Once and Forever

by Constance O'Day-Flannery

  “Thou art the most remarkable human being I have ever met,” he said with sincerity.

  She chuckled. “I’m not remarkable, Nick. Far from it. I can’t explain why that paper plane flew. I don’t have the technical knowledge about thrust and Newtonian physics. I just know it does. Your friend Francis would probably be able to figure it out. Now, there’s a remarkable person.”

  “Thou art remarkable to me, Maggie Whitaker,” he said, studying her lips. “And I love thee with my life. I shall honor thee always, in everything I do.” He didn’t know if she truly understood the depth of his love. “One day I shall write a sonnet about it,” he whispered.

  “You already have,” she said in a low voice. “I just read it.”

  “It is understood? We are one.”

  “Yes, Nicholas Layton. I don’t need a wedding or some official to pronounce it legal in the eyes of God. I have never felt more in the eyes of God than in this moment, and I vow to be your beloved forever. I want no other mate.”

  He felt his eyes filling with emotion and tried to swallow it down. “I am filled with gratitude, and I, too, vow to want no other. I have always loved thee, I love thee still, I always will, my precious one.”

  “Then let’s spit on it,” she said, holding out her hand and grinning.

  He laughed at her antics. She wanted a ritual after all. “Spit on it?”

  “Yes. You know, to seal the deal.” Her almost childish delight was precious.

  Nodding, Nick held out his palm and barely spit.

  Maggie followed suit.

  “Wherever, however, forever,” she whispered with all seriousness.

  How he adored her. “Wherever, however, forever,” he repeated, and shook her hand.

  They grinned at each other and then sealed their deal, and their fates.

  “You may think of me as your husband, madam. And as soon as we get to London, I shall place a ring upon your finger so all others may know.”

  She pumped his hand again. “Deal. You may think of me as your wife, sir. And if you lend me some money until I figure out how to earn some of my own, I shall buy you an identical gold band so all these unmarried ladies don’t swoon over you and make plans to marry you.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. How precious she was! Picking up the piece of cloth that had wrapped their repast, he chuckled, and said, “Here, give me your hand,” and wiped hers with it. “My angel has a spark of jealousy, hmm?”

  She took the cloth and wiped her other hand with it, then playfully threw the cloth to his chest. “Do not even attempt to tell me you were not aware that Lady Marjorie was all but throwing herself into your lap at that betrothal dinner!”

  “I had eyes for none but thee, wife.” He laughed as he wiped his own hands.

  “Hmm…” Maggie said, and looked at him slyly. “Well, I can’t blame her for trying, but it would be very nice to have a ring on your finger that stated you are committed.”

  “Anyone who sees me knows, Maggie. Even Robert was most suspicious. I cannot hide this love, nor, will I ever try.” It was the truth. He no more knew how to conceal what he was feeling than to fly in one of her airplanes.

  “Let me retrieve your model. I want you to show me how it’s done,” he said, standing.

  She stood with him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Okay, you can play for a few minutes. You go get the plane, and I’ll clean up our mess here.” She kissed his chin. “Don’t want to piss off the Druids, ya know?”

  He joined her laughter. “This has been the most delightful interlude, my love. I shall treasure the memory. But thou art correct; we have stayed here longer than I thought we would.”

  She placed both hands to his face, each palm resting upon one of his cheeks. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Nicholas Layton. It has been a magical time. I feel… healed somehow.”

  Her eyes seemed to pull him inside of her, illuminating her soul, and he was stunned by the brilliance of what he saw. It was the future! He could see himself, staring into her frightened eyes, and he was so shocked he immediately blinked to stop it. “Thou art my treasure,” he whispered, smiling. “I’ll get thy creation and we shall fly it for Francis.”

  “Or, you can stay right here. I can make another,” she stated, smiling at him with a very challenging smile.

  “Are you flirting with me, my luscious, unpredictable wife?” he asked in a voice that could not hide his pleasure. He pulled her closer and her breasts crushed against him.

