“But we were reminded that the law must be reasoned free of passion. We cannot allow our passion, or the passion of others, to blur the truth. And the truth persists. The power we so fiercely guard has been abused. God's will has been usurped and the balance of life and death disturbed. The ancient writings are quite clear in their demand for retribution. He who uses the stone's power to restore life to a departed soul will forfeit his own. Alexander has confessed and offered no defence. Therefore, we are left with no choice but to pass a judgement of death upon –”
“Nay!” Emma cried, clutching at Stephen, her legs buckling. “Tell me, in the name of God and all His saints, how this can be right? He's my father. You can't kill him. Please, just...just let me take him home. We'll live out the rest of our days in peace and never bother you again, nor speak of the stone to anyone. I swear it upon my life. Please let him go. Dear God, I beg of you, please.”
Stephen folded his arms around Emma and spat out his disgust at Riderch. “'Tis a merciless decision.”
Riderch sighed. “Believe me, we share your distress, but the law is clear. Alexander knows and accepts it.”
“Your laws are too harsh.” Emma's stomach lurched as she fought a wave of dizziness. “My father doesn't deserve to die. You can't take him from me.”
Riderch's gaze snapped to the table as the sword rattled, bumping against the cross. He nodded to one of the Guardians, who reached across and grasped the hilt.
“Stephen.” Alex's voice was hoarse with emotion. “Get the lass out of here.”
“Nay, I shall not leave you, Athair.” Emma coughed on a sob and tried to free herself from Stephen's arms. “I shall not leave here unless you're with me, warm and well at my side. Let me go to him, Stephen, please.”
He looked at Alex. “I'll not force her to leave you,” he said, releasing her.
Half blinded by tears, she started around the table toward her father, but Riderch stepped into her path.
“Please stop this, my lady,” he said, not unkindly, taking hold of her arm. “It will not change anything. The decision has been made.”
“Decision?” Fury replaced fear as she turned to face the Guardians. “There was only ever one decision lurking in your wretched minds. Most of you, I am certain, never even considered an alternative. You judge me to be without a God-given soul, but it is your souls which lack God's blessing, for they are as cold as the granite before you and as equally unyielding.”
A voice drifted out of the shadows. “The wee lass makes some very valid points. Take your hands off her, Guardian.”
Emma caught her breath as a vague memory stirred from its resting place.
Dear God, she knew that voice. It had spoken to her in the distant past and more recently...where? In her dreams? Was she dreaming now?
Nay, she was not, for the shadows moved aside and a man stepped forward. He was tall, with an aged but handsome face and strange opaque eyes that watched her from below a thick mass of white curls. Beneath his fur-lined cloak, she saw a golden lion emblazoned across his black tunic. In contrast to his fine clothes, a crude wooden cross hung from his belt, as did a string of worn wooden prayer beads.
Emma had seen him before. But where?
Without exception, the Guardians rose to their feet, a collective murmur of shock filling the air.
“Did you not hear me, Riderch?” he demanded, a soft Highland lilt edging his words. “We are avowed to protect the weak, not bully them. If there's a single bruise anywhere on her skin, you'll answer for it.”
The weak? Still furious, Emma pushed herself away from Riderch and faced the visitor.
“I am not weak, sir,” she said, glaring at him, trying to figure out why he was so familiar.
The man's lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile. “Ach, 'tis true you're strong of heart like your father, but you're still a scrawny wee bairn, even after all these years. Did you not feed her properly, Alexander? Come here, child. Stand at my side so I might see you better. These eyes of mine do not work as well as they once did.”
That voice.
“The past is before us but they do not see it...have faith, child.”
She touched her fingers to her temple. “I've heard you in my dreams. But how...?”
He nodded, smiling as if he had a secret to tell.
The memory surfaced from the depths and Emma's heart clenched. She saw him as a younger man with only hints of silver in his curls, his eyes not yet clouded by time. He was leaning over her crib, crooning to her, his gentle voice mixing with her feeble cries. And she saw her mother, weeping in his arms.
