ROOK AND RAVEN: The Celtic Kingdom Trilogy Book One (19 page)

That is what had incited the coup. When King Niall had gone to the Lady of Rhiannon to ask if there was a way to reverse the spell that made conception impossible and suggested the union between Conal and Astrid, the kingdom had gone insane.  The Gooar and their followers would
not
allow their beloved bloodline to be corrupted with Celtic blood for anything other than a sacrifice to fulfill their prophecy.  There would be no union leading to peace.

The idea to merge the two lines in harmony had erupted in a violence that had caught the last king totally unprepared.  It was clear there would be no reasoning with the Black Axes and their fanatic priesthood.  He often wondered how his own mother had felt about the idea of marrying the Prince of Celtica.  He could only imagine it was with horror.  He supposed she would
have married Ulrich himself if she hadn’t been ordered to marry his father.  The Vikings had worked to secure alliances on the continent and within England itself.  His mother had played an important role in coordinating those who were sympathetic to the Viking cause in England.  His mother was a traitor.  His horse protested by tossing his head when his hands clenched the reigns too tightly.   

His mother and her alliances still confused him.  Why she married his father he understood (more of that crossing of the Viking line) but why she had befriended a family that had sided squarely with the King of Celtica bothered him.  It also raised questions over events that had unfolded at Pemberly and what role his mother might have played.  It was sad day when one could all too easily accept one’s mother as a possible murderer.

The truths that had begun to dawn upon him left his mother one more problem for him to resolve.  He would have to deal with her before he returned to Celtica but those thoughts would have to wait as Menwith had been reached.  Just trying to figure out all the threads, possible enemies and schemes was enough to give even the most thinking man a headache.  He was happy to have something active to do to stop the swirl of possibilities running rampant through his brain.

Twilight was coming on as he edged silently to the brink of the woods above Menwith.  He sat on the hill above the house waiting for the shadows to deepen as he planned his best approach. The house was situated among rolling
woodlands and had walled gardens and a small maze.  It was not the largest manor he had ever seen, but built of weathered and solid stone.  The windows were long and mullioned below dozens of brick chimney pots and tall pitched roofing.  A short, but pleasantly curved, drive led between tall wrought iron gates.  It was a location that afforded privacy, little pomp, and small expectation that a king, albeit a dispossessed king, would be in residence. 

He had to give Tamworth credit for his choice of accommodations under the circumstances.  It also set just enough above the surrounding land to give a good 360 degree view from the upper windows and yet still protect the lower levels from any prying eyes.  He could see the home farm in the distance and it looked sizable enough to provide for the house’s needs.  It was a self-sufficient property.

He had to make certain his were the only eyes focused upon Menwith and then decide how to separate the king from the household.   It was a challenge, but among things he had learned from Bishop was patience and caution.  Those were two things he had severely lacked when they had first met.  They were the first lessons Bishop had set for him.  They had been hard lessons and frustrated him wildly, while amusing Bishop.  He had turned Sebastian to training task after task until most days he was sore to the bone and exhausted before night fell.

He reached for the amethyst in his pocket and prepared to clear his mind.  Properly used, focused, the crystal enhanced his own human senses
and allowed him to create a field of resonance.  The field the amethyst created would sense danger for him, with great range and even greater accuracy then just holding the crystal.  First he pulled the small bag of sea salt from his saddlebag and prepared to raise a circle of protection.  It was the first lesson he had received from the Ladies.  The last thing he needed was to announce his presence if anyone down there had the ability to sense magic or if any priest of Odin was in the area. He would never have imagined that the tools of a spy could also include magic, he smiled to himself.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

While miles away to the South Sebastian prepared to infiltrate one of the

Duke of Tamworth’s residences, Jessy and the rowdy inhabitants of Mallory’s End were nearing the end of the birthday celebration.  Jessy’s twenty sixth birthday had her head awhirl but she had to put it aside for the sake of the children.  They had worked so hard and so looked forward to a happy day of food, games and presents she couldn’t let them down by moping about. The lawn in back was decorated with streamers, cut out paper flowers and strangely shaped paper figures she could only assume were meant to represent Abe.  They had even made paper lanterns which now glowed softly in the gathering dusk.  

Abe hadn’t escaped the festivities.  The children had taken the time to weave his silky mane with ribbons and he sported a large blanket that said

“Happy Birthday!” in great childish block letters.  The only thing missing was Sean.  He should have been here at least two hours ago.  Jessy leaned back into the bench she shared with Maureen and watched her son and his “cousins” dash about the lawn chasing the little flashes of light the children insisted were will o’ wisps.  They were simply fireflies but she wasn’t going to spoil the magic.

She remembered chasing them herself in the dark with David and

Sebastian back on the lawns of Pemberly while her parents had indulgently looked on.  Father had always had a few nets and jars about for just such occasions.  Sometimes he had leaped about with nearly equal enthusiasm as the children to compete over who could catch the most.  She could still hear her mother’s laughter floating across the night air.  She had laughed so easily, loved so much and it often caught Jessy unaware, these moments when she watched Trystan at play.  It hurt to know that her own mother would never hold her grandson.  She shook her head to cast away the thoughts and tucked her hand more firmly into Maureen’s.

