Ava thought frantically what to say to salvage the situation.
Harper broke the silence first: “What did you mean you have Anya’s books?” he demanded.
“As you know, Anya wrote the all-important book The Book of Merlin, a Druid Priest, and Arthur, King of All Britain, detailing all history knows of King Arthur and Merlin. It also documents how the families are to keep the legends and regalia together until The Day Foretold when the Arthur-heir will take the throne again. She also wrote a book about her own life, The Book of Anya. Arianrhod—Anya’s daughter, and the half-sister of Merlin’s and King Arthur’s sons—copied both books before leaving Drunemeton House, along with a book of spells you’ve never seen.”
“A book of spells? Why would she have taken that?” Harper exploded.
Lord Steadbye turned to study Ava.
“Because the Goddess and Mother Anya directed her to.”
Both men looked at her skeptically.
“Anya wrote in her book about the need for Arianrhod to leave Britain and form the Sisterhood. If you’d read it, this wouldn’t be a surprise to you.”
“I started reading The Book of Anya last night,” Harper said. “I still don’t understand why Arianrhod took the book of spells—something we don’t have.”
“The spells were for priestesses, not Druids. It contains ancient and practical magic held by women since the beginning of time. It really shouldn’t have been written down at all. The parchment roll resides in an airtight stone cask on the altar of the Viborg Motherhouse. It’s one of the most venerated objects the Sisterhood possesses.”
Harper glowered at her. “You realize the descendants of Merlin had nothing of his Druidic teachings? What we’ve rediscovered has been through the hard work of each generation to reclaim the knowledge.”
“Yes, but you’re quickly rebuilding that with your Eight Lights project, aren’t you? A regular boot camp for young neo-Druidic priests and priestesses, combining psychic research and modern tech to amplify mental power.”
“How do you…?” he sputtered.
“One of your recruits is my cousin, Sharlyn Thompson.”
Lord Steadbye barked a laugh. Harper looked hurt.
“I’ll probably catch hell for outing Sharlyn. But, the Sisterhood doesn’t disapprove of Eight Lights, Harper. In fact, it’s the most brilliant innovation your line has ever come up with.”
He shrugged, and she felt him relent a bit. “The Goddess told me what to do in a dream when I was fourteen. When I told Father about the vision, he listened carefully and asked questions that made the dream even clearer. Then, he set about doing just what the Goddess said to do.”
Lord Steadbye asked, “But what has all this to do with Arianrhod?”
“I’m quite surprised you’ve not read Anya’s book. Knowing that the heirs had been declared, one would imagine you’d read all the material available.”
Harper shifted uncomfortably. “Few of my line do. The Merlin and Arthur book is, of course, key.”
Ava bit back a retort that it was entirely sexist that they wouldn’t put as much importance on a book about a woman. Mother Anya was only the whole reason any of them were in that room! “But you were due to copy it, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” Harper looked away. “I admit I fell down on the job. I rather lost interest in things after my wife passed.” He rubbed the seam in his beard again. His facial hair hid a deep scar that he had received when the car he, his wife, and infant daughter were in went off a cliff just two years previously. Miraculously, his seatbelt had come undone and the door flew open, throwing him out just as the car passed through the guard rail—a scrap of which cut his cheek. But the sedan with the rest of his family inside it hurtled off the cliff and into the valley below, bursting into flames.
“What were you supposed to do?” Lord Steadbye asked, quiet concern in his voice.
Harper said, “Each of the books Anya left behind are translated into the current vernacular and copied in long-hand—as required by Mother Anya—every hundred years. I just…I couldn’t gather up the strength to face such a task after…Serena died.”
“I see. Please accept my apologies.” The emotional damage was more extensive than I was told.
He looked back at Ava, and his gray eyes softened. “Nevertheless, I’m quite remiss, and now it seems I’ve delayed us. Please accept my apologies.”
