Chalice of Roses

by Jo Beverley

  For one moment Waldo looked uncertain, and Beefhead rolled his eyes. “Mr. Waldo,” he said. “The lass doesn’t have enough nous to do what the Emperor wants done. Why don’t we just leave her at the side of the road and be on our way?”

  Waldo turned on him in a trice. “Because, you idiot, she is the Guardian of the Grail, and its powers are magnified if she wields it. He who gains the Grail gains abundance. He who gains also the Grail Guardian gains the wealth of the world, even immortality.”

  Beefhead scratched his nose. “I dunno, sir. It looks like a tin cup to me.”

  Waldo let out a snort. “That is because only the worthy can see the true value of the Grail and the spear.”

  For one moment I wondered if Mr. Waldo also saw the spear as I did, but a flicker of uncertainty appeared in his eyes, and I knew that he did not see the bright glow from it that I saw.

  An odd feeling—dread and surprise as one—made me glance at the items before me again, and I remembered William describing the Grail to me not long ago, how he had spoken of its glory and light. I pushed away the memory and the thought. I could not think of such things right now, but I knew that I had to choose between escaping and keeping the spear from Bonaparte. Thank God William still had the Grail. If these items have the power that Waldo says they do, then it would not do at all to let either of these things travel to France. I had to find some way to take the spear from these cads.

  Well, I could let them take my toothbrush cup. . . . I hid a smile as a plan formed in my mind.

  “I must not be worthy, then, sirs, for I cannot see the value of either of these silly things. Indeed, I would not even touch them, for they are no doubt dirty. Especially not that horrid pointy thing.” I clutched the cord of my reticule tight in my hand and took a step back.

  Waldo seized my arm and shoved me forward, so close that I could touch both the spear and my toothbrushing cup if I wished.

  “Enough of your idiocy, girl,” he said. “Take up the Grail.” A greedy expression lit his eyes. “It would not hurt for me to gain a little from this endeavor, for the devil knows I worked hard enough to retrieve the spear from the Thames.”

  Beefhead looked affronted. “But, Mr. Waldo, it was me who—”

  “Silence, you stupid—”

  A loud crash sounded from the front of the cottage, and the two men looked toward it. Quickly, I seized the spear—

  I gasped, for a fiery power flowed through me, and I looked at the two men who had turned from me toward the crashing sound. I could see evil like a dark cloud surrounding Mr. Waldo, and a lesser gray around Mr. Front-de-Boeuf.

  Evil must be crushed, I thought. It must be eradicated! As if it had a will of its own, my hand lifted my reticule, and with a swirl of silk-enclosed rock, I whacked both men on their heads with a swiftness and precision that astonished me. I had not thought I could hit both so quickly.

  They fell like cows to the slaughter. Elation filled me. I looked toward the direction of the crashing sound and stepped over the men. I felt powerful. I could defeat armies. I raised my reticule and whirled it over my head. “Come, enemy!” I cried. “Come and be defeated! Come and meet your doom!”

  The door flung open, and Mr. Marstone entered, eyes wild, his neckcloth askew. “Arabella!” he said.

  I dropped my reticule, the power flowing out of me. “Oh! Will—ah, Mr. Marstone.” I patted my hair awkwardly, suddenly sure that it had become mussed during my exertion. “How—how do you do?” I cringed inwardly. Dear heaven, I sounded like a fool, but now that the power had left, I seemed not to have much energy to gather my thoughts properly.

  His gaze shifted beyond me and I turned, noticing the unconscious men I had knocked out. He looked at them, and then at me, and his brow furrowed. “What—?”

  “They were bad,” I said hastily. “Very bad. They also took my toothbrushing cup.” These words did not sound any better than my last ones. I took in a deep breath, shook my head and let my breath out again with a whoosh. My head cleared. “They kidnapped me, and they also said I was the Grail Guardian, Will! But I cannot be, for I can see little difference between the Grail and my tooth cup, and oh, they did not see a difference, either, for they took my cup, thinking it was the Grail.”

