She pulled her hair from the tight laces and allowed one side to fall over her face. In the rosy light her skin took on the warmth of youth, as did his, and in the flickering firelight they could not see the imperfections of age.
The meal was finished, the wine gone and the problems of the day behind them as they settled back on the velvet rug of grasses.
“And how did you conjure this place into being, Seer?” Ethyl asked. “It is so lovely I cannot believe it is not a magic place that will disappear with the dawn of a new day.”
“I found this glade long ago, and have often come here to reflect on life and to renew myself. I have never brought another person with me, nor have I seen one here,” he told her. “You are the first, and the last, with whom I will share this beauty.”
“And for that I thank you, with all my heart.” Ethyl wondered at the happiness they shared here. The peace of mind and soul she had never before experienced. “I would I had something of equal value to offer in return.”
“Your love is of far greater value to me,” Drojan told her. “It is a miracle of the gods that I never hoped to know. There is nothing, not even my reputation as a seer, that I would trade for what we have found together.”
“Nor I,” Ethyl admitted, “but I had little before we met, and now I have everything. I only wish, sometimes, that we could have found this love in our youth and experienced its joys throughout these many years.”
“Had we found our love in our youth we would have squandered it, as youth squanders all riches. It is only now that we can truly appreciate what we have and glory in that which we find together.” He lifted her hand to his lips.
He believed as did she, and his words were but the echo of her thoughts. Together they would hold fast to the time they had left to spend together and find happiness in each other’s arms.
Their sighs joined the serenade of the falling water in a symphony of the senses as they moved through discovery toward passion and finally fulfillment of the soul as well as the body. And as the rosy glow of the rocks dimmed to a dusky glimmer, they slept and dreamed not of youth but of the promise of spending the rest of their years together.
* * *
Dawn struggled through the clouds. A heavy mist covered the land. Drojan and Ethyl broke their fast on bread and cheese and bathed in the spring at the foot of the waterfall as they had each day of the time they had spent in their hidden glade of happiness.
“Must we go?” Ethyl turned to him as she readjusted her eye patch. “Can we not stay a while longer?”
Drojan put the last of the cheese into his pack and scattered the crusts of bread to the fowl. “We will come again,” he promised, “but it is time we returned. I awakened with an unsettling feeling I cannot explain.”
“Should you read the Runes?” Ethyl asked.
But Drojan had already started toward the entrance of the grotto. “There is no time. We must go back, and swiftly.”
Ethyl did not argue. She picked up her bow and quiver of arrows and followed him into the woods.
They were less than half a day’s walk from the village when they came upon Tim.
“Praise God!” the boy exclaimed. “I thought I would never find you, and my lady would be lost for certain.”
“Lady? Lady Serine? What are you saying?” Ethyl demanded. “What has befallen her?”
“The breath of the harpies has fallen upon our village since you have been gone,” the boy said breathlessly. “First, ships were seen off our coast. Guthrie and Rory took the men and went out to meet the enemy.”
“And...?” Drojan urged the breathless boy to speak.
“The invader was soundly beaten and brought to shore to be executed, but my lord Rory had a change of heart. Instead of killing, he chose to negotiate a treaty wherein the men would pledge themselves to Guthrie and swear never again to invade our land or threaten those who live therein.”
“A fine plan and one I have often advocated,” Drojan said. “It seems they did not need a seer to follow the correct path.”
“Not so.” The boy swallowed and regained his breath. “The treaty is taking a great deal longer than expected. Rory and Guthrie have stayed with their prisoners, but the majority of our men returned to the village only to find everyone in the throes of violent illness. They blame Lady Serine, saying she has poisoned them with her brew.”
Ethyl’s brow furrowed with concern. “I must go to her.”
Drojan drew her away from the boy, where they could speak more privately. “If you go this way they will associate you with Serine and accuse you, too. Wait until I can go into the village alone and assess the humor of the people.”
But Ethyl was not to be waylaid. “You do not understand,” she told him. “I warned her that this could happen when first the brew was mentioned. She insisted on taking the chance.”
“Did she so greatly wish to return to Sheffield, then?” he asked.
“Sheffield?” Ethyl exclaimed in frustration that she was not understood. “It was at Sheffield that Serine insisted she be allowed to make the brew to save Rory McLir’s life. Had she let him die, none would have been the wiser.” Ethyl shook her head and pulled away from her lover. “If Rory loved her as she does him he would be there at her side.”
“Rory does not know his lady is in danger,” interrupted the boy, who had followed them. “Even now he wrests with the council and the headmen of the other clans. He would come if he knew of the danger, but I was told to come after you, and have done so, leaving Rory to complete his mission.”
“Tell us all you know.” Ethyl urged the boy along as they hurried down the dirt road.
“The battle was—”
“To the devil with the battle,” Ethyl exploded with impatience. “Tell me what you know of the sickness that has struck the village. Everything! And quickly.”
