Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture (20 page)

“This field is filled with energy,” Angus said.

“It was the center of druid activity before Roman times. Folklore says when the druids were under attack many went underground, literally. They dug beneath the meadow and established the druid stronghold here,” George said.

“Yes, during the day they held positions like any other. But during the night they came out into the meadow and practiced their craft. The air tingles with the excitement.” Angus turned to Rebeka. “Your father loved this meadow.”

“What?” she whispered.

“Why so startled?” Angus patted her hand.

“I didn’t know my father knew about Oak Meadow. He never spoke of it.” Arik let out a sigh. He had come here often with her father when Maximillian tutored him and Bran. He suspected Maximillian visited the meadow in this century after he came through the portal. He tossed that idea around.

“You shouldn’t be surprised. Your father had a great deal of knowledge about and respect for the druids and the fae—how they worked together and even how they parted. Almost all documented folklore is based on his work. You know folklore begins with truth. It’s in the telling that it gets elaborated. Max was trying to get to the truth of the stories. I had hoped he would succeed. There were those who were against him.” He bent his head toward Rebeka. “There is always someone opposed to the truth.” He straightened. “But, well, he left us too soon.”

“Yes he did,” she whispered.

“He seems to have passed his love of folktales and music on to you.”

“Yes. When I think back on things I see how instrumental he was in my life. He spoke about historical people as if he knew them—how they thought, what they ate. He made them all seem real to me. When it was time for me to pick a career, there was never a question that it would be history, working for a school or a museum.” He saw the sadness in her eyes as she spoke about her father. He wanted to take her in his arms and give her his strength to deal with her father’s passing.
Faith
, he wanted her to do the same for him.

“And why medieval history?” Angus asked.

“He hooked me on the romance of the age, the chivalry and the inquisitiveness of the time, the age of discovery. So you see, I had no choice.” Arik could see Maximillian’s influence. She made good use of her skills. He would have been proud of what she’d accomplished.

“Your father was an excellent colleague and great teacher. Some of his findings are landmark discoveries in our understanding of the Ancients in this area. Well, that’s a discussion for another day. Today we’ll discuss the impact of druids on medicine and religion.”

He started for the small platform but turned to Blake and Louise. “It appears to be a list of war items.” He gave the paper back to Rebeka. “I’ll send you a note for your records.”

“Thank you, Angus,” Blake said.

“Let me help you to the platform,” Arik said. Of course it was a list of war items. Angus couldn’t have come to any other conclusion. Rebeka walked with them.

“I had to come. I tried to deny the feeling but I knew I wouldn’t rest easy until I came here myself.” He surveyed the area.

“I don’t understand.” Rebeka sent Arik a questioning stare. The statement had raised Arik’s interest as well.

“I’ve sensed this urgency for some time. It’s not constant, at least it wasn’t until recently. Over the past few months it’s become a compulsion. I was planning on a visit when I received your invitation.”

“What type of feeling?” Arik stepped forward and didn’t try to hide his concern. It was more important that he not get any surprises.

“Something’s not right. The harmony is out of balance.” He searched Arik’s and Rebeka’s faces. “You’re both in great danger. Change is inevitable but this is not a small change.” Angus brought them close so only they would hear. “I fear it’s annihilation.” A meaningful glance passed between them. Arik understood the warning. His observation before he left Logan had been right. What was Bran planning? Would it happen in this century or his? Maybe he shouldn’t wait until Rebeka got her memories back. They could return and he could… What? He was helpless. Utterly helpless. Would he lose Rebeka, his home, his family?

“Thank you, Angus.” The old scholar nodded. Rebeka and Angus headed to the platform.

“Good morning.” The crowd quieted as soon as Rebeka spoke. “I’d like to thank you all for coming this morning. Today, we are honored to have as a guest speaker, Dr. Angus Hamilton. As many of you know, Dr. Hamilton is in charge of the Celtic Studies program at Oxford University. Dr. Hamilton.” She retreated between Arik and Louise in the audience.

“Come closer so you can all hear me,” Angus said. He waited as they all settled. “There are three components to the spiritual way of the ancient druids: being creative in their lives, communing deeply with nature and gaining access to the source of wisdom…”

Annihilation. Arik had mentioned Angus’s words to George but it hadn’t been the time or place for a discussion. If Arik were home he’d be organizing his defenses, seeing to his people and training his men with Marcus and Logan at his side.

He evaluated the makeshift quintain for lance practices and pell with its posts for swords practice that stood idle in the fields—the practice area overgrown in some places, wet bogs in others. He glanced at the buttes in the distance where a lone archery target stood abandoned. They weren’t useable.

Disheartened, he started back to the village. He let his mind wander and could hear Marcus calling orders and putting the men through their paces. His battle-tested men would fight for their homes.

