Ireland had recovered quickly under the influence of their Tuathan King, Alexander Corrigan. The formerly arrogant son of the Grand Master, had come through for them with exceptional leadership. The Emerald Isle was still an emerald and one of the more pleasant places left in the world. Alexander’s eye for beauty influenced everything around him, but his Tuathan court was filled with many very wise and practical men. Ireland was not only beautiful, but wealthy and productive in the aftermath of the destruction. The Tuathans had the greatest sailing fleet in the world protected from piracy by powerful magick. They traded freely with all the countries in along the northeastern and eastern coasts of Europe, as well as, the European coast of the Mediterranean Sea. The industrious Irish were soon inundated with orders for ships, food, clothing and all manner of household furnishings as people began to emerge from the ruins of the war.
Everywhere Mark Andrew traveled in Europe, he saw furniture and utensils, carts and wagons, harnesses and tack, clothing and jewelry of Tuathan design. And horses! Tuathan horses were prized above all things. The beasts were small but sturdy and almost completely disease-free. They were intelligent and gentle and yet completely loyal to their owners, more like faithful dogs than beasts of burden. Mark Andrew suspected that the horses were being provided from the underworld, but he thought that, in light of the urgent need and lack of time for the proper breeding of more conventional breeds, he would say nothing about Corrigan’s use of the precious beasts.
As he rode his own black stallion up the curving lane toward his manor, he smiled at the sight of a pair of turtle doves, searching for a meal in the pebbles of the drive. Mated for life. If one of them perished, the other would go on alone until it, too, died. He liked to think of himself as a dove. Mated for life to his lost Meredith. Of course, he did not count Elizabeth McShan, whom he had never married. Nor did he count Queen Semiramis who had never played the part of wife. He preferred to think of Meredith as his one and only true love and wife of his heart even though he still carried the silver barrette he had made for Elizabeth in his pocket next to the faded photograph of Merry. Merry may have been a physical manifestation of Nanna, Lord of the First Gate, but he rarely let that oddity of her makeup interfere with his image of her. As far he was concerned, she had been as human as Merry Ramsay, Queen of England. At least, she had been as human as he needed and he still harbored the secret illusion that someday she would return to him and live with him in Lothian when everything was ‘settled’. He even kept her room, in which he now resided, just as she had liked it. A sort of shrine as it were to her memory and he had confiscated their wedding portrait from Luke Andrew’s room and placed it on the wall in his bedroom alongside the ancient painting of his mother, the only other human woman with whom he had had a meaningful relationship, though it had been a bit brief outside the Seventh Gate.
He dismounted in front of the house and slapped the horse’s rump, watching it trot off toward the stables. He turned about and was surprised to see Sophia Cardinelli coming down the steps to meet him. He’d not seen her in years and yet, she looked exactly the same as when he had last seen her.
“Sophia!” He smiled at her and then took her hand when she offered it to him, kissing it lightly. “When did you get here?”
“Last week.” She shook her head and then brushed her dark hair from her face. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“For me?” He frowned and looked up at the third floor windows. “Have you seen Luke?”
“Of course. He is a regular homebody, unlike his father.” She walked up the steps with him.
“Where is everyone?” He asked as they entered the foyer. The house was very quiet.
“Most of them are out. There is a lot of work to running a farm, you know.” She told him. “There are the herds to see after and Apolonio says the sheep need a bigger pasture. Konrad insists that the cattle need more land than the sheep. I expect them to get six-shooters and square off at the OK Corral any day.”
“The what?” His frown deepened. He had no interest in the actual workings of the estate which had become almost self-sufficient, producing its own wool and dairy products, meat, chicken and ale. They had their own bees, thanks to Catharine and Lucio. Vanni had his own herd of pigs in the northernmost parts near the river and he and Selwig called themselves the Swine Brothers. Lucio had built another mews where he and Apolonio trained birds in their spare time. Konrad oversaw the cattle and the barns. Catharine, Lydia and Rachel raised chickens, pheasants and guinea fowl. There were a few peacocks provided by Lemarik and Lavon de Bleu was always creating new things from his lab for them. Simon held services on a regular basis at the little chapel and many people from the surrounding farms and villages came to listen to him, often crowding outside the door and windows in fair weather. Barry was firmly ensconced in half of the barn and a new addition that he called his smithy, where he made weapons and armor and clothes with the help of Rachel and their two sons, Lawrence and Thomas. Zebulon d’Ornan, Barry’s apprentice, lived in the apprentice quarters with his wife, Martha, who taught school for the children living on the estate at Barry’s old academy building. It was very hard for Mark to keep up with all of them.
He had learned during his last visit home that his son, Luke, Vanni and Lavon de Bleu were courting girls that attended Simon’s services and that Christopher Stewart had someone that he visited quite often away down south. Lemarik visited them frequently and sometimes brought Jasmine with him. Those were always special occasions, but Luke Andrew always disappeared as soon as his ex-wife, whom he had never really divorced, showed up with the Mighty Djinni. The last time Lemarik had visited, he had transformed the swimming pool into a very well stocked fish pond replete with its own natural spring, a small waterfall and a grotto of striking beauty where the bathhouse had once stood. He had also provided them with electricity for the property by means of solar panels that he had confiscated somewhere. They had a well powered by an elaborate windmill, also provided by Lemarik, which produced suspiciously wonderful water.