  Her beautiful eyes widened, and her brows arched in feigned innocence. “Why, my lord Nicholas,” she cried with a coy smile and pushed away from him, only to surprise him by bowing before him and adding, “If I have startled you, I beg your forgiveness. I am but a mere woman who is learning precedence, preferment, and attainder. I can only—”

  “You shall pay for this, Maggie Whitaker,” he interrupted with a laugh, immediately reminded of the night in her chamber when they had not just clashed wills but began to recognize each other.

  “Is my back erect?” she muttered without looking up.

  Laughing, he said, “Oh, rise.”

  “I’m practicing. Gotta get used to the customs of this place if I’m gonna fit in.”

  He held out his hand and waited for her to look up. Moments passed, and when she finally raised her head and looked at him, Nick found his breath caught in the back of his throat. She looked so happy!

  “I love you,” he whispered, as she placed her hand in his.

  “That’s why I’m thanking you. You’re some angel, Nickie.” She must have seen how startled he was, for she quickly added, “Now go play with the airplane for a few moments. We have a future to ride into… places to see, angels to meet, history to write… whatever. I’m ready.”

  “Aye, m’lady time traveler.” With a kiss on her adorable nose, he left her and headed for the model lying in the tall grass. As his boots crushed the thin stems, he smiled to himself and thought how Francis was going to fall in love with his wife. What a fortunate man he was to have fallen for the woman who had shown him that once his eyes were opened, angels really did exist and they appeared in their own form, which is the human form. He looked forward to speaking with Francis on this weighty philosophical subject. He had so much to look forward to now… life with his beloved.

  As he bent down to pick up the paper model, he resolved also to focus more on his writing. He knew through Francis that theatrical performances were profitable. He was learning his craft from a master and now he had the inspiration, his own muse. How much more fortunate can a writer be, to be married to his muse? He had only to live with the woman to receive inspiring information. He heard Francis’s voice in his head, reminding him over and over… A message is accepted more readily in entertainments than anywhere else. We communicate with words. Use the words and the truth will be recognized.

  Holding the airplane in his hands, he thought… I shall write our story of angels. Some will hear my message, and I shall provide for my lady with every—

  His thoughts immediately ceased as he felt an imperceptible rumbling beneath his feet. Looking up to the crest of the hill, he saw three riders, and immediately his heart began racing.

  “Maggie!” He shouted her name and watched as she dropped his journal back onto the stone where they had been sitting. Running back, he yelled, “Get to the horses!”

  She seemed stunned and didn’t move as she stared at him with frightened eyes.

  “Mount up,” he yelled, yet she was still staring at him with horror upon her face.

  Her hands reached out to him, grasping, as though he were fading before her eyes!

  “Nick! Hurry!” she yelled, looking terrified.

  His heart clenched in fear.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Elthea sat at her writing table, checking over her list of chores for the coming festivities. “Give this to Will, Gwen, and then make certain Lady Margaret’s chamber is aired.”

  The woman accep
ted the paper and curtsied. “Yes, m’lady.”

  Elthea heard the knock on her door and absently said to Gwen, “Please admit whoever that is and then inform Will of my desires for the betrothal feast.”

  Gwen turned and quickly went to answer the knock. Elthea tried to center her thoughts on the feast and not grant allowance to the persistent shadow of gloom that was broiling in her belly. Worry most certainly never alleviated a concern, and yet she could not deny what she felt.

  “M’lady?”

  She turned from her writing table and saw Evan standing before her. Immediately, her heart lightened with his presence… then she saw his expression. “What troubles thee, Evan?”

  Her dear childhood friend and confidante seemed most distressed.

  “The courier thou hast sent to find Lady Margaret has returned. Thy cousin is en route and will be arriving within hours.”

  “Thank heavens Maggie and Nicholas have left for London,” Elthea announced, and then her instincts kicked back in and demanded her attention. “There is more? Something is troubling thee.”

  Evan seemed reluctant to speak.

