Conal had felt the compass in his pocket grow warm nearly an hour ago. He found an empty room and had slipped inside to see it turn upon his palm as Ciara had explained it would, pointing him toward a friend. He knew they would not allow him to be alone long, but with Gavin’s help he had slipped from the house. Following the faint glow of the amber across the dark grounds it had led him to the grotto where the compass had suddenly gone dark. He knew to expect his first contact would be with the one called Rook but had not thought to meet with him until he arrived in London. Something must have happened to bring anyone here so soon.
He had sensed the presence in the woods moments after he arrived at the grotto but when the compass stayed dark he knew, uneasily, it was not friendly. The sudden clash of noise, unmistakable as that of blade against blade had drawn him out, one hand reaching for the dagger on his hip. He need not have worried. The man he thought must be Rook, made efficient and bloody work of the figure he saw was a priest of Odin. He was impressed and felt a greater measure of confidence grow in this endeavor.
“I have never seen anyone finish a priest that fast,” he told the tall dark figure that approached him still cloaked in what was known as shadowdark. The shadowdark was enough for him to know this man was trained by the Ladies. He watched as the darkness melted from the tall man, returning to the woods and night he had borrowed it from. Revealed was a formidably tall man with broad cheekbones, a slash of dark eyebrows above a knife edged nose and long mouth. His eyes in the dim light of the now glowing compass, were as amber gold as the compass itself.
“He was not of high rank, luckily for me, not among the more experienced. You’ve never seen Bishop fight your majesty. I will admit I am only second best,” Sebastian smiled in the darkness and gestured that the king precede him deeper into the grotto. He leaned against the stone wall and surveyed the man many, including himself, were willing to risk and sacrifice so much to return to his throne. He found himself facing a powerfully built, muscular man of a height just short of his own, with bright and ill cut hair, overly long but, not as long as the Viking custom. It struck him as amusing that the Celt was fair and he, the Viking, was dark. It was a world reversed from ethnic casting.
It was a strong and ruggedly handsome face with high cheekbones and a bold nose below eyes of a sea blue green. They shone clearly in the compass light that illuminated the grotto. It was not a face that gave much away and, unlike England’s king, this man’s skin was weathered and tanned with deep lines radiating from the corners of his large, intelligent eyes. The broad hands were strong and, even in these shadows, clearly calloused. This man would lead from the front, sword in hand. He would not sit in some silk tent, as so many European royals had been want to do over the centuries. This man was a warrior.
“What is your chess piece?” he asked and Sebastian answered as Conal expected. He relaxed slightly even though he hadn’t really had any doubts as to his identity. “So what do we do with the priest? Hide the body?”
It was a practical question and made Sebastian take a sudden liking to him, maybe since it reminded him of the first time he met Bishop; men who did what needed to done. This wasn’t a king who didn’t expect to get his hands dirty.
“No sire, let them find him. It will serve a notice that not only are you well protected but make the traitor inside that house behind us uneasy with wondering.”
‘Ahhh, so that is why the visit so soon. I suppose it was too much to hope that all involved in my return would be loyal,” one long and strong hand beat a light rhythm against his leg and Sebastian waited as the king thought through the implications. “I would like to say there are those here I trust completely but, in truth, I have only been among anyone from my old life for a matter of days. My instinct is to think I could trust Gavin and Brendan with my life. Is that a question you can answer or do you already have some idea of who this traitor is?”
“I wish I could reassure you your majesty” and here Conal cut him off.
“Please, I would prefer you call me Conal. I am not king until I sit upon the throne. I shall be “your majesty’d” to death I am sure when I reach
London, for just a little longer I would have my name again. No one has called me by my true name since I lost the kingdom. I was called Bryan for so long in the village I had to remind myself every night of my real name.” He didn’t add that every night he had in his mind rode or walked all the roads, the byways, and deer tracks he knew, visited and named in his mind every village for fear of forgetting. That was for himself to know only.
“Well, Conal,” Sebastian felt kinship for a man with whom he had something elemental in common. They had both lived as someone other than their true self for too long. “I would like to tell you that you can, my instinct says you can, I know your men and know nothing to suggest they are not committed to you and to Celtica, but I have to advise you to fully trust no one.”
“Only what I expected to hear and proves to me that maybe I do have one person I can trust after all; you. Not only did you kill that priest but you haven’t asked me to trust you. People who say “trust me” are often the last one a person should trust. So Rook, I keep my eyes open, watch my back and shall be thankful our enemies were not so bright as to wait until the suspect pool was larger,” he said with a rather crooked and charming smile as he unknowingly echoed Bishop’s own thoughts.
“We wouldn’t have known this soon if two priests hadn’t made an attack on Bishop in London. His identity is known to so few it was stupid of them to act against him. It coincided exactly with your arrival. We don’t believe in coincidences. At least from that priest’s response to seeing me, my identity is still not known to our enemies. We will have agents keep watch on the actions and whereabouts of everyone in that house once you reach London, but we will have to put a great deal of trust in you as well to guard your own welfare.”
