Katherina blew bangs out of her eyes, reminding her she needed a haircut—if she didn’t pull it all out in frustration.
Though Sir Geoffrey, Sir Patrick, Aimeé, Mother Superior and Sister Abigail were present, she felt totally alone, as no one else would help. The knights took up opposite ends of the room, ignoring each other. Oddly, Patrick kept his distance from Aimeé as well. The nuns, one in the white-and-black Benedictine habit and the other in the all-white Cistercian habit, chatted merrily over their needlework in the auditorium. Only Aimeé came close to helping by trying to keep Chansonne occupied, but she struggled to keep up with the dirty child. Yet she avoided Geoffrey at all times, which made the room tense whenever Chansonne played near him.
Katherina wanted to scream. Under the best of circumstances, her inability to coax a coherent song from the group would drive her mad, but with the useless adults in the room distracting the children, her head felt as though it would explode.
“One more time,” she appealed to the children gathered before her. “Candace starts with the opening note, then the rest follow.”
She raised her arms to commence the exercise, and to Candace’s credit she sang the first note, but stopped abruptly when she reached up and pinched her nose.
“Candace, what’s wrong?” Katherina asked.
Then the smell hit her and she turned to see Chansonne had crept up close to the group.
“Sorry,” Aimeé said tiredly. “I tried to keep her away, but she loves listening.”
Stuart started moaning and Martin leaped into a furious face-waving spell.
“Chansonne, darling,” Katherina said to the girl, “could you please go play... over there?”
The child ignored her, crouching at the base of the plinth to pick up several of the note-stones with one hand while clutching her doll with the other.
“Now, please,” Katherina insisted between gritted teeth.
Chansonne looked up and her light eyes locked defiantly with Katherina’s. For several long uncomfortable moments their eyes ground on one another like two colliding glaciers. Finally, Chansonne relented and took the stones with her. Katherina sighed heavily, drained.
The children fell into another cycle of fighting. Nothing more could be accomplished this day.
“Very well, then,” Katherina all but cried. “Go play.”
As they scattered to the four winds, Katherina called the knights over.
“We’re going to try something different tomorrow,” she announced. “We’re going to take a break. We’re going to go on picnic.”
“Pardon?” Geoffrey raised his eyebrows.
“You gentlemen will escort us tomorrow to the Shrugging Giants for our midday meal.”
“How will that help them sing?” Patrick asked.
“I’m thinking several steps ahead,” Katherina replied. “First, fix one problem so that the others may be addressed. Just trust me.”
“As you wish,” Geoffrey shrugged. “Will you have any more need for us today?”
“No, you may go,” Katherina said.
When he departed, Aimeé stepped in to gather the note-stones scattered about the plinth.
“I can do that,” Katherina said quickly, bending to gather the stones herself.
“‘Tis not a problem, my lady,” Aimeé said.
Katherina moved to push Aimeé aside gently, but withdrew her hand as if the French girl’s skin burned. “No, really, let me gather these. Go see about retrieving the ones Chansonne took.”
Aimeé shot her a look bordering on exasperation, but complied and went after the girl. Katherina’s eyes followed her for a moment, then she resumed collecting the stones. In the process, a familiar pair of boots stepped into her vision.
“Are you avoiding me?” Patrick asked.
She looked up to see him still standing near, arms crossed.
She stood with her handful of stones. “I just haven’t had time.”
“You seem to have plenty of time for Sir Jon,” Patrick replied, wryly.
“That’s different,” she protested. “We... Oh, for heaven’s sake, can we not argue? My head is splitting already. It’s just that... I... I don’t know what to say to you right now. To...” Her gaze shifted to Aimeé pursuing Chansonne about the room. “To either of you.”
She looked back to Patrick and his probing hazel eyes. His dark hair hung in his face. Again his scent triggered memories of his big hands about her waist as they escaped together down the stairs of a crumbling tower, and those same hands lifting her into a saddle and spiriting her away from a fairy castle sucked into a purple sky.
