by Freda, Paula
For the first time Lord Hayden visualized the fine line between his love for the past and his love for Grace. Until now he had thought both passions equal, not realizing that true love might demand self-sacrifice of the very art for which he lived. Hayden knelt beside the bed and gently removed what was left of Grace’s blouse, wincing as he saw the bloodied welts crisscrossing her back. There would be scars. He checked the bruise on the side of her head that had rendered her unconscious. It matched his. He left her side a moment to retrieve the medicine kit from his backpack. For now, he would tend to her exterior wounds. Those would mend with the proper care. The wound inflicted on her heart would be much harder to heal.
As Lord Hayden ministered to Grace, he began formulating a plan of escape. It included the Ark, for therein lay both salvation and Talbot’s destruction.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Elizabeth regained consciousness during the night. Under the covers, resting on her belly, her face turned toward the balcony and fresh air, at first she lay moaning from the soreness and stiffness of the welts and the throbbing on the side of her head. Later, as her mind cleared and she assimilated her whereabouts and recalled what had happened to her, she turned her head and saw Lord Hayden lying fully clothed beside her, watching her, his dark eyes intense and moist. Elizabeth turned away. Lord Hayden remained silent.
In the morning, a servant brought breakfast. Elizabeth had fallen asleep. Lord Hayden raised himself on one elbow and stroked her hair. The red-gold strands were matted and darkened with blood and grime. "Grace, they’ve brought breakfast," he said gently, waking her. "I’ll pour you a cup of tea." He suspected she would not answer, but filled an earthen mug with the steaming brew, sweetened it and held it ready while he asked, "Can you sit up?" Still she did not answer. She hates me, Lord Hayden thought, feeling lower than the lowest. "You may not believe me, and perhaps most of what’s happened is my fault, but dearest, I did not do this to you. Talbot tricked me into picking up the whip after the fact, so you would believe exactly what you believe right now. For God’s sake, Grace, you can’t honestly believe I could have hurt you like that?"
Elizabeth turned her head and looked at Lord Hayden. The sunlight streaming through the wide open window slits reflected in his eyes, lightening the dark brown irises to dark tawny gold. She had loved the color of his eyes since their first meeting at the college, when that morning, her arms filled with school texts obscuring her vision, she had collided with him and dropped everything. Then, too, the sunlight streaming through the glass-paned windows, had gleamed dark tawny gold in his eyes. Then, too, like now, his gaze was soft, if somewhat puzzled, but not condescending or unkind. He could be telling the truth. She had no recollection of who had wielded the whip. And she had not heard Lord Hayden’s voice throughout the beating. Except for Talbot’s voice ordering Lord Hayden to uphold the Inca law by carrying out her punishment, a pause, as though Lord Hayden were hesitating, and Talbot’s enjoinder that Hayden’s conformance would prove beyond a doubt he had truly joined with him... outside of these, Lord Hayden’s presence had only been intimated.
She wanted to believe, because if Lord Hayden was telling the truth, then his love for her had not taken second place to his love of archeology. An equal love she could accept, because of her own for the mysteries of past ages, but not second place, not when Lord Hayden was so special to her. Lifting her head and shoulders, grimacing at the discomfort, she tried to turn on her side in order to sit up. The effort was too much and she fell forward. Lord Hayden quickly relegated the cup of tea to the side table and caught her. He lifted her to a sitting position, careful not to press on her wounds. Elizabeth met his gaze. "I’d like to believe you," she said.
"It’s the truth," he said, the expression on his face earnest and unflinching. Elizabeth studied that expression a moment. Then she said, "Talbot’s a bastard, isn’t he?"
"Yes," Lord Hayden readily agreed, relief spreading across his features along with a most compassionate smile.
