Scarlet From Gold (Book 3)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “Are those her friends with her?” he asked.

  “Those are brand new sisters who just arrived from the Isle this week. She’s spent a great deal of time with them since they arrived,” Hope said. “I think there are some hurt feelings at the way she’s stopped talking to everyone else, and the way she gives all her orders through those new sisters.”

  Marco avoided making eye contact with anyone at the leader’s table after that, and quietly followed Penelope and her friends to the chapel after the meal. When all the other women were in the chamber, the singing began, a series of songs – some were familiar to Marco, but most were not.

  “You’ve got such a deep voice,” Grace told Marco when he did sing along with one of the songs he was familiar with. He kept his voice as quiet as possible after that.

  “Let’s get you back to your room via the scenic route,” Penelope said an hour later, after the last notes of the song exultations to the Lord were finished.

  “This is the Lady’s residence,” Penelope pointed out as they came around a corner and passed by a small brick building. It was small only in comparison to the large institutional structures that comprised the rest of the compound; by itself, the building would have been a large home in the city, larger than Master Algornia’s shop and home.

  They continued on their way, and reached the building where Marco was expected to stay.

  “I’ll see you in the morning; do you need a guide to breakfast?” Penelope asked.

  “No, I’ll find my way,” Marco assured her, then he ran up the stairs as quickly as he could manage while wearing the dress, and hastily entered his temporary lodging, then shut the door behind him. Marco felt under his mattress in the darkness of his room that had no lantern or candle, and when satisfied that his belongings were still in place he sat down at the head of the mattress, leaned against the wall and shut his eyes. He felt able to relax at last, no longer worried about someone who suspected his secret.

  He didn’t dare take the wig or dress off for the evening, because he didn’t think he could put them back on correctly by himself, so he sat upright and dozed, thinking about the dangers that awaited him in the morning.

  His eyes were closed, and he rested, until he heard a soft knock at the door, and it swung open, allowing Penelope to enter, carrying a small candle. “There’s something I have to tell you Marco,” she whispered, as she closed the door behind herself. “I’m not who I seem. I’m here on a secret mission, sent by the Lady Iasco to spy on the Lady Laris.

  “I’m not even using my own real name; my name is Ellersbine,” she told him making his head spin is astonishment.

  Marco awoke from his sleepy state, and realized that he had been dreaming. It was dark in the room and it was dark outside, so that there was no telling what time it was. His neck felt stiff from letting his head lean against the wall, and he stretched and rolled his head around for a few moments, then closed his eyes and fell back into the same light drowse.

  He had several dreams that night before he opened his eyes and saw that the sun was rising in the east. The sunrise marked the start of a new day, one that he expected was going to be tumultuous, and one that he hoped would prove successful. Marco had felt disturbed when the Lady Iasco had named him to act as a virtual ambassador to the Lion City and Nappanee; it was not anything he had any experience with, but he was willing to try anything if the Lady asked, and she had asked.

  And now that he was in the Lion City he was proving exceedingly incompetent at getting the job done. He was resorting to lying and disguises and outlandish plots, when all he wanted to do was fight a fair battle and then go home to Mirra. He stood up and stretched, tried to smooth a few of the wrinkles out of the dress he wore, then restored his sword and jar of memory potion to their spots under the wrinkled dress, and opened his door.

  Marco walked down the stairs and outside the dormitory, then started on the path back towards the home of Lady Laris. He passed by the home and looked at it carefully in the increasing daylight, then reached the dining hall and turned around. He walked back towards the priestess’s home, and stopped when he had it in view, then leaned against a nearby tree and waited and watched.

  “Marcia!” Penelope called a few minutes later, coming up behind him and startling him. “Have you had breakfast already? Hope and Grace are already inside eating, and we’re going to matins to pray right after.”

  “I’m going to wait a little bit,” Marco answered. “I’m not very hungry at the moment.”

  “What are you doing here?” Penelope asked.