“Kat?” Patrick asked, face turning quizzical.
She hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes and leaned forward, close to his body.
“Why didn’t you marry her?” she asked abruptly.
Taken only slightly aback by the suddenness of the question, he grumbled and rubbed his head. “She rejected my proposal. There are complications, old and new. It’s a long story.”
Katherina stared momentarily at the revelation.
Patrick turned to watch Aimeé finally corner Chansonne and cajole her into surrendering the stones. “It turns out she’s just as stubborn as you.”
#
The following morning, Patrick reported to the front of the Hall for Lady Guests where Katherina rounded up all those involved with her plan. All, that is, save the two old nuns who declined “to go adventuring in the wilderness,” and assured Katherina that she had things well under control. So, the party lost two nuns, but gained one lady.
Patrick eyed Lady Lilliana when she arrived. Though Patrick counted Sister Abigail among one of Cardinal Teodorico’s people, he did not view her as a threat. He felt different about the lady, however, and he cast furtive glances at Aimeé to make sure she kept her distance from him, lest word of his lie make it back to Teodorico.
Aimeé did, but it chagrinned him to see how easily she managed without him.
“Thank you for the invite,” Lilliana said to Katherina as Sir Patrick helped them up into the front wagon seat. “This should prove much more fun than an outing to the village, and what a lovely day for it!”
“You’re very welcome, and thank you for coming. We could use all the help we can find,” Katherina replied.
The group loaded the wagon with food, blankets, and squirming children.
“I can take that!” Katherina almost shouted when she intercepted Aimeé as the maidservant lifted a basket. “It’s very heavy, and you’re, well, you know...”
“Pregnant?” Aimeé said, brow furrowing in agitation. She snatched the basket back. “I can manage just fine, my lady.”
Katherina smiled wanly and stepped back. She did, however, pick up a mystery bundle. “Nobody is to open this until the time is right,” she announced, hugging the package. “It is a surprise.”
Geoffrey helped Katherina up into the front of the wagon from the opposite side. Brobrosius sat between the two ladies, holding the reins of the horses and acting as driver.
Geoffrey eyed the little man suspiciously. “You sure you can handle driving?”
“Of course,” Brobrosius replied with his big grin. “Back home I’m the one who drives the abbey cart to market. Besides, I’m taller than you.”
“Naturally,” Geoffrey said, making a face.
Patrick and Geoffrey mounted their horses, giant cousins to those pulling the wagon, and took the lead. Brobrosius did indeed seem to handle the wagon well enough and soon they exited the back gate of Greensprings, also known as the Back Door.
#
From the keep battlements, a pair watched the departing group.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Sir Wolfgang said, shaking his head.
Mother Superior’s normally impassive face cracked with a hint of a smile. “I know nothing, but I’m confident God knows all.”
#
The band took the road to Aesclinn, but just past the apple orchards they veered to th
e left and trundled across fields full of wheat stubble, remnants of the recent harvest.
Patrick turned in his saddle to address Katherina. “What exactly did you have in mind for us today? The Shrugging Giants is a ways to go just for a picnic.”
“A picnic is only half my plan,” Katherina explained. “After we eat, us womenfolk will go swimming down at the swimming hole while you menfolk and your male eyes will guard us from a distance.”
This raised eyebrows from both knights.
“That’s right,” Geoffrey said, thinking aloud. “There is a swimming hole at the foot of the hill the Giants rest on. The village children go there all the time.”
“Which makes it perfectly safe,” Katherina added. “No evil water spirits or water monsters. I’ve thoroughly researched it.”
“Is it as safe as Katherina says?” Patrick asked, looking at Geoffrey.
“Aye, safe enough, from monsters and prying eyes,” Geoffrey replied. “The swimming hole and the brook feeding them are lined with trees.”
“We should still split up when the time comes, each to a side of the swimming hole, patrolling a zone,” Patrick cautioned.