“Well, forewarned is forearmed is it not?” Conal tried not to sound as tired as he suddenly felt. His uncomplicated life in the fishing village was already a life time away. The old lines were in his head before he could stop them; heavy is the head that wears the crown. Responsibility weighed heavy indeed. He could not help but remember how he had once walked the glens with his love, pretending they were simple people who knew nothing of royal obligations.
“I can stay no longer. If you need me use the compass. You knew how to find me, that I was here, so can I assume Ciara showed you how to use it?” at Conal’s silent nod Sebastian bowed his head briefly and seemed to melt away into the shadows, gone in a trice.
Conal made his way back towards the lights of the house where a traitor waited. He knew he would watch every face more closely and sleep even less easily than he already had. It had not escaped his notice that this Rook bore a strong resemblance to a certain Black Axe family. While that should have made him uneasy he found it gave him hope that his father had been right and it was not all the Vikings on Celtica who sided with the Gooar. English raised or not, this efficient assassin and agent clearly was of Viking descent, and yet he stood between Conal and the Gooar at risk to his life.
Sebastian made his way back to the priest’s body. He had watched the king’s back as he stepped briskly across the lawn, making sure he made it back to the house safely before bending to the task of searching the body. He expected to find nothing, these men were always blank slates, barely distinguishable from one another and never with a single item to be found upon them. However, as he turned over the body he heard the crinkle of paper and reaching beneath the man’s robes found a crumpled piece of parchment.
He unfolded it and in the bare light from the moon could make out a playbill for the Power’s Theater advertising Mrs. Jessamy Powers appearing in Romeo and Juliet. This priest had been to the theater, he didn’t know why but he was going to find out. He felt fear rise up violently as a sudden sickness. He shoved it down deep. He needed to know everyone, really meaning Jessy, was alright. Losing his head would help no one. But he rode
back for London as if the hounds of hell were at his heels.
While Sebastian hurried back to the city, David, Jessamy and Sean drove back to town in the barouche. Jessy did not complain when Sean insisted the top was put up. She was uncomfortable with Sean alone on the box and had asked David to sit with him. She didn’t mind being alone inside but, for the first time she could remember, she wanted back to town in a hurry. She had been unnerved by this day and night. The sooner David had the crown locked up the better. Boru, had padded upstairs to Trystan’s bedroom before they left to lay on the floor beside the bed, his muzzle pointed to the window and eyes wide open. She knew Boru would protect her son with his life.
Between Boru and Maureen she had no real reason to feel unsettled about leaving Trystan but, she did. She had seen another raven sitting outside the gate on the bough of a tree, eyes catching the glint of the carriage lanterns as they pulled away from the drive. It had reminded her of her recurring dream and the raven who always showed up just before she woke. It made her shiver. She had never felt a reason to even really notice ravens before, other than to admire their glossy feathers and bright eyes, but now they caused a frisson of unease like a cold finger up her spine.
From the little she could make out of the conversation going on between the two men on the box, they were anxious too. She caught bits and pieces of about the theater vandalism and she was sure they too were thinking of Maureen’s scrying and the many strange occurrences of the day. She couldn’t help but think a change was in the wind that did not bode well. It was too much like her dream, she thought, unable to shake the feeling that something evil was coming. Life was taking another weather change, after years of having built peaceful security, and she didn’t care for this feeling, not one bit.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Sebastian had forced himself to slow down and think as he neared London. He couldn’t go tearing off to the theater, he had no reasonable excuse for such an action. He would have to play his part as long as possible. The best he could do was make his way back to David’s house and hope for some answers there.
David was waiting, Hercules pacing in front of the fireplace, and Sebastian found his step arrested in the doorway at the look on his friend’s face. He had never seen David look so forbidding or lacking in the composure that was his hallmark. He noticed his friend had a closed box clutched in his hands.
“You have something black down your jacket front,” David said in a grim voice. “Should I ask what you have been doing?”
Sebastian looked down, unaware in the darkness outside, to see he did indeed have a long black stain down the front of clothing, “Killing a priest,” he shrugged and moved to the sideboard for a strong drink.
“Oh is that all,” David said with heavy sarcasm, “Well you might like to know that a few things have happened here in your absence, so finish pouring and sit down,” David practically barked.
“When you came back, even when you told me what you are up to, there was no mention this might involve Jessamy in any way. I should have never taken you to the theater to see her.”
Sebastian sat and eyed his friend. David never used Jessamy’s full name unless he was very angry. He was now worried he was about to receive some devastating news. Was Jessy alright?
“Is she safe? Is she well?” he asked urgently. David nodded and he felt the fist around his heart loosen its grip. “As far as I knew it didn’t. I came back here as soon as I knew the priest I killed had been to the theater. I found a playbill on his body. Do you have any reason to think one has been in the theater?”
“Oh yes, yes,” David said softly and with menace, “Yes I do as one attacked the stage manager, started a small fire and ransacked Jessamy and Sean’s dressing room and office. We are also being watched by ravens, crazy as that sounds. And it does sound absolutely crazy,” David bit out.
