by Jo Beverley
“Death is always possible, even in peacetime, my darling girl.” He stroked her back, trying to knead the tension from her muscles. She was so real, so present, that it was impossible to believe that after tonight he might never hold her again. “And if we’re talking about hearts, it’s too late for mine. I love you, Jane. That it happened so quickly is another gift of the Grail, maybe, but it’s real. It’s true. And it’s forever.”
“Are you sure, David?” she asked quietly. “The connection between us could fade away once we’ve returned the Grail.”
He gave that several seconds of serious thought before shaking his head. “No. That is not going to happen. Not for me. You’ve ruined me for any other woman, Lady Jane.” He caressed her cheek tenderly. “But the reverse may not be true. You must regularly meet men who are a lot more interesting than I am.”
“No,” she said, her eyes huge. “I don’t.”
His breathing constricted at her expression. Almost afraid to find out the answer, he asked, “Does your intuition say that what you feel for me is induced by the Grail and will last for only two days?”
He feared that she would say yes. Instead, tears began silently sliding down her face. “I care for you, David. I . . . I probably love you. But I can’t bear to continue as lovers now. Go back to your squadron. See other women if you wish. And if we both survive this horrible war, you can propose to me again. If you want to by then.”
“You’ll probably have recovered from Philip and married someone in a less dangerous occupation,” he said, his voice edged. “My timing is all wrong here.”
“There won’t be anyone else, David. I swear it.”
“Since we both think we won’t change our minds, why not become engaged?” He kissed her ear. “I’d like to be able to call you my fiancée instead of my girlfriend.”
She shivered. “I’m rather superstitious about being engaged. It didn’t do me any good before.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “You’re usually so calm and logical that I find it rather endearing that you’re superstitious. I just wish it weren’t this superstition.”
She sighed and rested her cheek against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wish I were brave enough to say yes. But . . . I’m not.”
“We are what we are, Lady Jane.” He wrapped his arms around her, trying to imprint the feel of her body onto his spirit. “As a fighter pilot, my instinct is to grab life now, because there might not be a tomorrow. Which is the opposite of what you feel.”
“Enough talk.” She raised her face for a kiss. “We have tonight. Let’s not waste a minute of it.”
They didn’t.
Chapter 7
They made love for the last time at dawn. David couldn’t bear knowing that he might never again feel such joy and fulfillment. Even with passion temporarily sated, he wanted her within sight and sound and touching distance.
As he dressed, he berated himself for his selfishness. How could he want the woman he loved to suffer agonies by loving him when he might die in flaming pieces, as her first love had? Yet he could not stop the yearning, because she owned his soul, whether she wanted it or not.
They had a light breakfast of tea and some buns that she’d picked up in the village the day before. Since he was awake and rested this time, David drove. After half an hour, Jane remarked, “You’re a more conservative driver than I am.”
“I have a real airplane to fly, so I don’t have to see if I can get a Morris Minor to take off,” he retorted.
She laughed. “It’s a beautiful morning for a drive, isn’t it? You flew over the Highlands yesterday, but this is the first time you’ve driven through them in daylight.”
“Beautiful indeed.” He glanced up at a stream that leapt down a hill in exuberant waterfalls. That was called a burn here, he recalled. “I can feel an ancestral tugging, even though it’s been two hundred years since my family headed to Canada two steps ahead of the king’s troops who wanted to hang them as rebels.”
“I’m glad they were quick on their feet. But Scotland does get into one’s bones, no matter how far one might travel.”
He thought about asking her to be his guide for the rest of his leave, but managed to hold his tongue. Nagging an independent woman like Jane to change her mind would just make her dig in her heels.
The best strategy he could come up with was to leave her alone for six months. Then he would call to see if she was wanting him as much as he wanted her.
Maybe three months.
It was early afternoon when they reached Rosslyn Chapel. David admired its Gothic grandeur as he headed for the unobtrusive parking space where he’d found the Morris two days before. “I’ve visited a whole lot of churches since I came to England, but this is one of the best. The grandeur of a cathedral on a small, friendly scale.”
“My mother loves this chapel because of the combination of Christian and pagan symbols among the carvings.” Jane swung out of the car when David opened the door for her. “Angels playing bag-pipes, and green men for fertility. We visited a time or two when I was little, but it’s been many years.”
“I hope I get more time to look around on this visit.” He offered his arm. “If I’m a warden of the Grail, am I going to have to stay close to this chapel?”
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “Maybe that will be revealed, along with how to return the chalice to its resting place.”
They entered through a side door. He gazed at the amazing carvings on the high Gothic ceiling. The chapel made him think of lace frozen into stone and warmed by the light filtering through the stained-glass windows. As on his first visit, the nave was empty, not uncommon for a parish church on a weekday afternoon.
Jane asked in a hushed voice, “Has knowledge flooded into you?”
“Not yet. If I remain ignorant, it will be your turn to come up with some wisdom.”
“Which would mean calling my mother, which I’d prefer to avoid.” She scanned the massive stone columns. “Where did you find the body of the warden?”
“Over here, in the Lady Chapel.” He led her to the location. No traces of blood were left on the floor.
