Although he sometimes deplored the Edling’s lack of compassion, Elinas took pride in his son’s military achievements and courage. He never doubted the Edling’s leadership abilities. Pressine did not like Mattacks because she could not see him from a father’s loving perspective, but Elinas knew that this fierce knight would someday become a mighty ruler. He laid a hand on his son’s shoulder to lead him inside the royal tent.
“Women are complex creatures,” Elinas muttered as he pushed aside the tent flap.
Mattacks set his helmet on the grassy ground of the tent and pulled up a stool to sit.
Dropping into a leather chair beside his sleeping pallet, Elinas wondered why Pressine showed such lack of maternal feelings. It didn’t sound like her. He lifted a wineskin hanging from the back of the chair and drank from it. “Did she say anything at all?”
Mattacks faced his father gravely. “She said it would be better for everyone if she disappeared until the end of her confinement, but she refused to say why.”
Sudden understanding filled Elinas with relief. Of course, Pressine had left to prevent the curse. Elinas slapped his thigh. “Now, it makes perfect sense. Do not worry, son, all is well. She left to protect us. Let us celebrate the birth!”
He handed the wineskin to Mattacks.
The Edling waved it away. “You know I do not indulge.”
Shrugging at his son’s refusal, Elinas offered a piece of cold meat from the food platter left on the bed. “Hungry?”
Mattacks refused the meat but accepted a green apple and bit into it.
“A good thing she left, too.” Elinas remarked aloud, chewing a morsel from the cold shank of lamb. “I almost forgot about the curse...” He took another draft of tart wine to wash down the food.
“A curse? What curse?” The keen interest in the Edling’s voice unsettled Elinas.
“A Fae curse.” Elinas realized he might have said too much. The Edling never hid his distaste for Pressine’s Pagan roots. Unwilling to betray her secret, Elinas struggled to regain control. “Nothing to be concerned about, son. I cannot tell you anymore... Since Pressine left, all is well. She will return when the time is right.”
“I am glad.” Mattacks smiled thinly. “I would not want anything bad to happen to our family because of her ungodly connections.”
“Nothing will, son. She made sure of that.” Elinas took another sip of wine. “So, tell me about your baby sisters!”
“Most beautiful and full of life, father.” The Edling’s brown eyes sparkled with intelligence, but his smile seemed strained. “I felt restless at home and thought I would take your place here, so you can return to Dumfries. Since their mother abandoned them, the lasses should at least know their father.”
“That was kind of you, son.” Elinas dislodged a tiny shred of meat from his teeth with a fingernail. “As a matter of fact, I could use a break from this war. It has been a long campaign. I miss home.”
“If you leave at once, you can be home before nightfall.” Mattacks offered a smug smile. “I can win this battle for you.”
Elinas laughed at his son’s boasting. “I have no doubt you can. Your brother is very brave, but he does not have your cunning and your insight.”
“I am glad you approve, father.”
Elinas trusted Mattacks to win today’s battle. The war was all but won anyway. The enemy, sorely depleted and now surrounded, was doomed to extermination.
Besides, Elinas was tired of camp life, tired of bloodshed, and he had earned the right to go home and enjoy his new fatherhood. He stood up and reached for his helmet hanging from a pole.
“I shall take your advice and leave immediately.” He stepped outside to hail a soldier. “Bring my horse and send for Prince Conan!”
Within moments, Conan arrived, a wide smile on his open face. At the sight of his brother, however, the smile vanished. “Is everything well with the queen?”
“Pressine is fine, and you have three little sisters,” Elinas exulted with an irrepressible grin. “Mattacks will lead this last battle. It is time for me to return home.”
The blond prince glanced at his brother suspiciously. “Are you sure it is safe? What about...”
Elinas wondered how Conan knew about the curse. He raised a reassuring hand. “Pressine is away.”
Conan relaxed into a smile. “Have a safe journey, then, father.”
Elinas adjusted Caliburn’s baldric over his surcoat before mounting the pommeled gray. He waved to his sons, so different in every way. Conan waved back with enthusiasm while Mattacks, framed in the tent opening, merely raised his brow, a thin smile on his face.