  “I’m just resting,” Marco had no good answer. As he spoke, the door to Laris’s home opened, and the high priestess left, escorted by four of the women who had eaten dinner with her the night before.

  “You say those four are always with her?” Marco asked, nodding his head towards the group. “Are there any others that are part of their cliché?”

  “There are two others; they seem to take turns being with her. Why do you ask? Are you standing here just to watch the Lady Laris?” Penelope asked, confused but not alarmed.

  Marco was ready to go, and needed to go. He wanted to enter the house and begin to search it. He didn’t need Penelope delaying or interfering or revealing anything. “What are they serving for breakfast?” he asked.

  “Porridge and fruit. They always serve porridge and fruit,” Penelope replied.

  “They’re on their way to see the Doge, to try to keep him from sending troops to the war,” Marco spoke aloud unintentionally.

  “You are here to watch the Lady Laris!” Penelope exclaimed.

  “Let’s go get breakfast,” Marco said, desperate to move the girl along so that he could get on with his plans.

  “What are you up to?” Penelope asked, as Marco took her elbow in his hand and turned them to head back to the dining hall. “Aren’t you supposed to have an interview this morning to talk about your future here?”

  It was no use, Marco decided. The girl’s questions were circling all around him, and were going to put him in an awkward spot soon. He grasped her arm again, and sharply turned them around one more time. “You’re right,” he said. “I am interested in the home of the Lady Laris. I want to see what it looks like on the inside. Let’s just go take a quick visit before we say prayers.” He hurried them along the path and up to the front door of the house. It was going to be very tricky to have Penelope along, but there was no way to avoid her as the situation evolved.

  “I don’t think we should try to visit here; we’re going to get in trouble,” Penelope started to protest. “Oh my!” she said in surprise as Marco failed to even knock on the door, but instead grabbed the knob and turned it as he led her inside.

  There was a front hall that was unoccupied, and rooms on either side.

  “You go look at the rooms on that side. I’ll look on this side,” Marco directed. He wanted to get separation from her so that he could start his real search. He wanted to find a door down to the cellar, confident that if the real Laris was in the building, she was being held someplace where she couldn’t be seen, like the cellar.

  “Look at what? What are we doing here?” Penelope asked, her voice anxious and doubtful. Without waiting for an answer, Marco entered the room on the left and started walking through it on his way to the next room beyond. The rooms were sitting rooms or parlors, places where chairs were arranged for visitors to sit and talk. Beyond the first two rooms was a different room, an office with a desk and a table surrounded by four chairs. There was a bumping sound overhead, the sound of someone moving a piece of furniture on the floor above, making Marco look up for a second, and then move on.

  He walked through another room, and then entered a kitchen space, where a cook and assistant were cleaning dishes. He turned, and saw that one of the hard-faced companions to the impostor was standing in front of a door, scrutinizing him.

  “Well hello now,” the cook said. “Who are you and what do you need?”

  Ma
rco started walking in the direction of the guarded doorway. “I’m brand new here and was just looking around,” he said.

  “Marcia?” Penelope said, unexpectedly entering the kitchen from the opposite side, distracting the other three women.

  Seeing an opportunity, Marco flew at the doorway guardian and punched hard, knocking the woman out. He spun and opened the door to look at the stairs beyond, that descended into darkness.

  “Marcia!” Penelope screamed.

  “Tell me,” Marco looked up at the astonished cook, “is anyone allowed to go in the basement?”

  “Only her,” the cook answered, “and the other members of the Lady’s Guard.”

  “And the Lady Laris herself,” the assistant added, as they cowered away from Marco.

  “I’m going to go see what they’re hiding down there,” Marco declared. “Don’t do anything foolish while I’m gone, and stay away from her,” he pointed at the unconscious guard, then entered the doorway that framed the darkened stairs leading downward. He carefully began to step down into the darkness as quietly as possible.

