The Midsummer Wife

by Jacqueline Church Simonds

  “I see you got a moving company on short notice,” Ron said.

  Harper nodded. “The foreman told me they were only too happy to have some sort of job, as they’ve had little work since The Day. We just got the tapestries packed in before you arrived.”

  Harper watched the activity at the back of the car for a moment. He excused himself and went over to his secretary, Nigel Ficton. They chatted for a bit. Nigel suddenly smiled and shook Harper’s hand, then darted back to the house.

  Harper rejoined them. “I just made Nigel Director of the Harp Trust.”

  “Oh, how nice,” Ava said, trying not to laugh.

  “Yes. Should have thought of it before,” he said with a grin.

  “C’mon, Dad!” Falke said, patting the other flip-down seat.

  “Erm, I get carsick if I ride backward,” he said. “Mind if I ride up front with you?” he asked Graham.

  “Happy to have you, Your Grace.” Graham opened the door for him.

  They all got in the car. Ron tucked the box with the Oathstone behind his feet. The proximity of the ancient object caused a weird itching sensation on the edge of Ava’s aura. It wasn’t unpleasant, just sort of distracting. She was tempted to lean over and tell it she was quite aware it was there, but decided Ron, Harper, and Falke thought her odd enough.

  As they started down the lane, Harper asked Graham, “How is it possible we’ve never met? I knew your brother quite well.”

  “I live and work in Bristol,” Graham said. “Have to admit, what with Chessie talking about the goings and doings at Drunemeton all these years, I feel I know you like family!”

  Harper laughed and shook his head. “By the way, whose car is this?”

  “I guess it’s mine, Your Grace,” Graham said. “I’ve helped Lord Reginald run the Bristol Auto Museum for twenty years or more. When Ava called and needed a car to meet you folks, I reckoned this was the best vehicle for the job!” He chortled.

  “What did you mean about ‘guessing’ it was yours?” Ron asked.

  “Well,” Graham began thoughtfully, “last I heard, Lord Reginald went to London on The Day. Doesn’t answer his line. No one’s returned to the house outside Bristol. I expect I have to take charge of the cars now, until someone tells me different.”

  “There is much to be considered concerning property rights,” Ron said in a voice that was slightly deeper than usual. Ava saw that blue flash in his eyes. The King was present.

  “That’ll be thorny to wrestle with,” Harper observed.

  “What is the proper resolution for this situation?” Ron said, obviously pondering several angles. Then he laughed almost soundlessly, and his eyes returned to normal. He whispered in Ava’s ear, “Here I am, already assuming the demands of ruling before we’ve even met with the government and convinced them of our case.”

  “Call it practice,” Ava whispered back. Does he know he just slipped into King Arthur-mode?

  He smiled and gave her a peck on the nose.

  As they passed the Drunemeton refugee camp, there were at least a hundred people lining the stone fence in the rain, watching them drive past. Ava hadn’t noticed anyone there when they had come in. But somehow, they knew something was happening, or about to. They had been called to witness the heirs’ leave-taking. Ava’s skin erupted in goose-pimples.

  We are really going to do this.

  It’s breathtaking and rather terrifying.

  The others didn’t seem to feel it. Falke had a VR set on and was tapping madly on his controller, playing some sort of game. Ava heard the men talking about something, but it seemed unimportant.

  Ava held Ron’s hand and looked out the window. She thought at her mental journal: There are a few details and observations I need to share with you, my Sisters. I doubt I’ll have time to connect and discuss them with you until after the Healing—however that turns out. As you go forward, with or without me, these new pieces of information should be used to adjust our methods.

  I don’t know if you heard what he said yesterday, but Harper stated quite clearly that he was still in mourning for his wife and felt himself not able to be emotionally available. Yes, he was jealous of Ron initially, but I think that was more to do with the Merlin soul than the Harper personality. The important part here is that the report we had indicated he was ready to move on. Chessie was the author of that intelligence, and she framed it that way because she wanted it to be true. She wanted me to be Harper’s wife. She cares very much for Harper and the Drunemeton family, and wants them to be happy again. Can you imagine what a disaster this would have been had I, in fact, pitched myself at an uninterested Harper and pushed Ron away? That would have been the most awkward scenario!