  “Tell me.”

  “The courier saw three of Lord Amesbury’s men traveling toward London at great speed. One was Montague.”

  Elthea immediately rose and clutched her stomach as fear raced through her body. Montague was Robert’s henchman, a soul without principles who felt no remorse at killing another, especially if ordered by his lord, her son… Robert.

  “If there is more information, I need to know everything.”

  “Only that I questioned the boys in the stables and they reported that Montague and the others were heavily armed. I fear this is not mere chance. Grave circumstances may lie ahead, m’lady.”

  Elthea came forward and grabbed Evan’s arm. “What has my son done?” she asked, as she pictured Maggie and Nick, unarmed, alone against such a force of violence.

  Evan gently placed his hand upon Elthea’s and held it tenderly. “M’lady… I will support thee in whatever you desire.”

  Elthea smiled briefly and nodded, then turned and began pacing her room. “I must confront Robert and see if I can untangle his machinations, whatever they may be. I cannot allow those innocents to come into harm’s way.” She stopped pacing and faced the steward, who was far more than a household servant to her. “That is it. I shall confront my son. I see no other option until I find out the facts.”

  Evan nodded. “I implore thee to exert caution, m’lady. Thy son…” His words trailed off.

  “Aye… he is my son, and I am well aware of his distorted perception of truth. I shall be cautious, dearest friend.” Elthea hurried to the door and flung it open.

  She raced through the large house, passing servants without acknowledgment, until she came upon Robert’s inner chamber and house of office. She tried not to imagine any impending disaster, not to give it power, yet her heart was racing, and her belly was twisted in knots of fear. She didn’t even knock.

  He was sitting in a chair before the large arched window, his legs crossed and resting upon the stone sill. Holding a goblet in his hand, he stared through the glass as though lost in his thoughts.

  “You disappoint me, Mother. It took you longer than I thought to discover I, too, have ‘eyes’ in my home.”

  “What have you done, Robert?” Her mind seemed like a swirling pool, and one thought seemed to emerge.

  “Gwen!” she blurted out with the sudden knowledge. The young woman had been playing both sides of the fence.

  He didn’t answer, nor did he move a muscle.

  Standing behind him, she repeated, “What have you done?”

  “The golden angel creates miracles, no?” he asked. “From the right person, ten shillings can buy anything, even devotion.”

  In her mind’s eye, she could see him smiling. “You are master of that, my son,” she answered with sadness. “Upon what mission have you sent Montague?”

  Robert sipped his wine and slowly said, “Why, to retrieve my honor, my lady mother. I sacrificed the pleasure of watching it extracted from Layton’s body, for this very meeting with thee…Mother.”

  She felt a stab of fear in her back, as though someone had taken a knife and thrust it into her spine. Attempting to stay calm, Elthea called upon every force of light in the universe to come to her aid. Lives rested upon the outcome of this encounter. “You have sent your henchman, Montague, on a mission of death?”

  He spun around so quickly Elthea was startled, yet held her composure as she faced her son. Her heart tightened with a mixture of fear and sadness as she awaited his reply.

  “Why do you fight me so?” he demanded, his face distorted with anger. “I shall never see the world through your eyes. Mine are opened to what must be accomplished in order that our ways be restored. My mother deceives me and aids others in my home to disrespect me. Am I to allow my betrothed to shame me before my house and to run away with a spineless troubadour who is also my political enemy?”

  “Have you ordered Montague to kill Nicholas Layton?” she demanded, no longer afraid. She stepped closer to her son, and said as calmly as possible, “Have you shamed my home with such a blatant act of desperation?”

  They stared into each other’s eyes, and Elthea felt the force of Robert’s challenge. Perhaps such a meeting was destined, as mother and son faced somber matters.

  “I am the Lord of Amesbury. This is my home, and you have disgraced it by abetting mine enemies.”

  “Robert, Nicholas is not your enemy for this woman’s affections. Love cannot be dictated,” she said, trying to break beyond his wall of anger.