“Aye, aye, Sir Patrick,” Geoffrey saluted in a manner just short of insubordination.
The flippancy did not go unnoticed, nor entirely unexpected, but Patrick chose not to challenge it. He would save the battle for a more serious occasion.
Shortly after that, they passed from the field into a vale of bright grass neatly clipped close to the earth.
“Sheep,” Geoffrey explained. “Though I don’t see any about today or their herders. A good day for swimming.”
Ahead lay a low hill surmounted by a ring of standing stones—not uncommon in Avalon, though this ring was perhaps the most intact Patrick had seen. All the suspended lintel stones were still aloft on their supports. Several upright stones leaned forward, though, buckling the ring and threatening to cave it in, thus its name: The Shrugging Giants.
At the base of the hill, the land dipped into to a wooded ravine.
“There is the path to the swimming hole, leading downhill,” Geoffrey pointed out.
They pulled the wagon onto the level patch of well-manicured grass.
“Good enough, Lady Katherina?” Patrick asked.
“Excellent,” she responded.
As they unloaded the wagon, Candace stared up at the stone ring. “The little people used to dance there.”
“What’s that?” Patrick asked. Candace did not respond. When he nudged her, she startled as if waking from sleep. “Tell me about the little people,” he urged.
“What little people?” she replied, her eyes focusing.
“You spoke of little people dancing up there.”
“Did I?” she shrugged and moved to help unload the wagon.
“Now, how could you possibly know that?” Geoffrey said, frowning at the girl.
“She has a habit of just knowing things,” Patrick explained, glancing at Aimeé, who didn’t seem to take the hint regarding the episode on the boat to Avalon.
“I know things,” Brobrosius said.
“What, like you’re taller than everyone?” Patrick laughed, shoving a picnic basket in the little man’s hands.
“Like the wagon horses took seventeen thousand and sixty-six steps from Greensprings to here, and the big horses only took eleven thousand and ninety-four steps, and I’m taller than you.”
“Really?” Patrick said, impressed. “What else do you know?”
“Sir Geoffrey’s breathing almost doubles when he looks at the Lady Lilliana.”
Patrick laughed heartily at the statement.
“Almost as much as yours does,” Brobrosius added.
Patrick’s laughter suddenly choked off. “That will be quite enough now.” He punctuated this by draping a blanket over the little man’s head.
They quickly set to spreading blankets and preparing boards of honey-roasted ham, cheese, crisp peas, butter, cracked bread, roasted hazelnuts, and goblets of wine.
They ate mostly in silence. Even Martin took a break from his usual moaning and outbursts to indulge in the sumptuous food, though he made a mess of it. Katherina and Lilliana tried to start a lighthearted conversation, but it never really took. Only Siegfried managed to break the ice by nuzzling the women and children as he grazed.
While the gentle giant distracted the rest, Aimeé leaned nearer to Patrick. “Have you made any progress in befriending Brother Ambrosius?”
Patrick shot her a reproachful look. “Shh. The lady’s ears may as well be the cardinal’s.”
Aimeé scrunched up her nose at him. “Don’t shush me! I’m tired of being afraid. And stop using any excuse to run from your promises!”
Patrick sighed and nodded a concession. He let his fingers crawl along the blanket behind a picnic basket and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry. No, I haven’t yet, but I will soon.”
Aimeé sighed in return. “I suppose you forgot to pack the pickles as well.”
Patrick’s eyes widened. “Oh...”
Aimeé scrunched her nose again and squeezed his hand painfully.
Before anyone could notice his cry of discomfort, Brobrosius roused the excitement of the children by suggesting they go explore the stone circle.
“Sir Patrick?” Brobrosius asked. “Can we?”
Patrick looked in the same direction as the little man. The ring of dark gray stones sat invitingly on the green hill. Wispy clouds floated behind them in a sea of cobalt.
“I see no harm,” he replied. “Let us go exploring, then.”