  I’m not angry with her. We’re all human, subject to our hopes and desires, no matter how objective we may try to be. In the future, I think there must be at least two reports from different observers. This will tend to reveal inconsistencies and problems.

  Secondly: Every person involved in one of our plans must be psi tested! Ron is clearly possessed of some ability. He has what he calls “truthsense,” and there are other psi talents I’ve noticed. We know that Arthur was of the same family as Merlin and Morgaine, and that Anya detected some talent in him. So how did we simply ignore the fact that, of course, psi traits are part of his genome? The Leadership wanted me to mate with a strong psi talent—well, as it has worked out, I will do that, even if it is Ron instead of Harper. Ron has sufficient latent psi talent, I think our children will be quite advanced.

  But, can you imagine what a strong king we could have made of Ron as an adept had we known about this before? I will do my best to teach him after we’ve accomplished our task. But it would have been best had he been trained to use his psychic abilities before now.

  “Ava?” Ron said, breaking into her thoughts. “You all right?”

  She squeezed his hand and smiled. “Fine. Just a lot to think about.”

  “Did you get any sleep last night?” Harper asked. “Because I surely didn’t.”

  “Surprisingly well,” Ava said.

  Ron smiled slyly at her.

  Who needs sleep when you have a lover like him?

  “Goddess save us from newlyweds,” Harper growled and turned back around. Graham laughed.

  Ron wrapped his arm around Ava. She happily snuggled in.

  Ava returned to her report:

  I must tell you that I now understand Morgaine has been controlling me. She told them about Helmut’s “accident” and the anxieties since then. Then she explained about the dreams. Last night, I was finally able to stop her. But she is also aware that I am fighting her. What happens in our confrontation, I have no idea. She is terribly, terribly strong.

  Lastly, I think I’m pregnant. I’ve felt no life spark, but I just have a strong suspicion that I am. As we know, timing is always very important to the Goddess. Read Merlin’s explanation on why he had to go the whole charade with making King Uther look like Duke Gorlois of Tintagel to bed the duke’s wife, Ygraine, even when he knew Gorlois was to die the next day. It was that night, at that time, in that exact moment that produced King Arthur and not Duke Arthur, or even Arthur-the-dimwitted.

  I believe the Goddess prevented Ron and me from making love in the car so that She could produce a child at a slightly later time—the heir to Arthur-Ron—a king made to bring the Goddess’ plan to fruition. Time will prove if this is just wishful thinking on my part, or true.

  I’m hoping we’ve produced a Goddess-directed child. Because if we have, it’s the first indication that She thinks we might win through this.

  And I need to believe, Sisters.

  I need to think there’s some reason to go forward, rather than just walking meekly to my death.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was a long drive to Cardiff. As Harper surmised, the usual ninety-minute trip was hindered by abandoned cars strewn over the motorway—in some places almost completely blocking the road. It was a chore for
both the Rolls and mover’s lorry to wind through the obstacle course.

  They reached the city and after a series of wrong turns, finally arrived at a large warehouse behind a guarded fence. Ava gave the man at the gate the information Vera had told her, and he let them in, pointing Graham to a just-opening warehouse door. He was instructed to drive directly inside.

  The huge warehouse seemed to be fitted-out as equal parts movie studio (with lots of cameras and lighting) and military installation. The place bristled with guns. Ava’s stomach turned to acid, and she was feeling a touch of agoraphobia in the big open room.

  Staycalmstaycalmstaycalm.

  The car was directed to a spot near some tables and chairs, where several people stood waiting for them. The lorry was peeled off to an area covered with a large tarp. It was nerve-wracking getting out of the car with assault weapons aimed at them. Ava wondered if this was in the Goddess’ plan. She felt the prickle of sweat along her spine—but in this case, it seemed warranted to be afraid.

  That acknowledgment seemed to settle her some.

  After helping everyone get out of the car, Graham went back to the driver’s seat.

