Lavender Blue

by Sandra Heath

  “Good evening, my lady,” the woman said, although through gritted teeth, Anthea thought.

  “Good evening. I wish some honey cakes to be brought to my rooms directly.”

  “Honey cakes, my lady?” Abigail looked surprised, to say the least.

  “Yes, the ones of which the duke tells me he is so fond. I understand he requested some to be baked today?”

  “I... believe so, my lady.”

  “Don’t you know?” Anthea looked inquiringly. “You are aware of the cakes I’m referring to, aren’t you?”

  Abigail recovered. “Yes, my lady, and if His Grace requested them, then they will have been prepared.”

  “Good. He wishes them to be taken to his rooms directly, and I would like some as well.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “And some kykeon, if you please,” Anthea prompted.

  “My lady.”

  “Now, if you please.”

  “My lady.” Pure loathing shaded Abigail’s brown eyes as she inclined her head, then walked away to attend to the honey cakes. The swish of her brown gown made the candles flicker.

  Anthea gazed after her and murmured, “Believe me, my dear, you are more than welcome to Sir Erebus Lethe.”

  Cynthia was waiting in the King Hal suite and immediately began to attend Anthea. A warm bath scented with a little lavender oil had been prepared, and as soon as Anthea had undressed, another maid took the gown of flowers away to be refreshed in readiness for the evening ceremony.

  A little later, her dark hair tumbling loose about the shoulders of her robe, Anthea sat on a window seat to enjoy the cakes and kykeon Abigail brought. She was careful to show approval of the honeyed delicacies, which she declared to be the most exceptional she had ever tasted.

  Outside it was now getting quite dark. The sunset was fading, and the fiery shades had turned to deep azure. Occasionally she heard music drifting from the green by the church, and the jingle of bells as morrismen danced. Once, much nearer, maybe even down in the torchlit courtyard, she heard a girl singing “Lavender Blue.” The atmosphere was so intense that the air seemed to crackle with danger and suppressed excitement. She was conscious of the last sands of the great nineteen-year cycle draining away. Soon the full moon would rise. Anthea gazed past the old gatehouse at the shadowy, suddenly mysterious park. Please let them rescue poor Corinna and consign Sir Erebus Lethe to perdition!

  Abigail remained in the suite to make certain Cynthia understood the important details that must not be overlooked if everything were to proceed smoothly. Certain herbs had to be applied to Anthea’s forehead, the locket must be worn in an exact position around her neck, and her hair had to be brushed a set number of times, then combed very precisely. Lastly, the coronet of fresh lavender had to be placed on the Lady’s head at the proper time, neither too soon nor too late. The rules had been laid down over the centuries, and nothing must be overlooked or changed.

  Anthea appeared to be preoccupied with the honey cakes and kykeon while all this was being discussed, but in fact she was waiting for an opportune moment to empty the contents of the laudanum vial over the cakes she had not eaten. She pretended not to be taking any notice of what was going on around her, but the moment Abigail and Cynthia were diverted by the return of the other maid with the gown of flowers, she applied the laudanum. No one saw, and the trap was set.

  With a satisfied sigh, Anthea licked her fingers and got up from the window seat. “Those cakes are absolutely exquisite,” she declared, as she washed her hands in a silver bowl of aromatic water. “Why don’t you finish them?” she said to the three others in the room.

  Abigail hesitated, but then went to take one. Cynthia and the other maid followed her example, and Anthea took great pleasure in watching them eat every last crumb. They began to dress her but were soon stifling yawns. They all succumbed to sleep at the same time.

  Abigail had just put the last touch to the Lavender Lady’s hair when she sank to the floor, and Anthea was intrigued to note that the laudanum appeared to have had an unfortunate side effect. The woman’s ears grew long and brown, and two long buckteeth protruded over her lower lip; it was almost certain that she now had a scut as well, but Anthea had no intention of looking to see. The two maids collapsed into chairs, arms dangling, mouths open.

  Anthea was relieved that the stratagem had worked well and prayed that Jovian’s similar sleight of hand with Sebbriz had been as successful.