They mounted the grassy hill, and though a short walk, it made for a steep trek that winded everyone. Even long-legged Patrick had a tough time of it in his heavy armor. But the stones evoked fascination, making the effort worth it. Once recovered, the children started chasing a dragonfly among the stones.
Aimeé gasped. “What a marvelous view,” she exclaimed, taking in the vista. “You can almost see the ocean from here, and Greensprings, too.”
“The island is much bigger than I thought,” Katherina added. “You can’t see the far side from here.”
“I’ve seen few ring-stones so grand,” Patrick added.
“Is that a sacrificial altar?” Katherina asked, approaching a waist-high block of stone. Weather and time had rounded and smoothed its edges.
“An altar, certainly,” Patrick replied. “Whether used for sacrifice, human or otherwise, I couldn’t say.”
“Places like these are from your people, your ancestors, yes?” Aimeé asked. “Who or what did they worship?”
“You’d have to ask my mother if you see her again.”
Aimeé smiled sadly, toying with the cross on her chest. “I hope to see your mother again.”
The memory of her made Patrick sad. He cast a guarded glance at Lilliana who walked ahead of them. He began to answer Aimeé, but a pain stabbed him behind his eyes. Not again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to open them again. He feared to see Aimeé covered in blood. He feared to see the Other. Cries echoed in his mind.
“Patrick, please do something,” she pleaded. It wasn’t until her voice broke through that he realized the cries weren’t just inside his head.
He opened his eyes and saw her gesturing towards little Stuart sitting in the grass, wailing. Patrick grumbled and approached the boy. He was maybe six years of age.
“Did you fall? Are you hurt?”
Only wails answered him, which magnified the pain in Patrick’s head. He gritted his teeth as he became conscious of the others watching.
Brobrosius approached, red-faced and catching his breath from chasing the dragonfly.
“Is he in any pain? Should we do something?” Patrick asked.
“No pain,” Brobrosius explained, “he’s just upset he can’t keep up with the older children. His legs are short and can’t run so fast.”
Patrick chewed his lip, studied the boy a bit longer, then asked,
“How do we make him stop?”
“Talk to him, I suppose. Cheer him up.” Brobrosius shrugged.
“I was afraid you might say that.” Patrick placed his hands on his hips.
Brobrosius took the initiative and addressed the crying boy.
Placing his hands on his hips he announced loudly, “Guess what, Stuart?” He then gestured to himself with his thumbs. “You’re taller than me!”
Stuart stopped and looked up with his chubby face. His dark eyes blinked, then scrunched up into a smile. His cries turned to giggles.
“Not so hard, see?” Brobrosius said to the knight.
Patrick had to admit Brobrosius both surprised and impressed him.
“That wasn’t easy for you, though, was it?” Patrick asked. “Allowing someone else to be taller than you, just to make them happy. You care very much for your friends, don’t you?”
Brobrosius flashed his usual big-toothed grin.
“I’m still taller than you,” he pointed out.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Patrick returned with a smile, “but you just might be the better man.”
Patrick noted Aimeé still stood by with arms crossed, watching him.
“Stuart?” Patrick turned to the boy, an idea forming. “How would you like to run faster than everyone else?”
Stuart’s giggles stopped abruptly and his big eyes grew even bigger, staring at Patrick. He nodded vigorously.
Patrick bent over and lifted the child onto his shoulders, which brought squeals of delight.
“Ready?” Patrick asked, bouncing slightly.
Stuart grunted in the affirmative. Patrick spotted the bobbing dragonfly and took off at a run after it. The other candidati joined in the chase, darting through the stone circle. In his heavy chain mail Patrick didn’t quite manage to keep his promise to run ahead of everyone, but Stuart didn’t seem to notice. He laughed and laughed.
Just before Patrick’s stamina wore out, he tripped on a tuft of grass and stumbled a few steps. Patrick sat down hard, and joined Stuart in his laughter. The sound echoed off the stones.
Ripples in the Chalice: A Tale of Avalon (Tales of Avalon Book 2) Page 26