It was that particular smile that broke her defenses. Telling logic to go dig a hole and stick its head in it, Elizabeth buried herself in Lord Hayden’s arms, and gave free reign to the sobs and tears that until now she had held stoically at bay. Love is a potent weapon, a formidable fortress that hate and mistrust can erode themselves, ramming against its strength. Once more, Lord Hayden reflected, this woman was proving herself more special than any other he had known. Few, if any, in her position, would simply take his word for what had occurred yesterday. His love for her deepened even more. "It’s all right," he cooed softly, rocking her gently back and forth, as she sobbed in his arms. "It’s all right. We’re getting out of here as soon as you can stand the effort. You were right about Talbot. And I was wrong. I’m sorry, dearest. Forgive me, please forgive me."
Elizabeth clung to him, letting his words soothe and heal the wound to her heart. Later, as he continued to hold her, she listened carefully to his plan for escaping Talbot’s clutches. He spoke in a whisper in case anyone else was listening.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The first phase of Lord Hayden’s plan was to make Talbot think that his sick strategy had worked and that Grace now despised her husband. It included loud arguments so that anyone in the corridor would hear. During one particularly boisterous and wild act, Elizabeth slapped a table loudly. Lord Hayden cursed her and slapped the table harder and louder. Elizabeth screamed. The guards posted outside the chamber unbolted the door and entered, maces and spears poised. Apparently, Talbot had ordered them to interfere, if necessary. They prodded the pair to separate corners of the room, murmuring among themselves and shaking their heads. Elizabeth nursed her cheek and she and Lord Hayden fueled glacial looks at each other. The moment the guards left and rebolted the doors, the pair fell into each other’s arms. "Shhhh," Lord Hayden warned as Elizabeth threatened to burst into unrestrained laughter.
The ruse worked so well that Talbot ordered Elizabeth brought to him. "The exterior wounds have healed, I’m happy to see," he said, after a few seconds of quiet scrutiny.
"Meaning the scars inside will take longer," Elizabeth said bitterly.
"Perhaps, never," Talbot added. "Now are you satisfied that Lord Hayden is not the right man for you?"
Elizabeth took her time answering. At length she said, "Yes, but he won’t let me go."
"Something that can be easily remedied," Talbot said.
"If you kill him, you’re no better than he is in my eyes." She stared defiantly at the Inca.
He regarded her somberly. "You’re not an easy woman to deal with. What do you suggest?"
"Give it time. He will weary of an uncooperative wife. In the meantime, there is no reason we should not begin collaborating on locating the artifacts you mentioned. I am, after all, your peer, and as interested in the relics as my husband."
Talbot smiled. The beautiful Psyche and a learned lover of the ancient, both in one, and both soon to be his.
* * *
"He’s agreed to give me the locations of the artifacts," Elizabeth told Lord Hayden in their chamber.
Hayden sat on the stone settee near a window. "So far, so good," he said. As an afterthought he added, "I suppose you played up to him."
Elizabeth was not sure how to answer him.
Lord Hayden gazed at her suspiciously. "How far did you go," he asked worriedly.
The tiny imp that often tempted Elizabeth/Grace Quinlan to taunt Lord Hayden mischievously, if only in fun, made her reply, "Well, I had to convince him we two were finished, after all."
Hayden was on his feet and beside her before she could blink. "Really?" He asked icily. "And how exactly did you accomplish that, convince him?"
"Well…" The impish gleam in her emerald eyes could not contain its smile.
Elizabeth laughed. "Truly Lord Hayden..."
He closed his arms about her with a mixture of relief and slight annoyance. "All right, Lady Grace," he warned, cupping her chin and tilting it up so he had the ad
vantage, "two can play at this game." He pressed his lips to hers, expecting her to tense and resist. Instead, she yielded, welcoming his kiss, and drawing him closer in a warm embrace. Then stunned him with "I love you so very much." But no sooner the avowal, then she let go and turned away. The weariness in her voice disconcerted him the more. "I’m so very tired, William. Let me rest, dearest."
"Of course," he acknowledged, his emotions roller coasting as he tried to phantom her true feelings. They both needed to rest and strengthen themselves for the dangerous time ahead. Yet at this moment, he burned with desire to hold her in his arms and love her completely, intimately, to take her passionately and surrender himself at the same time.