How he would like—

A jolt threw him out of his musing and he glanced about. Finding himself in the center of the village, he wheeled around and evaluated every building.

He considered the major and his men all hardworking. The files he read showed most of the men were displaced veterans, far from home. It was admirable that Rebeka had barracked them but— He rubbed the back of his neck. They were estranged from their families.

He pinched his lower lip while ideas fired off. But first things first—he needed to understand the condition of things, then he could make his plans.

All of these men were battle tested—like his men. The more he considered the idea the more he knew it was the right thing to do—not only for Fayne Manor but for these men.

He pulled out his cell phone. “George? Can you meet me at the gatehouse? Yes…I’m on my way there now.” He put away his phone and hurried on.

“Major, assemble the men.”

“Hear, hear, men. Lord Arik wants to talk to us. Fall in.” He waited while the men gathered.

It took longer than Arik wanted but that meant there was room for improvement. “You’ve done a good job getting the fields ready and the wheat planted.” George stepped into the room and stood by the door. “The work on the mill is going well, too, faster than we planned.”

“Yes, sir,” Bill said. “We were able to find ready-made parts. It cut the cost and time.”

“Good. We have another project.” He plowed ahead eager to judge their reaction. “We’re going to restore the village.”

“Why, is someone moving in?” one of the men asked. A rumble of laughter rolled around the room.

“I’m not certain if they’ll be holding a lottery or assigning houses as people make requests. It depends on how many want free housing.” The men looked at one another for an answer.

“Why would they do that?” A loud buzz erupted in the room.

“Do what, move people into the village?” He waited.

“That, but why give it away free?” He saw the interest on the men’s faces. The buzz in the room was a low roar.

“The village needs people to make it appear real—women doing laundry, children at games. We’ll need families. Those who are already living here would likely be chosen.”

The low roar settled to whispers.

“Our families? We can bring our families?” Frank asked. When they all understood what he was offering the room was quiet.

“As long as they’re willing to be part of the reenactment, I don’t see why not. The pay will be worked out.” These men who had fought so hard deserved more. That would be reason enough. He wasn’t fooling himself. He was well aware this also suited his plan. He needed to protect Rebeka and the manor. Men fighting for their homes would fight longer and harder. They were both winners, which was the best solution of all.

“Where can I sign on? My wife and baby are alone. I’d feel much better having them here with me,” called out one of the soldiers. The murmur of voices started again.

Arik nodded. “Is there anyone else interested?”

Every man raised his hand.

“Very well. I’ll discuss it with Dr. Tyler. Restoring the village will take a great deal of effort. Stonework is difficult. To prepare, we’ll begin training in the morning. The advantage is we’ll train like warriors and we’ll give the guests a good show.”

“We’ve all been through training. We know what to expect.” The soldiers all nodded their agreement.

He scrutinized the men—they wouldn’t disappoint him.

“Frank, we’ll need your expert opinion again and that student who worked with you. I want all the village houses evaluated.” Frank nodded. “Good. We’ll meet at the village in the morning. The rest of you will start removing the debris out of the houses. I’ll see you in the morning. Major, you can dismiss the men.”

The men filtered out past George. He joined Arik in the front room.

“I was able to sell your coins to a collector. He was very excited.” He was certain the man was pleased. The coin was almost solid gold.

“We may be able to excite him even more,” Arik said. He stared at the men from the gatehouse window.

“I was listening.”

“We’re going to restore the village.” His tone was matter-of-fact. His decision was closed to discussion.

“Alright, why?” When they had visited the Stelton estate, only select buildings had been renovated and open to visitors. He would have the entire village reinhabited. Perhaps he could even get the tenant farms working once again. He brushed that notion aside. First things first.

“The village is empty and vacant. It creates an ominous mood. Besides—” he spun on his heel and faced George, “—do you believe Angus’s prediction?” He held George’s stare and let out a heavy sigh. The resignation in George’s eyes was answer enough.

“Yes,” George said quietly. “Unfortunately, I do.”

“The way to build an army is to give the men something to fight for. Something that is important to them.” The rightness of the project grew stronger. Nothing was going to persuade him against it. “These are all good men. They need something to bind them together as a team, to believe in and to protect. It’s not so different than my time.”

“It’s a very good solution. I wish I had thought of it myself. I’ll work with you on the supplies you need. I have some sources eager to help veterans.” He started to leave. “Have you told Rebeka?”

“No, not yet. I think she’ll see the benefit of the project.” His mind was already thinking which buildings to renovate first. The bakery. Yes, that one would be their top priority.

“Training the men for war?” He hoped this preparation would prove unnecessary. That it would turn out to be building houses for the men and their families.

“No, giving her students another eco-socio research project.”