“Mama,” she murmured, stepping over to his side. “You knew Mama.”
A slight frown settled on his face. “Aye, I knew your mother well, may God rest her soul. I never thought I'd look into her beautiful eyes again, yet here I am looking into them. You're exactly as I remember her, and it gladdens my heart to see you.” He looked at Alex, his expression softening. “And I know your father. It gladdens my heart to see him too, although it has been many years since we've spoken.”
“But who are you?” Emma peered up at him. “How do you know me?”
“I was with your mother the day you were born, little one. My name is Francis Mathanach.” He touched his fingers to her cheek. “I'm your grandfather.”
“My...?”
She spun round, seeking affirmation from Alex. He gave a slight nod, his face etched with emotion. At the same time, something sparked in her mind, startling her with its truth. She turned back to Francis, her heart racing.
“It's you, isn't it? In my dreams and in my thoughts? All that I know, the sacred knowledge. It came from you, didn't it?”
“Aye, I shared our secrets with you,” he replied, throwing a defiant glance at the Guardians. “I knew how swiftly the Circle would respond to your father's actions. I needed something to delay their judgement until I arrived. You did well, child.”
Emma shook her head, fear for her father's life surfacing anew. “But I've failed, my lord. You heard them. It's too late.”
“I think not. And please, call me 'grandfather'.” He smiled and tugged on a strand of her hair. “Or 'Seanair' if you'd like me to truly spoil you.”
Riderch cleared his throat. “Your return to our order can only be deemed an honour, Francis, although it's regretful you're here under such sad circumstances. But the lass is correct. A judgement has been made.”
Francis shrugged. “I intend to challenge it.”
“There's nothing to challenge,” Riderch replied. “Alexander has confessed.”
“Christ, Riderch. I'm not here to dispute what he did.” Francis cast his gaze around the Circle. “I'm here to open your eyes to the injustice of your decision, for you're all blind to the truth.”
“Which is?” Keir asked. “None of us desire Alexander's death. If you can give us a valid reason to stay his execution, 'twould be an answer to my prayers.”
A murmur of agreement wandered around the table.
“How did you know to come here?” Alex asked. “How did you know what I had done?”
Francis paused as if choosing the manner of his response, emotion evident in the deep rise and fall of his chest. Emma understood his reaction and blinked back tears. She knew he was about to speak to his son for the first time in over sixteen years.
“As you well know, Alexander, the bond between parent and child is a powerful thing,” he said at last. “Especially when forged by a love which knows no boundaries. I never told you this, but I knew the moment Alicia died. I heard your soul's lament, felt your pain and wept for your suffering. Four days ago, while immersed in prayer, I heard it again. Only this time it was worse. This time I knew the blow was a fatal one for your spirit, inflicted by that most unjust of all fates; the death of a child. I knew Emma had died because I felt...” His voice faltered and his hand drifted to the cross hanging from his belt. “I felt the absolute surrender of your faith. And I understood it, my son. Believe me, I u
nderstood it completely, for I also know what it is to lose a child.”
Emma slipping her hand into his, swallowing against a lump in her throat. He squeezed her fingers and gave her a smile.
“Besides, I carried yon sword at my side for many years,” he continued, gesturing to the table. “The link to the stone is still with me, so I knew you'd used its power to bring her back, and I willingly confess to offering up a hearty prayer of thanks.” He turned to the Circle. “Resurrecting this child was not an affront. It was an atonement. I pray I can make you understand that.”
“There's naught I want more than to understand why Alexander thought it was right to do what he did.” The gentle Irish voice echoed across the chamber. “God knows, I'm beyond weary of questioning my own beliefs.”
Emma's head snapped up as Finn spoke. He was watching her, his expression wrought with misery. A twinge of sorrow fluttered beneath her ribs and she lowered her eyes, reluctant to see the sadness in his. Francis squeezed her hand again.