  “It has indeed, my darling, for the old dog now snores it to raise the castle roof. But take no chances with your three graces. Tie them up with ribbons, and put handkerchiefs in their mouths. That will keep them completely out of mischief until it is all over and done with.”

  Over and done with? Oh, please let that be the outcome.

  “It will, sweeting, it will.”

  Following his advice about the ribbons and handkerchiefs, Anthea soon made certain her three victims would not be able to move or raise the alarm if they awakened. Then, looking as the Lavender Lady should, but with the sprig of mistletoe pushed into the tight bodice of her gown, she left her suite.

  Before going down to the great hall, where Jovian would now be waiting for her, she went first to Lady Letitia’s rooms.

  Her aunt was sleeping comfortably, a faint smile of contentment on her lips. Reassured, Anthea withdrew again and then went down to Jovian. There were servants in attendance in the great hall, but they were now as Anthea had never seen them before, wearing masks and antlers, animal skins, and primitive costumes. Such things she had seen at May Day festivities, when all had been lighthearted and enjoyable; like this, they were frightening.

  Her mouth had gone dry as she embarked upon the brief conversation she and Jovian had practiced during their night of conspiracy. “Where is Sebbriz, Jovian? I thought he would be here to be sure we left on time.”

  “Oh, he h-had things to do—hic—so I told him I would not need him again t-tonight.”

  “What a coincidence,” Anthea replied, “for I have just said the selfsame thing to Abigail, and I told the maids their duties were at an end for today as well. They worked so hard to prepare me and dress my hair that I thought it was the least I could do.”

  “My—hic—thoughts exactly.” “Have you remembered the mistletoe?”

  She nodded, and he offered her his arm to go out into the torchlit courtyard, where the remaining servants waited, all garbed like those in the great hall. As soon as the Lavender Lady appeared, the courtyard erupted into shouts, whistles, and animal noises, and the servants streamed out of the castle to run noisily across the park toward the Scotch pines.

  Anthea’s heart pounded as Jovian conducted her beneath the gatehouse and along the drive to the ha-ha. The servants’ racket could now be heard from the lavender field and was suddenly joined by a great roar from the wheat field, where the people of Cathness had assembled.

  “Courage, my darling,” Jovian said quietly, as they followed the path that led to the pines.

  “I’m so afraid that we may have overlooked something, a tiny detail that will make all the difference.”

  “We haven’t overlooked anything, and in a short while now we will be victorious.”

  Huw was waiting at the edge of the lavender field with two horses, having hidden in the trees until the castle servants had passed. The moon was about to peep above the horizon, and already there was a touch of blue across the far-off clouds of night. By now Anthea’s heart was pounding so hard that she felt almost faint. Her skin felt cold, even though the night was warm, and she trembled visibly. She was painfully aware that Corinna’s very life now depended upon her.

  Jovian led her past the Scotch pines until they were halfway along the lavender field, then he drew her warmly into his arms, and kissed her passionately on the lips. “You can do it, my love, and Huw and I will be ready to do what is necessary.”

  “But if I fail...”

  “You won’t,” he said firmly, taking her by the shoulders
and looking urgently into her eyes. “You have all the strength that is needed, and you have my unending love. We are doing this together, Anthea, and as one we are invincible.”

  A timid smile crept to her lips. “Invincible?”

  “Of course,” he whispered, then drew her close to kiss her again. “Huw and I will be near you throughout, so do not be afraid. Soon it will all be over, and we will have Corinna safely with us again.”

  As the moon’s rim appeared at last, the bell of Cathness parish church sounded once, to signal that the time was exactly twenty-five past ten. As the full moon’s uncanny blue light began to slant over the countryside, Anthea heard a rustle of anticipation from the wheat field. Jovian kissed her forehead. “Go now, it is the moment to begin your walk,” he said softly.

  Almost in a dream, she turned and stepped into the lavender. The scent of the blooms filled her nostrils, and she was aware that she was not in contact with the ground as she walked slowly toward the scene of the rites. Her gown felt more and more like real flowers, cool and gentle against her legs as the train dragged behind her. This was the vision of herself that she had seen when first going to the castle.