Jane closed her eyes. After a moment or two, she said, “This area burns with energy. Can you feel it?”
He closed his eyes, then said with surprise, “As a matter of fact, yes. I’m not used to paying attention in this way.”
“It’s not hard to believe this is a portal to another realm of existence, and that the right magic could send the chalice through.” Jane’s eyes opened. “I don’t feel darkness from the old warden’s death. Overwhelmed by other energies, I imagine.”
A door behind them opened and they turned to see a middle-aged woman enter the chapel from the front entrance. She was tall and her vivid red hair had only a handful of silver strands. Not seeing Jane and David, she walked up the aisle with quick, sure steps.
“That is a woman of power,” Jane said quietly. “Like my mother.”
“Or you.” Now that he was paying attention, he was much more aware of the energy Jane radiated.
“She’s not a Guardian,” Jane said thoughtfully. “I’d guess Grail power.”
The woman stopped in surprise when she saw them. Then she came forward at a near run. “You have it! Oh, blessed day, Father was right!”
“Have what?” David asked warily, his hand resting on the canvas bag.
“The Grail, of course.” The woman halted a few steps away. “I’m Màiread Sinclair. I have been raised to be the next Rosslyn warden of the Grail, but when that horrible Nazi came, I wasn’t here. I was in York with my daughter, who was having her first baby.” Stark guilt showed in her eyes as she continued. “You are the man who was called to save the chalice before it was too late.” Her gaze went to Jane. “You’re a Guardian, aren’t you? I assume that the warden was sent to you for help.”
Jane nodded. Though David felt that that Màiread was telling the truth, caution seemed advisable. “How do you know this?”
> “My father, William Sinclair, told me what happened.” She gestured at the stone floor. “He was struck down here. He said when I returned from York that a Canadian airman was summoned by the Grail to rescue it from being taken out of Britain.”
“Your father is alive?” David asked, startled. “I thought he died after telling me that I must retrieve the chalice.”
Màiread’s expression darkened. “He didn’t die, but he was mortally wounded. I believe he has been forcing himself to endure because he desperately wants to see the Grail recovered.” She looked at the canvas bag. “Will you bring it to my father?”
“Of course.” David held out his hand. “I’m another Sinclair. David, from Halifax. I was just starting a fortnight’s leave in Scotland when I felt the urge to visit Rosslyn. My partner is Lady Jane Macrae. As you guessed, the Grail led me to her. I’d have been helpless on my own.”
Màiread smiled at Jane and took David’s hand. There was an explosion of light that temporarily obliterated the world. David staggered back a pace while Màiread gasped. “The wardenship has shifted to me!”
Jane caught his other hand, steadying him. To Màiread, she said coolly, “Did you know that would happen?”
The older woman shook her head, looking as disoriented as David. “No. I’m sorry, David. I would have warned you if I’d known the power would be transferred. But this situation is unprecedented.” She bit her lip. “I wasn’t sure that the wardenship would return to me, since I failed to protect it at the crucial moment. I was doing my best to be noble and gracious to the new warden.”
Admirably honest. “If you’ve been raised to it, better you than me,” David said, relieved that custody of the chalice had moved to more knowledgeable hands. “The last two days have been . . . educational, but I would rather return to my usual life.”
“Then we are both pleased.” Màiread beamed. “But let us go to my father. He sent me to visit the chapel, and now I know why. He has very little time left.”
David nodded. Jane held his hand as they left the chapel. He was grateful. After having to believe so many impossible things, he needed her as his anchor.
Màiread led them behind the building to one of the ancient workmen’s cottages tucked against the wall that surrounded the chapel precinct. Half the front of the stone cottage was covered with magnificent white climbing roses with a hint of scarlet at the heart of each bloom. Heady scent perfumed the air. Jane touched a rose with wonder. “These are magnificent. And early.”
“They’re Grail roses and bloom through most of the year. A small but lovely miracle of the Grail. If you like, I’ll give you a cutting.” Màiread’s voice lowered. “I made up a bed in his sitting room, since it would be too hard for him to get up the stairs.” Stepping inside, she raised her voice. “Father? The Grail has returned!”
A still figure lay on the narrow bed, an old dog curled up on the floor below. Hearing his daughter’s voice, William Sinclair snapped open his faded blue eyes, showing awareness. Reaching out a hand, he whispered, “Please, lad . . .”
David opened the bag and removed the Grail. After unwrapping it, he placed it in the old man’s frail hands. “Here, sir. The chalice has come home.”
William Sinclair kissed the rim of the cup. Raising his eyes, he gazed first at David, then at Jane. “There are no thanks great enough for what you have done.” Then he looked at his daughter. “Good-bye, my darling girl. You will serve well.”
He rested the chalice on his chest over his heart. Then, face radiant, he closed his eyes and his spirit departed.
Màiread gave an agonized gasp and pressed her hand to her heart while Jane said softly, “There is more than one kind of healing. Rest in peace, faithful warden.”
“The warden served long and honorably, and gave his life to the service of the Grail,” Màiread said in a choked voice. “But . . . I shall miss my father.”
David moved forward and removed the chalice from the old man’s clasp, then pulled the blanket over his face. “Is there anyone who should be called?”
