“As is mine, my beloved,” he whispered, turning to her and gathering her into his arms. He gently stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Can you not see we were traveling to Francis in London this morning before we were stopped by Robert? We already knew where we should go, we merely didn’t know the entire reason why until now. Do you not speak of adventure? ‘He is an ill discover who thinks there is no land when he can see nothing but sea.’ It takes courage, my love, to have an adventure, to believe the land is out there beyond the sea of fear. And now, on your adventure, you have your own devoted knight who would die for you. Would you ask for more confirmation that you are well suited to the mission?”
He was starting to make sense, or at least stir up something inside of her that said she was experiencing one hell of an adventure, something she had never in her life imagined. What could it hurt to tell Bacon her story, and while doing it relate that William Shakespeare happened to be known as the most respected writer in history?
She took a deep breath as she continued to hold him. “All right. I’ll do it, but I’m not getting more involved in all this political madness. And I don’t want you caught up in it, either. You must promise me that.”
She felt him nodding above her.
“I promise I shall not become involved with political madness.”
“Ever.”
He chuckled. “Ever. I am but a poor minstrel, after all…”
His words trailed off, and Maggie felt his muscles stiffen. “What’s wrong?” she asked, and lifted her head to see him.
Nick appeared startled. “How shall I provide a life befitting such a glorious adventurer?” He looked into her eyes. “What have I asked of thee, Maggie Whitaker? I am not a man of wealth.”
She giggled and slapped his chest playfully. “Oh, stop it! If it makes you feel any better, I’m not of wealth either. I was waiting for an eviction notice on my home any day before I left! Now don’t be ridiculous… we shall live, Nicholas Layton, for as long as it lasts… happily ever after.”
His words, when they came, seemed filled with awe. “Such a woman of courage thou art. Like no other I have ever known. Happily ever after is how most tales end. Life does not always comply, my love, as we both have known.”
“Well ours begins there, mister,” she announced. “For once in my life I’m going to go for it with everything I’ve got.”
Maggie felt such love that she couldn’t contain her smile. “This isn’t courage, my love… this is a knowing I can’t deny. Besides, it’s my birthday today, and that’s my wish. Happily ever after.”
“Happy birthday, my love. When we get to London tomorrow, I shall buy thee a fine gift.” He gathered her completely into his arms, muttering into her neck, “Come back with me, my beloved… let us again free ourselves of these earthly bounds and soar into the heavens.” Picking up the candle, he whispered, “Make thy wish proper.”
She closed her eyes and, for a moment, wished with everything in her heart that she and Nick spend eternity together. Opening her lids, she smiled like a kid at the best birthday party of her life. “It’s done.”
“Blow the candle, love… send thy wish out there.”
She did, and the room was cast into the soft warm glow from the fireplace.
He pulled her back into his arms and whispered into her ear. “I have a gift for thee… one of love, my precious one.”
She melted.
Chapter Fifteen
She was given Elthea’s long brown hooded cloak to obscure her face, and Maggie felt like a journeyer into the unknown as she hurried after Evan, down the stairs and out of the manor house. Her new life awaited her, and she was filled with hope. Nick followed closely behind and they found around the side of the house Countess Elthea, dressed in a similar hooded cloak and holding two horses by the reins.
“Praise be you are safe!” she whispered, handing the reins to Evan and walking up to Maggie and Nick. She reached into her pocket and withdrew something white. Opening her hand, Elthea held out to Nick a pearl necklace that gleamed in the fading moonlight. “Your dear mother gave these to me many years ago. I believe it is time I returned them to her son, for I think you shall have need of them.”
Nick accepted the necklace and then hugged Elthea. “I thank thee, m’lady, for the many kindnesses thou hast shown me throughout the years.”
Elthea pulled back and placed her hand upon Nick’s cheek. “Be safe, dear Nicholas. Protect this guest of the future.”
