by kps
Jenny didn't glance up, and a tiny frown line of concentration formed between her brows.
"Yes, of course I have, Lady Mara," she answered placidly, unaware that her companion had paled at the admission, and she finished her move, looking up with a smile that quickly faded. "Lady Mara? What is it ... the crystal? But I thought you knew Rodrigo 'had the Anacalypses. I ... I have used it myself on the occasions when he requested I do so."
The girl appeared stricken by remorse, as though she had somehow offended Mara by the confidence, and the old woman hastened to assure her that she was not angry. "All of us have done things we find distasteful, lass, because of Rodrigo's threats or implied threats. Be nae distressed on my account, I am only worried over the further harm that can be done with such a possession. How on God's green earth did he find it?"
"By reading the manuscript of Sir Thomas. I've read it myself ... the part that describes his shock at Elainn's death and his vow never to use the crystal again. Thomas said he buried it in the shadow of grace and Rodrigo took that to mean either the church of St. Andrew in Neowe Erceldoune or the chapel at the castle, but neither yielded the box."
"Then, where—"
"One day before he left here to hire his men, he discovered it by accident. You know, of course, the small shrine at the junction of the roads that divide the land." Mara nodded, the light of realization entering her eyes. "Beneath the shadow cast by the tall wooden cross he found the box, buried only about two feet under the surface."
Mara shook her head, amazed by how simple the hiding place had been, so simple that her ancestors had overlooked it in their quest to find the missing relic; yet a stranger like Rodrigo had puzzled out the spot where it lay buried. He may havebeen an insufferable, unfeeling tyrant, but Rodrigo was not stupid. "Ye did say, though, tha' Rodrigo made ye use the crystal?" she asked, wondering if Jenny had seen a glimpse of the plot to overthrow her husband. How much did she know, Mara puzzled, and more important, could she be trusted not to reveal them to Rodrigo?
"Yes, the crystal is of little use to him without me. Unfortunately, the only event he ever saw in it was the presence of our expedition, and he sent out the knights to attack us." The resentment and bitterness of that time was so fresh in her voice, it was as though it had happened yesterday..
"But ye're gifted with the sight, ye've had success with the Anacalypses?" Mara's gaze was determined, her thin body tense with suppressed excitement. "Tell me what ye've seen, lass."
"Mostly confused images," Jenny admitted, instinctively feeling she could trust the aristocratic old woman. Mara possessed a warmth that her granddaughter, for all her beauty, lacked. "The same face ..." She stared off past Mara, remembering, as she rubbed a hand across her forehead to ease the ache that came with the painful memories of Dev. "It must be more out of longing, but I keep seeing Dev's face, almost as if he were ... no," Jenny shook her head against the belief that he had somehow survived, resting her hand on her belly as the baby moved again, then looked at Mara. "He can't be alive." She sounded dazed, questioning with the innocence of a child as she asked, "He would have come to me if it were possible, wouldn't he?"
For a moment Mara wished that she could tell Jenny the truth, that the man she loved was alive, even though he'd been warned to stay out of sight during her stay. Even now he was in the caverns below, drilling the knights in their practice. But that decision was out of Mara's hands. Her closeness to Rodrigo and her vulnerability to his control at the mere threat of physical violence in this stage of her pregnancy made the girl a threat to them all. The joy of knowing Devlan was alive, the excitement of a reunion with him, would show in her face, in her manner, even if she were to pledge herself to silence.
Apparently either Jennifer's condition or the grief she carried within at the belief that Dev had died was interfering with a natural talent for precognition. Once she bere the child, though, would she be able to see clearly enough to endanger the plan? And wouldn't that also increase the hold Rodrigo would have over her? He could threaten her child if she didn't reveal what she saw in the crystal. There were so many possibilities.
"And ye've seen only the face of ye'r loved one, then, nae a thing more, lass?" Mara probed further, wanting to be sure Jenny had held nothing back.
"I feel a vague threat to Rodrigo, but anyone could predict by his actions that he would be hated enough for someone to want his downfall. It wouldn't take a prophet to forecast what is inevitable."
"Ye look worn by our talk, Lady Jennifer. Ye mustn't forget tha' ye need a great deal of rest at this time." Mara patted Jenny's hand and smiled, then withdrew her hand to stifle a tiny yawn, and apologized. "And me own excuse is age, dear. I, too, shall take advantage of a short nap. Let me ring for Morgana."