  “Love!” Robert scoffed and shook his head as he turned back to the window. “Do not deceive yourself now, Mother, by entertaining thoughts I might have loved the woman. She was but gold and silver to me, a means to victory. Love is a myth. Women refuse to see it as such.” He paused for a moment. “Did you, Countess Elthea, love my father?”

  “Yes, Robert, I did,” she whispered. “Though the love I shared with your father was not the love shared by Nicholas and this woman, I did. Love is real, my son, and in the name of love I ask again, have you sent Montague on a mission of death?”

  “Surely you do not think I would answer that query and indict myself? My honor shall be renewed and one more political spider… spinning its own web shall be swept away. That is all you need know.”

  Elthea felt the wounding of his words. “You have taken much upon your shoulders, my son,” she said with deep sadness. “This action shall ever alter you, and you shall surely see it revisited, for that is the way of the world. I pity thee.”

  He turned from the peaceful view. “Pity me? Pity thyself, dear mother, for I am considering a nunnery for thee!”

  She inhaled with shock and recovered blessedly quickly. “This is my home, Robert of Amesbury, son of my womb, who would not be breathing God’s good air had I not given thee life. Beware your words, for they shall resound throughout the universe and already you have a large debt to pay in the balance. Your church in Rome with its nunneries is not welcomed in this land, nor in my heart. ’Tis a delicate game you play, my son, aligning with the darkness when it is so desperate to keep its power that murder is condoned.” She paused. “Never forget, your own end may be in its future, for there is no leash on this mad dog now.”

  “You speak in riddles, trying to disguise your deceit. You work against me, in my home, in my political ambitions, in my duty to my God… who has been cast down by heretics intent on destroying his one true church!”

  “Robert,” she pleaded, wishing with all her heart he would hear her. “You are fighting a natural law from which you have no defense. Time. Change. The forward-thrusting movement of all things. Do you actually think there is one true church? One chosen people? Is it not the same arrogance, cloaked in a different robe? Are not wars fought with those issues held on banners? And all with such… such a desperation to be proved correct? To believe they are the only
beloved of God and no other? Do you worship such a jealous God of war?” She paused for only a moment to catch her breath. “Is that why you have ordered someone’s murder?”

  “Thou art a woman,” he almost growled. “You know not of such things which grip a man’s heart. I am living in a country where a virgin whore sits upon the throne, whose father committed murder time over to achieve his end by divorcing himself and his people from my God. I will see another ruling this country, one who will listen to reason. And not one of her bastards!”

  “Reason? Do not speak to me of it, nor that I am but a woman,” she said in a controlled voice. “Heavens above I have my wits about me or I wouldn’t possess my sanity, surrounded by men who are blind. It is no wonder Elizabeth remains unbound by a man. His terrified’ mind alone would drive one to proclaim herself again virgin! You, Robert of Amesbury,” she said, pointing her finger, “are living in an illusion that you can turn back time for it is where you feel safe… in the past. Time is always moving, like wind across a pond creating ripples. The Roman Church will never regain its dark hold in this country. Minds, thoughts, have expanded, like a bladder of wine… once expanded it can never shrink back in size. I pray that the day will come when all are free to choose to worship the One by following their own heart.”

  “Thou art a witch,” he pronounced with a snarl. “I have overlooked your rhetoric in the past, but now you have declared thyself. Beware, mother. For I—”

  She held up her hand and interrupted, “I have no need to know what you might do to me. You cannot make my mind a prisoner. I thank the heavens the Inquisition is over in this country and a renaissance of thought is emerging. And that is your fear, my son. Thoughts are not being controlled any longer by Rome. Queries are being made. Answers sought. Freedom should not bring you such terror.”

  Robert slammed his fist against the stone wall. “I will not speak on this any longer.” He turned toward her quickly changing his tone. “Know that should we receive any… news of an unfortunate nature, I fully expect you to do what is in the best interest of your lawful, rightful heir.”