  “Dear God.” He stepped closer. “Arabella, I thought I’d never find you,” he said, and took me in his arms. “I don’t know what I would have done—”

  For one moment, I thought he might kiss me, but he stopped, took in a deep breath and released me. “I—my apologies. I should not have—It was not proper.”

  “Oh, no . . . that is, you are no doubt fatigued—the danger, the threat to the Grail. You were naturally upset and did not think. . . .” I admit to disappointment, though he was right that he should not have held me so.

  He looked me over anxiously, and I could not help feeling pleased that he was concerned. “Are you well, Arabella?”

  “Nothing but a small bump on my head, for they did knock me out, but I suspect they could do nothing less, for I fought them and threatened to scream.”

  His expression grew stormy as he stared at the two men still unconscious on the floor. “My only regret is that they are not awake so that I may knock them out myself.” He came closer, peering at them. “Still, I must say you did good work. I expect they shall have sore heads for quite a long time.” He looked at me again and paused, then seemed to go pale. “You . . . the spear. You have it.”

  I blinked and looked down—indeed, I still held the spear. It fit so easily in my hand that it seemed a natural extension of it. “Yes,” I said. “The one called Waldo said he fetched it out of the Thames, although I believe Beefhead—er, that is, Mr. Front-de-Boeuf—was the one who searched for it.” I brought it up and looked at it fondly. “Is it not the most beautiful thing? So pure, and so noble of purpose. I cannot think it anything but a relic of true justice and freedom. See how it shines so brightly!”

  He shook his head. “It is dangerous, Arabella. Only the Grail Knight can wield it without damage . . . and even I have not been able to contain its power. It is why I threw it in the Thames, once I was pursued and realized I was not a fit Grail Knight.”

  I shook my head. “Will, I cannot believe you have anything less than pure motives. Did not the Grail shine for you? It did not shine for me.” I smiled ruefully. “If you are not a fit Grail Knight, then I am not a fit Grail Guardian.”

  He touched my cheek briefly. I could not help moving just a little closer to him, and blushed that I did so. I caught sight of Beefhead’s foot and sighed.

  “I think we should tie them up. I do not want them to follow us home.”

  “Yes.” He hesitated, and then motioned his hand toward the bed. “The bedsheets will have to do, as I do not think we have time to search for rope.”

  I nodded. “Let’s do it, then.”

  It took less time than I would have thought; though Mr. Waldo had a fairly light frame, Mr. Front-de-Boeuf did not. Yet my energy seemed quite renewed since Will’s entrance into the cottage. I helped him drag the two men to the middle of the room and tied them together with a good solid knot of the bedsheets. I looked at our handiwork critically. “I don’t think it will hold them that long, Will. The sheets look a bit worn, and Beef—er, Mr. Front-de-Boeuf—is not a weakling.”

  “I hope they will last long enough for a magistrate to attend to them—if one can be hurried through his breakfast fast enough.” He cast me a quick glance. “You called me Will.”

  I bit my lower lip, then eyed him squarely. “I hope you do not mind. I—I have come to think of you as a friend.”

  “A friend.” For a moment he looked grim; then he smiled at me. “I am glad you think me so.”

  “You may call me Arabella, if you wish.” I felt bold in offering him my given name, but I thought it too late to be so formal after our adventure . . . and he had, I realized, used it already without my permission.

  “Arabella.” He said it as if he were tasting sweet wine,
and this time I was annoyed at myself when I blushed again—I have always had more self-possession than to be blushing all the time. “I thank you,” he said. “In private, though, and not in public.”

  I gathered up my self-possession once more. “Oh, yes, of course. It is only prudent,” I said.

  “Prudent. Yes.”

  Silence hung between us for a moment, and then I hastily moved away from the men we had tied up.

  “I suppose we should go,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  I began to feel annoyed at Will, for he had not been taciturn until now. However, he turned and held open the door for me as we left, and his lips had turned up in a wry smile.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Nothing—or rather, I cannot tell you yet.” He cast a glance at the tied-up men behind us. I nodded, understanding. We did not have time to discern whether Misters Waldo and Front-de-Boeuf had gained consciousness and perhaps were only pretending otherwise. It was best to talk away from them.

