Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (69 page)

"O where have you been, my lon
g
, long love,

This long seven years and more?"

"O I'm come to seek my former vows

Ye granted me before."

Lily listened to the melodic voice that drifted from above. Shielding her eyes against the glare off the water, she continued to gaze upward, searching the masts for the balladeer. Through a maze of ropes she spied a sailor clinging to a ratline, the toes of his bare feet holding him firm on the rope rung while he worked at some task high in the topgallant shrouds.

"I might have had a king's daughter,

Far, far beyond the sea;

I might have had a king's daughter,

Had it not been for love o'
thee."

When the call of Land-ho!
had been sounded by the lookout high atop the foremast, the deck, rigging, and yardarms had suddenly been swarming with hands as the ship had closed the land and they'd prepared to lower and furl the sails, paying out the cable to drop anchor just beyond the reefs.

"I have seven ships upon the sea,

The eighth brought me to land,

With four-and-twenty bold mariners,

And music on every hand."

"Hand over hand, lads!"

"Heave well and heartily!"

"Avast ye, there!"

She set her foot upon the ship,

No mariners could she behold;

But the
sails
were o' the taffetie,

And the masts o' the beaten gold.

They had not sailed a league, a league,

A league but barely three,

Until she spied his cloven foot,

And
she
wept right bitterly.

Lily's eyes searched the uneven line of the forest fringing the shore. A tall tree rose above all others. At its base, in the cool shade, were the greaves of her mother and Basil Whitelaw.

"O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,

That the sun shines sweetly on?"

"O yon are the hills of heaven," he said,

"Where you will never win."

"O what a mountain is yon," she said,

"All so dreary with frost and snow?"

"O yon is the mountain of hell," he cried,

"Where you and I will go."

He struck the topmast with his hand,

The foremast with his knee,

And he broke that gallant ship in twain,

And sank her in the sea.

Lily looked away from the island to where Valentine Whitelaw stood on the upper deck, his gaze raking the isle and the bay. He turned to starboard, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he stared out to sea for a long moment. He seemed to sense her eyes upon him, for he suddenly glanced down to where she stood against the rail. His turquoise eyes were a dazzling reflection of the sea and sky, ablaze with the brilliancy of the sun, then, as if a
shadow
had crossed before it, he had turned away.

"Lower handsomely, lads!" Valentine Whitelaw called out,
following
the progress of several seamen who were struggling to lower a sail. "Away aloft, Master Turner. Bear a hand there, that's a good lad!" he said as the young man responded quickly to his captain's command and climbed the mast without question.

"I always wondered what this island looked like," Simon Whitelaw said, coming to stand beside Lily by the rail. "I've dreamt of it since hearing your stories, but I could never quite envision it. Now that I see it, I realize that I never came even close in my imagination."

"I sometimes think it truly is a magical isle. It cast a spell over us when we first set foot ashore. It protected us from danger. It kept us well-supplied with food and water, and it gave us a happiness. And then, like most enchantments, it showed its cruel side. It took from us, perhaps because we broke the spell by letting strangers come ashore. Or maybe because we stole from the sea its bounty of flesh and gold," Lily said, remembering the bodies they'd pulled from the surf and the doubloons they'd hidden beyond its reach.

Hearing the seriousness in her voice, Simon Whitelaw stared down at her, a curious expression on his thin face, which was bronzed from weeks at sea. "I think you really believe that."

Lily glanced over to where the Turk stood watching the shore, a frowning expression on his dark face. "I do not think I am the only one who feels so strangely about this isle."

"From my own memories of my father, and from what I have gathered from others, I cannot quite believe that my father would have felt that way," Simon declared, unwilling to believe in such fantastic lore. Next she would be asking him to
believe
in mermaids and winged horses. "He was a very practical man," he reminded Lily.

Lily smiled, remembering Basil strutting along the sands, proud as a peacock in the feathered cape and headdress. And when she thought of the love that Basil and her mother had found together she knew that Basil had known of the enchantment.

"I am curious, Lily," Simon said, trying to recapture her attention. "Would you really not have told Valentine where the cave was if he hadn't agreed to take you on this journey?"

Lily eyed Simon speculatively for a moment. "What do you thing?"

Simon grinned. "I think you put on a false bold front and dared Valentine to take the risk that you might be serious."

