Lavender Blue

by Sandra Heath

  First, however, Sir Erebus sent Lady Letitia to her bed. He waited until she had drunk the kykeon, then quietly told her she was very tired and should sleep. Without demur she went up to her rooms. Then he turned to Anthea. “Lady Anthea, your task begins now. You know you are the Lavender Lady?”

  “Answer truthfully,” Jovian instructed watchfully, knowing how anxious she was.

  “Yes, Sir Erebus, I know.”

  “Well, you must be seen all over the neighborhood, so that everyone knows you are here again to pose the ancient threat to the harvest. Your gown of lavender has been laid out in readiness, and your mount will be brought to the courtyard. The duke will escort you on the ride.”

  “It’s all right, my darling, just show your consent. It is only a sort of royal progress, so you do not need to be as nervous as I know you are.”

  She nodded at Sir Erebus. “Very well.”

  “Go and put on your gown.”

  Turning, she went to where Cynthia waited in the staircase hall.

  She returned a few minutes later, clad in the décolleté white silk gown that was entirely covered with artificial silk lavender flowers. Lavender oil had been stroked on her skin, her loose dark hair was adorned with a coronet of fresh lavender, there were satin slippers on her feet, and the gold locket shone at her throat.

  Jovian gazed at her. “You look breathtaking, my darling.”

  Sir Erebus’s dark eyes were intense. “I believe you are the most beautiful Lavender Lady of all,” he breathed, his eyes so ardent that for a moment she thought he was going to force a kiss upon her, but to her relief, he merely inclined his head, then went out to his waiting carriage. The moment it pulled away, Anthea saw two saddled horses waiting, Jovian’s dappled gray thoroughbred and a cream palfrey like Corinna’s for her. Maybe it was even the same palfrey.

  Sebbriz brought Jovian’s top hat and gloves, and as he put them on, Jovian continued to silently instruct her. “We ride a predetermined route around Cathness, and everyone will stand by the wayside to watch. They will not touch you in any way, except perhaps to toss lavender in your path, and the only thing they will say is one of the chants connected with the rituals. There is no need at all to be nervous, for I will guide you throughout.” He nodded at the steward to dismiss him, then held out a gloved hand to her.

  Her fingers slid over his, and he led her out into the courtyard, where most of the servants had gathered. As he lifted her on to the sidesaddled palfrey, the only sound was the breeze playing in the battlements. She was thankful for the saddle, not having relished the prospect of riding astride as Corinna had done the night before.

  Jovian mounted as well, and they began to ride slowly out of the courtyard. Maids scattered lavender before them, and the chanting commenced. “Come to us, O Harvest Maiden. Protect us from the Lavender Lady. Come to us, O Harvest Maiden...”

  As the two riders passed beneath the gatehouse, Anthea saw Huw Gadarn waiting outside on his cob. He took up a respectful position behind them, and as Anthea glanced around at him, he gave her an enormous wink. Heartened, she was able to respond with a little smile. She would carry this off successfully. She would!

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Followed by Huw, Jovian and Anthea rode along the drive toward the lodge. People stood in the churchyard, where the long grass waved in the breeze, and she heard them joining in the chanting. More onlookers waited on the little cottage-edged green by the bend in the road and from place to place along the way up into the town. Lavender was frequently strewn before the horses, and when crushed by the hooves, it released its invigorating scent into the warm air of the early evening.

  As the horses reached the town, Anthea was startled to see what appeared to be every man, woman, and child lining the way. The hooves echoed between the buildings of the High Street, and the chanting was loud, monotonous, and very daunting to Anthea as she looked straight ahead, pretending that the Lavender Lady—Demeter—cared nothing for their prayers.

  Jovian was ready as always to bolster her confidence. “You’re doing famously, my darling, and I agree with one thing Lethe said, for you are indeed the most beautiful Lavender Lady.”

  “I don’t feel beautiful. This is all too horrible to warrant such an adjective,” she replied silently.

  “But if all goes well for us, my darling, you will also be the very last Lavender Lady.”