Subdued at not being allowed to expound on the merits of the battle, the boy recited what little he knew about the sickness that had struck the village and could not be quelled.
* * *
The men were gathering in little clumps, their faces drawn with worry, as Drojan and Ethyl moved swiftly through the streets. When they neared McLir Manor they went their separate ways.
Ethyl slipped through the gate near the kitchen garden, while Drojan walked boldly to the great door and demanded admittance.
Serine greeted them with pleasure, oblivious to the danger that waited outside.
“What news?” Ethyl asked as Serine came toward her, hands extended in greeting.
“I have done it,” she exulted. “I found the courage just before the men went off to face the invader.”
“Speak, woman,” Drojan ordered. “What is it you have done?”
“Why, I told Rory that I was with child.” She looked from one face to the other. “And promised I would not leave him until we could try to find a solution to our dilemma.”
“A promise you must now break,” Ethyl told her.
“Surely not, Ethyl,” Serine protested. “It is you who have urged me not to be so anxious to leave the man I love. Now that I have come to grips with myself, you change your perspective and suggest that I go back on my word. I do not understand you. I thought that when you returned from your time with Drojan you would be gentler and less quarrelsome.”
“It is not Ethyl who is looking for a quarrel,” Drojan told her, “but the men of Corvus Croft. From what we can learn there is sickness in the village and they blame it on you.”
“What do you mean?” Serine hurried toward the window of the solar and looked across the farmland toward the castle. From her position she could see the villagers forming into groups, their arms gesturing toward McLir Manor, their voices raised in anger and fear. “What has happened?” She looked from one face to the other. “Who is ill and why was I not told? I could have—”
“You have done enough, Lady.” Gerta’s voice came from the open doorway. “It is because of you and your bitter herbs that half the villag
e is near death. ‘Tis worse than the plague and the people will be satisfied with nothing less than your death.”
“That cannot be.” Serine looked around in confusion. “I have given them nothing that would make them ill. Surely there must be some mistake.”
“The mistake was that they believed you would help them when all you wanted was to leave and take your son with you.” Gerta warmed to her theme. She knew that Serine had not felt well herself and had allowed things to slide as she waited for news of Rory.
“Gerta, you know I have not meant to harm the people. Do you not stand on my behalf?” Serine asked as she saw the hatred on the girl’s face.
“You care nothing for anyone but yourself, your son and your precious Sheffield.” Gerta fired the words at her former mistress. “You care nothing for me or for my welfare and would have wed me to a man twice my age.”
“The man is the steward of McLir Manor,” Serine noted. “Yours would have been a place of honor and respect. No milkmaid could hope to improve her lot to such an extent in other circumstances.”
But Gerta hoped for far more than that. And with Serine gone she knew her hopes could become reality. For it was not the elderly, strait-laced steward she wanted in her bed, but the virile, handsome Rory McLir himself, and Serine had played into Gerta’s hands.
“My lot is no longer your concern,” Gerta told her. “If you are wise you will take your son, your one-eyed harpy and her paramour and flee for your lives, for if the illness rages through the night those able to walk will come for you with the dawn and it will be your life that is at stake.”
“But I know nothing of their sickness.” Serine fought to keep the desperation from her voice as they watched the girl flounce out of the room. “How can they place the blame on me?”
Ethyl went to Serine and took her arm. “They blame you because if they did not they would be forced to blame themselves. It does no good to quibble. They will not listen to reason, and I will not stay here and watch you burn.” She turned to Drojan. “Does your skiff still nestle in the small harbor?”
“It does, and both the boat and myself are at your service.”
“You would come with us?” Ethyl searched his face.
“I told you I intend to spend the rest of my life with you. I cannot do so if you are in Sheffield and I am here. We will take Serine and Hendrick back to their home and return here when I deem it safe.”
“If you leave these people in their hour of need, it may never be safe again,” Ethyl reminded him. Her thoughts reflected the memory of the magical hours they had spent in the grotto. He could see the sadness she felt at the possibility that they would never be free to go there again.
“Woden’s woman, I know what you are thinking and share in your moment of sorrow, but this sorrow is for a moment only. We will know many days of happiness as long as we can be together. Why do you cry?”
Ethyl swallowed the lump that came to her throat and fought back the remainder of her tears. “Seer, unless you are as blind as my useless eye you must see that I do not wish to be known as Woden’s woman. I want only to be Drojan’s woman, in what is left of this life, and the next.”
His hand closed over hers. “So be it,” he whispered. “Now go and tell the Lady Serine of our plans...Drojan’s Woman.”
The joy in her face rendered her ageless.
Yes, she and Drojan would know great happiness together, but there would be no such happiness for Serine, as she would leave behind the man she loved. The man who loved her in return.
She straightened her back and brought her head up, turning to face Serine. “Rejoice,” Ethyl said, “for your prayers have been answered. You and Hendrick will be returned to Sheffield and no one the wiser until it is too late.”
Serine wrung her hands. She could see Rory’s face as it had looked when he had begged her not to leave him. “But I do not wish to leave now,” she protested.