  A fine curricle and pair of bay horses stood before us, and I remembered the Marstone family’s reputation as superb breeders and healers of horses. The horses neighed upon Will’s approach. A grin spread across his face, but he shook his head. “Sorry, friends, but I’ll need you to give me your best speed right now. I’ll make sure you’ll get your reward as soon as all is safe.” The lead horse snorted and shook its head, which made Will laugh. “I promise, Hoof, I promise!” He turned and handed me up into the carriage.

  “You talk to your horses,” I said, as he put a soft blanket over my shoulders—the gesture warmed me as much as the blanket did. “And . . . ‘Hoof ’?”

  “ ‘Hoof’ is short for ‘Hoof-on-the-Wind.’ Horses are more apt to do as you wish if you talk to them,” he replied. Hoof snorted again. “Very well, if I say ‘please’!” He took up the reins. “Please, Hoof.”

  I reflected that even though Will had been right about the Grail, talking to horses as if they could understand could be counted as an eccentricity. But somehow, I did not mind it.

  The horses went forward with hardly a touch of the reins and the carriage rolled smoothly on the road. I was glad to see it was an exceptionally well-sprung one, with well-cushioned seats; it would certainly not cause my head to hurt as Mr. Waldo’s coach had.

  Although . . . I noticed my head had not hurt since William had come into the cottage. I cast a glance at him; if it was true the Spear of Destiny gave one power and strength—and certainly I had gained enough strength to knock out two large men with my reticule—then it was likely the Grail did just as William had said: It could heal. Therefore . . .

  “Will, do you have the Grail with you?”

  A definitely uncomfortable look came over his face. “Yes.”

  Suspicion began to rear itself in my mind. “Was that not dangerous?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Did you not suspect those who had taken me might have been after it?”

  “Yes.”

  He was becoming taciturn again, but this time there was nobody to overhear what we were saying. I remembered his words to me about my being the Grail Guardian when he had been ill at home in London. My suspicion grew stronger.

  “Would I be correct in thinking you are not taking me home?”

  He grimaced. “You are right. And yes, I am well aware that because you still have the spear, you could no doubt knock me out of this carriage in a trice. I ask that you hear me out, if you please.”

  I crossed my arms and frowned. I admit to a bit of alarm, for once one has been abducted by villains, one cannot feel comfortable about being abducted again. But Will had come to my rescue—very well, I had come to my own rescue, but he would have had I not done it first—and I could not deny that amazing power and swiftness had seized me when I had taken up the spear.

  Something more than ordinary was afoot, and I could not help feeling excitement at the thought. I had been abducted, a handsome man had come to my rescue, we had ancient and mysterious relics in our hands and I had defeated my enemies with my rock-laden reticule. Despite my wish to please Mama and marry well, I had always wished for adventure, and now I was having it. My only regret was that I had neither a pistol nor my sword at hand, but I am not one to quibble about small details. My hand sat lightly over the spear underneath a fold of the blanket. I would manage one way or another, I was sure.

  Something in my expression must have revealed my thoughts, for his look of discomfort and anxiety lessened. I nodded, but I gave him a stern look nevertheless, for I did not want him to be too comfortable about not telling me immediately.

  He sighed. “We are not traveling back to London. Instead, we are going to Scotland.”

  For one moment elopement to Gretna Green came to mind, but I banished it. Will did not look as if he was in the throes of ro mance.

  “Scotland,” I said.

  “Um, yes. I would prefer to go to the closer Glastonbury Tor, but I am certain it is where Bonaparte’s agents would expect us to go. As a result, we shall travel to Rosslyn Chapel.”

  “Rosslyn Chapel.” Abduction, Scotland and a chapel. If Mama had not informed me of the Marstone family’s long and impeccable history of honor and integrity, not to mention wealth, I would suspect the worst. A miserable expression came over Will’s face, and I felt sorry for him instead. “Go on,” I said, more gently than before.

