In the parlor that Jessamy had designed to match her mother’s own sitting room back at Pemberly, David was ransacking the satchel he’d brought back downstairs. The journals could be a fount of information and it was time someone told Jessy the truth about her parent’s activities as agents for Celtica and England. She had already told him the nearly heart stopping news that what appeared to be the treasury of Celtica was sitting in a bank vault in London. No one had ever been sure if it had been taken by Ulrich or stolen never to be seen again. The jewels of that treasury were legendary and none had ever shown up anywhere in Europe in all the years since the coup.
As far as the journals were concerned he felt they should be Jessy’s to read as they seemed to be more personal diary than business. He was uncomfortable with prying into the private life of a lady he had loved and respected as a second mother. Who knew what kind of personal details there might be? But in honesty, there were too many that needed to be read too quickly and when there was time they would have to be divided up for studying.
Jessy hung over him nearly mad with anticipation now that she had recovered her nerves, helped by the stiff glass of brandy David had nearly forced down her throat. She actually felt a bit tipsy but much warmer if a bit fuzzier headed. At least her legs had stopped shaking and she had snapped that parasol over her knee and thrown it into the fire. When the black blood
(and what she tried to ignore was brain matter and eye bits) had hit the flames it had spit as if the fire would vomit it back out. She had stepped back quickly to avoid sparks setting her skirts on fire and had to stamp out the ones that managed to land on the carpet.
“For the third time Jessy! I am not opening the boxes until Sebastian is here to do it!”
“But why him? What does he have to do with any of this? In fact if this is all about Celtica and things belonging to the House of Llyr the last person to know about this should be someone related to the people that took the throne!” She nearly stamped her feet in frustration.
“Do you trust me or not? If you don’t then I am not sure why you sent for me,” he said sternly only to see her stick her tongue out at him like a five year old. “That’s him coming now and you have every reason to trust him my girl. Can you not listen to your heart again for goodness sake?!” he said exasperated just as the double doors swung open.
“All locked up Mick?” Sebastian asked over his shoulder as he entered.
“Aye locked and loaded my lord. No one getting in this house without a few bullet holes to pay for it,” Jessy could hear the respect in Mick’s voice and felt a momentary irritation. This was her home and her people and, despite what had happened between them last night, she wasn’t wild about his involvement here. In fact she had rather thought to have some time to digest exactly what had happened, why she had let it happen and her fingers nervously touched the comb that had stayed in her hair when every other pin had been knocked loose.
Sebastian strode into the room and, before she could even think to move out of the way, found herself lifted off her feet and soundly kissed. He set her down gasping and suffused with an undeniable sense of pleasure, while she saw Birdie trying to hide a smile from the chair she sat in by the fireplace.
“Parasol Jess? Really?” he eyed her like he wanted to shake her and she tried to take a step further back, only to be pulled close again and see his smile when he spied the comb in her hair.
“It was all I had and it worked,” she said tartly.
Then he startled her further by saying “I understand you are better armed now. Use a pistol next time if there is one. I think the chances of being successful with a parasol may be limited. You’re a dead shot and it would make me feel a lot better. I’ll make sure you have silver coated bullets from now on.” He saw her eyes go wide at that.
Sebastian let go of her and turned to stare at the satchel suspiciously. It was hard to imagine what Clara Baroness Pemberton could have possibly left for her daughter that could get her killed despite what he knew now about the work the Baron and Baroness had continued to do on Celtica’s behalf. They had certainly never planned to both be dead and their daughter in the dark and unprotected by either of them. He wondered, briefly, if they would have ever told her about their work and if this bank box had been the unfortunate back up plan, now left as a troubling legacy for Jessy.
“Anything else I should know before we dig in?”
“David he is a Viking who has spent the last seven years living with Ulrich and the Black Axes,” she saw the injured glare from Sebastian and was hit with guilt, “I just don’t think this is a good idea,” Jessy protested more weakly.
She saw David and Sebastian exchange a loaded look.
‘Tell her now Sebastian. It’s too late to worry about secrecy don’t you think? She needs you, we need you, and until you sort this out she’s just going to continue to fuss. The plan has gone to rot and obviously you two decided you didn’t need to have full disclosure before resuming your… relationship… so just tell her,” David sighed in exasperation.
Sebastian took a swing about the room before coming to stand before her. “Sit down Jess,” he ordered.
“Why should I?” she demanded.
‘Oh stop being so bloody minded and sit!” and with a hand on her head shoved her into the chair behind her. How like him! She fumed and had to repress an urge to kick him in the shin.
“Your parents were agents. When your grandparents took the position with the Embassy to Celtica with Tamworth’s father your grandfather was more than just an undersecretary for the Embassy. He was placed to keep an eye on certain movements and interactions. We already knew something was in the wind and there had been intercepted letters between the French and Ulrich and the Gooar. It was his job to find out the lay of the land.”
He looked to see if she had any ideas about interrupting him but, she seemed struck dumb, so he hurried on before she found her voice back.