Overjoyed at the idea of being a father again, Elinas spurred his steed away from the camp and galloped west under the morning sun. Resting his mount only when absolutely necessary, he made good time, so that by late afternoon, he came in view of Dumfries’ fortress.
* * *
Sitting at the edge of the bed, Pressine sang an old ballad to the three babies wrapped in a blanket on the furs. Aware of the melody, the bairns wiggled and poked tiny feet through the soft wool. While baby Melusine stared with wide bright eyes, Meliora and Palatina uttered little sounds of satisfaction. Nearby, a wet nurse poured warm water in the shallow stone basin adorning the chamber. The gentle splashing reminded Pressine of the springs where she used to sing for the Goddess and bathe.
Pressine looked up as the wet nurse stepped forth. The woman had stored the empty cauldron by the hearth. Now her hands twisted in her apron and the sturdy girl glanced around fearfully. “My lady?”
“What is it, Goda?” Pressine dipped a hand in the basin to check the water temperature, then she unwrapped baby Melusine to set her in the bath.
The woman cast her eyes down to the flagstone. “I have not been outright with you, my lady.”
Pressine repressed an indulgent smile. No doubt the woman had stolen from the pantry again, or gotten in trouble for talking too much. “I shall not punish you if you speak to me freely, Goda. We are alone.”
Gently, with a soft cloth, Pressine washed the delicate skin of Melusine’s tiny body, eliciting strangled noises of protest.
The woman’s earnest face contorted with pain, or was it guilt? She set out to help Pressine by unwrapping Meliora. “About the Edling...”
“Mattacks?” Pressine stopped mid movement, her blood turning cold at the name. Instinctively summoning her powers, she only met a stone wall in her mind and wailed silently. She had no powers while still in childbed confinement.
“The Edling told me it was for your protection, my lady, but maybe it’s not,” the woman blurted out, immediately regaining her usual volubility as she set Meliora in the bath. “He paid a quarter silver for me not to tell you something. It is too much money for a servant. I reckon he paid the other wet nurses as well.”
“For not telling me what?” Pressine could not control the hint of panic in her voice.
“He changed your guard.”
“Why?” With a sinking feeling Pressine realized she was powerless, confined in her quarters. Would Mattacks strike now? Pressine feared more for her daughters than for herself. If the Edling knew the baby girls had inherited her Pagan gifts, they would become a target for his hatred as well.
“Where is Mattacks now?”
Lifting Meliora out of the water, Goda dried the tiny girl. “Prince Mattacks rode away with your guard in the middle of the night and has not returned, my lady.” The woman wrapped the baby in a thick cotton cloth and laid her on the bed furs.
Little Melusine fussed in the basin.
“Strange that he would leave now.” Had Mattacks given orders to kill them then left to have an alibi. “Where did he go?”
“To the battlefield, my lady. One of his guards told me the Edling would not be back, but the king might return early.” Having freed Palatina from her blanket, the wet nurse dunked the protesting bairn into the basin next to little Melusine.
“The king?” A frightening idea c
rossed Pressine’s mind, but Mattacks could not possibly know about the curse. Or did he? Better not take any chances. “Can you ride, Goda?”
The nurse opened wide eyes. “No, my lady, but I reckon I can run like a deer.”
“That will have to do.” Pressine quickly dried Melusine in a clean length of cloth and deposited the baby on the bed. “I believe the king is coming this way on the eastern road. Go meet him and tell him not to come to my chambers under any circumstances. Great calamities would plague the land if he did. Please hurry.”
Pressine took over Palatina’s bath.
“Oh my!” Hastily, Goda wiped chubby hands on her shift. “I shall go directly, my lady.”
As the nurse opened the door, Pressine heard a guard salute and saw the unmistakable figure of Elinas filling the door frame. Her heart clenched, as if caught in a clamp. She stood numb, facing her beloved king, while the three babies screamed. Then she rushed to the bed, wrapped the bairns into a bundle and held them close, but they kept sobbing uncontrollably.
