The Perfect Sun

by Brendan Carroll

  Nergal asked no questions, nor did he make anymore comments when the silhouette of the big house appeared through the trees.

  Chapter Twelve of Sixteen

  And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further

  Galindwynne swirled around under the olive trees and smiled almost shyly at Edgard, who had to hold onto the nearest gnarled trunk for support as he looked at her from such close range. He had forgotten how beautiful she had been when he’d first seen her at the river in the brilliant light of the Harvest Moon.

  “Great God in Heaven,” Edgard breathed and his heart pounded in his ears.

  “Come, come, Edgard.” She hooked her arm through his and pulled him away from the tree. He staggered slightly.

  “Perhaps this was not such a good idea, Galindwynne,” he choked on her name and she laughed.

  “So you are not in such control as you would wish?” She asked and kissed his cheek lightly. “I would have come to see you sooner had I known I would have such an effect on the great Master. I never thought to have been able to compete with the Queen of Sheba.”

  “She was nothing in comparison to your light.” He looked at the ground instead of at her. “I have done you a terrible disservice. I can only ask you overlook the follies of a very old man.”

  “You are neither old nor a man, Edgard.” She laughed again. “Let us speak of recompense…” Her enjoyment of the moment was cut short as excited shrieks drifted to them under the trees from the direction of the Villa’s main building.

  Edgard was off before she could utter another word, racing toward the Administration Building, leaping over the low retaining walls like a lad of fifteen.

  “Hmmph!” Galindwynne snorted and then shook her head. Her long, golden red hair brushed her shoulders. “Old, indeed,” she grumbled, but never-the-less picked up her skirts and ran after him, almost as fast.

  When she reached the graveled parking lot, she was confused and surprised to see a different car parked there. The various vehicles in the parking lot had not changed since they had arrived. All were in good working condition, but none of them were truly useful. Now there was a dark blue Audi sitting behind one of the Mercedes with all four doors thrown wide. It was impossible to tell who had been shrieking, nor could she see who had arrived in the blue car. The Simon’s sons and everyone else at the Villa were in the parking lot, jostling and shouting and jumping around like a bunch of mad elves on Midsummer’s Eve.

  Edgard climbed atop the stone wall and stood on tiptoe trying to see what was going on. She climbed on the wall and held onto his arm.

  “What is going on?” She asked him. “Who is this?”

  “I cannot believe my eyes,” he muttered, but did not answer her more precisely. The crowd seemed to calm down a bit, and then parted as their visitors came toward him. He jumped lightly to the ground and helped Galindwynne down beside him.

  “Sir,” Lucio smiled at him slightly and then resumed a more somber expression. “I am sorry I have not been to work lately, but I have had company as you can see.”

  “Golden Eagle,” Edgard whispered breathlessly, but did not immediately begin to condemn him as his eyes fell on Catharine de Goth, Vanni, Galen and Veronica Long. “Please, there is no need to apologize. You have been home… in Naples?”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Lucio affirmed. “Vanni and I intended to come in yesterday, but Catharine dropped by and Ronni and then Galen and we just… the time got away from us, Sir.”

  “It’s no problem,” Edgard muttered and glanced around at the numerous faces staring at him from the crowd. His stomach sank at Lucio’s apparent state of mind. He was not really with them in every sense of the word. The Italian was confused and disoriented, unaware of how ridiculous his words were under the circumstances.

  “Lucio!” Meredith called as she pushed her way through the d’Ornan brothers with Simon on her heels. “We must talk, Lucio. Your Grace?” She raised one eyebrow at the Master.

  “Ahhh, yes, well,” Edgard said as he wiped his eyes trying to get a better grip on the situation. “Try to… see if you can…” Edgard stopped when his eyes fell on Galindwynne, who had resumed her old crone personality. He was somewhat devastated to see the wrinkled face and deep, dark eyes staring at him.

  “Galindwynne?” Lucio frowned at the woman next to him. “I had no idea you were in town.”

