The Celestials did not keep an herbalist. On the rare occasions that they needed one, they used one of those in the Mercifuls’ village, since it was nearest theirs. Aoife made sure to leave an appropriate financial gift with each herbalist for his or her trouble, and so they wouldn’t forget.
Her trap set, Aoife returned to the House of the Priestesses.
She visited the kitchens and toured them with Zillah, the chief cook. She explained that she was taking inventory. Zillah was surprised. No High Priestess had ever done that as far as she knew.
Zillah was a serious-looking woman made sterner looking by the grey robes and darker grey over-tunic when she was cooking. Her hair was pulled back severely, a white, cup-like cap over her hair. Flour flecked her hair and the bodice of her tunic.
“I have heard of a few ailments the herbalist says could be caused by certain seasonings added to our meals. I bear you no blame. I’m sure you keep things tidy, but perhaps some things are past their prime.”
Zillah showed Aoife the spices. She sniffed each one carefully.
“This does not seem the scent I recall for basil,” Aoife said, handing the jar to the cook. Zillah took a tentative sniff and looked oddly at Aoife.
“That, Ma’am is your own recipe.”
“Mine? I have no recipes.”
“I was told you preferred basil and chicory together. But it smells as if something more were in it.”
“Indeed it does. And I have no such preference. Who told you this?”
“Verity gave it to me.”
“Verity? She is not my handmaiden. In future, you will make nothing of mine different from everyone else’s meal unless I personally come to you to tell you to make a change. Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes, Milady.” She bowed her head briefly.
“Anything else I should know about? Did my mother have anything special?”
Zillah looked uncomfortable. “There was a jar of her favorite seasoning. It was a special mix, a gift actually, so Siobhan told me at the time. She brought it to me mere weeks before your mother’s end.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only now noticed it’s gone. Do you think she was poisoned?”
“I’m sure not,” Aoife said. Zillah needn’t carry the burden of believing she’d unwittingly killed the High Priestess. It wasn’t her doing.
“What of Bran?” Zillah asked.
“What of him?” Aoife countered.
“Am I to continue to put his potion into his food to ease his breathing?”
“Nay. He was to the physician yesterday, and was told he no longer needed it.”
Aoife was glad Hugh had been so suspicious and that she’d sent Bran to safety.
“That is good news,” Zillah said.
“Indeed. I am glad he is so well,” Aoife said.
She suggested getting rid of all of the old spices and starting fresh. She offered to help Zillah to clean everything.
“Oh, no, Milady!”
“I am no better than anyone else here,” Aoife insisted. “I can clean a kitchen as well as you, Zillah, and two sets of hands make a pleasanter job.”
Aoife rolled up her sleeves, and Zillah gave her a cap to cover her hair, and an apron to protect her robes.
In the face of such logic, Zillah couldn’t argue. Soon they had the kitchen sparkling, and all of the spices were disposed of.
Once things in the kitchen were clean, Aoife bought the new spices herself.
Aoife took a walk to consider what had passed. Zillah, she thought, was innocent. She kept things tidy, and had been truly shocked by anything amiss in her kitchen.
There was still the matter of whatever had been given to Moira. Zillah said it had been taken away. Siobhan might still have it. Aoife couldn’t justify rummaging through another priestess’ things. She would behave as if nothing were amiss, and await a chance.
X
Shauna Faun rehearsed. Kele had rejoined them. He applied himself as always, and was, on the face of things, his usual self. When the rehearsal ended and the others went off in twos and threes, he stayed behind to speak with Simon.
“I suppose you think me an old fool,” he said.
“Why would I?” Simon asked.
“Taking so long, pining for Fiona when she told me she wished to end our union.”
“Matters of the heart – even for one that no longer beats – are difficult. But time does the healing.”
“Haven’t I held the coven back by believing she’d return?”
“No,” Simon replied. “We are only one less, as we were after Ethan’s leaving.” Simon carefully packed away his instruments as he spoke with Kele.
