Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture (19 page)

“Who told you to plow this up?” Rebeka paced a small spot wearing out the short grass.

“We discussed it three days ago when you gave Bill and the mason the order for the mill.” She rubbed her temples. Her headache cut between her eyes. She had to get a grip on this. Her mind was more jumbled than usual.

“We did not. I clearly remember discussing the parkland but I didn’t decide whether to move this forward. I don’t like this, Arik. You’ve come here like you own the place. You don’t. I do. No decisions will be made without my direct orders. Do I make myself clear?” Her chin rose in a blatant challenge. She blanched at the dangerous glint that flashed in his eyes but stood her ground.

She’d certainly told him. Now he knew who was in charge.

He wheeled around to her. He made no attempt to hide the storm that brewed underneath. “We ordered the grain when we ordered the items for the millworks. You placed the order yourself because you wanted to be in control. I am not one of your students, Dr. Tyler, and will not be treated as such. Do I make myself clear? I’m here to do a job and I will do it the best way I know how.” He left without waiting for her to respond.

She pulled out her cell phone, dialed George then stomped back to her cottage.

“George, how long do you intend for Arik to stay under my roof?” He had charmed not only the women who visited the manor but now George.

She was breathing hard. She marched up the drive, frustrated and agitated.

“Rebeka, it’s not your roof. Technically, it’s still the National Trust’s roof. At this moment, they can take the bloody roof down if they want.” Startled by his verbal attack, she was rigid with shock. He had never spoken a harsh word to her.

When he continued, his voice was calmer. “We can speak about this later. I’m off to court.”

She ended her call and shoved her phone into her pocket as she entered her cottage. Nothing seemed to calm her. Perhaps a run would get rid of this pent-up energy.

She jogged over toward the lake, stowed her towel and water bottle by the large boulder. Her eyes focused on the trail that was a natural track around the lake. She did her stretches and lunges. She jogged in place to get in the right frame of mind. The gentle lapping of the lake, the rustling of the trees all had a calming effect but she needed more. She started out with a slow, even gait and increased her pace until it was an all-out sprint, running as if the devil himself were chasing her. After a while her muscles were screaming. She pushed harder to the halfway point then eased back on her stride. She was calmer than she’d been in days.

She had a lot of work to do to prepare for Angus Hamilton, a guest lecturer, who was coming from Oxford tomorrow. That was a coup. He was a guest lecturer and an expert in linguistics. The Trust would recognize his translation. That would work very nicely. Louise was bringing John Blake, a member of the Trust Board to hear the lecture. Angus’s work was great but in person he would be more compelling.

Blake. She was certain his primary mission was to see the manor. Receipts hadn’t been as good as expected. She needed to put his mind at ease and it had to be something substantial and impressive.

Her mind wandered to the conversation about the seed order. She had ordered seeds rather than harvested grain. She should straighten that out with Arik. Why had she gone off like a madwoman? Was it to cover up the strong desire that drew her like a magnet? Or was it his outstanding knowledge of the seventeenth century?

She stopped. Could it work? She resumed at a trot. Everyone would be in costume when Angus and Blake arrived. She had wanted to show both of them the reenactment and the authenticity they had created. Arik was the most authentic and magnetic personality of the group. If she could get him involved… She needed to think this through.

She saw him ahead by the large boulder with one of the men and jogged over to them.

“It might work. We should be able to drain the water off that lower part of the field into the lake,” the engineering student said.

“Good. Add that to the plans and give Mr. Hughes an estimate of the cost.” The man made his notes. He and Arik started toward the manor.

She put her hand on his arm. He looked at it, then at her. “You go on ahead. I’ll meet you at the field,” Arik said. The student nodded and continued on the path.

He said nothing, just stood there. She removed her hand, opened her pouch and took out a bottle of water, trying to decide how to begin.

“That’s a nasty scar on your leg.”

She glanced at the deep scar on her thigh. She hadn’t considered it in months. She agreed it was ugly.

“It must have been serious. How did you get it?” She bit the side of her cheek, trying to figure out what was so important about her scar.

“I don’t like to speak about it.” George and Cora had also questioned her about the mark. She would be more than happy to tell all of them but she had no idea how she got it. “You’re right, I did order the seed.” She paced in front of him. “I don’t know what made me so angry.”

He didn’t say anything.

She stopped and let out a deep breath. “I’m not myself lately.” He turned to leave.