He nodded. “With my life, dear lady. She is most safe with me.” And turning, he smiled with love as he held out the necklace to Maggie. “Gather your pearls, my lady…”
“Nick… ?” Maggie stared at the necklace, stunned to see that save for a different clasp, they appeared to be the same as the ones she had lost. The same size pearls and the same length strand. It couldn’t be…! She didn’t move as Nick gently pushed her hood back and placed them over her head. They fell to her breast, and Maggie clutched them. “I don’t know what to say…”
“Thank the gentleman for his gift,” Elthea said, and pulled the hood back up to cover Maggie’s face.
She looked to Nick and smiled with more emotion than she knew she should acknowledge at the moment. Tears threatened, and her throat closed. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I shall treasure them always.”
“I promised you would have your jewels again.” His smile was filled with emotion.
How she loved him. She would never forget those words. Gather your pearls, my lady. She had so many memories. Stuffing the pearls down the front of her gown, she swore this time she wouldn’t lose them!
“Now bid me farewell, child. For I do not think we shall again meet.”
Maggie looked at Elthea and couldn’t stop the tears. “I don’t know how to say good-bye to you,” she mumbled. “We tried once, and it didn’t work.”
Elthea smiled and gathered her into her arms. “Oh, child… I do not think we shall meet again in this lifetime, but I know we shall again be together. We are soul mates, you and I, and we shall play this game again, perhaps with much different roles. If we are fortunate we shall again remember and again do whatever is necessary to follow our hearts. You are deep within mine, child. Take that knowledge with thee now.”
Maggie held the woman tighter, and in a flash she wondered if Elthea was her aunt Edithe in the present time. Days ago she would have thought it crazy even to contemplate such a notion, but now she knew there were things going on that she couldn’t possibly understand. Now, anything was possible!
“I love you, Elthea,” she whispered against the woman’s hood. “Thank you for being my friend when I needed one so badly.”
Elthea pulled back and looked Maggie straight in the eye. “Namaste, Maggie Whitaker.”
“I don’t understand…”
“It is a word that has come from the East and it means I recognize and honor the spark of divinity within thee.”
Maggie wasn’t sure she completely comprehended the meaning, but found herself whispering, “Namaste, Countess Elthea.” And she bowed deeply with recognition of a friend, a friend of her soul.
“Now, hurry,” Elthea urged, and motioned for Evan to bring forth Maggie’s horse. “Do not use the main roads, Nicholas. The house remains quiet, yet I think prudence is required still.”
“Aye.” Nick mounted his horse as Evan assisted Maggie.
This time no one argued with her about riding like a man. The horse snorted loudly, and Maggie’s heart stopped with fear for an instant.
“Go!” Elthea urged in a forceful whisper. “I bid thee travel in love’s protection.”
Together Maggie and Nick left Greville Manor again, this time knowing neither would ever return. They traveled slowly until they were across the wooden bridge, and then she followed Nick’s lead as he took her into a field of damp clover toward the forest. She was in it now… the adventure… and could only surrender to a force that seemed to be directing them both. Whatever
this force, love even, she was now helpless to stop it.
She had to believe there was land beyond the sea… She also had to give the man credit, whoever he was. Francis Bacon knew about faith!
Maggie held her seat as the sun rose in the east and the humidity started to make her sweat. She pushed back the hood and allowed the wind to cool her as she continued to follow the man of her dreams through the forest. Neither of them spoke, and Maggie had time to replay the incredible night in her head. Still, she could not believe that she was on her way to meet the greatest writer the world had ever known. Everything Nick said made sense. They had spoken of it at great length during the night as they waited for the call to leave. William Shakspur of Stratford couldn’t have written about nobility, the law, philosophy. The man hardly had an education and had never left England. Nick said that Shakspur could barely write his own name and never claimed to have written any plays. He wasn’t even a good actor and was more involved in trying to keep himself out of debtors’ prison than in writing about Two Gentlemen from Verona, The Merchant of Venice or Taming of the Shrew. Now that she had heard Nick’s story about Francis Bacon and his lineage, it seemed more than probable that the man would easily be able to write about kings and queens and all the manipulation of the nobility.
