“What is this you speak of now?” Elthea demanded. “Already you have taken ownership of my home. What else do you expect? My jewels, my garments? Take it all, Robert. I care not any longer.” She was fighting tears, her throat burned, and she had to remind herself such emotion would not serve now.
His laugh wounded deeper than she thought possible. “Keep thy possessions. I am speaking of our dear cousin and her… her value. As her closest relatives, we would inherit.”
“Are you mad? You are speaking of killing Lady Margaret!” A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she held on to a nearby table to regain her balance.
“I am only saying should the opportunity arise, that our dear cousin’s estate is passed on to us, I shall expect—”
“Your greedy expectations affirm thy madness,” she interrupted. “You are absolutely unaware… you have not a clue, have you?” She paused, shaking her head in disbelief. “The woman with Nicholas Layton is not my cousin. The true Lady Norreys of Rycote arrives this day, with a full entourage.”
“Now thou art speaking madness,” Robert stated. “She left this very morn with Layton on horseback. Montague reported it, along with others. I will not—”
“You will listen,” she again arrested his words. “The woman with Nicholas is not my cousin Margaret. Granted, I too believed for a short while Lady Margaret met some grave misfortune and arrived under dire conditions. Yet, the woman did not proclaim herself to be my cousin. She bore a remarkable resemblance, enough that I thought her delirious and sedated her to rest. Before she awakened, and I could question her, you had returned from a hunting party, boasting to all your betrothed had arrived and it was to save you, my son, the debacle of feasting a stranger as your future wife, that I implored the woman to play your betrothed for one night.”
Robert ran his hand through his hair. His eyes were wide with bewilderment. “What are you implying? This woman in our house was an impostor?”
“Aye, Robert. ’Twas a deceit necessitated by your own selfish ambition. Your betrothed is very much alive and beloved by Her Royal Majesty, Elizabeth. Should Margaret decide to proceed with the marriage, know that I shall watch over my cousin and her value with my life.”
“Do not blame the miscarriage of your own deception entirely on me, Mother,” Robert interjected. “Evidently, you are as much to blame for the events which are taking place… even as we speak. Such treachery is punishable by—”
“How far does this God of war you worship demand that you go… far enough to condone murdering the woman who gave you life? Ask thyself which master you serve, my son.”
Her last words hung in the room, like stale air, as they continued to stare at each other.
“You will not kill me, Robert,” she finally whispered. “Already your crimes are too many to hide. I would suggest, my son, you call back your men posthaste before you see yourself in the Tower, or worse, without your own head.”
Robert said nothing for a prolonged few minutes. Finally, he sank back into his chair and, looking out the window, muttered, “It is too late. Montague left shortly after them. What has been put in motion cannot be altered.”
The silence in the room was charged with meaning.
“Then God help them,” Elthea said with great, shock and sorrow as she forced herself to walk toward the door. “And God help thee, Robert, for thou shall most certainly reap the harvest of what thou hast sown this day.”
“There is a greater cause,” Robert stated in a sullen voice.
Elthea turned back to look at him. “Yes, there is,” she said quietly. “There is no greater cause than the light of truth. I pray, my son, one day you find it.”
It took every shred of strength to keep walking, and Elthea focused her attention on each breath, each step, as she made her way through her home. Home… suddenly the stone halls were no longer welcoming. They had taken on the deep shadows of her son and she wanted to order water-bowled candles lit in every chamber, every hall, every stairwell and fling open the windows to allow air, light, earth, water for cleansing. Somehow, her heart was telling her it was not her place any longer to keep the energy of this home. Robert had placed his mark this day upon it with his dark deeds. No quantity of candles could burn away his actions.
“M’lady, Will requests thy presence.” Gwen curtsied quickly before Elthea.
Stopping, she looked at the young woman, wondering if she should dismiss the servant who had betrayed her and aided her son in an unforgivable crime. Elthea’s mind filled with the image of Gwen’s mother in the village and her lame brother. Suddenly the fatigue deepened, and she nodded before saying, “I shall see him later.”
She walked past the woman. It was Gwen’s choice to ally with darkness, and she was too weary to confront this issue at the moment. She must get to her chamber as quickly as possible and collect her senses. As though her wishes were now to be tested, several others stopped her on her path, seeking attention. Each one she postponed, determined to reach her destination. When her hand raised the latch on her chamber door, Elthea almost cried out with thankfulness.
Opening the door, she stood for a moment staring at the large room where she had lived for most of her life. She saw her mother’s furniture, the tapestry on the wall her grandmother had created… all the memories… of birth, love, work, learning, contemplation. What once held such memories now felt foreign. Suddenly, she saw she had been in a nunnery, one of her own choosing.
“M’lady…?”
Startled, Elthea spun around to see Evan, holding a tray. She moved aside and allowed him entrance before closing the door. Neither said a word as the steward placed the tray on the writing table and Elthea sat in a chair by the window. Looking out to the countryside, she sighed deeply, wanting to abort the flow of tears that demanded release. Helpless to suppress them, she allowed the cleansing as her thoughts took her to two journeyers of life who were fulfilling their purpose. She could not understand what purpose such an injustice would serve, yet she knew that in the grand tapestry of life it was an integral thread. Her heart went out to Maggie and Nicholas, thrusting her strongest wish that somehow their love survive this madness.