“Wait. Please.”

He glanced over his shoulder toward her, his eyes more blue than green, a sign he was in a temper. “For what?” he snapped. She deserved that after making a scene in front of the others. What had she been thinking?

“I don’t know what’s come over me. One minute I hate you and another I—”

“Yes, I’m quite aware of your feelings. They’re of little concern. I’m here to make Fayne Manor as profitable as possible and I will do that whether you hate me or find me agreeable.” He had the most compelling blue eyes when he was in a fit. They also pinned you in place. She wanted to look away but she deserved the scolding. She stood straighter and apologized with her eyes, hoping he saw her sincerity.

“Yes, I understand.” She took a deep breath.

“I assure you I am not the enemy.”

She had the notion his voice was gentler. “No, you’re not, but something inside me fights you.” Her voice was a whisper. “Perhaps we should start over.”

“Perhaps.” But she didn’t think he meant it. Her head hurt with his indifference. She had no idea when his approval had become so important to her but it had. Without it she was drowning, searching for a safe haven when there was none. “Enjoy your run.”

He took her staff and held it out to her. Her touch made the staff glow. She stared at it then at Arik. “The sun must have caught it just right. Or maybe it’s a magical sign.” Arik’s gaze met hers. He remained silent but Rebeka saw the disappointment on his face.

“I was… I didn’t mean to offend you,” she hurried to add. Hadn’t she made things bad enough? He gave her a curt nod and released her staff.

She watched him go back toward the manor.

When would she learn to keep her mouth shut?

Rebeka entered the library sipping her third cup of coffee. She was a little out of character. Coffee in a paper cup and a seventeenth-century lady of the manor was incongruous to say the least. She needed to gather the materials for this morning’s lecture and the visit from the Trust. They’d be arriving any minute.

On top of her things was a note from George. “Left to get Angus. This came to my office. See you later.”

Before she opened the envelope she knew it was Ian’s letter about the document she’d asked him to translate.

“
Your Pictish must be rusty. True, there isn’t much use for the archaic language these days but I still insist you misinterpreted some of the significant words. Here’s my translation.”

Rebeka read what he sent and wanted to crush the paper. “He’s wrong.” She threw the paper onto her desk in disgust. She left to meet her students but she couldn’t get her mind off the translation. Too much was riding on this document, especially if she couldn’t find the proclamation.

Calm down
. She spoke to Angus and he was more than happy to review the document and give his opinion. What if Angus’s translation supported Ian’s? No, that wasn’t possible. Perhaps she could let George or Cora host this morning’s lecture. They could introduce Angus and she could get back to searching for the proclamation.

Angus would understand her absence. No, she couldn’t do that. She hadn’t seen him in a long time and was eager to catch up with him. He used to visit with her father at the university in upstate New York. They were old friends.

She got to the gatehouse as Louise and John Blake arrived. She waited patiently as they got out of the car.

“Good morning,” Louise said.

Louise slid out of the car with a catlike grace and gave Rebeka a warm welcome, as if their sparring at the lake had never happened. She wished she knew what was going on in Louise’s head. She knew the woman hadn’t forgotten their match. Time enough for that later.

“You look lovely, Lady Rebeka. You know John Blake. He’s on the Trust’s Advisory Panel for Learning and Engagement. We were speaking about Sloan’s document on the way over.” Sloan’s document. When did it become Sloan’s document? A quick glance at Louise’s satisfied grin and she understood. It was payback for dumping her in the lake. That was fine with her. She’d do it to her again in a heartbeat. Excusing herself may be the better move. She didn’t know if she could be civil to Louise today.

“Yes, Dr. Tyler. I’d like to speak to you about that but first,” Blake said, “thank you for your invitation. I’ve been eager to see the progress you’ve made and hear Angus. I understand he’ll be speaking today on druids.” She was still trying to decide whether George or Cora could stand in for her. She could see Angus when the lecture was over. And as for Blake, she didn’t have any time for the man. A cough behind her caught her attention. Arik put his hand on her shoulder. She let out a breath and the tension eased.

Another heartbeat and she was ready to begin.

“We’re glad you’re able to be with us today. Why don’t we go into the garrison?” That wasn’t so difficult. She ushered them through the door.

“I see everyone is dressed in period.” Blake glanced around with a pleased expression. Two students ushered him and the others to their seats.