Lord Hayden returned to the stone settee and kept his gaze on the patch of star-studded heaven visible through the wide slit that served as a window nearby, giving her a chance to undress and slip under the sheets. A short while later he undressed, donned his pajamas bottoms and lay down over the sheets. Elizabeth lay quietly facing the opposite side, the gentle rhythm of her steady breathing telling him she was asleep, or at least feigning sleep.
The plan he had devised was a dangerous one. Both he and Elizabeth might be killed, but it was the only counter-plot to Talbot’s that he believed might liberate them.
* * *
To compare him to a spring held taut and ready to snap was an understatement, as he and Grace moved around the Ark examining it. Talbot had acceded to their request to study the Ark, under his supervision and two trusted warriors, armed to the hilt, standing guard. Hayden knew his adversary watched him carefully, tolerating his presence only because Grace demanded time to distance herself from her husband and renew her ancient relationship with Talbot. Once the escape plan was put into action, he would not be allowed a mistake.
"It’s magnificent," he said in earnest. "Some historians suggest it was a cult object adopted, or copied, from the Canaanites."
Elizabeth argued. "True, but even if there were several Arks, the Old Testament bears witness that there was only one of supreme importance, and this was the Ark of the Covenant, or as it is sometimes referred to, the Ark of the Testimony."
"Yes, I’ve heard that argument," Lord Hayden said. "The Ark of the Testimony, the Ark of the Lord of Hosts, the Ark of the Covenant of the Lord of all Earth, among other titles."
As they spoke, Elizabeth moved toward the opposite end of the room. She spied something on the wall near the floor in the corner. "Talbot? Do you know there’s a series of Egyptian hieroglyphs right here? Am I wrong?"
The Inca strained to see, but all he could discern were a series of bumps in the rock. Grace sounded serious and as she was well versed in her art, Talbot circled the Ark and hastened toward the spot she had knelt to inspect. The soldiers' gazes were trained on the pair. The closed fist Lord Hayden threw with all his might caught the first guard unaware, knocking him clear to the stone floor. Before the second guard could act, Lord Hayden rammed his knee into the warrior’s groin. As the man clutched his stomach, Hayden followed with a solid right to his jaw. The guard fell to the ground unconscious.
"William, watch out!" Elizabeth yelled as the first guard who had regained his footing attacked Lord Hayden from the rear, seizing him about the shoulders. Hayden tried flipping him over his head, but the man held his ground. Lord Hayden rammed his elbow into his opponent’s side, twisted in his grasp and grabbing him by his bare arm, sent the guard sprawling across the floor.
During this time, Talbot had stood stunned and scowling, waiting for his warriors to overpower Lord Hayden, but the battle was definitely going in his opponent’s favor. Elizabeth’s gaze was on the Inca; she saw him draw a knife from inside his tunic and start toward Lord Hayden whose back was to him. Without a second thought she jumped on Talbot’s back, grabbing him around the neck. Recognizing the danger to herself if Talbot pulled her in front of him—he could deal her a fatal wound—she tightened her grip, hanging on for dear life. However, Talbot, stronger than she, managed to pry her hands apart and yank her by the arm, causing her to lose her balance. She fell sideways at his feet.
His face twisting with rage, the Inca seized her wrist and turned her to face him. She had tricked him. Used his desire for her to make a fool of him. Rejected him. Again! He raised his arm, the hilt of the knife clutched in his hand, preparing to plunge the blade into her heart.
Elizabeth stared death in the face. This was it. Goodbye, Lord Hayden, her thoughts whispered. A small solid gold vase flashed as it hurled towards Talbot, and knocked the knife from his hand. He snarled as he turned to see Lord Hayden holding its twin in case the first missed its target.
