The Sixth Labyrinth (The Child of the Erinyes Book 4)

by Rebecca Lochlann

  Sophie wanted to stay, have cake, and admire the pretty dresses, so the three cronies left Seaghan with her and went off in search of the missing girls. They weren’t at the pond, nor the walled garden, or the gazebo. Guests stopped them to chat and ask after Morrigan’s health as she neared her ninth month of pregnancy, hampering their search. Lily found them and reported happily that Sir John Beechforth had promised to donate a building in Soho that had been in his family, unused, for years. She whispered that the old sot hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her bosoms, so she credited them for the prize.

  Eventually, the three took note of a striped pavilion set some distance away from the others, and Diorbhail remembered that Olivia had asked Kyle and Logan to erect it for her and her friends.

  They couldn’t see the children as they walked up, but heard a flurry of female chatter, and paused outside the pavilion to listen.

  “How many sisters do you have?”

  Morrigan recognized the voice of Rachel’s daughter, Jean.

  “I don’t know,” she heard Olivia reply. “Lots.”

  “Am I there?” This was asked by Eirene, Olivia’s younger sister.

  “Of course you’re there,” Olivia said impatiently. “I told you already. The new sister will be there too. All my sisters will be there, all, from the first.”

  “But how, if they’re dead?” This was Jean again. Though she was only nine months older than Olivia, she often expressed disdain for what she called the younger girl’s silliness.

  Olivia huffed. “The lady says they’ll come back to life and we’ll be together.”

  “People don’t come back to life,” Jean said.

  “My sisters will. The lady promised.”

  “How can they be your sisters? Your mam’s only had the two of you.”

  “I want to dream of my other sisters!” Eirene said plaintively.

  “Maybe you’re not old enough,” Olivia said. “I only started having the dream two months ago.”

  “Tell us their names again,” Jean asked. She sounded disbelieving, like she thought she might catch Olivia in a mistake and prove the tale was make-believe.

  Olivia gave a sigh and Morrigan heard a whimper, probably from Violet’s baby, Grace. Olivia loved that child, and was always running off with her.

  As she began to speak, a large eagle landed on a nearby rowan branch. It made no sound but cocked its head and leveled the women with a fierce stare.

  “There’s Romy and Claire and Evie. There’s… oh aye, Rosabel. And the ones with the unco names— Xanthe and Pasithea. And Iphiboë. And Alecto. And the new baby. The lady said her name will be Willow.”

  Morrigan had sagged against Diorbhail as Olivia spoke the first three names. Her legs felt too weak to support her.

  “Alecto,” Diorbhail whispered.

  As Olivia came to the end of her list, Morrigan took in a breath and straightened. The three women regarded each other, their eyes shining, and reached out, placing their hands on each other’s shoulders, creating a perfect circle.

  EPILOGUE: THREE

  1894

  THE JEWELER FROWNED upon seeing the items. He spent a long time studying them with his magnifier, turning them over repeatedly.

  “What is it, Philip?” Curran finally asked. “Are they sham? Stolen?”

  “No, Mr. Ramsay. Well, I know nothing about any theft. I do not believe they are imitation. Excuse me, sir.”

  He went into the back through a curtain and soon returned with another man, who also inspected the knife and necklace carefully.

  They spoke together in low, rapid Greek. Curran understood only a few words, having lost most of the Greek he’d learned at university.

  “Will one of you tell me what is so interesting?” he interrupted.

  The two men exchanged glances. Philip, whose surname, Curran suddenly remembered, was Christopoulos, said, “I believe these are ancient, truly ancient, but I would like the opinion of an expert. There is a fellow connected to the new museum in Athens, the National Archaeological Museum. With your permission, I would like to take these items there for him to examine.”

  “You want to take them to Athens? I don’t know. They belong to my wife. It took her years to agree to this appraisal.”

  The men exchanged another glance.

  “You aren’t telling me everything,” Curran said.

  “How did she acquire these pieces, may I ask?”

  “They were gifts.”

  “From a collector, perhaps?”

  “No. Just a man.”

  Christopoulos stared at him, frowning deeply.

  “They are stolen. Is that what you are not saying?”

