Microsoft Word - Jenny dreamed (45 page)

With Shiona nervously trailing behind, Dev carried Jenny through the crowd. It parted like the waves of the sea roIling back to allow him a passage. He took long, confident strides and held his head high, hardly hearing a voice jeer, "Leave the whore wi' her dead lover!" or even the fervent shout of "Death to all intruders!" At the edge of the crowd he came upon Fiona, flanked by her loyal knights and breathless with the excitement of the cheers that had greeted her.

She glanced at Jenny's limp body, saw the blood that soaked the white pown, and asked in a voice that was at once triumphant and hesitant, "Is she dead?"

"No," Dev said, tightening his protective grip on his wife's body. She was his now, in more ways than one. His voice was bitterly contemptuous as he replied, "Her death would have made your day complete, wouldn't it? A total victory over Rodrigo wasn't good enough. Be happy with what you've gained, Fiona." He looked around at the people who were shouting for a speech from her, acclaiming her as their rightful leader once more. "You have the whole of Beann Gowd'en as your lover now. That should satisfy any frustrations you might be feeling."

Fiona pouted, but found herself staring sullenly after him as he turned his back and walked away. "Where are you going?" she called.

Dev only paused a moment in his stride and glanced at Fiona over his shoulder. "To the island. She'll be safe in Mara's care. And I want nothing more now than to know that Jenny will be safe ... from anyone who wishes her ill."

Fiona frowned; her knights were urging her to speak to the people, to assure them she was well and able to rule once more. Reluctantly, she turned and made her smile bright, but her thoughts were still on Dev and the way he'd held the girl so closely, so tenderly. She didn't like that and she would not forget the fact that he had taken the fine edge off her victory this day.

Twenty-Six

"I know my grandchild well," Mara said, looking from Jenny to Dev, "and she is na a bad lassie at heart, but spoiled and willful. Fiona feels she's t'blame for allowin' Rodrigo the chance to brutalize our land. She's very determined tha' it willna happen again."

"Well, I'm not going to sit back and wait for her to strike at us," Dev stated with a grim look in his eyes. He took Jenny's hand in his. It had been three days since the successful overthrow, and Fiona had lost no time in taking the reins of government into her hands. The mercenaries who had survived the tournament and the knights' assault on the castle had been thrown immediately into the dungeons and, after a quick trial before the court, had been executed this morning. They had been tied to the quintains at the tourney field and killed by the very weapons they had used to terrify the citizenry of Beann Gowd'en. There seemed to be a poetic justice in the manner of their sentences, but the swift way in which Fiona had dealt with her enemies had revealed a cold, ruthless side to her nature.

Though she'd done nothing to indicate she considered Dev and Jenny a threat, Jenny had seen a glimmer of the enmity Fiona felt toward her in the last glimpse she'd had into the crystal. The vague image had been there, beyond the scene of bloodshed at the tournament, a vision of Fiona in her quarters, discussing the problem the two "foreigners" represented.

She would never allow them to leave Beanne Gowd'en alive, for it would spread the word to more Rodrigos, and the country would be overrun by greedy pillaging scoundrels patterned after his mold.

Mara looked distressed, torn between love for her only grandchild and concern for the safety of these two who had become so dear to her. She sighed deeply, then lifted her walking stick and pounded it once in agitation. "Ye'll leave at dawn tomorrow. I'll not be lettin' ye wait 'til Fiona makes a move again ye! Ye'll have proper mounts and provisions and a guide t'see ye off through the caves. I ask only tha' ye grant me a boon in return, though I'll nae be takin' back the offer 0' help if ye do na' agree to it."

Dev squeezed Jenny's hand and gave her an encouraging smile. A journey back through-the forest would be arduous, especially with the baby and no guide, but they could make it; he knew they could. "Tell us, Lady Mara," Dev answered, including her in the warmth of his smile. "I have every reason to believe a request of yours would be just and equitable, or else you would not suggest it."

"I thank ye, m'boy. I love you two like ye was m' own bairn, and this old, weary heart'll rest easy knowin' ye and the babe are out o' danger." Mara studied her hands for a moment-the frail, white fingers that gripped the pommel of glistening, filigreed gold at the head of her cane.

