her mind. He had his own concerns too about getting out to Mallory’s End as soon as possible; for several reasons. They needed to make certain the children and Maureen were safe, the End was defensible, Sebastian needed to know about Trystan (sooner rather than later) and they needed an open area with no prying eyes to open these boxes. The End would do perfectly.
“Mallory’s End,” Jessy echoed his own thoughts and he nodded his head at her in complete accord. “It’s Sean’s sister’s home in Chiswick,” she told
Sebastian, �
�a small manor. We will have to let Sean know too. He will have to cancel the performances until further notice and I want him with us, as well as all my household. He can use the damage from the fire as an unquestioned excuse. He won’t be happy but, for Sean, family is always first and I can’t bear the idea of leaving him in possible danger.”
“I guess there are other adults there who can help with the defense if necessary and shoot down any ravens, one way or another? Oh. Remind me to stop and buy Tim a slingshot I promised him.” When they all stared at him he just shrugged and gave a ghost of a smile.
“We’ll have Mick load up my carriage with all the weapons we can gather and Sean can use the barouche to help ferry the staff,” David offered. “I’ll go get the carriage and the queen’s crown out of the safe too. They know we have that,” David frowned. “I almost forgot about what we did last night in all this activity. Hopefully we aren’t too late.”
“Don’t go alone David,” Jessy urged. “What if they are waiting having failed to get their hands on these things?” she waved at the boxes and journals littering the parlor floor.
“Good thinking Jess darling,” Sebastian felt a nearly absurd happiness to be able to call her that again. “We will wait until Mick returns, lock the place up and make sure you all are armed and ready. David and I will go get it and the carriage too.”
“Good thing Maureen is such a big hearted woman, because when she sees the entourage about to descend upon her this evening? Any other woman would have hysterics,” Jessy pointed out.
‘Knowing Maureen,” Birdie finally spoke up, “She’ll already know we are coming. I think we can come out with it now and admit we all know she is a witch, even though she never calls herself so.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Maureen did indeed know something was in the wind. She had kept the children close to the house, much to their complaints, and was beginning to become alarmed despite her best efforts not to be, that Boru would not stop pacing. He had in fact seemed to have recruited the other four dogs of varying size and pedigree who made the manor home, into some sort of patrol. A dog at a time was always with the children and Boru and Isabelle (Maureen’s normally preening lap cat) had brought her any number of dead ravens. Maureen honestly couldn’t remember a time Isabelle had ever killed so much as a mouse. She was more often to be found in a spot of sunshine luxuriously lounging or bathing herself. Isabelle as a killer was something entirely new.
She made her way to her still room and pulled down a book she had rarely used, her mother’s grimoire. She had not touched her scrying bowl, feeling no pull toward it and knew therefore it would be useless. She had known the moment Trystan was born, when she had held him in her own hands, that destiny had cast its hand upon him. She knew whatever was happening was related both to Michael’s death, his dying plea to keep the child a secret, and the appearance of that wondrous crown.
The others had called it a circlet, but she had known with her sight it was the queen’s crown of Celtica, she had seen a vision blur between Jessy wearing it and another woman with luxuriant dark brown hair, nobly streaked with grey at the temples. Instinct had told her it was the last queen of Celtica, killed, executed in the coup. It had given her a deep shiver to see it upon Jessy’s head fitting as if made for her. She had her own thoughts about the supposed gypsy woman who had brought it to Michael, but she would keep that to herself as well.
She had grown up in a family of magically gifted people, gifted for generations, and royal crowns did not turn up in the hands of gypsy’s for no reason. Her heart told her Rhiannon herself or the Lady of Rhiannon had visited her brother for some reason she could not understand. She knew Jessamy’s parents had served as part of the last embassy to Celtica and had in fact barely made it out alive when the coup had happened. It still did not explain how strange life had become lately and today was by far the worst.
Grimoire in hand she searched for what she needed; protection spells and one her mother had sworn would repel all evil around a boundary. She was pretty certain it worked as once when she was a child her mother had been threatened by a vagrant who had tried to attack her when she had taken out the pony trap. She had beat him off with a whip but he had screamed he would get her, lady of the manor or not. Mother had immediately come home and performed this spell from the book handed down through generations.
Carrying the book, handfuls of sage, salt, vervain, fennel, and wormwood
Maureen walked outside to gather what else she needed.