The new warden shook her head. “Soon, but not just yet.” She took a deep breath and raised her head. “The Grail needs to be returned to its resting place. Do the two of you wish to join me and make your farewells?”
“Yes,” David and Jane said almost in unison. As they left, the old dog leapt onto the foot of the bed, turned, then settled down, guarding his master’s final rest.
They returned to the chapel at a slower pace, David carrying the chalice for the last time. He could not regret the extraordinary adventure that divine chance had drawn him into. His eyes had been forever opened by a wider view of the world and powers he had never dreamed of. He suspected that he was now a better man for the e xperience.
Nor could he regret meeting Jane Macrae, even knowing how much it would hurt to lose her. He loved her, and even if he had lost her for now, he had hope for the future.
But he wouldn’t miss the responsibility of the Grail. He was good with airplanes and young fliers and things of the world. He would return to his old life better and happier for what had happened to him.
He glanced at Jane, wondering how she felt about their shared adventure. Magic and power were part of her everyday world. Her experience had been hair-raising and exhausting, not to mention emotionally harrowing. For her, the price of love was invoking the pain of a great loss she’d already suffered.
She loved him, he thought, and maybe that love would last and grow and blossom into a lifetime of loving when the war was over. But it seemed equally likely that she wished she’d stayed in London and they’d never met. Of course, that would have meant Krieger removing the Grail to Germany and the war being lost. He suspected that she would be the first to say that it was worth personal pain to prevent such catastrophe.
They followed Màiread to the Lady Chapel. She took the chalice from David, then offered it to Jane. “Do you wish to say your own farewell to the Grail?”
Jane accepted the chalice and stared into it as emotions flickered over her face. First shock, then wonder, finally joy. She took a deep breath and handed it back to the new warden. “It’s hard to let it go, isn’t it? To me, it looks like a rose of white light. David said it looks like a star. How do you see the chalice, Màiread?”
“As a pulsing heart of white fire.” Màiread clasped the bowl of the chalice between her palms. “I am the designated Rosslyn warden and will be for years to come. Yet though the Grail will rule my life until I die, I may never see or touch it again.”
“Do you mind?” Jane asked curiously.
“Oh, no. ’Tis a high calling, and a rewarding one.” The older woman smiled. “Rather like being a nun, but without the celibacy. I think it was the Grail that directed me to the right husband, and a braw good job it did. One of my children or grandchildren will carry on after me. The wardenship traditionally passes only to those who wish the burden and are worthy of carrying it. You’re a rare case of conscription, David. Do you regret being called to its service?”
He glanced at Jane. “Never.”
“Now that we’ve made our peace with power . . .” Màiread raised the chalice above her head, her eyes closed in concentration.
The air began to throb with mystery, like a great beating heart. The chalice flared brighter and brighter until suddenly it was gone, leaving only a memory.
David released his breath. And so it ended. After a long moment, Màiread turned to him. “We’re back to worldly things. David Sinclair, you said you were on a fortnight’s holiday here in Scotland. Would you like to continue using my father’s car until you return to the south? The petrol coupons should be in the glove box.”
“That’s very kind of you,” he replied. “I’d like that. It will give me a chance to drive into the Highlands. I’ll return the car here in ten days’ time.”
“When you’re finished with the Morris, just park it ’round back where you found it. Leave the keys in the glove box if I’m not around.” She too
k his hand. This time there was no blaze of power. Just a warm human hand. “Enjoy Scotland, and again, my profound thanks to you both. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to offer prayers of gratitude.”
David turned and took Jane’s arm and they left the chapel. Outside, she said, “Do you feel diminished by the loss of power? Or as if there’s a hole in your spirit?”
He explored his mind before saying, “No. I can feel the change. The responsibility is gone, and I’m glad. But . . . it’s odd. Though I’m no longer connected to the Grail, there is no emptiness. I feel as if some bright power has taken its place.”
Jane placed the fingers of her free hand on his forehead. When her hand dropped, she said, “I think you’ve been granted a goodly dose of Guardian-style magic. The Grail is generous with its gifts. You’ll find it interesting to explore them.”
Less interested in magic than in Jane, he asked hesitantly, “Do you want me to take you to the train station? Or . . . I could drive you home. I don’t have to come in. I can drop you at Dunrath and be on my way.”
“The Grail granted me a gift, too. A true vision.” She turned to face him, her eyes shining. “When I looked into the chalice, I saw a wedding celebration on the lawn at Dunrath. I knew that the war was over and that Germany was defeated. Not for some time—years. But we won. We won!”
He swallowed hard. “Did you recognize the happy couple?”
She took his hands. “Us. And we were surrounded by our families. I saw all my brothers and sisters, David! They survived. Jamie was there, looking so dashing. My sister Margaret had a handsome Frenchman in tow, and there was the most beautiful Asian girl on my brother Andrew’s arm.”
He began to smile. “Anyone there look Canadian?”
She nodded vigorously. “There were lots of tall people who looked like you. A couple of them were in Canadian uniforms, and no one seems to have been maimed. We all came through, my love. We will survive! And live happily ever after, I think.”