It made her wonder what else she had been taught that was false? What other things had she taken as truth, written in history, and just accepted? Like time travel… Well, she was an authority on it now and no matter what anyone said to her, she couldn’t deny what had happened. She was living four hundred years into the past and more in love than she thought possible with the most wonderful man in any age.
Elthea had said that history is written by the victors. She didn’t want to tell Nick that she never heard of a King Francis of England, so Bacon never was acknowledged by his mother or ascended the throne. Someone else had won that fight and written the history.
They had been traveling for some time when they rode up a small hill and, as they crested the top, Maggie pulled on the reins and called out to Nick. He stopped and rode back to her.
“What is it, my love? Soon, we shall rest.”
She continued to stare at the large circle of stones in the distance. “It’s Stonehenge,” she whispered in awe. “Can we stop there?”
Nick looked down the hill and nodded. “’Twould be a good place to rest.”
Excited to finally have the opportunity to see Stonehenge, Maggie kicked her horse into action and yet slowed down as she approached the huge neolithic structure. She was filled with awe as she continued to stare at it. It was far larger than she had imagined, and it seemed to have more erect stones. Pictures can’t do it justice, she thought, as she stopped and just took in the energy of the place.
Nick dismounted and came to her assistance. When her feet touched the ground, she had to hold on to his arm for a moment as she regained her footing.
“My beloved, thou art weary from lack of sleep,” he said with tenderness as he pulled her closer.
She rested her head upon his chest and sighed. “Oh, Nick, I wouldn’t give up one moment of last night for sleep.” She raised her head and smiled into his eyes. “Would you?”
He looked deeply at her and grinned. “Not a moment, dear lady.” He kissed her forehead, and added, “Now, come… Countess Elthea was most gracious and has provided us with nourishment. Let us sit upon these ancient stones and replenish our bodies, for we have a long ride ahead of us.”
Maggie nodded and moved back to follow him to his horse. She watched as he removed a sack and untied a leather skin. He held out his hand and she placed hers inside his as together they walked toward the giant circle.
“Oh, Nick… how I have wanted to see this place. It’s famous in my time. People come from all over the word to see it.”
“Truly?” he asked, as he stopped at a huge overturned block of stone and placed the sack and skin upon it. “Thy table, m’lady…”
Maggie removed the cloak and grinned. “I cannot believe I’m about to have lunch on Stonehenge,” she said, and sat down. Running her hand over the gray stone, she murmured with awe, “I wonder who built this.”
“There are many theories here in Salisbury. The most common is the Ancient Ones. Druids,” Nick answered, unwrapping a thick round pastry and handing it to her. “Some say it was built before the Celts ever arrived on Briton, and the Druids used it as their temple. ’Tis a mystery.”
Maggie bit into the pastry and found that it contained meat. Hungry, she continued to look around the structure while wondering how whoever built it got the giant stones from a quarry and all the way to this plain. It really was a mystery.
Nick unplugged the leather skin and handed it to her. She had to be careful as she brought it to her lips and squeezed. Warm honey wine filled her mouth, quenching her thirst. Handing it back, she asked, “Exactly who are the Druids? I know I’ve heard the term, but the best I can remember is that they’re like wizards or witches, or something.”
Nick chuckled. “Four hundred years have passed, and that label persists? It isn’t too hopeful if any group of people we don’t understand, or who believe differently than we do, are still labeled witches.”
“I’m sorry.” She meant it sincerely. “I guess you’re right. That thinking does still exist. So what did they do here?”
“I’m not an authority,” he said, and drank the wine. Licking his lips, he smiled. “The Druids were an earth-based religion, honoring the sun and the moon. Eclipses would be observed. It is said that here is where the solstices and equinoxes were celebrated, along with Beltane, Lughnasadh, and Samhain, the Celtic New Year. Have you heard of them?”