She sensed Evan at her side, and whispered, “Montague is on a mission of death.”
She heard his intake of breath and reached out her hand. He clasped it between his, and when she turned to look up at him sorrow was reflected in his eyes.
“I grieve with thee, my friend,” he said in a voice filling with emotion.
“Oh, Evan… whatever shall I do? I cannot stop this madness of Robert’s. Two innocents…” Tears rolled down her cheeks, and Elthea pulled a silk scarf from the table to wipe them away.
Without word, Evan came closer and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and head, pulling her into his body and allowing her to weep. She clung to him, sobbing for the loss, for the senselessness of it all and the pain it would cause. She had participated in a great story of love, of twin flames uniting. And she had also participated in the deception. If she had only gone to Robert, sent word while he was on his hunting trip that something was amiss with her cousin… anything to have prevented this! She pushed away from Evan.
“Oh, what good does this?” she asked, though not expecting a reply. Wiping her face, she shook her head. “Weeping shall not be of assistance.”
“Grieving can be of assistance. It’s all in the balance of things,” Evan said kindly, pouring her a goblet of wine.
She accepted the silver goblet with the Amesbury coat of arms engraved upon it. Staring at it, she said, “I shall grieve at a later time when it has all played out. Now I must gather my wits to be of assistance to those whose lives are endangered.”
“What can you do?” Evan asked, sitting on a stool beside her.
Sighing, Elthea laid her head against his shoulder, and said, “I can only send my prayers that their love survives this challenge.”
Above her, she heard him say with regret, “I should have seen that Master L
ayton had protection, a sword at the very least!”
She shook her head. “We can both blame ourselves, and that won’t serve the moment.” Handing him the goblet, she said, “Drink.”
He pulled back. “M’lady!”
“Oh, Evan… do not look so affronted.” Wiping at her nose, she added, “We have shared baths as babes and tutors as children. We swam in the River Avon together and hunted imaginary dragons in the woods. Not to mention that thou hast been my confidant, my mentor in many ways, my lover for more years than I care to remember at the moment.” She pushed the goblet toward him. “Surely, drinking from my cup will not shock thee now.”
He smiled tenderly into her eyes. “As you wish, m’love,” he answered, taking the goblet into his hands. “Though I do wish you to recall that neither you nor I chose our stations in this life. And it wasn’t until you were a widow that I permitted my love to show. I honored thy marriage.”
She nodded. “Drink. We both need to be fortified for the thoughts that are swirling through my mind.”
Evan drank deeply and held the goblet in his hands. “What are thy thoughts, Elthea?”
“This is going to sound mad to you,” she began as she looked back out the window. “Though since we are operating in a house of madness now, ’tis no surprise such a notion comes to my mind.”
“Elthea…?”
She heard the plea in his voice to just state it, and so she did, allowing it out there and giving it more power. “I wish to leave Greville Manor. ’Tis my home no longer.”
“Where shall you go? How shall you live?” Evan sounded concerned but not incredulous.
“How long before my cousin arrives?”
“At least two hours more of traveling.”
She looked at him and knew that her eyes were wide with the magnitude of what she was considering. “I shall leave here posthaste and meet Lady Margaret in transit. I am my cousin’s only family, or she would not have agreed to marry my son. I cannot allow her to make that decision without full disclosure of this situation. Should she decide to abort the betrothal, I shall ask to be her companion. I can no longer live in this house.”
Once she had said it aloud, she heard the truth in her words. This was not her home.
“Think of it, Evan,” she continued. “We shall be wanderers. Explorers…” She stopped. “Unless you wish not to accompany me. Thou art the steward of this house.”
He reached out and cupped her chin. “Dear lady, I was but a child when I knew my true purpose was steward of thy heart. Have we not agreed long ago that wherever you go, I shall follow?”
In spite of her tears, she smiled into his eyes. “Thank you for your trust. Perhaps it is time for us to leave everything behind and have our own adventure.”
“Thou shalt leave everything?” the steward in Evan needed to know.
“Oh, no… not everything. I shall not come to my cousin in need. We shall gather my jewels and a few sentimental belongings. The rest Robert is welcome to, for I shall only take one carriage when I leave.” Elthea reached out and clutched Evan’s hand.
“Do not allow anyone to assist us. No one is to be trusted. Gwen has betrayed us, and I no longer wish to rely on others. When I have gathered my things here, and the carriage is waiting, then I shall call the servants to carry everything down. I am determined to leave without another scene with my son.”
She sniffled and again wiped her nose with the tip of her scarf. “We have said all that needs to be spoken aloud. I shall write him of my plans and leave it here.”
Elthea rose, feeling drained… very old and weary. She knew she couldn’t allow this fatigue any more power over her now. She had to summon her strength, she thought, as Evan rose with her.
“I shall do as ye wish.”
“Then it is done,” Elthea said, looking around her chamber and feeling the memories wash over her. “We shall leave as quickly as possible and join my cousin.” Once that decision was made, she felt a measure of relief… but only briefly as her thoughts returned to the two souls most in need of strength.