  “Neither did I,” the old woman said softly and pulled her shawl closer about her thin shoulders.

  “Excuse me, my dear,” Edgard nodded to Meredith and took hold of Lucio’s arm. “Alex!” He addressed his unruly son who had also turned out to learn what the commotion was about. “Take Miss Galindwynne back to her room, please.”

  Alexander took his mother and escorted her away, obviously offended by the dismissal.

  Edgard, Meredith, Simon and Lucio proceeded to the Admin building while Simon’s sons eagerly offered to assist Galen, Vanni and the two ladies to the pool area for drinks and swimming and news. None of them could say what was going on. Everyone at the Villa was just as confused as the people from Naples, perhaps even more so. They could not understand how they had driven here from Naples when no one from the Villa could go anywhere. There were hundreds of questions and no answers as the brothers plied them with lemonade, tea, wine, fruit and a babble of puzzled, but happy voices.

  Inside the Council Room was another story altogether.

  “Now, Sirrah,” Edgard said as he sat down on the edge of the table and looked directly in Lucio’s face. Merry sat in one of the heavily padded, leather conference chairs next to him while Simon sat on his opposite side. “Tell me how you got here from Naples? Are you sure you came from Naples and not somewhere else?”

  “Of course,” Lucio said indignantly and raised both his hands. He was utterly confused at the reception they had received upon their arrival. “Where else would we have been?”

  “I can think of a dozen or more likely places.” The Master narrowed his eyes. “Simon? What do you think?”

  “Brother,” Simon interrupted. He stood up slowly and Lucio frowned. “I would like to lay hands on you… if you don’t mind.”

  “Why? What is wrong with all of you?” The Italian turned his dark eyes on Meredith. “Where is Mark Andrew?”

  “He is not here, Lucio,” she told him. “And we are not sure if you are really here either.”

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  “Plotius!!” Nergal roared and came charging down the length of the bowling green toward his Queen’s Captain. “You will not run from me!!”

  Plotius did not seem to share his Lord’s opinion. He was running quite well now, rather than loping like the other Boggans in his command. His long legs easily outstripped Nergal’s shorter ones, and the Lord of the Fifth Gate was beside himself. Plotius’ long black plume flew out behind him and his silver and black weaponry jingled merrily as he raced toward Ereshkigal, who stood arms akimbo near the bar-be-cue pit. Louis Champlain, Konrad and Apolonio stood on the far side of the pit staring at the scene playing out in the verdant green playground. Nergal had his gold and white robe gathered in both hands as he ran after the Boggan Captain. His curly black hair bounced on his shoulders and his handsome face was contorted with anger. Whatever Plotius had done, he seemed about to pay dearly for it.

  Plotius tried to slide to a stop in front of his Queen, but misjudged his speed on the slick surface of the thick, green grass. He skidded to the ground, caught himself on one elbow and then leapt to his feet in time to insert Ereshkigal between himself and the hostile Nergal.

  “Step aside, Reshki!” Nergal stopped in front of her.

  “What is the problem, Nergal?” The Queen demanded without complying with his orders. He looked at her as if she had struck him a physical blow. “Where have you been? I’ve needed your input.”

  “You’ve needed my…” Nergal began and then caught himself.

  “Yes.” She turned around and shoved Plotius ahead of her toward the table
holding the various sauces and marinades that Louis had been concocting. “I want you to taste these sauces and tell me which you think is most savory.”

  “Do not patronize me!” He almost shouted at her, but followed her none-the-less.

  Louis and the other Templars continued to watch this most peculiar exchange.

  “I would never do that,” she said and dipped one long index finger into a crockery bowl full of dark, reddish-brown liquid.

  Nergal opened his mouth to speak again and she swiped the sauce on his tongue. He almost choked and then licked his lips and then smacked them together.

  “Hmmm.” He frowned and then smiled and then licked his lips. “That’s very tasty.”

  “Try this one.” She picked up a spoon full of another sauce with yellower tones and popped it in his mouth.