In the back of the garden she raised the circle and called out the watchtowers as she had been taught as a child. She could feel the wind begin to rise and, as was part of her gift, she felt the earth pushing power up through the souls of her feet ‘til she felt like a tree running fast with green sap. She felt the strength flooding her, until it poured from her and her curly hair rose and tossed wildly about her face. With her blessed staff topped with her quartz, found on the beach as child in Ireland, she drew the rune for protection and chanted the spell known to the women of her family.
Next she spun in a circle widdershins, the salt flying from her fingers and then the holly leaves she had plucked too rose up along with the fennel, sage, wormwood and vervain increasing in speed as they all spun. With a flick of her hand and following the directions of her staff the mixture flew across the grounds like a bird circling the entire property, growing finer and finer as it circled until the pieces were so small the eye could not see them and then she released them to settle with a tap of her staff on the earth.
Every inch of the property was now as impenetrable to evil as she could make it. The man who had threatened her mother found out the hard way what it meant to cross that invisible barrier. The moment, with evil in his heart, he tried to step onto their property his face, hair, clothing had burned as if on fire, yet without fire. Smoking and screaming he had run away.
She turned, ready to close the circle, when she saw Trystan standing outside the boundary she had raised and his dark hair blew about his head and his eyes glowed an unnatural gold in the afternoon light. The light burning in his eyes was more than a reflection of sunlight and seemed to be seeing something far beyond where he stood.
“Many are coming Aunt. Mama will be here soon,” and with that he walked away. Maureen had seen touches of it before but now had no doubts that Jessamy had given birth to a very special and powerful child. She had never sought to teach him, knowing whatever he had in him was beyond her knowledge, something as natural as the wind blowing and trees growing. She could only pray it would serve him well as he grew, and that there would come someone with the knowledge and power to train him.
Magic of another kind was beginning to be worked at the shop in London and on the bell over the door the very unique salamander had both bright eyes wide open. Emrys had cast a dome of invisible protection over the building to hide his work from the priests he still knew, could feel, where lurking in the city. This work was too complicated to be disturbed and he had no intention of having those nasty creatures bursting in on him. They had overlooked him, known nothing of his existence in all these centuries and he needed to keep it that way for now.
With great concentration and care he began his work, drawing a series of complex runes and symbols so powerful and secret only he and Nimue knew them. Within his circle he was an artist dancing and drawing. Pulling and gathering the power to him as the sun began to set outside, the salamander kept watch. The vortex of power grew so strong that windows in nearby buildings began to rattle. He had taken the precaution of bewitching the few inhabitants to ignore anything that happened, and as people ate their supper they seemed not to notice anything strange at all as drinking cups danced across their dining tables.
When he felt the moment, like a bolt of lightning through his spine and belly he turned in a movement like a discus thrower and tossed with all his might the power he had raised. It shot like a beam of invisible light across London, across the meadows and wooded hills
and down into the heart of the house called Menwith. For a moment Conal’s ears rang and then an eerie silence prevailed. He felt as if he stood in a world where time had stopped, as indeed it had. The dust motes themselves hung motionless in their beams of sunlight. He moved quietly through the rooms finding servants frozen in place in mid movement, nothing stirred, nothing breathed and he knew help had miraculously come.
With relief he found his small band unaffected and, not knowing how long the magic would last, they rushed to gather their ready packs and strapped on their weapons. At a dead run they made for the stables and found here too the people frozen but the animals peacefully stalled and enjoying their dinner of hay and oats. Quickly they saddled mounts and galloped from Menwith with all speed. With only the compass to follow, Conal held it tightly in his fist and prayed to Rhiannon and Llyr it would lead them true.
He had given them as much time as he could and when the spell could be held no longer, Merlin Emrys first lowered the circle and then his old form into a comfortable chair. He smile to himself; this old Druid still had it in him. Whether the king made his destination was now up to him, and Nimue’s compass.
The salamander over the door closed his jewel green eyes and prepared to nap, his job too done.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
David and Sebastian had sidled into the longer shadows at the west side of David’s house where a narrow alley separated his home from the next. They had carefully attempted to see Armstruther through any of the windows. David had said at this time of day he was usually enjoying a small break in the kitchen with a very tiny glass of sherry. He would then begin preparing for his duties of the evening. So far there was no sign of Armstruther in any room they could see and David was worried. He could only hope the older gentleman was safe. Armstruther had been with him since he first bought this house, when he came home wounded from Waterloo, a little lost, and trying to build a new life for himself after the army. He had been a steady anchor for a young man adrift. He didn’t want to think that being in his service could bring the old fellow to harm.
ROOK AND RAVEN: The Celtic Kingdom Trilogy Book One Page 26