"There is still a quantity of black powder stored in the caverns. I canna rest easy knowin' it to be left there and ye'd be servin' me a good turn by carryin' the lot down to the valley entrance and plantin' it at the place we call the Dragon's Mouth. Fiona canna say a word about her fears of our country bein' o'er run by an invasion if there's nae longer a way up the side 0' the beann, can she?" The old woman's eyes were bright, twinkling with delight at the intrigue he had suggested, a plan that would allow Dev and Jenny escape even while it pacified her granddaughter. Beann Gowd'en would be sealed. It had existed here for five hundred years, and with luck there'd be another five hundred of peace and isolated prosperity.

Dev brought up the suggestion that Gilliam and his daughter be allowed to leave with them.

"Fiona might not be able to vent her ire against you, Mara, but her spite at been thwarted would extend to them. They've helped us more than a few times against her wishes."

Mara nodded her head, seeing the wisdom of including the jester and Shiona in the escape.

"Ye'll have a better chance wi' all of ye bandin' together. I ask only that they pledge a vow of silence if any should ask where ye've come from." She thought a moment and then grinned.

"If ye should find those in the outer world question too sharply, let them believe those two came from Scotland, and if it still stands after all these many years, claim that Erceldoune gave them birth. 'Tis but a wee slip from the truth; no one need know tha' 'twas Neowe Erceldoune you spoke of, and nae the eald!"

The next day, in the early afternoon, Fiona arrived with a hastily assembled group of her knights at the cave that marked the descending trail to the valley below Beann Gowd'en. She had come to the manor house to arrest Dev and Jenny, to charge treason against her reign, only to find that they were gone. A servant, threatened with the dungeons, revealed that Lady Mara had left with them just before dawn, headed for the caves at the southwest tip of the mountain.

Mara showed no surprise or alarm at her grand-daughter's sudden appearance and looked up with an air of peaceful calm as Fiona was helped from her mount and approached the seat where her grandmother had patiently passed the morning. Gathered around Mara were her ladies and serving maids, and the retainers whose loyalty she commanded. An array of cold meats and cheeses, bread and wine lay spread out on a quilt nearby and as Fiona took up an angry, hands-on-hips stance before her, the elegant old matriarch ignored the girl's furious glare, She gestured to the food and asked with maternal concern whether Fiona might care to have something to eat. "'Tis bad to let ye'r belly go awantin', especially if the bile of a fierce temper is upon ye, lass."

"If I were hungered, Granddam," Fiona retorted caustically, "I couldna find the stomach to break bread wi'an old fool who's betrayed her people! Ye've let them go, haven't ye? Have ye'r brains been addled in ye'r dotage? I canna think what possessed ye to tum agin ye'r own flesh'n' blood to help strangers. By ye'r hand, ye've brought ruin to us all!"

"Do na' carry on so!" Mara ordered, and there was still enough authority in her frail voice to command Fiona's attention. "I will forgive ye the nasty words that spew'd from ye'r mouth a moment past, but do nae try me further. I once stepped down from rulin' this land, too grieved by ye'r own parents' death to carry on; but if ye were to put it to the test, I'd come out a victor in a vote of confidence." The stern look left her face as she again suggested that Fiona would see things much clearer on a full stomach.

Fiona started to protest, then threw up her hands in frustration and called Raddock to her side. When he stood next to her, respectfully attendant on her wishes, she said, "Ye're to take the men and follow those who've tried to escape our justice. They've probably made the Dragon's. Mouth by now, seeing the early start m'dear grandma saw fit to gi' them, but I will have them brought back or-"

Suddenly there was a roaring sound in the air, and the solid earth beneath their feet trembled. Raddock threw out an arm to steady Fiona, and then a silence followed. Mara planted her cane firmly into the ground and with the assistance of one of her ladies-in-waiting, rose to her feet. Her smile was gentle and patient as she used the cane to gesture toward the cave.

"Ye'r fear of an invasion of treasure-lusting outsiders has just crumbled, child. No stranger will ere visit our land again. The Dragon's Mouth has belched fire and smoke, and its jaws are shut, sealed forever. I would take it as an act of kindness to an old woman who is wearied if ye'd ask ye'r gallant knight to help m' own men wi' the litter. 'Tis time for a well-earned nap after a good day's work

Fiona could only stare at her grandmother, dazed by the strength of purpose the woman had shown. She was still worried that Dev and Jenny might reveal the location of Beann Gowd'en, but there was little she could do now. The entrance was sealed and as well as keeping back intruders, it served to stay her chance to pursue those who'd fled.