“Your parents, young as they were, took over the work when your grandfather was killed in the initial coup and found themselves strongly allying with Celtica. Largely it was through fears that the English families here with strong Black Axe blood ties could end up working to support the Viking takeover of Celtica and their alliance with Napoleon. When it all went bad and the Llyr’s lost the throne, your mother and father managed to make it back to England. It was nothing but strange happenstance however that my family, Viking allied, and yours with Celtica, were neighbors. But it worked out as they were especially tasked with keeping an eye on my dear mother. You need to understand I only learned this very recently, since I have been away.”
“It was very open minded, or maybe something trickier, that your parents encouraged our relationship. At the time I knew none of this or that either of our parents were involved in espionage. I look back and wonder if that was one of many reasons our mother’s played at being friends. It’s always true to ‘keep your friends close but your enemies closer.’ Those two women were playing a deeper game than we may ever know.”
Jessy opened her mouth to speak and found herself shutting it again. Her mind’s eye was filled with a swish of familiar skirt at the top of a staircase, she had convinced herself she had imagined, when her mother had taken her fatal fall. The long, elegant curve of the staircase was so clear again. She had blocked that image for years, of her mother, limbs at wrong angles, neck twisted, laying like a broken bird on the marble of the hall floor. She clamped down on the visual and tried to concentrate on what everyone was saying.
“Mother somehow found out we were going to elope and that last night you saw me, she had me kidnapped, literally bound and gagged, by her thugs on my way home. She shipped me off the Celtica and to Ulrich with strict orders to keep me there.”
A squealing shout of “What??!!!” shot out of Jessamy before she could stop herself. She looked to David for confirmation and he nodded his head.
“I tried to escape and ended up spending three months in a dungeon. By the time I
was let out I realized the only way to survive was to pretend to play their way. It’s not like I had friends there to help me escape or could swim back. Considering the plans they had to marry me off to a Viking girl of Harald’s blood, I set about pretending to become the most useless and dissolute young man possible. It was my only defense to make myself look as unsuited to their needs as possible. You see Ulrich is not able to get any woman with child and the succession is in question. Mother had aspirations I could be named heir,” he snorted with disgust.
“I grew angrier at the conditions I found in Celtica, at not what the average Viking man or woman was like or how they lived, but at the actions of those who follow the Gooar Odin. The Black Axe families are utterly ruthless, racist and full of hate. Most of the Vikings families are not that way at all, but they are afraid of the Gooar and Black Axes. Living under the rule of those pure blood occultists and fanatics has destroyed not just Celtic and British lives in the Kingdom.”
“The Gooar and their followers, the Black Axe families will settle for nothing less, even after all these centuries, than to turn Celtica into a Viking pureblood kingdom devoted to the Norse gods, and Odin in particular. Of course I have learned their version of worshipping Odin has twisted beyond anything any Viking a thousand years ago would recognize. I think the Gooar was nothing more than an extreme cult from the beginning.”
“To finish this long story,” he paced scrubbing his hands through hair already the worse for wear, “I was recruited by an English agent on Celtica several years ago and have worked for their interests ever since. So don’t ever again call me Viking in that tone Jessamy Powers for I have risked everything over and over again to see Celtica free of this bloody, twisted priesthood. I am an Englishman who supports freeing Celtica from the unholy horror that has taken the throne. I am of Viking blood but a sworn enemy of the Gooar, though they know it not.” He stopped and came to stand over Jessy, staring down at her hard.
“I never, not for one day, no matter what I did to survive, no matter what
I did to fight for Celtica, ever stopped loving you,” he finished fiercely.
Jessy had taken it all in but the one thing that kept resonating with her over and over was that he hadn’t left her of his own free will. He had become the man of his true heart, a good heart as Birdie had always believed, as she had once believed. He hadn’t left her; he had been taken from her. He had been taking wild and courageous risks to free the kingdom her mother and father had loved so deeply, the kingdom that for unknown reasons haunted her dreams.
The words were out of her mouth before she could think them but only feel them.
“I love you,” and she surged from the chair to throw herself at him and found herself caught in his strong arms, his face buried in the wreck of her hair. Her ladylike ensemble, a dress, pelisse, and very stylish bonnet she had really adored, had been totally destroyed in the events of the day and he didn’t seem to care about the black and red blood that spattered her bodice. She wasn’t going to fight or pretend or try and talk herself out of it. Even when she thought he had abandoned her she had still loved him and now that she knew he hadn’t left her willingly, her heart had burst wide open with untainted relief and joy.