  “I take comfort from that.” She gave him a quick smile.

  Obed Dennis stood, arms folded, outside the Cross Foxes, his lips moving as he too chanted. Anthea could not help a glance at him, and her dislike hardened as she saw the cold light in his eyes. Intuition told her that the innkeeper was as dangerous as Sir Erebus himself and might prove a stumbling block to their ultimate success.

  “He will not stop us, my darling,” Jovian said reassuringly, but she could not share his confidence.

  If Anthea hoped to leave the crowds behind as they rode out of Cathness into the surrounding lanes, she was gravely disappointed, for the chanting populace followed. They progressed for mile after mile, passing farms and tiny hamlets, where more and more people joined the great concourse. Evening shadows were beginning to lengthen, and the sky was turning to gold as at last Anthea recognized ahead the harvested field where the neck of wheat stood in readiness for the following night’s rituals.

  The morrismen were waiting, and the crowd’s chanting stopped as the pipe and tabor music began. The morris bells jingled sweetly, the staves clacked together in perfect rhythm, but Anthea would never again be able to enjoy England’s traditional and much loved dance.

  Sir Erebus had led Corinna around the neck of wheat the night before, and now Jovian helped Anthea down from the palfrey to do the same. Their shadows fell darkly across the stubble, and the rays of the setting sun were dazzling as suddenly a brightly-skirted hobbyhorse cavorted out of the gathering. Jaws snapping loudly, ribbons and streamers fluttering, it leapt and danced toward Anthea as if to attack. She flinched fearfully, but Jovian steadied her. “Remember it is only a pretense at driving you away from the crops. Show no fear.”

  Show no fear? Such advice was more easily issued than achieved, for there was something very intimidating indeed about such a primitive, almost savage figure. To her relief, the hobbyhorse withdrew again, but then Obed Dennis and some of the men from the Cross Foxes brought the wicker cage. It was exactly as it had appeared in the engraving and looked too sturdy for comfort as they placed it on the stubble in front of her.

  The innkeeper faced her and shouted for all to hear. “Threaten our rites at your peril, O Demeter, O Lavender Lady, for we will capture you and deny you your victory.”

  At this she took an anticipated step backward, as if daunted, and a great cheer went up around the field. She then turned away completely, and Jovian conducted her back to the palfrey and lifted her gently on to the saddle. Now came her vocal response, just three defiant words. “I will return!”

  She was greeted with booing and general derision, but she did not care, because at last Jovian was leading her out of the field again, and this time Huw was the only one to follow. They rode back to the castle by way of the lavender field, which was very strongly scented in the evening air. The sinking sun enriched the color of the flowers, and a tingle ran through Anthea as she thought of tomorrow night, when she would walk through the bushes to the rites. She glanced up and saw that the first isolated stars had begun to twinkle in the deepening azure sky, although there was as yet no moon.

  Jovian quoted a line from a poem. “Before the starry threshold of Jove’s court/My mansion is ...” She looked at the castle, which tonight could really make her think of Jove’s court; then she looked around at Jovian, wondering about the quotation. He explained, “Milton’s Comus, 1634.”

  A roll of thunder rumbled across the starry sky, and a second later there came a rustling in the lavender as the hare bounded past them and disappeared toward the castle. Huw gave a snort of disgust. “Diawl!” he breath
ed in Welsh.

  “A devil indeed,” Jovian observed.

  “Lethe’s imp is always on the prowl,” Huw muttered. “Doesn’t she ever let him down?”

  “She will tomorrow night,” Jovian replied.

  Huw laughed. “So she will, for if luck is on the side of right, the full moon will find both witch and dog hoist with their own drug-laced petard!”

  Anthea knew what he meant, because the myth of Aeneas told that he had been able to pass the dog Cerberus by disabling him with drugged honey cakes. Jovian was certain that not only could Sebbriz be similarly eliminated, but Abigail Wheatley too.

  They rode on out of the lavender field and through the Scotch pines toward the castle, which stood out more and more against the setting sun as the minutes passed. They followed the ha-ha toward the drive, where Anthea suddenly reined in.