  “No, no, Mr. Ramsay. Please forgive me. It is odd, of course, how pieces of such antiquity could spend years in… your wife’s possession? These should be in a museum.”

  “And you have now suggested that twice. What guarantee do I have, Philip, that they will be returned if you take them to Athens?”

  The door at the front of the shop opened just then and Morrigan came in, flanked by Diorbhail.

  “There you are.” Curran held out his hand.

  She came forward, clasping his hand and smiling at the two men behind the counter. “We’re finished with our errands,” she said, and perused the knife and necklace. “Well? Is there a verdict?”

  “Not really. These men want to take your antiquities to Athens.”

  Morrigan did not react as he’d thought she would. She blinked, but her smile didn’t falter. “They are wonderful, aren’t they?” she said.

  “Yes, Lady Eilginn,” Philip said. “In fact, they are astonishing.”

  The other man came out from behind the counter. “I am Spiro Michelakis, Mrs. Ramsay,” he said. Philip sounded like a native Londoner, but Spiro’s Greek accent was pronounced.

  She held out her hand and he took it briefly. “May I tell you about our new museum in Athens?” he asked.

  “There’s a new museum? I would be very interested,” she replied, and the two walked over to another counter, where he brought out several cases as he spoke to her.

  “Mr. Ramsay, sir,” Philip said, “Greece has a moral right to her artifacts.”

  “You are certain these are Greek.”

  “The meander on the necklace suggests it might be Cretan. There have been other items found there with this pattern.”

  “Ah.”

  “Does that mean something to you, Mr. Ramsay?”

  “No.”

  “How was the knife broken?”

  “It was dropped. I suppose that hurts its value.”

  “I suspect nothing could harm the value of these pieces.” He picked up the knife, very carefully, and ran his thumb over the sheared-off edge. “Obsidian,” he murmured. “The hilt is ivory.”

  “My wife believes the figure is Athene.”

  “Oh yes, no doubt of it. The owl and the aegis tell us this.” His eyes filled with tears.

  “Philip?” Curran said. “What have I done?”

  “Oh, sir, it’s just that… look here. You can see the tool marks. I feel certain I am holding something in my hands that was created thousands of years ago, in my country, by men just like me, perhaps. Artisans. I feel them, you see, in my flesh. I feel I am looking through their eyes as they carve this image. I can almost smell their forge fires.”

  Curran didn’t know what to say. It was odd, for he too sometimes saw flashes of things when he held the necklace and the knife.

  “Is your wife knowledgeable about our history?” Philip asked.

  “Very much so.”

  Morrigan returned to his side. “Curran, I have an idea. You know how Livvy has always wanted to see an excavation. Let’s gather up the weans and go with these gentlemen to Athens and see their museum for ourselves.”

  “Well….”

  “We can take the lasses to see Schliemann’s Troy and his other excavations, at Mycenae, and Tiryns.”

  “I would be honored to escort
you to Crete,” Spiro said as he joined them. “Sixteen years ago, part of a building was dug up beneath a mound there, and many of our antiquarians believe this is the actual palace of Knossos— the legendary place named in Homer’s Odyssey! And as I was just telling your wife, sir, I am most intrigued by the pattern on your necklace, for it matches the pattern on coins that have been discovered nearby.”

  Morrigan’s excitement was clear to see, as was Diorbhail’s. Curran felt excitement rise inside him as well, almost as though he was contemplating going home.

  His wife was looking at him in that way she had, communicating without words.

  He realized he was nodding.

  So be it. They would embark on a new pilgrimage— this time with their children.