Rebeka hurried along. By the time she turned onto the path to the lake she was at a trot. She jogged in place, removed her sweatshirt, turned on her MP3 player and set out on the trail. Each footfall marked the beat of the music. Her body relaxed. With each deep breath she cleared her mind. Her heart rate ratcheted up with renewed energy and strength. She reached the halfway point and was in her stride. She rounded the lake to the last strains of the newest pop artist singing one of her signature songs. She loved the way the songstress fused elements of pop, blues, disco and gospel.

Her day was planned. The mill project was going well. The latest report showed they had more visitors there than they’d predicted. Joan had put together a solid presentation showing how the mill worked and the engineers spoke about how they were renovating. They even devised a few projects for the guests.

The idea of restoring the village and bringing in the wives and children would keep families together. She’d have to figure out a way to fund the project. George and Cora could help there. Besides approaching some of the veteran organizations, The Retreat had an impressive clientele list. Many were former military and politicians. That would be a good place to start.

She came to the back part of the lake and the music changed to one of her favorite chants. If she wasn’t breathing so heavily she would have chanted along to the soothing sound of the cadence. Rather than turn off the trail and complete her usual circuit, she decided to go on. She could use another half mile and followed the path to Elfrida’s cottage.

She sprinted off the trail toward the cottage’s back door. Breathing hard, she stopped at the chain-link fence and examined the gaping hole. The flash of someone at the window caught her attention. “How many times have I told everyone this cottage is off-limits?”

Armed with nothing but her anger, she wiggled through the hole and marched up the overgrown path. Her hand ran over the holes in the doorjamb where the boards had been pried loose. The rear door stood ajar.

Maybe renovating the village houses was a good idea. Giving the staff a place of their own instead of a bed in the gatehouse may keep them out of places they didn’t belong. “Who’s in here?” She ground out the words between her teeth.

From the rear door she walked along the small hallway. Standing in the narrow corridor, her heart pounded from more than her run.
Wait until I find them. They’ll wish they’d never stepped foot inside this cottage
. As she listened for intruders she was overcome by dizziness and flinched as the walls closed in on her. Someone was behind her. She needed to get out of the hall. She rushed into the middle of the large room at the end of the hall.

Empty.

The only thing there was dust and debris. She peered out the window through the tacked-up boards at the large oak tree in the front yard.

Strong arms encircled her and turned her away from the view. She stared into Arik’s concerned eyes. His smell, all spicy and so unbearably male, tugged at her. He drew her close.

His even and steady breathing gave her strength. He didn’t say a word. She didn’t question the warmth of his body, the hardness of his muscles and the gentleness of his touch, which was all strangely familiar. Rather, she absorbed it. She snuggled close, glad for the silence and safety.

She drew back, took his face in her hands and searched it carefully. It was strong, filled with character and, most of all, tender. Her heart leaped into her throat. “Arik.” She noted the desperation in her voice. She kissed his lips hard and pulled away. “Arik,” she said less urgently. She remembered thinking he was a knight when she first saw him. That he vanquished her terror and she was safe in his arms. She was right. As outlandish as the idea was, she knew it was right.

He held her. His shaking hand caressed the back of her head. She didn’t struggle.

He drew her close and she welcomed his warmth, his touch, his kiss.

“Beka,” he murmured in her ear.

“I…”

“Shhh.” He laid his index finger across her lips. Her head fit perfectly between the hollow of his shoulder and his neck.

Recovered from her fright, she slid out of his arms. “What are you doing here?” Her voice held a measure of surprise.

He gave her a questioning look. “I came to find you.”

“How did you know I was here?”

She got a brief peek as disappointment crossed his face before he took control of his expression. She was certain there was more he wanted to say. But their connection was too new for her to ask questions. “I saw you crawl through the metal fence and knew—”

“I’d need help. When I came to the cottage the fence was broken. I assumed there were vandals in here…” Her brows wrinkled in deep concentration.

“Did you see anyone on the path while you ran?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. Why?” Concern was in her voice.

“I saw two people coming from this direction. Marle and John.” He stared at the door. “Stay here. I’ll search the other rooms.”

Rebeka stood with her arms wrapped around herself. She already missed his warmth and comfort.

He returned. “I found nothing in the other rooms except an empty bottle of wine and this.” He dangled a bra from his index finger.

She shook her head and let out a soft laugh, then removed the pink lace confection from his hand. “It’s expensive. She’ll want it back. I’ll talk to her about finding a more appropriate place for a rendezvous.”

“I’ll talk to him. I’d like to know if he saw anything or if he only had eyes for his lady.”

She smiled at his stern face but she saw the laughter in his eyes. “I better get back,” she said halfheartedly as she stood close to him.

How could she not have known she loved him?