“I know what some of you believe about the wee lass,” he said. “So, as someone who has spent sixteen years in God's service, let me tell you this. For the past four days, I've shared Emma's thoughts and walked in her dreams. I've felt her pain, her fear, and her courage. I'm aware of all the torment she's endured, before and since her resurrection. But above all this, I've been conscious of the love she has for those fortunate enough to share her life. My granddaughter is utterly selfless. I have no doubt about the purity of her soul, nor the strength of her spirit.”
“I agree the lass has spirit,” said Riderch. “But she shouldn't be here, Francis. The balance has been disturbed. There must be a reckoning.”
“A reckoning,” Francis repeated, his lips thinning into a hard line. “Aye, a reckoning indeed.”
Hope fluttered in Emma's heart. She looked at her father and dared to imagine that they might yet endure. He met her gaze, and gave a slight shrug. Francis released Emma's hand and started pacing.
“How old are you, Riderch?” he asked.
Riderch frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“I would like you to consider your own situation before you make another claim that my granddaughter should not be here.”
“Oh nay, my friend. You cannot make that comparison. Our longevity comes from years of exposure to the stone's power, but if one of us should die, then so be it.”
Francis stopped pacing and regarded Riderch with a steady gaze. “Nonetheless, you must concede that the stone's influence releases us from mortal bonds.”
“Aye, I'll grant you that, but the influence is residual. We are not deliberately going against God's will. If this is the basis of your argument, Francis, I fear you're wasting your breath.”
“Nay. I merely resent your belief that my granddaughter should not be here when most of you have already spent several lifetimes on this earth. How dare you suggest she's undeserving of life! You misjudge my son and misjudge his child. Aye, and the real culprit is among us, yet you have ignored its part in this saga, other than to watch it dance on the table whenever the wee lass speaks.”
Riderch's eyes narrowed as they flicked to the sword. “The real culprit?”
Francis nodded, an impassioned breath tearing from his lungs. He studied Alex for a few moments before shifting his gaze to Emma. She shivered under his scrutiny - not from fear - but from the intensity of the emotion she saw in his eyes.
“Legends in the making,” he murmured, as if thinking out loud. “'Tis both tragic and beautiful, the story of their lives, a story still unfolding.”
Francis turned to face the Guardians, straightened his spine, and lifted his chin.
“You ask for a reckoning. Very well. Let us tally up and see who owes what to whom. As you know, Alexander took possession of the stone with the Circle's full approval, but against my better judgement. I felt he needed more time, more training. He proved me wrong. From the start, his own powers meshed with what lies within that wretched hilt. Perhaps that's why he learned to control the stone so quickly. They each share an unearthly magic. I wonder, though, if he might have rejected the honoured role of Guardian had he known the price to be exacted.”
He stepped toward the table and stroked his fingers across the smooth black surface. The sword's hilt took on a soft glow.
“It demands much, this stone that fell from the sky. Its power invades a man's soul, steals his heart, plunders his mind.”
He snatched a deep breath and looked at Alexander.
“God knows, it has taken so much more from my son. It stole the life of his wife and his best friend. It kidnapped and raped his child and came close to killing the woman he now loves. It even tried to kill his horse. You must concede that none of these things would have occurred had Alex not vowed to safeguard mankind against a celestial beast we can never fully tame. Are you keeping score, Riderch? Are you, Finn? Is your perception of balance changing at all?”
Riderch shifted on his feet and looked at the ground.
Torn by the expression of utter pain on her father's face, Emma let out a sob. The sword rattled as Francis turned to her and parted with a soft curse. “Forgive me, little one. This will not be easy, but I must –”
“Wait.” Stephen stepped out of the shadows, went to Emma's side and pulled her into the refuge of his arms.
“Thank you,” she whispered, shivering as she leaned into his warmth.
Stephen nodded to Francis. “Pray continue, my lord.”