Things were going quite well for them considering the short time that had passed since the great devastation. He had hoped to see Lemarik on this visit. The Djinni always had news of Bari and the workings in New Babylon. Bari graciously allowed his grandfather to visit him from time to time as long as he promised not to try to destroy Ruth or Jozsef Daniel. Jozsef viewed this conciliation on Bari’s part as great folly, but Bari still felt the need to earn his grandfather’s approval even though it was impossible. Lemarik openly abhorred Ruth’s presence and Jozsef Daniel never appeared when the Djinni was visiting the palace. Lemarik had affirmed Mark’s suspicions that the creature Bari believed to be his mother was simply another creature from the Abyss. The main focus of his trips to New Babylon was his half-sister, Nicole. The Djinni was convinced that someday, somehow, he would be able to convince her to come back to Lothian where she belonged. He still could not believe that his father’s daughter could abandon her family so completely. Ruth, on the other hand, was openly encouraging Bari to marry Nicole, but Bari wanted nothing to do with her. She led her own life within the palace and Ruth was clearly annoyed by her presence. Lemarik was of the opinion that, if it were up to Ruth, Nicole would be in grave danger of destruction, but nothing he could say or do would convince her to return to Scotland.
Mark Andrew was mulling over all these things as Sophia escorted him into his own house as if it were her house and he was an unexpected, but welcome guest. She was asking him about his health and he was nodding. The questions were silly. Of course, he was healthy. How else would he be?
They entered the library and the two old wolfhounds clambered down from the hearth and came to greet him, wagging their tales feebly.
“Scooby! Astro!” He smiled at the dogs and scratched their heads. “Did you miss me?” He used the question he had heard so many times from his son. The matched pair of hounds, now some seventeen years old, had been brought over from St. Ramsay’s where many of th
e descendants of the Scooby’s and Astro’s of the past lived. These two were satisfied with this small attention and went back to the hearth to resume their naps by the warm fire.
“I missed you. Did you miss me?” She asked him as he collapsed in his latest favorite chair and began to pull off his dirty boots. Sophia sat down on the footstool and helped him with them. It seemed ages since he’d pulled them off and had a nice, long bath.
“How long has it been? Five years?” He asked her and then rubbed his right foot. He’d put a stone bruise on it the day before when he’d slid down from the horse in a rocky patch in a neighboring meadow.
“Nine.” She told him. “Nine years, three months and sixteen days.”
“That long?” He scrutinized her unchanging features. She was still as fresh as the day he had walked with her in the garden at Wewelsburg. “What did you say brought you here?”
“I have been waiting for you.” She told him again and then got up, carrying his boots to the hearth. She set the muddy boots on the stone. “Would you like some tea?”
“That would be nice.” He told her. Her presence baffled him. She should have been married by now, but then she was not exactly a normal girl… woman. And she had never answered his questions concerning her origins. Though he had thought of her many times, he had managed to push her out of his mind for the most part, hoping that the question of Sophia Cardinelli would either answer itself or simply go away. But, as always, neither had happened and here she was… yet again. He watched her trip lightly to the library door and then sighed as she disappeared.
Surely someone else was home… somewhere. Perhaps she had brought over a husband or a fiancée from the big island. Lavon would not be in the old laboratory. His new lab was in the old schoolhouse and was three times bigger than Mark’s had ever been. He had no idea when or how or why Lavon had taken up alchemy, but he thought it was probably because of his uncle, Armand de Bleu. Lavon had spent quite a bit of time with Armand when they had been isolated in the Abyss and the underworld directly after the war. Lavon had combined his own mystery of the Wisdom of Solomon with the alchemical knowledge he had learned from Ramsay’s attic and was a sort of genius at inventing and manufacturing everything that they could possible want or need in the absence of what had been simply a matter of picking up the phone and ordering from any variety of online stores. Lavon, Philip and Christopher had salvaged all the Order’s computers, but there was no Internet, no World Wide Web. Mark did not miss these things, but the younger members of the Order did. The only connection they had was the strange link to the computer in Paddy Puffingtowne’s home in Kilkenny. Some things never changed.
Sophia was back before he could decide what to do next. She carried a tray with tea and cookies which, ominously enough, indicated she had been expecting him. How she had known he was coming was a matter of speculation. He hadn’t even known he would be there until that morning.
“You like oatmeal cookies?” She asked as she set the tray on the table between the two chairs facing the hearth.
“Is there any other kind?” He asked and smiled at her in frustration. He had just made up his mind to disappear upstairs for a much needed bath.
Sophia put three cookies on a china plate and then poured him a cup of tea. In spite of his need to part company with her, the tea smelled wonderful.
“Sugar?”
“Plenty.”
“Cream?”
“Is it real?”
“Is there any other kind?” She smiled up at him as she bent over the table.