Chewing, Maggie shook her head.
“Most have been assimilated into the Christian religion now and bear other names.”
“Wait,” she mumbled and held up her hand until she swallowed. “You’re saying that… well, like Christmas is actually a pagan holiday?”
He laughed. “I’m saying that most of Europe celebrated these pagan holidays that are marked by astronomical events, when the sun enters a certain sign… for example Yule is the day when the sun enters Capricorn. ’Tis the winter solstice. The minor pagan holidays came after the Roman occupation of northern Europe and the British Isles. When the Catholic Church became the official church of the Roman Empire, the people were literally forced to submit to Christianity, or perish. Many people refused to succumb and held off with incredible force and it was not until the church modified its own holidays to fall on the pagan ones that the people submitted. Thus, the European pagans were converted when they could celebrate such holy days as Yule as the birth of Christ.”
Maggie was trying to understand. “What is Yule then?”
Nick was munching on his meat pie and smiling. When he swallowed he said, “You have an inquiring mind, Maggie Whitaker. Francis will be most pleased to meet you.”
She grinned. “I guess I’ll be most pleased to meet him. It still blows my mind to think that I’m going to be talking to the greatest writer in history and that—”
“Blows thy mind?” he interrupted. “I do not comprehend these words.”
Maggie laughed and playfully poked his arm with her elbow. “It means that I will be astonished, amazed, astounded… it will, quite frankly, blow my mind to meet the author of the Shakespeare works.”
“Ahh,” Nick answered with a laugh. “Well, Francis is better informed about these mysteries. Yule was the original celebration of the return of the sun, or rebirth of the God and it was only when Christians took that opportunity to use the birth of the Son, Jesus the Christ, to convert the so-called heathen Europeans who still practiced pagan beliefs that they were successful. Most ancient texts agree that Jesus was born in the spring, yet the church adopted the pagan holy days in order to convert. The true meaning of Yule, existing thousands of years before Christianity, is the celebration of the return of light.”
“More history written by the victors,” Maggie
muttered. “Geez, what else have I been taught and accepted as truth that just isn’t so?” She bit into her pie with near anger.
“Be at ease, Maggie,” Nick said, observing her mood. “The truth has a way of surviving. Even in the darkest period of history, such as the Inquisition, there are always those who secretly hold the light of truth and pass it on. It is but thy impatience that makes you angry”
“I’m angry because I’m coming to realize that what I have been taught isn’t so.”
“It was thy choice, was it not, to accept those teachings?”
She thought about that. “Well, I guess you could say it was, but I didn’t even realize there was another explanation. I just accepted…”
“Do not berate thyself, dear lady,” he said, while smiling into her eyes. “I, too, was raised with those beliefs, and to challenge the Church was heresy and a crime punishable by death. It takes courage to look beyond the obvious, and to refuse to give away your power to another’s version of history without investigation. That is why Francis shall be pleased by thy queries. You are not fearful of using your mind to mink and question. That is a sign of the seeker of truth.”
“Truth…” Maggie murmured, looking at the tall columns with huge stones on top. “Who would believe I have time traveled, and yet it is my truth.”
“I have heard such things as possible,” Nick said, and handed her the wine. “The Celts had a strong belief in the spirit world and were said to have spoken of an in-between time, a non time or place where this world and the other worlds were the closest, and ancestors and the physical world could travel easily to each plane. Francis knows of these things and will better answer thy inquiries.” He looked around the circle, and whispered, “He is a master of the mysteries.”
She merely nodded, and they continued to eat in silence, each caught up in the majestic stones that surrounded them. There was a mystical quality to the place, as though not just the stones but the very ground itself held something undefinable by man, something that no one could attach a label to. It went beyond explanations. It was just there, to be felt and held in awe. And Maggie thought it was holy, if for no other reason than that.
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