  He cast me a grateful look. “Both Glastonbury and Rosslyn Chapel are places of power. Glastonbury Tor is very old, and legends of it abound with everything from its being the elvenkind’s dwelling place to Arthurian tales to stories of the divine.” A troubled look entered his eyes, and I could not help putting my hand on his arm. He smiled at me, looking a little comforted. “I was to take you to Glastonbury, to have you, as Grail Guardian, set the Grail in its place of power, but after my injury and your abduction, I must assume that Bonaparte will send his agents after the Grail and anyone who has it in their hands. The spear as well,” he amended, after I had lifted my brows and tapped the relic on my lap. “The farther away from France we are, the better, and they will assume we will go to the closest place of power to claim it for the British Isles. And even if they assume otherwise, the Grail Council has more guards available at the chapel than at Glastonbury.”

  “And how do you know this?”

  His expression darkened. “I received word before I left London that the guards at Glastonbury are dead.”

  A small shock went through me—I did not mind adventure, but it had not occurred to me that Bonaparte’s agents would kill. I pondered his words for a moment, then noticed that his expresson had become more uncomfortable than before. “And?” I asked.

  “The Spear of Destiny must also be dealt with. I wish it had been lost, as I had intended, for I understand that to have the Grail and the spear together in one person’s hands is dangerous beyond imagination. But apparently Bonaparte’s agents will go to any lengths to get the spear, and since it seems to have the unlucky tendency to reappear despite my attempts to deny them such a violent artifact, I can only assume that I am indeed fated to deal with it as well.”

  “You!”

  He raised his brows at me. “As the Grail Knight I am allowed to handle it. But I have never liked it, nor felt comfortable touching it for long.” He shrugged, and sadness seemed to settle on him.

  I squeezed his arm. “I have not had trouble with it, and it has actually helped me against those villains who kidnapped me. Perhaps it is not a matter of being a Grail Knight, but one’s affinity for such things, and becoming used to being around it.” An odd feeling, like a half-remembered tendril of memory, grew in me, but I could not quite grasp it. I shrugged and pulled the blanket over my shoulders a little closer, for the sun had gone behind a cloud, and the air had chilled.

  “No,” he replied. “I am sure the Grail Council would have mentioned all of this to me, as it would be an important point in one’s training as a Grail Knight. Indeed, they have always said t
hat the female Guardian and the male Knight have in them an ancient lineage that gives them a special gift for handling these holy relics. Both the Templars and the Marstones have that lineage.”

  The thought crossed my mind that perhaps the Grail Council did not know everything, for I remembered overhearing a few heated discussions between my mother and my father about them, and Mama never did seem to like them. But she had acknowledged that duty was duty, and had given in to Papa’s assertions that the council must be obeyed. Will’s voice had the same stubborn set as Papa’s had.

  I began to understand Mama’s dissatisfaction with the council.

  I shook my head reluctantly, however. “There are practical difficulties, Will. The men who abducted me did not think to bring a change of clothes for me.”

  “Well, I did.”

  I stared at him. “You couldn’t have!”

  He grimaced. “I did. I convinced your mother to pack some clothes for you.”

  “No.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I said that, as it might take days before I could find you, it might also take days to return you, and therefore it would be best if you had a supply of clothes.” He jerked his head toward the back of the carriage. “A small trunk is secured to the tiger’s seat.”

  “Well,” I said, dumbfounded. “I never would have thought she would have agreed to it . . . unless . . .” No. She might try to push an acquaintance between Will and myself at home before she knew of the Grail Council’s involvement in Will’s affairs, but she would never try to arrange anything that was beyond the pale of propriety—

  Oh, heavens. I glanced at Will, saw his miserable expression, and the full realization hit me: Regardless of my unwilling abduction, regardless of Will’s good intentions, I had been away from home long enough to ruin my reputation. Had he not found me, it would have been ruined indeed; but it would be just as ruined . . .

  If he had not, no doubt, told Mama that he would right that reputation.

  I gritted my teeth. It was clear to me he had no wish to marry me and he’d been forced to entertain the idea; his grim look alone told me that. I eyed him with equal grimness.