With an expression of pure disbelief, Elinas stared at Pressine and the little girls. “What have I done?” Unbearable pain etched his face.
The babies shrieked. Stepping back, Pressine stared at her husband, utter despair flooding her chest.
Through the open window, as the late afternoon sun still shone into a clear blue sky, a gust of wind slammed the shutters against the wall. Dark rolling clouds suddenly filled the sky, plunging the room into gloom. Pressine’s body tingled all over. Filled with foreboding, she clutched the screaming babies to her breast, then the bedchamber started to spin.
* * *
Elinas lost his balance and fell backwards. He heard Pressine calling his name over the strident screams of the babies. The whirlwind blew out the fire, scattering smoldering charcoals. A violent gust hurled a distaff and spindle, then tore away the draperies from the wall, the bed curtains, the furs, even the rugs.
The roof blew off. Elinas held onto the doorjamb so as not to be blown away. One arm shielding his head against flying objects, he peered through the twirling dust and saw the face of his beloved Pressine, contorted by fear as she whirled aloft.
“Pressine!” he called with the strength of despair.
Her helpless response came to him as a screech drown by the howling wind. He caught another glance of her as she held their daughters close among flying debris. She called his name in a last agonizing cry, then disappeared into the gray vortex.
Elinas could do nothing. All he could see now was a thick column of dust that swallowed everything in its path before whirling out through the missing roof. Broken pieces of wood clattered to the flagstone. Then, as suddenly as the storm had come, the clouds vanished and the setting sun reappeared in a clear amber sky.
A devastating calm followed, then silence. Stunned, Elinas contemplated the ravaged room. Thin strands of torn cloth still hung from the walls, but mostly the chamber stood empty and cold, like his heart. Gone was his beloved queen and his three daughters, the happy chatter, the love... Even the golden sunset could not infuse warmth into the ice-cold chambers.
Elinas stood up on wobbly legs and realized with dismay that Caliburn did not hang from his belt anymore. The Goddess had taken back the magic sword. Also gone, were the gay draperies and veils, the bed, the stone basin, the coffers, the dainty mirrors, the warm furs... Numb, Elinas staggered outside. Guards and wet nurses had fled. He stood alone in the courtyard.
“My lord!” Tripping on his long robe, the bishop ran toward the king in a state of great agitation. “Someone stole the Black Madonna. The statue is not in the chapel anymore. It is gone!”
Elinas let out a nervous laugh. Tears welled in his eyes. The Goddess had taken everything that belonged to her. What else was missing? The gold, all the riches Pressine had brought to the crown... Elinas did not care about that. Without a word to the bishop, he stumbled toward his chambers.
In his mind, Elinas saw the succession of disasters that would soon plague the land. Without Caliburn, he would lose his battles. He imagined the weather changing, the crops failing, the murrain killing the cattle. Then would come the famine, and the wolves in winter. His male descendants would suffer the curse for nine generations.
But above all, Elinas had lost the woman he loved and his three little daughters. It was more than he could bear. Someone had brought this devastation upon the kingdom and would have to pay for this ignominy. That someone was his deceiving, conniving son, the man Elinas had trusted above his beloved... Mattacks.
* * *
Sucked into the vortex, Pressine first resisted the power that abducted her and her babies. Deprived of her gifts, she felt lost. Her will could only fail against the Goddess, but she kept trying. Quickly, Pressine realized the futility of her struggle. Having spent all her energy, she surrendered to the curse.
“Elinas,” she called, crying after her lost love, but anger suddenly filled her heart. The man had trusted Mattacks despite her warnings. In he end he had betrayed his word. The babies wailed against her breast as Pressine shouted, “How could you let Mattacks trick you? Look what you have wrought! It is all your fault.”
But the vortex swallowed her words. When the tempest around her abated, Pressine floated in an opaque cloud, suspended high above the land. For a moment the fear of falling made her cradle her daughters closer, but although she stood on nothing but air, it felt firm enough and she did not fall.