“I didn’t want to end the party until Sean showed.  It’s not like him to be late.  He told me specifically he would be here.  He never lets the children down.  David also doesn’t like me to ride back in the dark.  He’s such a worrier,” Jessy gave a small laugh.  She loved riding in the moonlight.

No sooner had she finished speaking than a tin horn was heard tooting away like mad at the gate and the children and dogs rushed en mass to greet their uncle.  Only Sean ever arrived with such fanfare!  She and Maureen followed only slightly slower with skirts raised so they could dash for the gate too.  The children, with the help of Mr. Ellesbury, Mallory’s End farm manager, were opening the gate to a dashing barouche.  Sean had a colorful cockade tucked into the brim of his low crowned hat and cried “Make way! Make way!”  With a grand air for the benefit of the children he slowly drove along the drive before stopping in front of the house.

“Last but not least to arrive my darlings!” he smiled and let the children clamber up into the barouche for a round of hugs and hair ruffling.  Uncle Sean was an absolute favorite and the children were beyond thrilled he had arrived at long last.

He jumped down handing his reigns to the stable boy who had come running, eyes agog at the magnificence of the barouche and eager to get his hands on such a wonderful carriage.

With a hand raised Sean stopped him while he reached into the back seat to pull out several packages and hand them with an elaborate bow to Jessy.  He then reached into a bag on the seat next to him and tossed colorfully wrapped candies into the air and the children shouted and squealed with joy as leaped about attempting to catch the sweet bounty.

“Though it be a day early, happy birthday my dove!” he smiled.  But to the sharper adult eyes upon him there was a strain around his eyes. 

Obviously the reason for his delayed arrival had not been a pleasant one.

Jessy tucked the packages he had handed her under one arm and leaned in to kiss Sean on the cheek murmuring in his ear, ‘Tell us later?” To which Sean nodded and gave her a kiss in return.

Trystan bounded forward to try and get a look at the packages under his mother’s arm.  She twirled about laughing trying to keep them away from his curious hands and eyes.

“Mine!” she said with mock sternness and a finger pointed to his nose.  

They all made their way back to the lawn which glowed so magically with the paper lanterns and Sean couldn’t restrain a laugh when he saw Abe bedecked with birthday cheer and head in the nearest apple tree.  At the sound of their return the horse turned his head with obviously startled guilt and forgot to crunch down on the apple grasped between his large white teeth.  He gave a meek dip of his head and slid his eyes sideways as he made the apple disappear.  

“It’s a good thing I brought the barouche for you, not only due to the lateness but I’m not sure if Abe will be able to carry you after how much he probably ate today. It would take a small miracle to get the girth around that belly!” Sean pulled her arm through his and headed for the table covered in the detritus of the party.  Assorted burst crackers, cake crumbs, bits of tart and a half empty punch bowl took up most of the space and with a quick sly smile Sean pulled a flask out of his driving coat and dumped the contents into the punch bowl.

“We better make certain the children don’t decide they want more punch,” Jessy said wryly. 

“The punch is now officially off limits to any shorter than Maureen.  After my day I need a drink most desperately but promise to stay sober enough to drive you home.  I vow I will not overturn us in a ditch,” He filled a cup for

Jessy and himself and raised his cup to tap it against hers.

“I must admit twenty six does put you firmly on the shelf.  You might have to get yourself married before this year is over or you will become a positive ape-leader,” he teased.  Among the
ton
a woman of her age was certainly approaching the “shelf.” The only thing saving her was the status of widowhood.  Between Tamworth’s courtship, her age and the return of Sebastian she would be making some serious decisions concerning her future whether she felt ready or not.  Actresses did not tend to have terribly long careers, at least not with star billing.  As much as she loved acting she had no intention of pursuing this career much longer.

David and Margaret had set the children to divesting Abe of his finery and came over to join them.

“Please tell me you put some decent brandy into that punch,” David begged Sean.

“What do you take me for? Of course I did! Damn good French brandy at that!” Sean acted affronted and they all laughed.

David cleared off a swath of the birthday table and swept crumbs off the chairs for them all and with a gallant gesture bade them all to sit.

“Nice of you to bring the barouche to get us back to town my friend but now that we all have something proper to drink, why don’t you tell us what is wrong,” David looked at Sean searchingly.  “You wouldn’t have been this late for a trifle and I can see something is wrong.”

Sean took a moment to get another cup of punch having downed his first in short order.  

“Well the day started out smashingly.  I have ended my relationship with Henry,” he paused as the other’s all made various sounds of concern and attempted comfort. He waved it off with feigned lightness.  “It was coming for a while.  I knew what he was when I got involved, an angelic faced social climber.  Seems he has been climbing a bit higher than a well-heeled playwright.  He has also been frequenting some clubs no one with an interest in an actual relationship would be caught dead in.  So, I gave him his conge. I’m getting too old, make that
mature
, to play these silly games or be played for a fool. At least not for long.”