  THE END

  GLOSSARY FOR THE SIXTH LABYRINTH

  Bannock: flat bread

  Batting: cotton quilting (in this case, for diapers)

  Bauld and ferlie: bold and wondrous Ferlie: strange, unusual, causing wonder: “a marvel”

  Besom: can be a broom, but in this case it’s a silly, tiresome girl

  Boak: to vomit

  Bogle: like a bogey-man, a ghost, a demon or supernatural thing

  Braes: a steep bank or hillside

  Braw: fine, beautiful, grand

  Cheviot: a breed of sheep

  Clishmaclaver: gossip

  Close: a narrow place like an alley, a path, a passage

  Cockerdecosie: Piggy-back riding

  Currach: a very small boat, similar to a coracle, but shaped differently: currachs could be sea-worthy

  Dawless: lazy

  dead-can’le: a mystical bluish light that would appear around a house where someone was soon to die

  Deiseal: the direction of the sun as it travels through the sky every day: to walk deiseal is to walk following the sun’s movement, and is believed to give powerful protection

  Dirk: a dagger

  Dominie: a schoolteacher

  Dowf: dull and stupid

  Dowp: backside

  Dreich: wet, cold, miserable weather

  Dulse: a salty dark red seaweed

  Fashing, or fash: to be annoyed, worried, or stressed

  Fee: a job

  Gawpus: a clumsy stupid lout

  Glaikit: thoughtless, stupid, foolish

  Glengarry: a traditional men’s cap

  greet, greeting: weeping

  Haar: a sea-haar is a thick sea mist

  Half-mark church: a church that performs clandestine or unconventional weddings

  Hippins: baby diapers

  Hissy: Beatrice uses this as a way of saying “hussy,” which is a mischievous girl, a problem child

  Jillet: a flirt

  jo: “dear” or “sweetheart”

  Keek: to peek

  Kirk: a Presbyterian church

  Kist: the bride’s kist: her hope chest, in which she stores linens and other things she’s made for when she marries

  Kye: cattle

  Lief: “rather,” “happily.” “I would as happily buy a dog.”

  Mince: rubbish. Nonsense

  Moolet: to whine

  Mucker: while this can be used in place of “friend,” it can also be derogatory. Kit uses it on Douglas to mean a coarse man, a jerk

  Mutchit: said to children when annoyed with them or when one doesn’t think much of them

  Paddler: a child just beginning to walk. A toddler

  Sark: shirt

  scunner: there are several ways to use this word. It describes many different emotions: angry, frustrated, annoyed, dislike.

  Shieling: a rude hut or stone shelter up in sheep grazing lands, usually only occupied in the summer

  Skaffie: a versatile Scottish fishing boat

  Sonsie: another word with many uses and meanings, like “healthy,” “good-natured,” “attractive.”

  Thole: bear, tolerate, endure: (I cannot bear it any longer)

  Thrawn: perverse, twisted, crooked

  Thwart: a bench on a boat

  Unco: strange, weird, extraordinary

  Wambly: trembling, shaky

  Wame: stomach

  Wynd: an alleyway, a narrow lane between buildings

  GAELIC (AND GREEK) TRANSLATIONS

  a bhrònag: You poor thing

  a charaid: my friend

  a ghaoil: my darling

  a ghràidh: my love

  àilleag nan nighean: jewel of the girls

  a leannan: sweetheart, to a baby or child

  a luaidh: an endearment. “Beloved”

  a-mach às mo shealladh: Get out of my sight

  a nighean: My lass

  an tig thu thugam a-nochd: Will you come to me tonight

  Arnamuil, Gunamuil, Lianamuil: sea stacks at Mingulay

  a rùin mo chridhe: My greatest love

  a shiùrsach: Whore, or “you whore”

  Bàgh a’ Chaisteil: Castlebay, a village on the island of Barra

  Barraigh: Gaelic for the island of Barra

  beannachd leat a ghràidh: Goodbye, my love

  beannachd leat, mo nighean: Goodbye, my daughter

  bean-nighe: water-wraith

  bean-sìth: Female spectres

  bean-uasal: a Highland lady

  cait fhiadhaich: the Scottish wildcat

  caileag: girl

  Cailleach an Dùdain: “The Old Woman of the Mill-Dust,” or “The Old Wife,” a traditional harvest-time dance from ancient times, with specific movements and symbolism

  Càrnan: the highest hill on Mingulay

  cèilidh: a visit, a get-together, a party

  chan fhaca mi a leithid: “I never saw the like”

  ciamar a tha thu, a ghràidh: How are you, my love

  crioslachan: a bag, sometimes used to hold the Michaelmas carrots

  curran: carrot

  daoine sìth: A supernatural race of faery-like people from Ireland. Described in various ways, as spirits of nature, gods and goddesses, faery people