Jenny did feel tired-s-thinking of the past always left her with an empty, despairing ache that was as wearing on her as physical exertion. When Morgana came to escort her back to her room, Jenny impulsively hugged Lady Mara, leaving her with a kiss that surprised the woman even as the fond gesture touched her heart and added to her growing confusion.
It was not to her rooms, though, that Lady Mara headed when Jenny was gone from the solar. She could not have slept a wink even if she were tired. With a vigor she seldom allowed others to see, she hurried down the long hall that stretched the length of the upper story to a corner tower similar to the one that had been converted to the solar. No one else but Fiona came here, and she had not been in the room since she'd made the disastrous mistake of inviting Rodrigo to see the area where Sir Thomas had kept his collection of manuscripts.
The diary he'd kept was still here, preserved carefully by his descendants as each generation was imbued with a respect for the legacy of knowledge, history, and speculative prophecy that he'd bequeathed them. There was always one member of each generation who came to love the diary and its fascinating account of a thirty-year period in their ancestor's life. In her day, it had been Mara, listening to her father quote the passages from memory, never guessing that the title of Laird would pass to her when her brother was killed in a hunting accident.
Jamie, Mara's only son, had repeated the process, listening to his mother tell the story of the journey to search for Beann Gowd'en and, when he was grown and married, passing on the heritage to Fiona. But then disaster had struck one stormy windswept night when Fiona was just ten, and the boat that had been bringing her parents back to the island was swamped by the huge waves that had rolled across the usually placid Loch Gowd. The bodies were never recovered. '"
Mara had no need to open the bound parchment to review what she already knew so well.
Many of the prophecies had come to pass; many were yet to come in a time not delineated; but Thomas and Elainn, when he had quoted her, were amazingly accurate thus far. Now Mara sat at the desk, opening the large, heavy book to the first page, smiling at the familiar script and the words she'd memorized so long ago.
Though Thomas had been wealthy enough to afford it, he'd been conservative with his supply of parchment. The title, A Diarye, being the Chronicles of the Thoughts, most Private, of Sir Thomas the Rhymer, headed the page, along with the year of 1299 A.D., then a notation as to a date of twelve, May, and finally the first entry that extended to the very bottom of the page.
'Deliver'd on this day, two (2) fyne ships upon wich I and my faithfulle Friends shall depart in searche of Our haven. My Goode lady Elainn hath promised Fair windes will speed us to our Goale, and Freedom beckons at last. To this purpose, the crystal of Anacalypses is secured in a velvet Bedd'd boxe of cedar Wood, and I do carry the key About my person, that none But he to whome it was entrust'd shall be Allow'd to part the Veit.
My spirite is Overmuch aggriev'd that Elainn will nae Accompane me. ... Still, what would her People do with out ther Queene? At our Farewell she Assured me of abiding love and spoke of the most Wond'rous and divers Marvels, wich were reveal't her 'pon a last glimpse into the crystal.
I quote m'lady -And a falsehood ha
th Ne'r touch'd her lips -' Like the Wing'd Grace of fowl, great Birdes shall carry Man alofte wi' in ther armour'd breastes, to places nae yet known, to aeries of crystal And rock. Ribands of black shall be stretch'd from shire to shire … E'en to the Humblest of cotes shall come voices from Afar.' All these events shall hap, be they Far advanc'd in To the realm of tomorrow and tomorrow's morrow; these and other wonders Too fancyfulle e'en for one who hath himself Seen a glimmer of the Unbrok'n circle that is Lyfe.
Elainn cometh to the Sight bye the spirite she hath garner'd for the present Cyclle … bye That and the Anacalypses. I see nae as weal and do Surmisse that the gentl'r sexe oft' views the Ether wi' a clear'r eye than Doth the pride-Set fooles who thinkest that they Rule all.