Without waiting for Fiona to command him, Raddock had done as Mara requested, and it was he who lifted the light, fragile body of the old woman into the waiting litter. When he would have returned to Fiona's side, Mara caught his arm and tugged, and the knight leaned close to hear her Whispered voice. "I do thank ye, kind sir. 'Tis a pleasure to know there's a man about who's strong as well as patient. Perhaps, ye've been a wee bit too patient, though. M'granddaughter could make a fine ruler for us all, but she needs a firm hand t'

control a tendency to willfulness. Think ye tha' ye could be the one to temper her independence?" Mara smiled, an impish gesture full of mischief, and then raised a hand to her cheek in mock dismay. "Och, but I'm an interferin' match-maker! These things're better left to the heart. Would ye be forgivin' an old woman who only wants the best for her kin?"

Sir Riddock grinned back, raising the lady's hand to his lips. "Interferin' or nae, m'Lady Mara, ye've given me courage for a task tha's long been a mere wish t'me. By ye'r leave, I shall press my most ardent suit for ye'r granddaughter's hand. An; I swear she'll have me, for none other in the realm loves her wi' the passion I have held in check." He released Mara's hand, and they both glanced over to Fiona, still pacing in front of the cave with a furious stride. "'Twill be a most entertaining challenge, I vow, a wee bit like tamin' a spirited mare."

He started toward Fiona, then turned his head and tossed back, "Wish me God's grace, m'lady, for I shall nae doubt find need of it!" Mara only smiled and called out to her servants to carry her home. It had indeed been a good day's work.

In a small glade on the valley floor, Shiona and Jenny stood waiting for Dev and Gilliam to return from checking the results of the explosion. Thomas had begun to cry at the noise of the detonation, but Jenny held him close, singing softly as she stroked his downy cheek, and now he slept peacefully in the cradle of Shiona's arms.

Jenny stared up at the giant monolith that rose so abruptly from the flat tangle of rain forest, thinking about the last moments of farewell to Lady Mara.

The horses were tethered to a nearby tree, and she approached them now, reaching out a hand to sooth her mount as she reached into the heavy leather pouch that hung from the pommel of the saddle, to pull forth a square object wrapped in soft, protective kidskin. She drew from the covering the cedar box that held the Anacalypses and opened it.

The crystal was still a beautiful sight, and the filtered sunlight refracted within it set the translucent stone to glowing, even though the warm, shifting cloudiness that had been at its center no longer existed. As Elainn had been quoted as saying in Sir Thomas's chronicles, "Its purpose done, its Light veiled forever," the crystal was no longer a window into the future, it was a lovely keepsake, nothing more.

Jenny had refused the box when Mara handed it to her, insisting it should stay in Beann Gowd'en, where it belonged. "No, my child," Mara had replied with a shake of her head, "I am returning it to its rightful owner; she who, in love, first offered it. Without that gift, there'd have been no Beann Gowd'en. 'Tis a symbol of love and all things possible with love." Then, with tears in her bright blue eyes, Mara had hugged Jenny close, kissed her cheek, and whispered, "Take care, lassie, of yourself and Thomas ... and the wee bairn, too!"

Dev had returned from checking the fall of jagged rocks that had formed the teeth of the Dragon's Mouth, and found her absorbed with the crystal. He reached out a hand, gently raising her chin with the tip of his fingers, and asked, "Hey, dreamer-can you see anything in there that'll show us the way out of this jungle?" She looked up, and for a few seconds they were absorbed by each other, than Dev leaned forward and pressed a kiss upon the softness of her mouth.

When they broke apart, there was a hint of mystery in the smile Jenny gave him as she firmly closed the box lid and tucked her arm within his, motioning to Shiona, smiling at them as she held the stirring babe. "Look to the moming star," she repeated, not in a quote from the chronicles, but from the depths of her memories of that long-ago prophecy. All of it had come true, and she had no reason to suspect that the last phase would not, "for she will not fail to lead us to a day made more sweet for the receding mists of a long and bitter night."

The interior of London's Regal Crown Theater was brightly lit, its five hundred seats filled to capacity by an eager crowd. This was to be Gilliam McGowd's final performance before embarking on his American tour. The little man was an enigma to the press, a talent who had seemed to spring from out of the blue almost two years before. Even though he would in no way enlighten them as to the mystery surrounding his background and training, the critics praised his multi-faceted act for its authenticity, especially his portrayal of a medieval court jester. The strong, clear tenor in which he sang his selection of hunting songs and ballads had been described by one enthusiastic reviewer as the "Golden Voice," and Gilliam had come to be identified by the sobriquet as he toured the Continent, playing to packed theaters in all of Europe's capitals.