“What will you do?”
Simon shrugged. “I am in no hurry to find a twelfth. I leave it to you. If you wish to sire someone, it is your right.”
“What about my oath?”
“The oath was that you would not create without my leave. You now have my leave. Just don’t expect that your creation will love you simply because you’re the sire.”
“I have experience making Vampyres.”
“I know you do. That is why I am not worried. But come, let’s feed before daybreak.”
While Aoife planned how best to entrap the guilty priestesses, Hugh continued to navigate on the ships that travelled across the small sea. His skill was highly regarded, and ship captains requested him if they didn’t have a reliable navigator. Hugh enjoyed the voyages and throughout the summer and early autumn took whatever voyages he could, building his small fortune so that he could someday support a wife and family.
His friendship with Meleri grew. He treated her differently than he’d treated girls in the past. He saw her as far more than a dalliance. She also wasn’t taken in by his comeliness; she expected more than a pretty face from any young man paying her interest. She knew what she wanted, and insisted that Hugh respect her wishes.
Meleri’s auburn hair hung halfway down her back. Everything about her was delicate, yet not fragile. She looked as if an artist had fashioned her features. When standing on the ground, she tended to flutter up when she laughed or when something made her happy.
Because he was on one ship or another so much of the time, their relationship progressed slowly. Certain that she was the one, he finally asked her, at the end of September, if she’d consider becoming his paramour.
“You’ve finally reached the conclusion I came to months ago! Of course.”
He was a little taken aback by her reception of his question.
“What is it? Now that the words have left your lips you would retrieve them?”
“No. I was simply expecting a little surprise or whatever it is that girls usually respond with when they’re asked a romantic question.”
“I thought what you liked about me was that I’m not a simpering flibbertigibbet like most of the other girls you’ve known.”
“It is. I do.”
“Well, then, I’m being straightforward with you.”
“It’s something I’ll have to get used to, I guess,” he said.
When Hugh went to see his mother about wishing to make Meleri his paramour, Aoife was delighted and surprised. She often wondered if Hugh would ever settle down.
“Her family is a little awed by the fact that my mother is the High Priestess.”
She chuckled. “As I recall, Teilo’s parents were awed by my mother, and they lived in the same village.
Meleri’s parents sent the invitation, and when the day arrived they were as nervous as any parents meeting the High Priestess for the first time.
As the boy’s parent, Aoife went to Meleri’s parents’ home. She was as surprised by the inside of the cocoon-like houses as Hugh had been. She didn’t often visit the Celestials’ village.
Mrs. Morningstar invited Hugh and Aoife in. Hugh wore a formal suit of purple with a lavender shirt. His boots were a highly-polished black. Aoife wore a pale pink gown with a crimson cape over it, her ha
ir piled on top of her head. She looked regal.
Mrs. Morningstar, a raven-haired woman with deep blue eyes, wore a dark blue gown. Her hair hung in a long braid down her back. Mr. Morningstar, an older man barely Hugh’s height, with copper hair and brown eyes, wore green breeches and tunic over a white shirt and short brown shoes. He greeted them warmly, bowing repeatedly to Aoife.
Meleri appeared from another room dressed in a gown of gold and pale yellow that made her auburn hair nearly glow.
“Good evening, Lady Aoife,” Meleri said.
“Good evening. You must be Meleri,” Aoife said. “Hugh has spoken very highly of you.” She took the girl’s hand. Meleri blushed.
“You are too kind, Milady.”
“Please, I would have you all call me simply Aoife.”
They sat and Mr. Morningstar brought a tray with dandelion wine and glasses, and set it on a side table.
After some initial pleasantries about the beauty of their home and the airiness of the neighborhood, Aoife stood.