  “Ohhh. Tangy!” His smile grew wider and he actually smacked his lips again and reached for the spoon. “Do we have any samples of meat yet? Perhaps, a plump Elven pony? Or something even more savory?” He eyed the Templars.

  “Not yet.” She placed her finger against his lips. “We’ll have some tempting cuts later on, my pet.”

  “Hmmm.” He narrowed his eyes and wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her near. He licked her ear. “That sounds very tasty, my love.”

  Konrad made a choking noise and looked down at the ground.

  “Please, my Lord,” she whispered though all could hear. “Not in front of the children.”

  “Ahhhh. My apologies,” he bowed to her slightly and then shot a furious look at Plotius, who now stood behind Louis.

  “What is the problem with my Captain?” She asked.

  “He will not show me what he has in his pocket,” Nergal sounded almost as if he were pouting. “And furthermore, I was busy when he interrupted me.”

  “Interrupted you? Busy? Doing what, my love?” She frowned and crooked one finger under his chin. “You worry too much.”

  “I was…. I had to… There was a great splotch… a blob… plasmic… someone fell… no someone was caught,” his frown deepened. “I’m damned if I remember what it was now. It must have been a dream.”

  “Most likely,” she smiled, and then jerked her head at Plotius. “Plotius! Come over here and show Your Lord what is in your pocket.”

  Plotius crept forward. He seemed much shorter now as he cowered before Nergal.

  Louis, Konrad and Apolonio crowded toward the end of the table in order to better glimpse what they had all been wondering about.

  The Boggan Captain, straightened slowly and reached into the deep front pocket of his black leather jerkin. He pulled his hand out slowly and then held out the object of concern. A tiny, purple plush dinosaur sat in the palm of his hand.

  “What is that?” Nergal demanded.

  “That is Barney.” Ereshkigal waved one hand in dismissal. “Really, Nergal, you should not be so very paranoid.”

  “But what is a Barney?” The Lord of the Fifth Gate flicked the toy with one fingernail and followed her as she made her way toward the bandstand where Paddy and his crew were tuning their instruments. They had practiced playing a number short ditties and scales before Nergal’s appearance had frightened them all.

  “It’s a stuffed toy,” she explained as she walked. Plotius followed close behind them, cradling the little creature to his stomach as if it were alive. “It comes with the program.”

  “What program?” Nergal glanced at the Captain in consternation.

  “The program I borrowed from Adar to teach him to read,” the Queen told him. “It is a learning tool. Nothing more. A device designed to promote interest in reading and to keep the student’s attention to the lessons.”

  “Ahhh. I see,” Nergal nodded. “Why did he not tell me?”

  “Because he doesn’t know what it is,” she said and laughed. “He only knows he likes it.”

  “That’s absurd,” Nergal mumbled and then picked up a large wooden spoon. He dipped it in the tangy sauce and licked it clean. “Tell him he must answer all my questions. It is an embarrassment when he runs from me.”

  “He is like any other child.” Ereshkigal sighed and began to put the caps and lids on the jars and bottles Louis had opened in order to make a variety of sauces for her perusal.

  “Child?” Nergal frowned and then dipped the spoon in the other sauce. “I like this tangy one best. Use it on the lamb if you have such delicacies in store.”

  “You will have to request that of the chef, my love,” Ereshkigal said and sighed again. “Cooks are quite touchy, you know.”

  Louis and his two compatriots were shocked into thoughtful silence at her attitude regarding Nergal’s wishes.

  “Pardon me?” Nergal rounded the table and stood near her. “What did you say, My Queen?” His voice was a low growl. The three observers stepped back simultaneously. She had made him angry.

  “I said…” she waved one hand and jammed the last lid on a jar of grape jelly. “You should submit your request to the chef. My son-in-law will be making those decisions. He is not unreasonable for a human.”

  “Submit?!” Nergal raised up taller. He now towered over her and they could see that it was not just posture. The Lord of the Fifth Gate was actually growing in stature before their eyes. “That word has never been part of my vocabulary, Ereshkigal!”