“I love you too,” he told her his whole heart in his words as he quickly squeezed the breath out of her, “Now let’s find out what is with this satchel shall we? We can get to the romance part later,” and they both smiled like sunlight escaping the clouds. A sniffle was heard from near the fireplace, but as Birdie never cried, it couldn’t possibly be her.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Birdie wasn’t the only one with a tear in her eye or holding knowledge yet to be shared. At a gentleman’s apothecary an old man watched in a clouded sphere what was unfolding and while he knew danger and challenge yet lay ahead, he now had hope. Love was the magic that the Gooar would never have at their command and watching the outpouring of love, a truth finally known, warmed his ancient heart for the member of his family now with a chance of happiness. But as events unfolded at one house, he now kept careful watch on another. There the most important person in all this complicated, dangerous game went about life possibly unaware of the threats converging. He knew this one was more than he seemed so it was possible he did have an idea of what was coming. He wouldn’t be able to judge what power was there until they finally met. It would be soon.
At Menwith, the king beginning the contest for his throne watched everyone discreetly. Knowing there was danger so close, possibly within these walls, was wearing on him and he was glad tomorrow was the day they would start for London. He was done with waiting. Numerous letters of plans, promises and assurances had gone back and forth between himself, Tamworth, Coughlin, Rathborn, King George and Lord Liverpool, the Prime Minister.
He had little to pack, for he literally owned nothing beyond the items he had raised from the box on Celtica and the clothing he had acquired in the last few days. A tailor, never told who he was fitting, had arrived from London. After being thoroughly vetted and never left alone with the king, he had turned him out several fine suits of clothes. He at least looked like a gentleman now.
What he found the most curious, however, was that nothing had been said about the body of a priest of Odin being found dead upon the grounds, that any dead body had been found. He asked no one, not even Gavin about it, but it was a strong tell that Rook was right and a traitor was among them. Anyone with his interests and safety as a priority would surely have been alarmed, set more patrols and kept him informed. His instincts were telling him that the trip to London posed the most danger to him. It would be too easy to be rid of him along the way, too easy for assassin or kidnapper to set an ambush. Knowing the Gooar, it was not unlikely they had plans other than his immediate death.
He now began to worry about the safety of his own men. As Tamworth had informed him when he arrived, at least one of the men and usually two of the English King’s emissaries was at Menwith at all times. He found it hard to think any of his own men could be traitors and when he considered all the angles, he felt pretty strongly about who the traitor actually was. He was saddened by it for very personal reasons. A man, a good man had once stood witness to his marriage, despite danger and the need for absolute secrecy. He had trusted that man with his life and now, well, it seemed that blood had become tainted.
He was at a point, the worry in his gut so heavy, that he needed to make a decision. He had made some discreet inquiries of his own and what he had found settled for him pretty firmly where the threat lay. He feared he may be the only person who had any idea. Being the only person with vital information, when life expectancy was chancy, was probably not wise. He would have to take the chance of taking his men into his confidence and devise some plan. He was the fly in the web and the spider was closing in but, with intentions he could not quite divine. If it was his immediate death that was wanted, he could easily have been killed before now.
Before he could change his mind he gathered his men outside on the pretense of enjoying some fishing in the small river that bordered the south side of the property. The excuse he gave was that he would have no such opportunity for a favorite sport once London was reached. Tamworth seemed concerned for their safety but as they were all armed with far more than fishing poles there wasn’t much he could say. As far as anyone supposedly knew (he thought with sarcasm) Menwith was a haven of safety.
Once they had found a suitably deep hole below a tall river bank and shaded by an overhanging tree, a guaranteed spot for good fish to hide, they dropped lines in the water. He shared what he knew with his men, and what he suspected. There had been no sign of any ravens or other people about so he felt fairly secure they were unheard and unseen. In fact, it was the very absence of ravens, when by now his whereabouts must surely be known, that convinced him his suspicions were correct. When he told the tale of Rook killing the priest, their own opinions were sealed in favor of his beliefs and course of action.
Gav
in had not seemed terribly surprised but the others could not contain their shock that they would no longer be relying on these Englishmen to negotiate the help they needed.
“It could be any one of them you know sire. Each of their families has had ties of one kind or another to Celtica before the coup, they are all well placed in this country’s government,” he shrugged. “I’d say it could still be a toss-up but, it doesn’t matter at this point beyond the fact we need to get out of here and keep you alive.”
Nothing more had been questioned other than how they were to make their escape. They were all men of action, warriors, they would fight their way free if need be. Conal hoped to avoid the danger of such a confrontation. He knew as he sat here surrounded by these men he had grown with, trained with, that still one of them could be in league with his enemies but, the only way to know for sure was to see what happened when they made their break for freedom. He had quickly come to see this estate as a gilded prison. While it was possible that another priest could have removed the body or someone had not wanted the king to worry that his safety was threatened, nothing else really held up against his suspicions.
Now they had to refine the plan and hope for the best. As he thought about escaping his English “friends” a large owl suddenly swooped through the trees and settled on a branch across from him. It was of unusual size, white with delicate brown tracery and jewel like eyes, it nodded its head once and then he was sure. He would take it as a sign Rhiannon had given her approval and that was enough for him. Now he just hoped the compass the High
ROOK AND RAVEN: The Celtic Kingdom Trilogy Book One Page 25