  When she was halfway across the field, she ripped the locket from around her neck and tossed it away. It fell somewhere with a slight chinking sound, but she neither knew nor cared where. Almost immediately, she felt as if a great weight had been lifted and replaced by a new strength. She could do this; she really could!

  The crowds in the wheat field waited expectantly as the moon’s light fingered further and further above the horizon, the ghostly blue beams stretching until at last they touched the neck of wheat. A sigh went up, and almost immediately the slow clip-clop of hooves carried from along the lane. Two riders came into view, Hades and his Persephone.

  Sir Erebus, unaware that things had begun to go very wrong, was again dressed in his black robes. He had no idea that Abigail, his eyes and—literally—ears, was tied up and insensible, as was his guard dog, Sebbriz. The fact that they had not come to him assured him that all was well as he led Corinna’s palfrey. The Harvest Maiden was in her flowing white gown, her golden hair, so completely the opposite of Anthea’s raven curls, cascaded loose over her shoulders, and she again carried the bunches of wheat and wildflowers.

  Anthea reached the edge of the lane and halted to watch her lovely stepsister. “We’ll save you, Corinna, I promise,” she breathed.

  As Persephone and her dark lord entered the suddenly silent field, Anthea stepped into the lane to approach the field entrance. Suddenly Obed Dennis barred her way. The burly innkeeper stood arms akimbo, and for a terrible moment, Anthea thought she had been found out, but then she remembered that he was supposed to be here like this, in order to succumb to Demeter’s will.

  The only things that might go wrong at this point were that he might perceive that Jovian and Huw were following at a distance on their horses, or that she was not wearing the locket. She met his eyes squarely, challengingly almost, and after a moment he stepped aside and bowed low to let her pass. His heavy tread was just behind as he followed her into the wheat field. Further behind still, unheard but there all the same, were Jovian and Huw.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The chanting commenced immediately as Anthea appeared in the field. “Come to us, O Harvest Maiden. Protect us from the Lavender Lady. Come to us, O Harvest Maiden!”

  Everything was as it had been the evening before, with the crowd gathered respectfully around the neck of wheat, in front of which the Harvest Maiden now stood awaiting her destiny. The wicker cage was in readiness nearby, and the reapers were prepared, their polished sickles shining in the blue moonlight. This time the deadly blades would not be thrown to form a circle in the ground but would be hurled directly at Corinna.

  Anthea walked steadily toward the dreadful scene, and with each step, it seemed the chanting grew louder. The blue moon was now almost completely above the horizon; the moment it was, the Harvest Maiden would be sacrificed. Obed Dennis now kept pace at the Lavender Lady’s side, and Anthea bowed her head slightly so that her long dark hair cast a shadow where the locket should have been. The crowd parted for her to reach the edge of the inner circle, and as she did so, Obed Dennis suddenly outpaced her and again stood to bar her way.

  A ringing silence ensued, as everyone expected her to submit to capture and imprisonment in the cage. Instead she walked around the startled innkeeper and continued toward Corinna. For a moment no one seemed to realize what was happening. They thought it was a misunderstanding, that she had not been properly prepared. Sir Erebus realized nothing, for he was too intent upon Corinna, fearing some last minute awareness that might prompt her to run for her life.

  Using his preoccupation, Anthea quickened her pace toward her stepsister, just as Obed recovered from his confusion and raised the alarm. Anthea caught up her flowing skirts to run the final yards to Corinna; then she halted triumphantly and took the mistletoe from her bodice, holding it up for everyone to see.

  There were horrified cries, and she was aware of the crowd falling back slightly, as if merely being close to golden bough that had obviously been stolen was anathema to them all. She was later to discover that it was the moment when most people began to realize they had been taken in by Sir Erebus’s silken words and persuasive practices.

  Sir Erebus froze where he was, but his eyes flashed angrily. “Hand that to me,” he breathed, but she shook her head.