Talbot lunged for his knife, but before he could reach it, Lord Hayden threw himself on Talbot’s back, and both men went sprawling. They landed beside the weapon. Talbot grabbed the knife. Lord Hayden caught his wrist and they grappled. Neither of the two saw Elizabeth climb to her feet, nor the expression on her face as she moved toward the Ark, her head tilted slightly as she listened to something, a soft humming that had begun with the fighting. It was the glow that attracted their attention as they struggled, first Talbot’s, then Lord Hayden’s, the glow spreading outward, mesmerizing Elizabeth. Lord Hayden recognized the look on her face. She had entered a trance.
"No," he gasped, fear showing on his face. He remembered the stories of the Old Testament. The Ark might be readying to unleash the force of its power. With a rush of adrenalin, he knocked Talbot over and sprung to his feet and rushed forward to save his beloved. Sparks shot from the Cherubim adorning the Ark’s lid. The tiny lightning bolts met in the space between the two angels, then sprayed outward, piercing Lord Hayden’s arm. A thousand threadlike cuts penetrated his flesh. He cried out with pain and surprise, and found himself knocked to the other side of the room.
The humming steadily intensified, filling the room until the sounds and the glow were indistinguishable, as though the light was actually a personification of the sounds. Lord Hayden bellowed to Grace not to touch the Ark, and avert her eyes, but the sound of his voice was lost inside the phenomena occurring in the chamber. Elizabeth placed her hands on the rim of the lid.
Now the light was seeping from beneath the cover, like gummy liquid, lifting it, as Elizabeth guided the cover slowly to the side and off until it rested alongside the artifact. According to the ancient logs, the light would disintegrate her. Lord Hayden rushed toward her. This time nothing stopped him and he pushed her away from the Ark in the direction of the door. Talbot stood transfixed by the glow. "Get out of here," Lord Hayden cried humanely as he rushed past the Inca, pulling Grace who remained in a beta wave state, out the door and up the carved steps. He knew without glancing back that the light would continue intensifying until nothing in its path, mortal or immortal, survived. He listened for Talbot, but the Inca had not followed. Lord Hayden doubted there was anything left of the two thousand year-old man except perhaps some silvery dust.
From the corner of one eye, Lord Hayden saw the light behind him. "My God!" he uttered as he realized it had followed them up the stairs. If they could outdistance the light, perhaps, and slam the door shut behind them once they were back in the Temple, the Power might return to the Ark. But if the Power chose, it could incinerate the door and level the entire Lost City with all its inhabitants and artifacts. Innocent men, women and children would suffer for Talbot’s greed and tyranny.
A fiery tingle assailed the nape of his neck. The light was almost upon him. "Grace, move," he yelled. She had allowed him to haul her along without protest, her face emotionless, her mind in a dreamlike state. If only he could break her trance, she might run faster. She was slowing him down, but he would never abandon her. Rather die than leave her behind. And he had begun thinking that this might be the case, for the light was already enveloping them. Lord Hayden suddenly knew that running was useless. The light was in front of him. His head and body felt as if it were on fire. His legs were emptying and his knees buckling. He collapsed face-down with Grace besid
e him. Eyes clenched and with what little strength remained in his arms, he clutched the woman he loved to himself, trying to shield her from the disintegrating rays. He was on fire and he began to scream.
"HOLD!" a voice rich and full and searing like the fiery sun on the hottest day of the year, commanded.
Simultaneous with the order, Lord Hayden felt as though ice poured over him. He raised his head and opened his eyes. The light was behind him, hovering, waiting. He dare not look at it.
Again the voice spoke, in a somewhat exasperated tone. "What risks you two take. It makes me wonder. But then, I made you that way." The voice grew tender. "Go home, both of you. There is much for you to accomplish before you return to me." A gentle sigh blew about their heads. The light retreated. Silence reigned. Somewhere below a lid slammed shut and a door locked itself.
"William?" Elizabeth whispered, her gaze fully cognizant.
Midst shock and bewilderment, he managed to ask, "Did you hear it?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, I heard Him," she said reverently.
"Him?"
"Is it so hard to accept?"