  “What is it?” Jovian asked.

  “I—don’t know. I just feel I must walk in the churchyard.”

  “Well, I see no reason why not.” He led the way out into the lane to the lych-gate, where he dismounted and helped Anthea down as well. They left Huw with the horses as they passed through the lych-gate and up the steps to the raised churchyard. A light breeze rustled the trees, and her heavy skirts brushed behind her as they left the stone path to walk through the long waving grass.

  Anthea really had no idea why she felt compelled to walk here, but the feeling was so strong that it could not be denied. She wished she and Jovian could hold each other properly, for she needed the comfort of his arms around her, but eyes were watching, brown eyes set beneath long brown ears....

  The sound of an approaching vehicle drifted toward them, and Sir Erebus’s black traveling carriage came into view from the direction of the town. As it turned the corner by the church and swept past Huw and the horses, Anthea saw that the blinds were lowered, except—the corner of one was raised suddenly, and a pale little face framed by golden curls peeped out. It was Corinna.

  Forgetting everything, Anthea caught up her flowery skirts and ran through the grass toward the drop of the churchyard wall. Corinna’s eyes met hers without any sign of recognition; then the blind was lowered again, and the carriage drove smartly on into the maze of country lanes where the horizon was beginning to be streaked blue by the rising moon.

  Jovian’s voice was urgent in her head. “That was foolish! Abigail is watching and will now be suspicious!”

  Anthea was dismayed and sought some way of undoing the damage. She found inspiration, or at least what she hoped was inspiration. “You will never guess, Jovian, but I could have sworn that was my stepsister! How very silly of me, for I know she is in London with her aunt.”

  Jovian smiled at such quick thinking. “I s-suppose the lady in the c-carriage was indeed similar,” he said, satisfied that Abigail would not only hear but accept the explanation at face value. Then he added silently, “Corinna is safe as yet, I promise. “

  Anthea returned to him and whispered, “She didn’t even recognize me, Jovian.”

  “Lethe is the River of Forgetfulness,” he reminded her gently. “Be strong, my darling, for she needs you.”

  “Well, at least I know why I felt I had to come here. Perhaps my bond with her is even stronger than I thought.” She looked curiously at him. “She is only related to me through marriage, yet you and she share a father. You haven’t said how that makes you feel.”

  He hesitated. “To be truthful, I do not know how I feel. At the moment, I think of her as a maiden in distress for whom I must be St. George. When she is safe again, and this is behind us all, then maybe my feelings toward her will clarify into something more—something warm and brotherly, I suppose.... It is a very strange feeling to discover so late in life that one has a blood sibling.” He smiled at her. “I do not suppose you found it easy to accept you suddenly had a stepsister.”

  “It was a great shock,” Anthea admitted, “but now I love her very much. As I am sure you will, too, when you know her properly.”

  There was a furtive movement in the long grass nearby, and a glimpse of long eavesdropping brown ears, so Jovian drew Anthea’s hand quickly over his arm. “Well,” he said briskly, “ye g-gods, I think I am becoming almost s-sober. Enough of this f-fresh air, let’s—hic—to the nearest decanter.”

  He conducted her back to the horses, and soon they had returned to the castle, where Abigail Wheatley waited in the great hall. “Good evening, your grace, my lady.” Her voice was cool, low, and mellifluous, and she was coolly elegant in a long-sleeved, nut brown gown, with a cream shawl over her arms and diamonds in her ears. It was hard to credit that a few moments ago she had been a hare in the long churchyard grass, though it was very tempting to imagine she had a white scut beneath her skirts.

  “I trust you enjoyed your ride, my lady,” Abigail said then, making the inquiry sound as if she hoped to learn of a very nasty fall.

  “It was ... memorable,” Anthea answered, matching tone for tone. “Where is Lady Letitia?”

  Abigail’s gaze rested on the locket around Anthea’s neck. “Still asleep, my lady ... as no doubt you will be shortly, too.”