  “Oh, no, for while I have the golden bough, and while I stand here, Persephone is safe from Hades. If Demeter is present the neck cannot be cut, and while it stands, Persephone cannot be taken. That is how it must be, Sir Erebus, and nothing you say or do can change that. And do not think that your disgusting rites can proceed in any case, for I am not wearing the locket. Without it around her neck, Persephone cannot be sacrificed.”

  Her voice carried to the watching crowd, arousing a stir of whispers. A nerve twitched at Sir Erebus’s temple, and he glanced sharply around, evidently wondering why the faithful Abigail had not warned him something was wrong.

  Anthea smiled. “You look in vain for your monstrous hare, Sir Erebus, for she has unwittingly taken laudanum—a dose of her own medicine, I fancy. The same goes for Sebbriz, who has taken the same sop. How little you really know your Greek myths, for they were far more vulnerable than you realized.” This last was said for the benefit of the onlookers, and it did not fall upon stony ground.

  Sir Erebus’s thin lips curled with bitter fury. “I should have guessed that Chavanage was deceiving me!”

  Jovian himself answered as he and Huw rode into the circle, pistols drawn and ready. “Yes, you should indeed, Lethe,” he shouted, and the uneasy crowd fell back still more.

  Anthea saw that some people were already beginning to skulk away, but unfortunately the reapers were not among them. The sickles were still ready and waiting. Corinna had not moved, and she gazed ahead without knowing or seeing anything around her.

  Sir Erebus looked at the full orb of the moon as it floated clear of the horizon to sail among the first stars. Anthea could see how his mind raced, and her breath caught as he whirled about to the reapers. “Kill the Harvest Maiden!” he cried. “Kill her now!”

  “No!” Anthea screamed, and ran to stand in front of her stepsister. But the reapers were too far under Sir Erebus’s control to disobey him, and one by one they threw their deadly sickles.

  Jovian fixed his gaze upon each one, and his face twisted with effort as he pitted his gifts against the flying weapons. One by one he halted their flight so they fell harmlessly to the stubble at Corinna’s feet. As the last sickle fell to the ground, something quite wonderful happened. The moon ceased to be blue and instead cast its true silvery glow once more. Gasps arose from the crowd of onlookers, the vast majority of whom still remained.

  Huw grinned and drew his pistol, then waggled it at Sir Erebus. “Come on, tomen dali, to the cage with you,” he commanded.

  Befor
e Anthea could even wonder what the Welsh words meant, Jovian explained aloud. “That means dung heap.”

  “How very suitable,” she replied, then went in consternation to embrace Corinna, who still remained in a trance.

  Sir Erebus had no intention of bowing to a gardener’s command, even a gardener with a loaded pistol, but as Jovian fired a single shot that raised dust from the ground within an inch of his ungodly feet, Hades hastened to obey. His abominable rule over Cathness was at an end.

  Huw took great delight in ordering Obed Dennis to lock the cage. As it happened, it was a mistake not to force the innkeeper into captivity as well, for it was an error of judgment they would later regret.

  Now, however, Jovian stood in his stirrups to look around at the great crowd of local people. “Behold, an honest moon above and Sir Erebus Lethe in all his ridiculousness below. What price now his promises and lies? Go back to your homes, for you will see no sacrifice tonight or any other night. Our harvests do not need blood to ensure their bounty; they just need hard work and good weather, both of which Cathness can provide in plenty.”

  For a moment no one moved, but then the exodus began, everyone deeply ashamed that they had taken part in such savage and primitive rituals. As Obed Dennis left with them, he did not share their shame, for he had as little conscience as Sir Erebus and meant to help his defeated master all he could.

  Within minutes the field was empty, leaving only Anthea, Corinna, Jovian, and Huw. And Sir Erebus, of course, although within moments Huw had tied the cage to his horse and ridden away with it bumping and bouncing behind him. He was taking Hades to a dungeon beneath the castle, there to await arrest by men from the nearest army barracks.

  Corinna remained in a trance until Jovian gave her some rosemary he had picked earlier in the castle’s kitchen garden, together with some lavender flowers he had taken as Anthea left his arms to commence her walk to the field. At last Persephone was liberated from Hades’ influence, and she stared around in consternation as she found herself in a moonlit field.