“I have only made Meleri’s acquaintance today, but she certainly seems a well-conducted and intelligent young Faery. My son speaks highly of her. Since his apprenticeship in Celestial lands, all reports I have heard are that he has conducted himself in an industrious and gentlemanly way. I believe that Meleri is in large part responsible for this. Meleri, from Hugh’s report of her, is lively but respectful, witty without being crude and I can see for myself what a beautiful girl she is. Hugh wishes a paramour relationship with her, and I see no objection to this being appropriate.”
Mrs. Morningstar stood. “I do not know Hugh well; we have met him but a few times. He has always conducted himself with the highest manners. His way of treating Meleri is respectful, and he guards her as one would a precious gift. He appears to be an honorable young man. My daughter has expressed a wish that they be joined as paramours, and I find no objection. Meleri has always conducted herself as an honorable young Faery, and we approve her choice.”
Having made a formal pronouncement, Mrs. Morningstar sat.
The mothers nodded to their children. Meleri and Hugh stood. Meleri’s mother began the ceremony.
“Meleri, is it your intention to become Hugh’s paramour, and that after the term of one year, if there are no blocks to it, that the two of you will be joined in marriage? That if either Hugh or you find objection before that time, that the paramour joining may be put aside without resentment or retribution?”
“It is my intention,” Meleri replied.
Aoife then took her turn. “Hugh, is it your intention to become Meleri’s paramour, to treat her with the greatest respect, above other women you know or may meet, and that after the term of one year, if there are no blocks to it, that the two of you will be joined in marriage? That if either of you find objection before that time, that the paramour joining may be put aside without resentment or retribution?”
“It is my intention,” Hugh said, for the first time feeling as if he stood before the High Priestess of all the light Faeries of the realm. Although she said the words Mrs. Morningstar had said, he felt a warning beneath them, as if she were telling him not to do anything to ruin this relationship.
The mothers joined their children’s hands.
“Let it be as the goddess wills,” the mothers said together.
Everyone sat, and Mr. Morningstar passed around the glasses of dandelion to be drunk in celebration.
Afterwards, while Meleri and Hugh went off on their own, Aoife visited with Meleri’s parents to learn more of her family.
Aoife had a pleasant conversation with them, and learned that Mr. Morningstar was one of the astronomers. Mrs. Morningstar had learned lace-making as a young woman, and supplied lace to the dressmakers as well as selling it to those who wanted to use lace as a decoration.
Before she left, Aoife looked at Mrs. Morningstar’s lace samples and ordered some lace cloths for the House of the Priestesses. Mrs. Morningstar wanted to give it to her for free, but Aoife insisted on paying, saying she wouldn’t feel right taking advantage of the ceremony that way.
*
“You look beautiful,” Hugh said when he and Meleri were alone.
“You look very handsome, too,” she replied. “Your mother is not what I expected.”
“Have you never seen her before?”
“From a distance at events like Samhain and Beltane. She always seems so severe. She isn’t like that at all.”
“She can be when I make her angry,” he said with a grimace. “But generally, she is like anyone else’s mother. I’d like to get to know your parents better.”
“They’d like that, I’m sure,” she said. She’d been questioned frequently about Hugh
He took her hand, and they wandered through the woodland on foot. It was something new for a Celestial girl, and as they wandered, he told her tales of his days on the various ships.
XI
A feast was planned for Samhain. The annual festivities were a great time of joy for the priestesses since they were called on to contact spirits of the dead, and it was a happy occasion to reconnect loved ones.
Aoife suspected the feast would be the perfect opportunity for someone to poison her. Spirits of evil could be blamed, and no one would question her slow, agonizing death. She had a plan of her own.
She set about readying things for the Samhain festival. She chose Hester for much of the busiest work to keep her from the kitchens. Siobhan, being older even than her mother would have been, she sent with Eugenie to the grove to prepare the clearing and to see to it that all of the medallions were properly hung around the edges. She would have no one say she was remiss in seeking the goddess’s protection on the night dead spirits walked.