  Dòmhnach Curran: Carrot Sunday (at Michaelmas)

  Dùn Mhiughalaigh: a promontory on Mingulay

  Earsaraidh: a village on Barra

  feasgar math: good evening

  fèilidhean: kilts

  gaol mo chridhe: Love of my heart

  gille: boy

  glaistig: a fearsome grey creature

  gu bràth: Forever

  gus am faic mi a-rithist thu: Until I see you again

  Innse Orc: the Orkney Islands

  Là Fèill Bhrìghde: St. Brigit’s Feast Day

  madainn mhath: good morning

  m’ eudail: my darling

  mhic an Diabhail: Son of the Devil

  mìos nam pòg: Month of kisses

  mo bhean: my wife

  Mo rùn: my love

  Morrigan/Morrígan: I kept the acute accent when I referenced the goddess, to differentiate between my character and the deity. There is some argument about whether it would have the accent. Various sources show it both ways, so I made that literary choice.

  m’ ulaidh bhuaireanta: bhuaireanta has different connotations. On the one hand, it means “tempting,” “enticing,” and maybe the most telling, “enflaming.” But it also means “annoying,” “irritating,” “argumentative.” All of which can go together in many ways. It is the perfect, most sublime word in this instance

  Nam chridhe gu bràth: In my heart forever

  oda: the Michaelmas horse race

  oidhche mhath, ciamar a tha sibh: Good evening (or good night), how are you? (spoken formally)

  pìobaireachd: the piping (bagpipes)

  Sasannach: an Englishman

  Sasannaich, na Sasannaich: The English

  seanchaidh: storyteller

  sìthean: a faery hill

  Sgoth Niseach: A type of fishing boat built on the isle of Lewis

  Sgurr Mhic Bharraich: Mountain (or hill, really) east of Glenelg

  Slàinte, or slàinte mhath: Good health

  Sròn an Dùin: Nose of t
he Dun

  strùan: the Michaelmas cake

  ’s tu mo bhean is mo rùn: Thou art my wife and my love

  ’s tusa gaol is rùn mo chridhe: Thou art my love, my heart

  tadger: penis

  tha gaol agam ort: I am in love with you

  tha ise bòidheach: She is beautiful

  tha mi toilichte: I am happy

  tha thu gam chur às mo chiall: You’re driving me daft

  Taigh gun chù, gun chat, gun leanabh beag. Taigh gun ghean, gun ghàire: “A house without a dog, a cat, or a little child is a house without joy or laughter”

  Taigh na Gaoithe: Windy House

  taigh-tughaidh: Thatched house

  Tuatha Dé Dannann (Danaan) or Tuath Dé: Tribe of the gods, or of the goddess Danu. Kings, queens and heroes with supernatural powers. Worshipped as gods originally: Robert Graves thought they originated in the Mediterranean

  uisge-beatha: whisky

  ùruisg: part goat, part human with tangled hair and protruding eyes

  Lebadeia: site of an ancient sanctuary on the Greek mainland, north of Athens, where people sought prophecy from oracles

  Zoi mou… agapi mou. T’aste’ri mou: Greek. Zoi mou: my life. Agapi mou: my love. T’aste’ri mou: my star

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  (FOR THOSE WHO LIKE TO PEEK BEHIND THE CURTAIN)

  The Sixth Labyrinth is a complicated weave of truth and fantasy: Yes, liberties were taken. Following are notes, both about the liberties and truths, for those who might be interested.

  * * * *

  The maiden voyage of the Princess Louise was July 1, 1872. I moved this date back to May, for the purposes of the story. (I wanted Morrigan to be married and in Glenelg by Michaelmas.)

  I was thrilled to discover some maps of Stranraer as it was in the 1850s. I used those to help describe the city, as well as my own memories from staying there.

  I have an extensive library of books and other media detailing the Scots language and dialects. I have studied these, off and on, for about twenty-five years. This has equated into me understanding some but still being able to authentically speak almost none. I was extremely fortunate to receive the help of two native Gaelic speakers for this book, and I will always be grateful for their assistance and patience.