Despite the Vaste sorrow that encompassth. my Soule, this heart of Mine is consol'd by her sacr'd pledging that meete Again we shall -when a hulje-Millenium hath gone bye. 'How shall I knowe ye?' begg'd I in all -pow'rfulle ernesty;
And' Fear ye not, Thomas-love, ' came the aching -sweet replye. 'What e'er face I wear, matters it nae, E'en as the trees shed ther mantle-greene at winter's call, so shall I be shed of This flesh, to draw me on another cloak. Ye may knowe me nae, yet bye my Faithe shall I knowe yeo' And then did she spelle the death of the Crystal in a final prophece. 'When the carrion-Crow is made rede, the Anacalypses shall be sealed, its purpose Done, its Light fore'er damp'd. Then Hear my voice speake out ye'r name, Belov'd ... and look to the morning Star, for she willna fail to leade us to a Day made More sweete for the receding Mists of a long and Bitter Nighteo'
Mara closed the heavy, gilded binding of the chronicles, staring off with a clouded, preoccupied gaze into the, growing shadows of the room. Over five hundred years had passed since Elainn had made that prophecy, and if it were to pass as she'd predicted, the time was ripe now. Fiona had always fancied that she was the embodiment of Elainn, but now Mara had reason to believe that Thomas's mistress had come to Beann Gowd'en, not in the form of her granddaughter, but reincarnated in the Lady Jennifer, bound by marriage vows to a cruel despot who fitted the prophecy's "carrion-crow" image and tied by a past love to Devlan, who seemed a likely candidate to bear the legacy of Sir Thomas's strong passions and enduring love for his Elainn.
It came together too neatly not to be true. There was even a "morning star" present, in the form of the attendant Mara had assigned to Jenny for her comfort during the two-day visit.
The young and modest maiden, daughter to the jester Gilliam, had been raised at the manor since her mother's death, and her name, Shiona, was Gaelic for the morning star.
Still lost in thought, Mara started nervously when there was a knock at the door. A moment later her granddaughter peered within, grinning as she saw the most familiar of tableaux-the chronicle laid out before her lady grandmother. She entered the room, gently latching the door in respect for this place that was nearly a shrine to her ancestor's memory. "Do na ask how I came t'know ye were here," she quipped, coming up to throw her arms around Mara's neck and give her a fond hug. "Where else would ye be when nae in-ye'r room and there's a light showin' 'neath this door? What 'twas it brought ye to musin' o'er Thomas today?"
Mara pursed her lips, hesitant to reveal what she suspected. Fiona was spoiled and willful, used to praise for her rich beauty, and already there was an envy of Jennifer in the girl's heart. Now, if she came to believe their guest had also usurped a spiritual inheritance she'd considered hers, how would Fiona react? More envy, no doubt, but Fiona would have. to bear with it and keep the secret, for Mara wanted no one else to know of her suspicions until she queried Jennifer further about her past. "Ye should take a seat, child, for wha' I'm about to tell ye will come as a shock," Mara advised; and despite the puzzled frown on her face, Fiona obeyed, sitting opposite her grandmother and patiently folding her hands in her lap. She wore a fine kirtle of heather-violet that emphasized the blue in her gray eyes, and from the white veil that covered her head, short wisps of burnished auburn curls escaped the neatness of her coif.
"Lass, let me put a question to ye ere I reveal what I suspect. Do ye believe I'm sage enough to decipher the diary our Thomas left us?"
Fiona was growing more puzzled by the second. Why would Granddam ask such a thing, when she knew the answer before it passed her lips to say it? Probably of all Sir Thomas's descendants, Mara was the most religious in her devotion to his written legacy. "But of course," Fiona finally answered with a casual shrug of her shoulders, "I couldna doubt tha' ye know it by rate, so who's better to understand the mysteries the diary holds?"
"Good, now tha's settled," Mara said, taking a deep breath, "ye might be interested in knowin' tha' I've come to the belief tha' our Thomas and his Elainn are here now, their lovin'
spirits come back in body to fulfill wha' was prophecied. Thomas is-"
Fiona's face lit with delight as she interrupted Mara to cry out, " ... is Devlan! Am I nae right, Granddam? Oh, I knew it had t'be him-'tis why we are so drawn to one another."
"Well, I canna say tha's the reason for the attraction, lassie, but 'tis my belief tha' he is Thomas come again. As for Elainn, her spirit dwells in a body other than ye'rs." Mara closely studied her granddaughter's expression to note the mood of her temperament. "The Lady Jennifer-"
"Nae!" Fiona insisted, her cheeks coloring with an angry flush of rose, her mouth set in a spoiled pout. "How can Rodrigo's whore be the gently bred lady tha' was Elainn? On tha'
point, m'lady, I canna agree!"