“This is very nice. Thank you.” He accepted the cup of tea and balanced the cookies on his leg.
“You really don’t want to be here having tea with me, do you?” She sat down in the other chair with her own cup of tea.
“Actually, I think I would be better in the tub.” He said and then choked on the cookie he was trying to eat in one bite. “I mean, I need a bath. I would smell better.”
“You smell fine to me.” She laughed. “Like vanilla and oranges.”
Mark frowned at her. Could she smell him like Lucio could smell people?
“But of course you’ll want to clean up before supper. I made your favorites. Hotch-Potch, Bannocks and Black Bun.” She announced and his face darkened.
“How did you know I was coming home?” He asked her quietly.
“It is my business to know. My name is Sophia, or have you forgotten?” She raised one eyebrow. “Sophia, knowledge, wisdom. How could I not know?”
“Ye’d best change th’ subject.” He told her and reached for the last of the cookies, intent upon eating them all and then leaving. “Now tell me why ye’re really ’ere.”
“Waiting for you.”
“I know wot ye’re sayin’, but ye didna come oll th’ way from th’ oilands just t’ wait around me ’ouse fur me fur nae reason.” He set the cup on the tray and stood up.
“No, I came because I knew that you would never come looking for me even though you should.” She looked up at him and nibbled daintily one of the cookies.
“I fail to see why I should come looking for you.” He told her sharply. “I didn’t lose you. You weren’t missing.” He had regained his control and now headed for the door.
“That’s very funny, Saint Ramsay,” she rolled the R’s protractedly. “You have been looking for me for a long time, but that is another matter. I have a message for you from Lucifer.” She said as he stepped into the hall. He spun about and came back toward her angrily as if he would drag her from the chair.
“Whoy did ye not tell me t’ start with?” He asked and refrained from touching her.
“I though you should relax a bit first.” She shrugged. “I know I wouldn’t want to just ride in and be assaulted with worries and woes before I even had a cup of tea! Why, it wouldn’t be civilized.” She tilted her chin up.
“Well, furget th’ civilities and tell me th’ message.” He leaned down to look into her face. They had not heard from Lucifer, Galen or Michael in twenty years. This was a monumental bit of news. Lucio had had Simon conduct a memorial service for his son, presuming him to be a casualty of the war. Luke Matthew on the other hand, refused to believe that Michael would not be coming home sooner or later. Mark’s anger toward the young woman was quickly replaced by a number of conflicting and overlapping emotions ranging from joy to dread. He had looked high and low for the elusive angel and his small band of warriors.
Sophia stood up slowly and looked at him closely.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take a bath first? I could draw one for you and then tell you the news while you’re soaking.” She said and he drew back as if she had slapped him. Amazingly, his first inclination was to take her up on the offer. It sounded reasonable enough…
“I dunna think so.” He said after a moment’s hesitation. Too long!
“But you were considering saying yes, weren’t you?” She smiled at him. “No one is here, but us. Surely you are not concerned with what other people think of you.”
“Well, you should be!” He said irritably. “It would not be proper. Now just give me the message.”
“Hmmm.” She crossed her arms over her stomach and then tapped her thumb against her bottom teeth thoughtfully. “Now I seem to have the upper hand here. What if I refused to tell you unless you are soaking in the tub?”
“I could simply read your mind.” He shrugged and smiled wickedly at her.
“You would not do that. Not again. It would not fit your new image.” She shook her head.
“Wot new image?!” He frowned.
“Your image! You know, Mark Ramsay, the Prophet, the Sorcerer, the Magician, the Beloved Teacher and Healer.” She continued to smile at him. “I know you didn’t mean to do it, but you did it. Everyone talks about you. We may not have television, radio and newspapers, but word gets around. A bit slower, I admit, but it gets around and it grows as it goes. You are England’s miracle worker. The new Merlin to Luke Matthew’s Arthur.
Didn’t you know? We’ve heard about your exploits even on the islands. You might as well grow a long white beard and wear a pointed hat! The children speak of nothing, but you. You are a legend in your own time… no, that’s not fair, you’ve lived too long for that to be relevant. But you are a legend, nevertheless. Some people think that your brother would not have been able to do what he did without you and you know that it is true.”
“I will not stand here and discuss the King’s business with a girl.” Mark Andrew began to grow angry again.
“A girl?” She laughed and stepped back, pressing her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t know you were chauvinistic, Sir Ramsay. I thought you were more enlightened, more… Celtic in your notions of the status of women. Isn’t that why you decided to make your home in Scotland? Because it was more Celtic? Isn’t that why the great Myrrdyn came to Wales and Northumbria? Because they were the last bastions of the Celts? The inventors of chivalry? You invented the Celts, Sir Mark! You raised them up from the darkness and set them on this great adventure. Do you now deny your own beliefs? Would you cast me aside simply because I am a woman? I hardly think so. Don’t you know what it is you are looking for?”
“Ahhh.” He shook his head and placed one hand on his hip, turning about and looking up at the ceiling. “You want to fight? You see yourself as Queen Boudicca? I thought you were Italian?”
All That Is Fallen Page 11