Except for the peaceful whisper of the wind, no sound reached her from below. Even the bairns stopped crying to stare through the dark cloud sweeping them aloft, far from Dumfries, far from Elinas.
Suspended in some other dimension, Pressine wondered what would become of them now that the curse had manifested itself. Her fate and that of her daughters lay in the hands of the Goddess. Pressine felt vacant, hollow, like an empty room still echoing with the laughter and happiness of faces and voices long gone.
Sobbing softly, she hugged her daughters. At least she had a reason to go on, but what would become of Elinas? Dear Goddess, have mercy on him! Even as she pitied him, once again, bitterness supplanted her compassion. Mortals could not be trusted.
Suddenly, Pressine felt the jarring of solid ground under her feet. The cloud receded, replaced by a pale gray mist. A seagull called overhead. She took a few steps on soft sand, smelled the sea spray on the tide, heard the familiar roll of the waves breaking on the beach.
Even before the mists cleared around her, Pressine recognized the place and sighed with relief. The Goddess had brought her back to the Lost Isle of her youth. But how long would it take, until it felt like home again?
Chapter Thirteen
That night, Elinas drowned his sorrow in wine. The sight of Pressine swept away on a whirlwind with his three baby daughters haunted his nightmares. Were they still alive? He did not remember the curse mentioning death. Only separation. For a while, he had hoped it was just a bad dream from which he would awaken. But soon, the reality of his loss sank in.
The urge to leave this ill-fated place tugged at his willpower, no doubt the effect of the curse. But first, Elinas had to settle a score. He steeled his resolve. Mattacks had betrayed him, and he would pay for this loathsome deed.
The shouts of guards and the blare of a horn on the ramparts shook Elinas from his stupor. He lurched to his feet despite a pounding headache and went out into the castle yard, toward the main gate.
Soldiers poured in from the darkness surrounding the walls, some riding, others running, in a chaotic retreat.
Elinas recognized a captain on foot, fatigued and bloody from battle and waved him. “What happened?”
The soldier bowed to his king. “We lost the battle, sire,” he panted, breathless from his flight. “All was going so well... until late afternoon... then the enemy strengthened... we suffered heavy losses.”
The battle that should have insured the final victory had turned at the exact moment Elinas had triggered the curse. “Where is Mattacks?
Where is Conan? How about the others?”
“Behind me, sire... Whatever is left of them... The enemy is on our heels!”
“By the fires of Bel!” The calamities had begun.
Mattacks and Conan rode in, with no helmet, disheveled, pale and drawn in the light of the torches.
“Secure the gate!” Mattacks shouted toward the top of the rampart.
The chains of the portcullis clanked and moaned under the strain of the metal-studded door lowering slowly behind them.
Sobered by the turn of events, Elinas marched toward his sons before they had a chance to dismount. “You two. In my chambers. Now!”
Not waiting for their reply Elinas stormed back to his chambers.
A few minutes later, Conan and Mattacks sat across from Elinas at the massive table. Conan slumped in his chair, gaze fixed on the grain of the wood. Mattacks sat straight, a dangerous glint in his dark eyes, the muscles of his jaw tensing in the candlelight.
Elinas leaned over the table in Mattacks’ direction. “How could you betray my trust? Have you any idea what you wrought by inviting the curse?”
“He what?” Conan turned to his brother, suddenly alert, eyes wide. “You brought the curse upon us? Why?”
“Father, you are drunk.” Mattacks’ face pinched with distaste.
“Maybe I had too much wine, but my mind is clear enough.” Elinas seized the table with both hands to avoid striking his son. “Why did you do it?”
Mattacks rose and paced, hands behind his back, like Elinas often did. “I did this for your own salvation, for the glory of God, and for the Christian future of this land.”
Elinas shook his head slowly. How could he have been so blind. Why did he not listen to Pressine’s warnings about Mattacks? “You have no idea what terrible malediction you have unleashed, son. Such misguided reasoning...”
Curse of the Lost Isle Special Edition Page 34