  “Ava!” cried a middle-aged blonde woman in casual clothes. She came over and air-kissed Ava on both cheeks, but her expression was flat and unreadable. No warmth at all came from her. Her aura was a thin line of pale blue.

  Ava returned the cold embrace, then said to her companions, “Gentlemen this is my cousin, Vera Jeroslaw. She’s head of studio here in Cardiff, in charge of the national broadcasts. Vera, this is the Earl of Steadbye, Duke Drunemeton, and his son, Falke.”

  They all shook hands. Vera introduced them to Gemma Clarke, assistant to the Prime Minister, Thomas Rhyddrich, head of the Celtic Research Centre at the University of Wales (“Please, call me Thom”), Dr. Afsheen Mafouz, head of the Department of Physical Science at Cardiff University, and Bob Samuelson, head of security.

  Ms. Clarke said, “Ms. Jeroslaw has told us why you’re here. But for the record, I’d like to hear it from you.”

  Ron said, “Fourteen-hundred-and-sixty years ago, our families—the Steadbyes and the Drunemetons—were assigned a task. That was to maintain the bloodlines of our forefathers, carry the knowledge and traditions over the years, and be there to assist our country in its time of need. I’m sure you’ll agree this is Britain’s direst hour.”

  “And you assert that you are direct-in-line descendants of…King Arthur and Merlin the wizard?” Ms. Clarke said with an unmistakable tang of sarcasm.

  Samuelson said, “I want to tell you that I advised against this nonsense. I can’t believe you expect us to credit what Ms. Jeroslaw told us.”

  Harper nodded. “If I were you, I wouldn’t believe it either. It seems completely farcical.”

  Ron said, “I imagine that you see us as some sort of threat to the fragile post-Blast government. I assure you, as a former officer of the His Majesty’s army and a member of the House of Lords, nothing could be further from the truth.”

  Ava could feel that Samuelson trusted Ron more than Harper. That’s fine. Let the military-minded build a bond.

  “And who might you be?” Ms. Clarke said to Ava. “The Lady of the Lake?”

  Ava smiled and projected confidant calm at her. Ms. Clarke’s hostility dimmed somewhat. “I’m a descendant of the half-sister of Merlin and Arthur’s sons.”

  Thom said, “But this is marvelous, if true. I can’t wait to get started. What’s in the lorry?”

  “Tapestries,” Harper said. “And quite fascinating ones at that.”

  They all went over to the vehicle where the men had unloaded the arras. Harper asked permission of Samuelson to pay the deliverymen off and dismiss them, and he agreed. Harper gave the men a healthy tip and mentioned that his secretary made reservations for them at a nice hotel—which was paid for. Once they left the building, the outside door closed.

  Ava bounced slowly on the balls of her feet. I’m finally going to see the tapestries!

  Harper and Ron unrolled the first, smaller, tapestry. Then Harper removed the over-wrap.

  “Oh, dear God!” Thom exclaimed. He wandered around the edges, taking in the images. “This changes everything!”

  Falke’s gasp behind Ava expressed her feelings exactly. The tapestry was extraordinary! And what made it even more remarkable was that it looked as if it were made yesterday. All the colors were as bright and sharp as the day it was woven!

  Seated in what looked like a bedroom with rock walls, around a rather ordinary table, were a man and a woman. The man had brown hair and a beard with silver in it—the man Ava had seen in Ron’s dream. A crown—its design was exactly like the one she had seen in the Grotto—was placed before him. At his side was Excalibur; the hilt was just visible. There was a ruby glint on his hand that could only be the king’s ring. Around his neck was the thick gold necklace that Ron had worn in the Grotto the other day.

  Beside the man in the tapestry was a blonde woman in a blue dress and a veil over her hair. She wore gold earrings and a large gold cross.

  Behind the bearded man stood a stooped elder with a long gray beard and little hair, wearing a brown robe. He sported a long, wooden-beaded necklace with a wood pendant on which one could make out the Tree of Life. He clutched a carved staff in his right hand; there was a dot of purple on his ring finger.

  Behind the woman stood a man with the erect bearing of a warrior and the face of a male model. His blond hair made him look almost like a relation of the woman.