Ava bowed her head, acknowledging his heartfelt admission. “Let me give you a brief overview of what the book recounts: Anya was a high priestess in Jutland—Denmark—of people then called the Rus. Then a strange series of events brought her to Britain. She became a priestess in Avalon under the Lady of the Lake, Morgaine Gorlois. But Morgaine and she had some sort of falling out, and Anya was sent to be the healer at Camelot. As you know, Anya bore a son each to Merlin and Arthur. That’s important to the people who are here right now.
“But just as importantly is that Anya created a ritual, books, and artifacts to make sure the heirs kept to the path as was laid out to her by the Goddess. Through the Sight, she had been allowed to see the whole of the path—all 1,460 years—to this day.”
Lord Steadbye said, “You’ve mentioned ‘the Sisterhood’ several times now. What does that mean?”
“I am the High Priestess of the Daughters of Arianrhod, the Sisterhood of women who guard the Goddess cult set up by Mother Anya and Arianrhod,” she said. “We have done so from the Motherhouse in Viborg, Denmark, for nearly 1,500 years.”
There was a pause, and Ava could feel that both had minds crowded with questions. But Harper wanted Lord Steadbye to lead, and so he simply waited.
“Ava, what is your role here?” Lord Steadbye asked, finally.
How to shape a response to that straight-forward question? Ava stared out the window for some time. The great oak and brass case clock tick-tocked asymmetrically, while spotty rain tapped at the windows. It was too soon to explain everything to them yet, but she had to say something to persuade Lord Steadbye that it was safe to trust her. “Just as Harper represents Merlin, and you, my lord, King Arthur, I represent Anya. The Sisterhood is commanded to assist the heirs of Arthur and Merlin to heal Britain and then rule it.”
“But neither you nor the Sisterhood are mentioned in the book,” Harper said, and waved at an object on a low table.
On a stand, inside a protective acrylic box, was a beautifully illustrated manuscript, open to a particularly beautiful depiction of King Arthur and the Round Table. It was a mark of how nervous and distracted Ava had been that she hadn’t seen it the minute she walked into the room. Normally, a fabulously illustrated old book was like a magnet that drew her right to it. She got up to admire the old volume. “Oh! Is that the Lord Goshawk Drunemeton edition?”
“Yes, it’s my vicennial to have it,” Ron said. He got up and stood beside her.
“Vicennial?”
“It’s so beloved, both families want to have it. So it was decided to share, swapping every twenty years—a vicennial,” Harper said, as he joined them.
“Only you almost didn’t turn it over, you beast,” Ron said with a grin.
“That was Dad’s decision. He thought you were too young, yet,” Harper replied defensively. “I was the one who talked him into giving it to you!”
Ron patted his shoulder. “I know, old friend.”
Ava’s fingers ached to touch the old parchment. “I never heard why Lord Goshawk made the book this way.”
Harper said, “Goshawk was the twenty-fifth heir of Merlin, born in 1376. He was tutored by a friar, as many high-born sons were at the time. And like most of our line, Goshawk was artistically-minded. The tutor had been trained in the art of illumination. So when it became Goshawk’s time to copy out the book, he decided to do it in high style. It’s been a treasure of the families ever since.”
“Have the Drunemetons and Steadbyes always been close?”
Ron shrugged. “There have been some difficulties—even a certain coolness in so
me generations. Mostly, the families stay cordial because the heirs must meet at least twice a year for the Midsummer and Winter Solstice rites in the Sacred Grotto. And then they meet for the initiations of the next in line to the titles on the heirs’ eighteenth birthday.”
“I daresay, Ron and I are closer than most of the heirs in the past,” Harper said.
“It’s remarkable that the two families have managed to stay together over almost 1,500 years. Anya built a powerful bond,” Ava said.
“Knowing that we were each part of something, building toward a great moment together, I think has helped with that,” Ron said. “A unity of purpose, the service to the Goddess, honoring King Arthur and Merlin, these things have bound us, one to another, and through time.”
Harper said, “We are governed and informed by this book, which Priestess Anya wrote and gave to her son by Merlin—Falcon—and Stephen—her son by Arthur. It has told us the stories and tenets of the Arthurian way. It tells us that when The Time Foretold arrives, the heir of Arthur will once again take the throne of Britain, served by the wisdom of the heir of Merlin.” He cleared his throat. “But, again, it says nothing about you, Ava.”