She looked out the window and covered her eyes as the tears returned.
“Elthea…” he whispered as he came behind her and held her in his arms. “ ’Tis a decision of great import. To leave thy family home and—”
She shook her head. “I am thinking of Maggie and Nicholas, and my heart is breaking at this injustice my son has set into motion. If I could but fly like one of Robert’s falcons, I would warn them, but I am too dense for flight and thus only my prayers may reach them now.”
She stared into the sky, beyond the clouds to the space beyond, and sent out her intent. “Robert is my son and my blood runs in his veins as surely as his father’s. I have loved him since I carried him in my womb, but I swear, Evan, by all that I hold true, one day the scales will be balanced. I shall make restitution and do everything in my power to see the love of these twin flames is never extinguished.”
She clutched his hand at her shoulder. “Of this, I vow!”
Evan blew his breath out in a long sigh as he realized the intent of her words. “And I shall assist thee, my lady, my love… in any time to balance those scales. As I have always done.”
She leaned back against his chest and knew she had written it in the universe.
So mote it be.
Chapter Seventeen
“I… I thought you were disappearing! Everything seemed to be breaking up again into light!” she cried, clutching his hands as he shoved the airplane into them.
“Maggie, we must hurry. Get on your horse!” he commanded, pulling her toward the animals. “We are alone no longer.” He looked to the riders and knew he didn’t have the time to explain.
“Who are they?” She immediately went into action, and he watched her stuff the airplane down the front of her bodice as she hurried to the horses.
“They could be anyone, though my guess is Robert of Amesbury is not pleased.”
“Oh, shit…” she muttered in fright, as he assisted her in mounting. “Honey, I’m so sorry for getting you into this.”
“Nonsense. We are in this together,” he muttered, mounting his horse. “Now ride!”
They raced across the tall grass, away from the huge stones, away from the magic they had found there. He saw she was having trouble keeping up with him, and he slowed the horse to stay at her side, yet saw that the riders were gaining. His heart contracted with fear when he recognized one. Montague.
No longer could he think with fear. Now was the time for clear actions. “Keep riding, Maggie! It’s Montague,” he yelled to her. “There’s the road. Follow it. Don’t stop until you reach the village of Aideine!”
She nodded, urging her horse into a deeper gallop. He knew she was frightened of Montague, yet he also knew she would do whatever it took to outrun them. He saw she was focused and, for her, nothing would detract from their escaping.
Nick dropped back and allowed her to ride ahead, while slowly bringing his horse to a stop. With one last loving look to his beloved, he turned the horse and faced the approaching riders.
Think clearly, his mind commanded. He had been trained by the best tutors in fencing and logic. Suddenly a plan came into his head, and he whispered to Goliath, “If ever I needed you, my friend, it is now.”
Nick lifted his foot from the stirrup, as though to dismount. Gripping the saddle gullet firmly, he swung his right leg over the animal’s back and, locking his knee into the cantle, he gave a quick and silent command to lunge forward. The faithful steed bolted.
Balancing himself upright, supporting himself in just the left stirrup, he charged the first of Amesbury’s henchmen yards away. He allowed his body to move in heaving rhythm to the gallop, while leaning over his saddle and grabbing the leather fender to the right stirrup.
Pulling it up, he was sure the forged steel at the end would be weight enough.
With steady aim, he swung hard.
The blow of the makeshift mace whacked th
e man’s forehead and sent him crashing to the ground. Nick jumped from his horse to the side of the unconscious man. Seizing his advantage, he picked up the man’s sword and turned to the other. In the distance he heard the third rider hurry after Maggie. Hopefully, he had bought her enough time to reach the road.
He stood ready, challenging his opponent to single combat.
Montague dismounted in assured movement. He slapped the flank of his horse to move out of the way. Slowly, Amesbury’s man withdrew his heavy sword and walked with confidence toward Nick.
No words were spoken, nor needed, as the two men filled the air with the clashing of wills and the clanging of metal.
Nick knew he was in a fight for his life and Maggie’s.
Maggie was riding furiously toward the road. Sure Nick was right behind her, she dared not look back. Just get to the road. Follow it to the village. That was all she knew as she raced away from Robert’s men. Montague! Never in her life had she been so terrified by human beings and the horror they could create. She reached the road and slowed to make the turn when a hand reached over and grabbed her reins.
Her mind refused to accept what her eyes were revealing. It was not Nick, but a huge man who looked at her with evil in his eyes. He slowed both horses and turned them around. “Please,” she begged, gasping for breath. “Just… just let me go back to Nick.”
The man didn’t answer her and the blood raced wildly with fear through her veins. Her heart was pounding from the exertion as she looked back to find Nick. Farther off in the field, she could see he was engaged in a sword fight.
It was her fault. She had delayed them at Stonehenge. She couldn’t ride well enough to keep up with him, slowing them down. “Oh, Nick…” she whimpered, fighting tears. “What have I done to us?”
Determined to help the man she loved, she fought for possession of her reins. She would not abandon Nick now. Not ever!
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