“Then you should have been more careful in what you asked for,” Drojan said cryptically, “for the gods grant only what they hear. Now, get your things together, and Hendrick’s, as well. We must be away with the tide.”
Serine looked into their faces and saw the silent resolve. She had no choice. The village men would mill around the countryside until darkness fell and then, pray God, go to their homes. Even if the indisposition that afflicted them had subsided by morning, Serine and the bitter brew would be under suspicion. Without Rory to protect her, she was lost.
A sob escaped her lips. Without Rory she was lost, but she had just realized the depth of the loss. How different it was to be forced to leave the man she loved, rather than endeavoring to return to Sheffield of her own volition. Still, to stay was to invite disaster, not only for herself but for Ethyl, as well.
She would slip away in the dark of night as she had imagined so many times before. Now that the time had come, however, it was the last thing she wanted to do.
It seemed so unfair that after all the months of wanting to be away, now, more than anything in the world, Serine wanted to see Rory once more. With aching heart she choked back her tears and went to find her son.
* * *
There was a smile of satisfaction on the face of Rory McLir as he rode beside his brother toward home. They had gathered the leaders of all the nearby clans and forced the invaders to pledge fidelity with all as witness. It had taken longer than Rory had thought, but was well worth the time, for it had been a moment of great achievement. He had managed to secure the coastline and in so doing, Serine and his unborn child were protected.
As he thought of her, a tender smile touched his lips. How he looked forward to returning to Serine’s arms. Arms that would now open to his embrace without hesitation. No longer must he wonder whether she gave of herself to gain his trust until she could take her son and escape. She had willingly told him of her condition and had given her word that she would stay. Together, after the birth of their child, they would find a way to secure Sheffield for Hendrick, since it was of such importance to Serine, for he could deny her nothing now that she had given him her love.
His thoughts were interrupted by his brother. Guthrie was still grumbling over the outcome of the invasion.
“It is not the way of the Celt to allow an enemy to go off without chastisement after they have invaded our shores,” he complained.
“Has there not been enough bloodshed without initiating it needlessly?” Rory asked.
“It is not needless when it teaches a well-deserved lesson,” Guthrie replied shortly. “Our enemies remember their defeats by their fallen comrades. They grudgingly give us their respect when they look to their ranks and count the missing faces. We had the opportunity to send naught but dead bodies back to their cursed shores. What more powerful statement could be sent?”
“The statement that our enemies had come and were humbled and defeated. The statement that they agreed to swear fealty and agree never again to invade our shores on pain of certain death. Dead men would not have the ability to make such a statement.” Rory refused to allow his brother to spoil his triumph.
“Should they decide not to honor their pledge of fidelity we may all be dead men,” Guthrie reminded him, “and we are no better off than we were the day they invaded.”
“And no worse.” Rory clapped his brother on the shoulder.
“Drojan would—”
“Drojan would agree with me. He has counseled temperance many times, as well you know.”
Guthrie could not deny the truth of his brother’s words. “What you say is true.” He sighed. “Still, I have a feeling of unrest, as though something is not right.”
“Are you planning on usurping Drojan’s position as seer?” Rory teased.
“Perhaps we will be forced to rely more on our own instincts if Drojan continues to frisk about like an amorous sheep.”
Rory laughed at his brother’s analogy, but, in truth, it bothered him that the seer had not come to give his advice and encouragement on their e
nterprise toward peace. “The old man has found love,” Rory said lightly. “Do not begrudge him happiness. He has known little enough in his lifetime.”
“How say you that?” Guthrie challenged. “The man has a position of respect and is welcome at any table and in any village. He has power and no doubt considerable wealth. Why do you think he has not had a lifetime of happiness?”
“I only think how lonely I was before I found Serine. Even when my fevered mind feared that she would slay rather than save me, I could not help but look forward to the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand. I would hope Drojan has found that same happiness with Ethyl.”
Guthrie bowed his head. “I had not thought of it in that way,” he admitted, “and I hope you are correct, brother.” Then his laughter rang through the air. “And I wish to again experience the happiness of which you speak so eloquently. Let us ride.”
They put heels to their horses and all conversation ceased, but Rory found it difficult to put aside Guthrie’s misgivings. It was strange that Drojan had not answered their call and come immediately to their side. Especially since the seer had so often championed exactly that which they had achieved.
But the feeling of accomplishment overpowered all else and Rory set aside any anxiety he might experience, attributing it to the excitement of the moment and his anticipation of telling Serine of his achievements.
The brothers reached home in the late afternoon. Few people were in the fields. Instead the villagers milled about the town clumped in small groups, their faces furrowed with frowns of worry and anger.
There were no cheers of welcome as Guthrie and Rory approached with their small entourage. As they neared the castle they slowed their horses to a walk. Several of the shops were closed, the craftsmen nowhere in sight. A group of men broke from a heated discussion, and one of the crusty old warriors led the way toward the brothers.
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