Chapter Five
“As far as we can tell,” Ava said. “Mother Anya wanted the Sisterhood to watch over the Merlin and Arthur heirs in secret. Otherwise, I cannot explain why she omitted telling you about us.” She wasn’t sure if that was a good enough explanation. It would have to do.
Harper looked puzzled.
“Why didn’t you come immediately once we lost London? Surely, you could tell it was The Time Foretold,” Ron asked.
Ava sighed. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. I was being too cautious. I didn’t want to rush in and discover this wasn’t the proper time. We had no confirmation that we should move forward. But a fortnight ago, the Goddess made it clear that it was, indeed, the appointed hour. I’ve been scrambling to prepare and get here since.”
Most of the Leadership of the Sisterhood were convinced it was The Time Foretold when London was bombed. And in her heart of hearts, Ava knew it, too. But it would mean leaving the Motherhouse for the terrifying, great wide world. She suffered debilitating panic attacks every time she contemplated leaving. Every day, Sisters came to her saying they were told in a dream that she should go and meet the heirs. And every day, Ava made up a new excuse not to go.
Two weeks before, Ava was in a meeting with the Oceana delegation. She heard:
Priestess.
The conference went on around her, but at a remote distance.
Priestess.
Goosebumps covered Ava’s skin.
Come.
There was no denying Who and What was calling.
Ava excused herself and made her way out of the building, through the gardens, and to Viborg’s Sacred Grove. Using her palm-print to unlock the ornate black iron gate with the symbol of the Tree of Life that enclosed the holiest sanctuary in the Sisterhood, she stepped within.
Although it was the middle of the day, the light in the Grove was dim. The trees moved restlessly, but there wasn’t any wind. Removing her dress and undergarments—entering the Grove clothed wasn’t done—Ava stepped into the Sacred Circle. There was a sort of music coming from the trees, and the Sacred Stream seemed to gurgle a tune. She had only heard these sounds before on the night she was consecrated as the High Priestess.
Someone cleared her throat behind Ava. She turned to discover Ifijioku, the eldest priestess, walking into the Circle. Ifijioku had argued the loudest that it was The Time Foretold. But Ava wouldn’t listen to her—her best and closest advisor. And Ava suspected Ifijioku understood why.
Like Ava, Ifijioku was unclothed. But the very air cloaked her in a dignity Ava found eluded her. They went to the rock altar together.
The moment they touched it, the Goddess said:
Priestesses, The Time Foretold has arisen! Anya’s child must go to be with the heirs of Merlin and King Arthur to heal Britain! Go soon!
And then the sun shone bright in the Nordic May sky and the Circle was returned to ordinariness.
“The Goddess told you…herself?” Harper asked, eyes wide in wonder.
“Yes,” she said. “I apologize for the delay.”
She felt Lord Steadbye make up his mind. He gave Ava a penetrating stare that took a great effort to withstand. “There will be no further secrets. There will be no further acts of espionage. If Arianrhod’s family is to help at this time, then let us act as one family.”
Ava swallowed hard. He has such charisma! Surely King Arthur must have been so! “Agreed, My King.”
His mouth quirked up at the corner. “It’s Ron, please. We’re not to that point in the plan. Who knows what will transpire as we work to make it happen?”
“It must come true. We’ve waited so long!” The idea of failing sent shivers down her arms.
Ron nodded. “We certainly seem to need help to move forward.”
Ava struggled to contain herself. She had crossed the first hurdle, and they were going to include her! “All right. Let’s start with what you’ve done so far.”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” Harper said. “Most of our plans were made thinking there might be something left of the British government. But all of our contacts, all of the carefully constructed network of favors and deals the families built up over generations, went up in a flash.”
“Besides, we don’t have the Oathstone, which The Book of Merlin and Arthur says we must have,” Ron said.
“What is the Oathstone, exactly?” Harper asked. “That’s been a problem in even looking for it. How big is it? What does it look like?”