Sebastian bolted upright in his seat. This was even worse than he imagined. What the bloody hell could those bastards want with the theater or anyone in it? It made no sense. It had been clear the priest he killed knew nothing of his involvement so how could he have led them to an interest in the theater?
“Not to mention, strangely enough, that this was Jessamy’s birthday present today, sort of a joint present from her dead husband and his brother Sean,” and with that he opened the box to show Sebastian the contents.
Sebastian bolted out of his seat swearing worse than any sailor and in three languages, “That’s the queen of Celtica’s crown! Where did they come by it?”
“I had a bad feeling that was what it was. Sean has had it since shortly after Waterloo. His brother got it from some mysterious gypsy woman who sold it to him for a pittance the night before the battle. The next day he was shot in the back and killed. Unrelated? I begin to think not! Now you tell me what is going on now and why Jessamy would be involved.” David was having a difficult time containing his fury and his anxiety. He couldn’t at this point mention anything involving Mallory’s End. That would have to come when Jessamy was ready. Unless he learned anything at this point to place Trystan, the children, and Maureen in danger he would not reveal Jessamy’s secret. The raven Boru had killed had to have followed Sean looking for this damn crown.
Sebastian scrubbed his hands through his hair and realized they were shaking slightly. He had stolen, he had spied, and he had killed with a steady hand, with cold thought and now at the thought of Jessy somehow having come to the attention of the Gooar his hands shook. He tossed back another slug of the brandy and set the empty glass down hard enough to snap the stem.
“I don’t know but I damned well will find out. You think the priest at the theater was there for what reason? I know you already have your own ideas,” Sebastian pinned David with a stare.
“I thought it was because of this crown. Sean had no idea what he had, didn’t even consider it was real, but Michael Powers asked him to keep it until he felt the time was right to give it to her. You never met Michael, I did. Like these people of yours on Celtica, the Power’s family all have “gifts.” He would never have endangered her if he could avoid it, he loved her. I have to wonder why he told Sean to only give it to her when he felt the time was right and that just happened to be when you and King Conal show up.” David paced the room like a caged tiger barely restraining himself from breaking something.
“I thought they must be looking for this, somehow suspecting Michael had it at one point and so Jessamy must now. Then I got to thinking how convenient this should only happen after you return. They haven’t been in her house, yet, they chose the theater. The theater being the place you made a public visit to Jessamy. Too much of a coincidence? You know I don’t believe in such things. Do they know about and want this crown Sebastian or do they want something they think you have given her? We are now being watched by those damned birds, you just killed a priest. What the hell does any of this have to do with anyone but you and your cause?”
This was far more than Sebastian had counted on. He had thought any interest in Jessy was related to his visit to the theater, until he thought more closely about how surprised the priest he killed was at seeing him. That seemed to rule out anything to do with him. It placed the eyes of the Gooar directly upon Jessamy and probably this crown that had disappeared before the final battle that dethroned Conal. How it ended up in the hands of a gypsy selling it to an Irish officer (who just happened to be married to Jessy) was creating a gaping hole in his thought processes.
“It’s not me. I know you wish it was, then you could toss me out, tell me to stay away from Jessy and wash your hands of the whole damn thing, but it isn’t me. I wish it was too, but the priest I killed tonight was obviously, clearly surprised to see whose hand drove the blade into his black heart.”
David closed the box with a snap and getting up walked over to an armoire set against the back wall of the room. He opened the front door, and reaching deeply inside did something Sebastian couldn’t see. David then pushed the entire front of the armoi
re, sliding it to the side. A wall safe was revealed which David unlocked by a complicated combination, involving a series carved wooden squares, and placed the box holding the crown inside.
“That is a very well concealed and clever safe my friend. I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it before,” Sebastian eyed it with interest.
“Built by an Italian craftsman and locksmith I know. It had better be good considering what I paid for it to be built and what it is now holding.” “I take it you have done what you can to see her house is secure?”
“Yes, Mick is ready and warned. He’s Michael’s old batman and a tough character, but considering this a magical order of fanatic priests? What else can I do? Do I need to consult a witch or what? Are locks any protection against this group? Should I be out there in the dark of night tossing a ring of salt around her house?” David was sarcastic, worried and exasperated.
Sebastian wasn’t going to tell David he might actually go and put a salt ring around the house. He figured he better get all the bad news over with, “Bishop wants me to court Jessy again, spend as much time as possible with her and around Tamworth’s circles. We have a traitor and it would appear it is within the small group down at Menwith where the king is staying, at least until tomorrow,” and he waited for the explosion of fury, but he waited in vain.
“Good,” was all David had to say in response.
“Good? Good? I was furious at Bishop for suggesting it and getting her involved!”
“Well she’s involved already! So you, Sebastian, now have a convenient excuse to help protect her from whatever you and your lot have brought to her doorstep!”
ROOK AND RAVEN: The Celtic Kingdom Trilogy Book One Page 20