Zillah had been told not to accept any herbs from anyone, and Aoife had hand-selected someone to help in the kitchen. She suspected Siobhan would attempt to put poison in her food. Thankfully, Bran was away, so Aoife need only worry about her own well-being.
The celebration feast started with all of the priestesses and druids assembled in the hall. Zillah and her helpers brought out the large tureen of soup. Zillah herself dippered out the soup into bowls on trays and the first priestess at each table brought the tray to her table. A smaller tray contained the bowl for Aoife. Hester, who sat beside Siobhan, stood and picked up the tray for Aoife’s table. Hester was subtle, but not so subtle that Aoife didn’t see the slight break in the surface of the soup.
“Milady,” Hester said, placing the bowl before Aoife. Aoife took her spoon and stirred the soup.
“Oh this does look splendid, indeed, Hester. But you have gone to such trouble.”
“It is no trouble, Milady.”
“Nay, I would not have you stand hungry. Taste the soup and tell me if it is as wonderful as it seems.”
“Milady?” Hester asked, her face turning pale. She licked her lips and looked at Siobhan, who studiously stared into her own bowl.
“What ails you, Hester?”
“Nothing, Milady. Are you asking me to be your taster?”
“Have I need of one?”
“No, Milady.”
“Then consider it an honor.”
Hester slowly lifted the spoon toward her mouth, and her hand shook, spilling half the contents. By now the whole room was focused on Hester. She flung the spoon away.
“Nay, I cannot. It is poison for me to taste it.”
A murmur went around the room, and Siobhan glowered.
“Poison? You would poison your High Priestess?”
“Nay, I wouldn’t, but –”
“But what? You would let me be poisoned and wouldn’t offer your own life instead? Indeed, I saw you drop something into my bowl.”
Hester lowered her head. “It was given me to do.”
“Given?” Aoife asked indignantly. “By whom?”
“I cannot say, Milady.”
“Cannot? Do not play the fool with me. You know full well who bid you do this. Your loyalty to that pers
on is greater than your loyalty to me.”
“It would mean my life.”
“Poisoning the High Priestess is worth your life, too. It may yet be spared if you but name the owner of the poison – the poison that also killed my mother, Moira Holly.”
A buzz shuddered through the hall. Shock at this accusation, horror that someone may have put poison in Aoife’s food and greater horror that Moira Holly might have been poisoned caused a cacophony of conjecture.
The chief druid, Dandriloc, rose and glared at Aoife.
“By what authority do you make these accusations, Aoife?”
“She herself says this bowl contains poison. I myself saw her place something into it. If you believe she’s lying, I welcome you to partake of this particular dish.”
“What evidence have you that Moira’s end was other than natural?”
“Zillah, the cook, told me special herbs were added to Moira’s food before her death. She thought, as she was told, that they were favorites of Moira’s. But as her daughter I know that Moira would never expect special treatment of that nature. Indeed, she required rather bland food. But Zillah was unable to find the container these special spices were stored in. I suspect the guilty party still has them. Since Zillah named Siobhan, it is my belief that a search of Siobhan’s room would produce these spices.”
“I would first suspect Zillah,” Dandriloc said.
“Zillah had no knowledge of any poison. She found some things to be tainted. She also spoke of a flask that was brought in by Hannah that was supposed to be for my nephew, Bran, to treat an ailment he does not have. That flask contained poison. I have ascertained it from the herbalist. The herbalist also asked about our troubles with unwanted creatures for which she sold priestesses a poison potion. They bought these things in Moira’s name. They also bought things in my name. I daresay Moira was as unaware of these poisons being bought as I was. In addition, I discovered Moira’s medallion, mine and my nephew’s were all set with poison.”
“How could you know this of Moira’s?”
“She told me on her death bed not to send it with her, but replace it with one from her childhood. I am only sorry it took me so long to discover her reason.”
Dark Faery III: The Celestials Page 5