“Anya fashioned the stone by magicking a jet of water to leap out of Avalon’s Lake and harden in the air. How she did this, I don’t know. But she called this stone-from-water to hover between her and the Lady of the Lake,” Ava said.
“But why did Anya make Morgaine swear an oath?” Harper asked.
“Because Anya didn’t trust Morgaine—for good reason,” Ava said. “They had quite a contentious history. Morgaine sent Anya to Camelot ostensibly to be the castle’s healer—but really to act as a spy for Morgaine. However, Anya discovered the plot to prevent Guinevere from having a child, healed Arthur after Morgaine arranged for him to be attacked, and then Merlin and Anya stole Avalon’s Sacred Chalice. So, they were not exactly friends. The only way Anya could get Excalibur away from Morgaine and have her do what she wanted was to have Morgaine swear a binding magical oath.”
“Morgaine had Excalibur?” Harper asked.
“Yes,” Ava said. “Morgaine took it when she and the other priestesses of Avalon ferried King Arthur’s body away from the battlefield at Camlann. Anya demanded the sword and Morgaine’s oath in the name of the Goddess for her sons by Merlin and Arthur.”
“What has Morgaine to do with The Time Foretold?” Ron asked.
Ava pulled out the Book of Anya from her purse and turned to the passage she knew by heart:
“When the heir of Arthur and the heir of Merlin call upon the Oathstone, Morgaine will appear with all the power of Avalon,”
Ron and Harper looked at each other.
“The Oathstone calls up Morgaine, herself?” Ron asked, looking disconcerted. There was a mole just below his right ear, and it jumped in time to his pulse. Ava wanted to stroke it.
Ava forced herself to concentrate. “You can see why Anya didn’t simply put the Oathstone away in the Grotto. What a temptation, to bring it out during, say, the invasion of William the Conqueror, the time of Cromwell, the Blitz! And it would have been premature. No. Anya was wise to place it somewhere else.”
Harper said, “Go on with the story.”
She put the book back in her purse. “Morgaine finally placed her hand on the Oathstone and repeated the oath to obey a call from the heirs of Arthur and Merlin and Arianrhod. Then Anya took back the stone from Morgaine, put out her hand, and the Avalon barge flew across the waters, back into the mist, never to be see
n again.”
Those words hung in the air of the drawing room, as if Ava had cast that astounding spell herself.
“That seems a powerful artifact,” mused Ron. “But first it must be found.”
Harper said, “I’ve had Eight Lights working on ways to find it, but nothing’s been promising.”
“What have you tried?” Ava knew all the details of Eight Lights’s quest and methodology from Sharlyn. But she wanted to find out if Harper was, in fact, including her what happened next.
“My thought was that it must emanate some sort of power that would be detectable to sensitive psychics. We’ve had teams sweeping the country—what parts we can still get to. Particularly, we focused on standing stones and other ancient power sites.” Harper paused, then said, “Ava, you said something yesterday that made me think you knew where it might be.”
“First, I don’t think the Oathstone would have any ‘psychic footprint,’ if you will,” Ava said.
“Why not?” Harper asked.
“Mother Anya was very clear about hiding the Oathstone where it wouldn’t be found. If she’d left any trace of it, it could have easily been discovered by one of your ancestors. Harper, you’re probably as strong—or stronger—with psychic power than Mother Anya was in her day. She would have expected that and protected the Stone from it.”
Harper sat back. “That never occurred to me.”
“Further, I don’t think it could be anywhere else in Britain than Glastonbury.”
“Why?” Harper asked.
“Where else would she put it that would be safe? Was she likely to ride into areas she didn’t know and couldn’t secure in order to hide it? Besides brief trips to Camelot and Avalon, there’s no record that she traveled farther than the village of Godney.” Ava shook her head. “No. Anya was a homebody. She would have hidden it where she knew the heirs would find it at need.”
“So, you’re saying it’s been under our noses the whole time?” Ron said skeptically.
The Midsummer Wife (The Heirs to Camelot Book 1) Page 4