  He heard the treads squeak twice as he descended, and he stopped each time to listen for any reaction in the dark cellar below, but then resumed climbing down when no noises emerged. He reached the floor of the deep cellar and stopped. He debated whether to generate light or not, and decided to do so, or else have no chance of seeing the Lady Laris in the dark. Marco peeled the glove off his hand, raised it and made it glow, then shouted in surprise and ducked as a woman in the white gown of the false guards came swinging a sword at him!

  Marco reached through his woman’s dress, no longer concerned about his disguise and ripped his sword free, holding the hilt through a wad of his dress material as he raised it into a defensive position, then felt the marvelous weapon assert its own extraordinary abilities. The sword parried his attacker’s next thrust, then stabbed her fatally in the chest.

  Marco gasped in shock at the stunning ambush as he whirled in place to make sure no other attackers were sneaking up behind him. The cellar was empty of any other obvious occupants, except for the smoked hams that hung from hooks and the jars of fruits and vegetable stored on shelves.

  His hand was the only source of light, and every movement he made caused the shadows to jump eerily, spooking him as he began to cautiously walk into the interior of the cellar, looking for the missing head priestess of the temple, a woman who he was sure had been taken captive by the impostor sorceress he had faced the previous morning at the Doge’s palace gate; he hoped the imposter was at the palace at the moment, out of his way as she waited for him to show up there once again.

  “Hello?” he called out cautiously. “Lady Laris?” he spoke more loudly. “My lady?” he tried again.

  And he heard a muffled response from behind a set of shelves. Marco headed over to the shelves and increased the brightness of his hand, then pulled hard and jumped out of the way as the shelves and their contents crashed to the floor in a crescendo of splintering wood, breaking glass, and grinding stones. And behind the shelves’ former location, Marco saw a small door in the wall.

  He bent down and flipped the latch, then got a splinter in his finger as he pried the wooden hatch out of the opening, and found the Lady Laris, trussed and tied, lying on the floor of a small niche in the wall. He grabbed her and pulled her out, the used his sword to cut the gag that was wrapped around her head.

  “Are you okay, my lady?” he asked, as he started to rapidly slash at the ropes that bound her hands, feet, arms, and legs.

  “I feel terrible, but I’m alive, and I’m free thanks to you, my girl,” Laris answered. Marco stood up, then lifted Laris upright.

  “My, but you’re a strong lass!” she exclaimed as Marco set her on her feet.

  “Let’s go,” Marco urged. “We need to get you to the Doge’s palace.”

  “Before I leave our temple campus, I’m going to rid us of the terrible threat that has infiltrated us,” Laris answered. She looked at Marco with a determined expression, then looked at his glowing hand, and suddenly went pale in realization. “My lord, you’re a sorceress too!”

  “No, I most assuredly am not a sorceress,” Marco laughed as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Laris looked down at body of the dead guard.

  “There’s one of these people upstairs unconscious,” Marco told her. “And four more are with a sorceress that is posing as your identical twin, acting as you, and thwarting Lady Iasco’s will by preventing the Doge from sending his armies into battle.” Without further comment, Marco doused the light from his hand, then led the way upstairs. Penelope and the cooks were huddled together in a corner, and all gasped when Laris appeared.

  “My Lady! How did you get down there! I just saw you leave a little while ago,” Penelope’s eyes wandered from the bedraggled priestess to Marco and back.

  “Penelope, go upstairs with the Lady and help her get cleaned up and dressed, quickly,” Marco commanded. “I’ll take this traitor downstairs and tie her up, then come get you so that we can leave,” Marco told the priestess.

  He dipped and heaved the unconscious guard over his shoulder and carried her downstairs as Penelope and Lady Laris went on their way upstairs. Once there, he relit his hand and carried the guard over to where the slashed cords from Laris’s bondage lay, and he re-tied them around the woman in white; he pulled out his flask of pre-mixed potion to induce forgetfulness, poured some into the woman’s mouth, and gagged her. He went over to the dead guard and dragged her body over to the nook where Laris had been kept, and shoved the body into the opening, then replaced the wooden door, and left the basement, his work there done.