  “Then you should make it so, Nergal.” She faced him coolly and then waved her hands quickly in front of her face.

  Nergal paused and then shrank slightly. He turned slowly and locked eyes with Louis. Konrad grabbed his arm. They would now be destroyed.

  “You there!” Nergal pointed one finger at Louis. “You are the chef?!”

  Louis nodded.

  “Then I wish to make known to you in the presence of these witnesses that the tangy sauce would be best on the lamb… in my exalted opinion,” Nergal made his request.

  “That is no problem, Your Eminence,” Konrad answered for Louis. “King Louie will be honored to prepare the lamb especially for Your Majesty.”

  Nergal stared at them for some long seconds, and then gathered his robes about him angrily before striding off toward the bandstand.

  Louis let out a long sigh. The Queen hurried after her husband, haranguing him about some other subject.

  “What do you make of that?” Louis asked when they were out of earshot.

  “I think my mother has something hidden up her sleeve, and whatever it is, it is not good,” Konrad told him in a low whisper.

  “Such as?” Apolonio leaned close to his father.

  “I had always thought Nergal was the more powerful of the two.” Louis went back to the work table and began to pour out the sample sauces. He scowled at the wooden spoon Nergal had licked and thrust it in the waste basket.

  “So did I,” Konrad agreed and narrowed his eyes at the sight of his mother close on Nergal’s heels. Her plaintive voice drifted back to them. “So did I.”

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  Lucifer headed straight for the middle of the clearing, disregarding Christopher’s warnings. Within seconds a large gray globe of questionable sentience was rolling after him.

  “Look out!” Schweikert shouted at him and threw a stick at the thing. It bounced off as if the thing were an over-inflated beach ball.

  Lucifer reached the stele in the center of the field and stood reading the words of Ahasuerus. The ball rolled to within a few feet of him as the three men at the edge of the forest continued shouting at him. The angel quickly drew his sword from his belt, whirled about and stabbed the thing before they knew what had happened. It collapsed at once into the grass, resuming its normal disguise as a flat grayish white stone. The angel waved to them as they watched in disbelief.

  “I know this King!” His clear voice reached them across the sunny meadow. “He was the father of King Darius of Persia. One of the better kings of Persia.”

  The two Boggans that guarded the meadow were already loping across the field, slapping the
ground with their spiked clubs, throwing up tufts of grass and flowers while emitting long, miserable howls.

  Lucifer walked around the stele, continuing his reading at a leisurely pace. When the Boggans reached him, he touched each of them with the flat of his blade and they ran away the way they had come, leaving him in peace to finish his read.

  “Amazing,” he said as he joined them again under the trees. “I never knew he had come here and measured this land.”

  Christopher was beside himself.

  “Look,” the Knight of the Holy City spoke harshly to him “I know that you are impervious to danger, sir, but these two are not.” He waved one hand at Schweikert and Sergeant Runnels. “They can very easily die here.”

  “Ahhh,” Lucifer mused and looked at them a bit closer. “I see. You are like Galen Zachary.”

  “Never mind all that. Let’s get out of here.” Christopher set off under the trees as the dryads in the oaks began to pelt them with twigs and acorns. “We need to get to the castle and find Armand.”

  “Armand?” Lucifer hurried along beside the Knight. “Who is Armand?”

  “He used to be one of us,” Christopher told him. “Now he is with the elves.”

  “Elves?” Sergeant Runnels looked up at the tiny creatures hiding among the branches.

  “Yes,” Schweikert brushed acorn shells from his hair. “The miserable little creatures inhabiting every nook and cranny of this accursed land.”

  “You mean like those?” The Sergeant stopped and pointed to a band of Il Dolce Mio’s warriors headed directly toward them.

  “Yes, like those.” Schweikert stopped as well and put up his hands automatically.

  The elves rushed in quickly and surrounded them, pointing long lances at them as well as cocked crossbows.

  “Christopher Stewart!” A tall elf dressed in shimmery silver and green stepped forward. “You are of King Ramsay’s Order?”