"Agree or nae, 'tis!" Mara snapped sharply, irritated by the childish attitude Fiona had taken.
Then her voice softened as she considered how long the girl had clung to the belief that she was a part of a romance that would come alive again, after five long centuries of waiting.
"Wishin' canna change wha's set to be, darlin', and naether can denying the truth. But now tha' ye know, I'll be takin' ye'r promise tha' ye'll keep it to ye'rself."
Fiona's sullen .nod was accepted as a pledge of her word, but her mind was a whirl of contradictory emotions. Once given, she could not break a promise to someone like Mara, but she longed, oh, how she longed to do something to retaliate against the raven-haired bitch whose sweet-honey voice fooled so many and who seemed to have everything in the palm of her slender white hands!
"Might I be excused, m'dam? Ye've had my promise, and 'twill be kept; but I canna pretend tha' I find it pleasin'! 'Twill take more 'en a few minutes to absorb such a disagreeable shock."
"Think wi' ye'r mind, girl," Mara chided, blaming herself for Fiona's ill-mannered, sulky behavior, "and na' ye'r feelin's, and ye'll see how't makes sense!" The girl bobbed a stiff curtsey, her expression guarded, as she hurried to the door in a hasty retreat from her grandmother's disapproving frown. For minutes Mara stared at the closed door. Fiona's reaction had been predictable; she was not used to being denied what she wanted; and in one stroke Mara had passed two of her fondest desires to a younger and more beautiful woman.
Had Mara herself inherited a bit of her ancestor's powers, she should have known that Fiona should have been raised with more discipline and less indulgence. She could only hope now, though, that her granddaughter respected her enough to keep from troubling Jennifer.
The good Lord knew that the poor lass already had her share of troubles. Now, Mara rose with a weary sigh, deciding to take the nap she'd postponed. She would be able to think more clearly with a bit of rest.
She was just shutting the door when a breathless Shiona rounded the comer of the hall and hurried toward her, calling out her name in an alarmed tone of voice.
"Goodness, wha' is it, child?" Mara asked, a tiny frown forming between her frosted white brows. "Calm ye'rself, lassie, take a deep breath and start at the begginin'l Now, wha' seems to be the matter?"
"It's Lady Jennifer ... she's gone off wanderin', m'lady!" Shiona finally managed to stutter out, and then proceeded to tell Mara a breathless tale of the "strange" way Jenny had been acting. She'd just been coming to wake her from h
er nap when she'd found Lady Jennifer in the hall, walking toward the steps with a fixed, wide-eyed look almost as though she were wandering in her sleep. "I called out her name, but she didna hear me and when I caught up wi' her, she didna see me, either. Oh, m'lady, I am so frightened for her!"
Mara was almost afraid to ask where Jennifer had gone in such a trance-like state. "Go on, dear," she prompted, and even though she was shaking within, kept her voice calm. "Wha'
happened next?"
"She went down the steps, wi' me trailin' close t'see she didna take a tumble, and then, once outside, headed straight for the ... the crypt, m'lady, almost like she had a purpose there."
The hour was almost dusk, and the clouds that had covered the sky all day had lowered to a foggy mist that swirled across the damp ground. Jenny had stopped several times in her slow, steady progress toward the stone building that lay some fifty yards along a twisting, tree-lined path from the manor house, pausing to lean against a sturdy tree trunk as she caught a deep breath and clutched at her belly. "I followed her up to the entrance, afeared she'd stumble o'er the couple steps leadin' into the vaults, but, m'lady, her feet were more sure than mine!"
"And was the room nae dark, Shiona?"
Shiona shook her head with a bewildered expression. "It did surprise me, but someone had left a torch alight in the cresset. Wi' a very determined step, the lady walked right o'er to the stone memoria holding Sir Thomas's remains and reached out to touch his carved likeness."
"And did she say anything?"
"Aye, m'lady, in a voice na' like her own and sounding very sad, she whispered, 'Oh, Tom ...
how I do love ye!'and tha' was when I took off running to find yeo Lady Mara, wha's the meanin' of it all? Did I do wrong in na' comin' for ye sooner?"