“Yes, consider the gate a time portal that transports you back to the seventeenth century,” Joan said. “We’ve put together a presentation document for you with a map of the manor and how we’re utilizing the buildings. It also lists the classes in which guests can participate. We’re in the process of planning semester-long classes that will be available for both on-site and online students. It’s all done in period.”

“How clever.” Blake’s smile was genuine. Joan did an excellent job. Arik had been right to suggest that the students present. “I’d like to discuss Ian Sloan’s translation with you,” Blake said to Rebeka.

“Well, Mr. Blake, you’ve come at an opportune time.” The idea came to her when Joan mentioned
in period
. She concentrated hard.
Arik, work with me on this
. “Today is Lord Arik’s day for settling disputes.”

Blake gave out a hearty laugh. “That’s very good, Dr. Tyler, but Lord Arik is only an actor. How will he know?” She gave him her most dazzling smile then stood by Arik.

“M’lord, in your capacity as lord of the Fayne Manor we ask that you settle our dispute.” She ended with a curtsy. She decided to act the lady with all the deference to her lord as she could. Submissive was not in her blood but if Arik played along, they could do it.

He gave her a smile and a nod of acceptance. “For the lady of the manor, of course. What is the issue?” His commanding tone got everyone’s attention.“Dr. Sloan and I have different interpretations of this Pictish text. We need it resolved.”

Arik stood by the table, Mr. Blake in a nearby seat. “What is Dr. Sloan’s interpretation?”

“Basically,” Blake said, “he believes the document is a list of provisions. Nothing more.” Blake held up the paper.

“To some extent he’s correct and it wouldn’t hold any significance. However, it’s what the provisions are for that gives the document its meaning.”

“How do you know what it’s for? It doesn’t say anything.” Blake turned the document every which way, showing that there was nothing there. She observed Blake’s amused expression become serious. She hoped Arik understood their predicament.

“Do you have a date for the writing?” Arik asked Blake as he examined the document.

“I believe Dr. Sloan estimated about 900 AD.”

“I would think the year alone would make this very valuable. However, this is a list for the siege of Chippenham by Alfred the Great and Mannis.”

The man looked at him, a dubious expression on his face. “That’s absurd. How can you know that from this scrap?” Blake’s astonished expression didn’t faze Arik, nor did it faze her. She surveyed the room. He was a magician. He’d captured everyone’s attention and held them spellbound, her included.

“Look at the items, the references, where it was found and the date.”

Blake glanced from Arik, to Rebeka, then to Louise. Rebeka let herself relax. The issue wasn’t settled but at least Blake was listening and hadn’t dismissed it. She took a big chance bringing Arik in like this but her instincts were right. It was working.

“Let me clarify a few points,” she added. “Dr. Sloan said it was from about 900 AD. That puts it around Alfred the Great. There is a notation, ‘King’s Lodge,’ in the upper-right corner. We found it among the estate papers.”

“We know Chippenham is the location of Alfred the Great’s hunting lodge,” Blake added, a light of recognition in his eyes.

She wasn’t certain if Arik maintained his serious attitude for effect but he studied the document carefully. “The items listed include arbalest, ladders, hooks, rope and timber. All these materials would be important for a siege.”

Blake gave it serious consideration. She watched him weigh what Arik said. “Rope and timber? They could be used for anything.” Blake’s matter-of-fact voice challenged Arik’s words.

Arik raised his head from the paper, a thoughtful expression on his face. “If the arbalest wasn’t listed I would agree with you.” He paused then leaned forward. “But it is and that’s what changes everything.” His finger tapped the document. “An arbalest is a crossbow specifically used for sieges. That puts the rest of the items into the perspective of a siege.”

Another strategic pause. “Rope and timber are the materials for building siege engines. Ladders and hooks are devices used when scaling the wall and attacking. Put those facts together with the date and reference in the upper corner and I think it becomes very clear what this list represents.” Finished, he laid his hands over each other on the table and waited for Blake to speak.

“It doesn’t say siege hooks and siege ladder, if that is what they are,” continued Blake.

In her opinion, Arik had already won this battle based on his hard facts. “Historians labeled them siege hooks and siege ladders for their own purposes,” Rebeka said. “People of the time called them hooks and ladders. You must examine things in the context of their century and not with your twenty-first-century eye.” She blatantly repeated the lesson she’d learned from Arik.