  It was an impertinent reply, and one to which Jovian responded. “Madam, it is not f-for you to comment upon what Lady Anthea will or will not d-do.”

  Even when aping the drunkard, Jovian was every inch the duke and master, and Abigail almost recoiled but managed to overcome any display of weakness.

  “As you wish, your grace,” she replied levelly and held his gaze in a most brazen way. “Do you wish dinner to be served?” she inquired then.

  Dinner? Anthea had no appetite, yet she knew she must eat something if she were to remain equal to tomorrow’s tasks. Jovian read her mind. “We would both like a light meal in our separate suites,” he said, for once forgetting to sound influenced by alcohol.

  The woman’s clever eyes rested thoughtfully upon him. “As you wish, your grace,” she murmured, and walked away.

  Jovian escorted Anthea up to her suite, and paused at the door. “Abigail was not jesting about sleep, for there will be something in your supper to bring that about. If it is kykeon, then you may eat and drink without fear, but if there is red wine, then you must only eat, I fear,” he whispered, glancing back into the passage to see if anyone was there, but it seemed deserted.

  “Sleep again? But I didn’t get up until this afternoon. And must I really wear this disgusting locket?”

  “I fear so, for to remove it will certainly arouse suspicion. Bear with it, my darling, and discard it with pleasure when the time comes.”

  "Then I can throw it away as I walk through the lavender field?”

  “Quite so.” He took the stolen mistletoe sprig from his coat, Huw having slipped it to him earlier. “Keep this safe now, and remember to hide it in your gown bodice tomorrow night. Only with the golden bough will you be able to successfully breach the hold Lethe has upon Corinna. Put it somewhere secure now, for it will not do for it to be found before we can use it.”

  “I will.”

  “And take this too.” He produced a small vial of laudanum. “You know what to do with it?”

  “Add it to the honey cakes.”

  “Yes.” He smiled and glanced around to see if anyone was there, then risked taking Anthea in his arms to kiss her passionately on the lips. A moment later he had gone to his own apartment.

  The supper that was brought to Anthea consisted of a cold chicken salad and, thankfully, a jug of kykeon, so she was able to eat and drink what she needed. She had not expected to have any appetite, even though she had eaten very little all day, but to her surprise she was quite hungry. To her further surprise, she felt very tired afterward, perhaps because of all the stress and strain of the past hours. Whatever the reason, she fell asleep quite quickly and enjoyed a restorative slumber filled with gentle dreams of pleasing things. She would awaken in the morning feeling refreshed and well able to find the courage to face what was to come.

  Outside the b
lue moon sailed its course across the night sky. When next it appeared, the time would have come.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The next morning was spent in fashionable idleness, talking in the library, strolling in the grounds, inspecting the gardens, and taking a leisurely luncheon in a summerhouse by a delightful lily pond. It was hard to appear so nonchalant and unconcerned, but it had to be done ... and done well. As the hours ticked relentlessly away, Anthea’s resolve faltered now and then, but Jovian’s support was always to hand, his words of encouragement and love renewing her strength.

  Late in the afternoon, the Lavender Lady made another progress through the lines, this time culminating in a sham attempt by Obed Dennis to force her into the wicker cage. The crowds shouted encouragement to him and then aped great wrath when he was forced to let her go again.

  But her second escape was what the rites demanded, and it would only be on her third appearance that she would actually be shut in the cage. If all went as Sir Erebus intended, she would walk alone to the rites across the lavender field as the full moon rose and be taken as she approached the neck of wheat. On the other hand, if all went as Jovian planned, it would be Sir Erebus himself in the cage.

  They returned to the castle as the evening’s shadows grew long and the sky golden, but Jovian parted from her in the courtyard because he and Huw had matters to attend to. As far as any listening ears were concerned, the matters in question pertained to estate business, but in fact they concerned the plan to bring down Sir Erebus Lethe and his accursed rites.

  Anthea entered the castle alone to prepare for her final and most important appearance as the Lavender Lady. She found Abigail waiting in the great hall, where candles were being lit.