He sat back down and leaned his head back, closing his eyes briefly.  Jessy slipped her hand into his, feeling for her dear friend who, of anyone she knew, was not only ready for but deserving of true love.  Life as a man who preferred other men did not hold out great hope for that, not in England, but she couldn’t help but wish. The true bad news was about to come as she could feel him steeling himself.

‘There was a fire and break in at the theater,” he said it stark, plain and fast.

A chorus of exclamations and questions erupted from all three.

‘Wait! Wait! While we have started on the Boadicea set, we haven’t even started working on any of the scenery or effects so I find it rather baffling.  

Keegan was found knocked unconscious backstage and your dressing room had obviously been ransacked, as well as mine.  This is no accident.  I spent the last several hours directing clean up, repairs, and reassuring the cast and crew that the play will go on as scheduled.”  

“It isn't unheard of for rivals to commit a bit of sabotage here or there, especially when a play is already generating interest but this was different,” he paused for a long moment and no one spoke. “Keegan swears before he was knocked out he saw a figure in a black robe with “a face as white as death and lips blue as if inked”, his words not mine.  Seems a bit melodramatic even for the world of theater does it not?”

David felt his spine crawl with a touch cold as ice.  The description, which the others did not seem to be taking too seriously, sounded too close to how Sebastian had described the priests of the Gooar Odin.  Keegan may have been cracked on the head, but he wasn’t known to be an imaginative man.  One of the lay brother soldiers possibly?  But what the bloody hell could their purpose be in disrupting Sean’s production or searching Jessy and Sean’s rooms?  None of them had anything to do with what Sebastian was involved in, but then maybe that
was
the connection.  Sebastian had been to the theater, had been to Jessy’s dressing room.  Did it mean the Gooar was onto Sebastian after all?

As David sat silently worrying over in his head the implications he let the ebb and flow of the conversation pass him by.  He caught a word here and there and it seemed the others were of a mind that the attack was the work of a rival theater.  He did notice Maureen chewing her lower lip and staring off into space a few times.  They would both keep their council.  Whatever she was feeling, or possibly seeing, she would reveal when she thought it best.  He could say nothing without first warning Sebastian of this newest development.  He had no idea where the man was or even when he would see him.  When they got back to town he would have a talk with Mick about a closer watch on Jessy and making the house as secure as possible.

“Trystan! Come here darling!” Jessy called.  Being no one’s fool, Trystan knew the call from his mother meant the night was over for him and, with slumped shoulders and a glum face, put his jar of fireflies on the table and came to his mother’s seat.  Jessy ruffled his dark hair, which she noticed was due for a trim, and thought for the thousandth time how like Sebastian he was at the same age.  Thanks to Maureen’s rearing he had escaped the more extremes of temperament and general moodiness from which Sebastian had suffered.  Trystan’s sweetness was not buried as deeply as his father’s had been.

It would take only a single look from any who had ever seen Sebastian to know this child was his. The two shared identical eyes, chin and that stubborn lock of black hair falling across their foreheads in exactly the same way. She
drew his warmth in and held him in her arms until she felt his own fold about her.  If she had not had this child, maybe there would have been a chance, slim she admitted, that she could have moved on.  Monday, and any other day she could get free, Sebastian was before her in the form of the child she loved.  It had kept her heart and thoughts firmly tethered to Sebastian even when she had boiled with hate and pain.

She could feel the moment his young body gave up the battle against exhaustion and he suddenly felt as if all the stuffing left him.  He was pliant and half asleep in her arms before five minutes had passed.  She smiled over his head at Maureen who held an equally sleepy Kate in her own lap and received a smile in return.  Trystan and Kate had been born only four days apart and were the dark children of the family. Jokingly they were called ‘the changelings.’  The Mallory children had varying shades of fair and light brown hair, all except Kate.  She had her grandmother Powers dark hair; the Powers Witch she had been called behind people’s hands.  

Neither woman had been due to deliver but the news of both men’s deaths at Waterloo had been such a wrenching shock Maureen had gone into labor.  Jessamy and Sean had feared for Maureen’s life.  She had loved Robert so passionately, so completely it was if her soul left her body with the loss.  She had given up during a difficult labor, crying out she didn’t want to live, and so Sean had gathered the children and taken them into the birthing chamber. 

The children were just babies clinging to each other, their uncle and new aunt. Sean made Maureen look at each of them.  He had harangued her in a way that had shown Jessy for the first time the steel and the huge heart that was Sean Powers.  He was wrecked by the loss of his beloved little brother and he would be damned if he was going to lose Maureen too.  He would not allow her to give up and the children be left orphans.  Maureen had looked at her children’s terrified and tear stained faces as her brother shouted at her in a full Irish rant and found the will to live.

Yes, these two dark children were a special legacy and a light in their lives that she and Maureen shared a deep bond over.  These children, so close in age and different in temperament from the more rambunctious of the Mallory children, were often to be found together.  They were fast friends and it only deepened the connection two mother’s had forged in sorrow, in loss and in joy.  Holding them here together on their laps in the darkness the women didn’t need to speak, they knew each thought of the fathers that had sired them.