  Harper read the lettering above the homey little scene: “King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, Merlin the High Druid, and Sir Lancelot at Camelot.”

  “You realize this depicts almost all the relics we’ve brought from the Grotto?” Ava said.

  Harper stared at the tapestry. “By the Goddess, I never noticed that before!”

  Falke gasped in awe.

  “And it’s only just begun!” Ron said with a laugh. He went over to the other, larger tapestry.

  Falke hurried to help him. Thom jumped in to assist, looking as young and excited as the boy.

  “It’s the Round Table!” Falke exclaimed, before it was fully revealed.

  “Indeed. With all fifty of the knights and their names,” Harper said, walking closer to the tapestry.

  The large, round table was displayed as if seen from on high. The furniture depicted was actually three arced tables with an empty middle. The elaborately dressed noblemen were seated around the outside. Each figure portrayed had a little box beside him with his name. There was Lot, dark and short. To his right was Bedevere, middle-aged with blond hair turning gray—Ava noticed his left hand was missing. Merlin sat to the left of Arthur; handsome Lancelot sat to Arthur’s right. Even Mordred, with his long dark hair and sharp nose, was there, seated as far from Arthur as was possible. Perhaps as a sop to him, bald, paunchy Sir Kay sat to his right.

  “Mother Anya said this particular version of the Round Table tapestry was produced after Merlin died. She didn’t know if it was begun before he passed into the Afterlife, or if the king ordered his dearest friend depicted, even though he was gone.”

  Ron looked at her and shook his head. He whispered, “You keep telling us new things about the artifacts we’ve guarded for centuries. It’s eerie.”

  “Sorry,” she whispered back, smiling.

  Harper pointed to the burly red-headed man to Sir Kay’s left. “Look, Falke. There’s Sir Gawaine.”

  “Wow,” was all Falke had to say.

  “I used to read him a children’s version of Sir Gawaine and the Green Dragon before bed every night when he was little,” Harper explained.

  “Uh. Puh-leez,” whispered the exasperated teen.

  Ava was trying not to laugh, then gave in to the giggles.

  Then she noticed that she wasn’t anxious or sweaty. At the moment, she was doing all right. And that was great. I really need to be strong-me right now, because I can feel something not quite right in the room. />
  Thom was talking to himself, pointing at this person or that, gasping at features and armor and everything else the tapestry contained.

  The others pointed and exclaimed to each other. Samuelson and Vera stood apart, eyeing the tapestries. Ava noticed the camera drones taking many different angles.

  “Ms. Jeroslaw, I take it you’re recording, rather than broadcasting?” Harper said, noting the cameras.

  “We’re—” Vera started.

  “There will be no public access to these items,” Samuelson snapped. “These are for archival study only.”

  “Hm,” Harper said. Something’s amiss here, he said to Ava in mindspeech.

  I know. Be on guard, she replied.

  Dr. Mafouz said, “I would like to take a sample of each cloth to date these. The incursions will be tiny and won’t damage anything.”

  “You may test almost anything we will present to you today,” Harper said. “That’s why they’ve been preserved all these years. However, I ask that you be respectful and careful not to damage them. To us, they are the source of much veneration.”

  Dr. Mafouz set her staff to collecting samples from the very edge of the tapestries and plugging them into their computers.

  “That all you’ve got? Some cloths?” Samuelson said.

  “No, sir,” Ron replied. “We’ve some other material, including items that contain DNA.”

  Dr. Mafouz’s head came up from her screen. “DNA? That would be most useful. Let’s get some blood and swabs from all involved, first.” Both Ron and Harper complied.

  Afterward, Graham helped unload the Rolls’ boot. Harper didn’t remove the moonlight generator from the footwell at his seat, nor did Ron offer to fetch the Oathstone from its place on the floor. Ava thought it wise to keep those apart from the items to be examined.

  Harper whispered, “Seeing the boxes of Merlin and Arthur relics on the table is making me feel sick.”

  Ron said in an undertone, “I’m struggling against the urge to grab all of it, stuff it in the car, and drive back home, hiding the items back in the Grotto.”