Blake glanced at both of them. “Your argument is very compelling.” He smiled and got to his feet. “I see how you’ve managed this project, not with actors but rather with authorities. I like this approach.” He turned to Rebeka. “Well done. But we’ll need a third opinion for the document. One that’s unbiased.”

“I’ve asked Angus for his opinion,” Rebeka said.

“Excellent.”

“John, let me show you the museum until Angus arrives.” Louise threaded her arm through Mr. Blake’s and directed him to the other building.

Rebeka took the document. “That was an impressive piece of deduction.”

Arik didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. The outcome spoke for itself. But it was more than that. His presence gave her confidence, made her feel…safe.

And that made no sense.

“Ah, there you are. Dr. Hamilton will be here shortly.” Cora hurried into the room.

Rebeka turned to Arik. “Angus is a guest lecturer and a good friend. He’s a bit eccentric. He asked to hold the class at the large oak tree at Oak Meadow.”

“Is that unusual?” Arik asked. “In the time of the druids the meadow was their classroom.”

“That does fit well. His presentation is
Druids, Their Religion, Their Medicine, Their Time
. He’s well known and we’re very lucky he was available.” She paused. She wanted to tell him something special, that few would know. Maybe then he’d forgive her. “He was also a good friend of my father.”

Arik didn’t say anything. She swallowed hard and bit back her tears. He wouldn’t forgive her.

“My father was a historian. He specialized in Celtic history. Dad and Angus were good friends. Would you like to attend?” She found herself holding her breath, hoping he would.

“If you like.” She doubted he knew that when he smiled at her that way it made her heart stop. She was certain he didn’t.

By the time Arik arrived at Oak Meadow students were gathered under the great tree waiting for Dr. Hamilton. He could feel the anticipation in the air. He made his way through the crowd headed toward the roadway. Many shouted their greeting. He nodded to some, raised a hand to others. He took in the sweet smells of the flowers and trees and let the energy fill him.

It wasn’t much different than when he took his instructions here as a druid novice, with Bran at his side. He wished he had those days back. Logan had been right. He shouldn’t have avoided Bran. It was his obligation. He should’ve stayed with him when Cay died. Maybe he could’ve prevented… He pushed Bran out of his mind.

As he arrived, George, Cora, Rebeka and their guest were getting out of the large motorcar.

“Dr. Hamilton.”

Angus turned at his name.

“How good it is to see you,” Blake said as he and Louise approached, breaking into the small group.

“Mr. Blake, Ms. Richards. Good to see you. Thank you for coming to the lecture,” Angus said.

“Angus, this is my cousin Arik from the north.” George put a hand on Arik’s back.

“Dr. Hamilton.” He dipped his head in respect. At first glance, Angus reminded him of Doward—clever, wise and with a streak of good humor. Maybe it was the white hair, his height, or his eyes. Something ancient stared out at him.

Angus looked Arik up and down and gave him an acknowledging nod. Then he turned back to Rebeka, a paper in his hand. “Is this the document you called me about?”

“Yes. We’ve been having this debate—Arik’s interpretation of the translation and its significance as opposed to Ian Sloan’s. The National Trust hopes you can settle the issue.”

“Of course. I’d be glad to.” Angus examined the copy. “When did you say it was written?”

“Ian dated it circa 900 AD.”

“And where was it found?” Angus stroked his beard and appeared absorbed in the document.

“Among the family’s estate papers.” Nervous energy radiated from Rebeka. Arik moved behind her and her shoulders relaxed and the air around her quieted.

“Walk with me?” Angus asked Arik. Steady on his feet but using a cane, he traipsed with the others through the meadow toward the oak tree.

Angus was a spry white-haired man with a close-clipped beard. His blue eyes, faded with age, hadn’t lost their twinkle. He surveyed the area and took everything in.

The others were a few steps behind when he and Angus dipped their heads under the low-hanging oak branches. Arik caught the murmur of a prayer in reverence to the mighty tree.

“You’re not from here.” Angus faced him with an open smile.

“No, I’m from the north.” Arik repeated what George had already told the scholar.

Angus hesitated then moved on. “That’s not what I meant.”

Arik studied the man.

The professor already knew, so why deny it? “No, Angus. I’m not.”

“Beware, m’lord. There is more going on here than you know.” Before he could ask for clarity, the others arrived. “Don’t worry. We’ll talk later,” Angus said to him privately.