  Up in the kitchen the two cooks stood fearfully by the stove; Marco was amazed they hadn’t fled from the scene of the violence. “Ladies,” He spoke briskly as he strolled over to them, “each of you take a drink of this,” he held the potion out to them. “It won’t hurt you, but you have to drink it,” he told them.

  They each drank from the container. “Thank you,” Marco said politely. “Is the Lady upstairs?” he asked, and watched them nod their heads.

  Marco left the kitchen and returned to the front of the house, where he found a staircase and vaulted up it two steps at a time. “Penelope? Laris?” he called.

  “We’re in here, Marcia,” Penelope’s voice sounded nearby, and Marco found them in a room where Laris was slipping on a clean white gown.

  “Penelope, thank you for your help,” Marco said. “I want you to take a drink of this potion, then run to the dining hall and wait for us. Will you do that?”

  Penelope looked at the flask of potion Marco brandished, then looked at Laris in confusion. Laris’s eyes shifted momentarily to Marco, who gave a curt nod. “Go on, my child,” she said. Penelope obediently took a drink of the flask.

  “Now go to the dining hall and wait for us – run!” Marco barked, anxious to set her in motion before her memories of the previous twenty four hours were erased.

  Without another word, Penelope left the room, and they faintly heard her feet clatter down the stairs.

  “The false Laris is at the Doge’s palace. We have to go confront her there to meet the Lady Iasco’s expectations,” Marco urged.

  “You’ve twice mentioned Lady Iasco, but the Lady is dead in her tomb,” Laris protested.

  “No longer,” Marco said. He reached his hand up and swept the wig off his head in dramatic fashion. “I am Golden Hand; the spirit of the Island – Ophiuchus – directed me on a journey to the underworld, and Lady Iasco has been restored to life, and returned to our world to lead us all in a great battle against evil.”

  “Brought back to life? You truly want me to believe that?” Laris asked. “From a boy? On our temple grounds?”

  “That girl, Penelope,” Marco pointed out the door. “She has already forgotten everything that happened in the last twenty four hours, because of that potion she took. She won’t remember meeting me, or seeing a fight in the kitchen, or help
ing you up here.

  “And Ophiuchus gave me the means to bring Iasco back to life. The Lady has resumed control of the Order,” Marco said emphatically, “and she means to fight against a great force of evil, a force that has taken control of Athens. She wants the Doge to add the Lion City’s might to the cause, and the false Laris is fighting against the order,” Marco rapidly explained.

  “I need you, and the Lady Iasco needs you, to go now and confront the impostor and set things right,” Marco said insistently.

  Laris stood, her back to Marco, looking at him in a mirror as she adjusted her gown. “Put your wig back on,” she said after a long silence. “I can’t go walking across the temple grounds with a boy.

  “I’ll go with you. Your words sound preposterous, but true,” she said. She adjusted Marco’s wig, then used several pins to repair the torn dress he wore. “There’s a place you can change once we leave the temple?” she asked archly.

  “There will be,” Marco grinned as Laris straightened up, and he put the sword back under his gown.

  Together, the two of them left the house and went straight towards the gate that led to the city outside.

  “My lady!” the women who manned the gate said in confusion.

  “Carry on,” Laris said. “And if any of the Guards who have accompanied me show up, have them arrested and held in chains,” she told the women as she and Marco strode quickly past them and out into the streets of the city.

  “This way, my lady,” Marco took the lead as he headed back to Abrianna’s shop.

  “This is quite an honor,” Abrianna said as she immediately recognized the high priestess when the pair entered her shop.

  Marco swept the wig off his head and scratched his scalp vigorously. “My lady, this is Abrianna, who kindly helped me use this disguise to come rescue you,” he introduced. “I’ll go retrieve my clothes and then we can be on our way,” he said as he disappeared into the rear of the shop. He saw his clothes, now neatly folded and stacked, near the window where the seamstress had helped him dress as a girl, and he hastily pulled his female garb off over his head.