Francis returned the nod and faced the Guardians again. “My son loved his wife beyond measure, yet he watched her die even though the power to bring her back lay well within his reach. He kept faith and held true to his vow, but it tore open a wound that to this day has never healed. Seeking solace, he took the child and disappeared into this northern wilderness where they could live in relative peace.”
Francis paused and looked briefly at Emma.
“But it didn't last. Strange to think Alexander held such power in his hands, yet he failed to protect that most precious of his possessions. In truth, the stone was the catalyst in the desecration of Emma's innocence, for it was the stone that brought Argante to these hills. The results of his vicious assault and slander hammered a wedge between father and child. Something precious was lost, or at least damaged forever. Yet it would appear, at least on the surface, that Alexander remained strong and kept his faith. Indeed, he asked for your help, and you gave it. You allowed him to use the shield so he could watch over Emma while she was in Yorkshire. But evil intervened again in the shape of Argante. I'm sure I don't need to remind you what pulled him back to Cumberland. Are you beginning to see a pattern here?”
He let out a deep breath, bowed his head, and rested both hands, palms down, on the table. Emma blinked away tears and looked at the Guardians. Several had their heads bowed too, as if in prayer. The rest were watching Francis with obvious intensity.
“Perhaps you should rest, my lord,” said Keir, his voice soft. “No doubt your journey was arduous. I warrant we all wish to hear you out, but if you're fatigued, we can wait until such time –”
“Nay. This will be finished today, and soon.” He straightened. “It was around this time that a miracle took place high up on the roof of Thurston. Although he has no memory of it, Alex appeared to Emma and pulled her back from the jagged edge of her life. Perhaps the stone enabled him to go to his child, or perhaps the unique bond they share inspired it. In any case, Finn brought the wee lass safely home to Cumberland with Argante's seed growing in her belly. But again, Alexander failed to protect her. Argante captured her with no –”
“Nay,” Emma cried, for she had seen Alex's head drop in a gesture of despair. “Please, Seanair, stop. You're torturing him. My father has never failed me. Never. There was evil magic at work. Argante had changed somehow, become something other than human. He blended into the forest as a leaf might rest unnoticed on the ground, his presence hidden from us all. It was not my father's fault. It was not.”
<
br /> “Ask your father if he believes he failed you,” said Francis, his expression hard. “'Tis his conscience which tortures him, lass, not I. I warned you this would not be easy.”
He turned back to the Circle.
“I saw Argante's face in Emma's dreams. 'Twas indeed a countenance from hell, something vile and utterly evil. The bastard meant to kill her and himself. He wanted Alexander to find their lifeless bodies side by side. What on this earth, I wonder, could motivate one man to harbour such hatred for another? Even as he died, Argante threatened to take Emma across the eternal threshold with him. Ponder that threat, if you will.”
A shadow of pain crossed his face.
“The little lass bled to death. 'Twas neither a swift nor merciful end to her young life. She died in Stephen's arms, holding her father's hand. The last thing she saw...was...ah, Christ help me...I cannot...”
Emma fought to speak over the lump in her throat as she continued for her grandfather. “The last thing I saw was fear in my father's eyes,” she said. “He said he was afraid to lose me, because he loved me so much. I... I promised I would always be with him just before I –”
“The past does not stay in the past,” Francis interrupted, his eyes on Emma. “It circles around to greet us as we step into the future. I once told my son he was blind to the truth. It took Emma's death for him to admit that she was truly his. He also realised what her death would mean for that young knight at her side, so he used the stone and brought the wee lass back. Nay, he took her back, and it was a selfless act, since he knew his life would be forfeit. You speak of balance? Ach, I feel the scales are tipped well in favour of that damned stone at the moment.”
He lifted the wooden cross to his lips and kissed it.
“My sight is not what it was, but I still see miracles. Aye, there's one standing right over there with her mother's bonny eyes and her father's courageous heart. 'Tis a blessed wee soul she is, born of the stone and resurrected by it. Who knows what power she possesses? 'Twould be a sin to injure such a precious spirit.”
The Cast Of A Stone Page 36