"False?"

"Yes. I know you too well, Lily. Valentine, however, must have had some doubts. You might be willful and stubborn, but you would never put your own desires before another's needs. You are far too conscientious to risk Elizabeth's life to
satisfy
a childish whim. You would have told him, wouldn't you?"

Lily glanced around, gesturing for him to bend low so she could whisper in his ear. "Yes, but that is our secret," she made him promise, placing her finger against his lips to seal them.

Simon caught her hand in his and shook an admonishing finger at her. "You dare what I
would
never have the courage to do. I could never have faced Valentine with that challenge, risking his anger and disapproval. He does not like to be defied. My
knees
would have buckled beneath me."

"He is well used to giving orders, even to those he has no authority over," Lily remarked. "I fear he was captained this ship far to long. 'Tis about time someone sent a couple of shots across his swaggering bow."

Simon laughed. "Lily, you are a far better adventurer than I."

" 'Tis the challenge I like. And had he left me behind, Simon, I would have found the way to have gotten aboard before the
Madrigal
sailed," she added with a glint in her eye that had Simon believing her claim.

"How?"

"I would have masqueraded as the
Madrigal
's new cabin boy and gone aboard in Falmouth. Valentine might have thought to leave me at Ravindzara, or," she said with a grimace, "at Penmorley Hall under Honoria's hawkish eye. I would have raced the wind back to Falmouth and boarded before Valentine returned. I would already have been aboard, safely hidden behind a barrel of pickled herrings in the hold.
Then
, when well out of port, I would have surprised my captain with my true identity. I'm rather good at that," she said with a low laugh that had Simon laughing in response, although he did not understand the full meaning of her statement, for he'd never learned of the chance meeting between Valentine and "Francisca."

"Damn, I wish I'd half the nerve, Lily. Valentine swears you are much like your father,
and I suspect he is correct. I
, on the other hand, am overly cautious by nature, like my father."

"But you are too harsh on yourself, Simon. You confronted Hartwell Barclay and my accusers with great courage, then you came in search of us. And you are aboard the
Madrigal
, are you not? When at Riverhurst, I heard you speak most eloquently for the right to accompany us."

"Well, how could they deny me when you were going? And you are, after all, just a female," Simon said with an apologetic look, making light of his own attributes, as well as of his persuasive speech.

But Lily remembered it, and, earlier, the angry confrontation she's had with Valentine Whitelaw while still at the in
.
.
.

When questioned, she had remained silent about the location of the cave where the treasure chest and the journal had been safely hidden all of these years. She refused to be intimidated and met Valentine Whitelaw's incredulous stare with a bold one of her own
.
And had the
Madrigal
received a broadside across her beam Valentine Whitelaw could not have been more surprised by the challenge.

She told him that it was her right to return to the island and retrieve Basil's journal. Once before, when he had deceived her into coming out of hiding on the island, he had deprived her of the chance to bid farewell to her mother and Basil. He might not understand her feelings concerning
that, but
now was her opportunity to return to the island and she was not going to be cheated this time. After all, she and her family had been the
victims
of Sir Raymond's treachery. And there was a treasure to claim. With a chest full of golden doubloons, they would never have to fear Hartwell Barclay again, despite what Valentine had promised he'd do to the man for his abuse of them. Nor would they have to be beholden to Valentine Whitelaw either. If Valentine wanted to know the location of the cave, he would have to take her along. Besides, she added, even if she did tell him he most likely would not be able to fine it for he was unfamiliar with the island.

Valentine Whitelaw remained silent, then he smiled that slow smile of his. "very well," he said. "Where is the journal?"

He capitulated too easily, Lily thought.

"I will go with you when you sail?" she asked.

"Yes, now where is the journal," he repeated.

"Once we arrive at the island, then, and only then, will I tell you," she replied suspiciously, adding that if he would give her his word of honor that he would take her with him then she would tell him now.

She was surprised when Valentine remained silent, tossing the puppet that so resembled Sir Raymond Valchamps high into the air, its arms and legs flying out in all directions before he caught it in his grasp. A moment later he surprised her when he excused himself, leaving the tray of food on her lap with orders she was to eat it all. He returned less than a quarter of an hour later and gave his word of honor that she would be aboard the
Madrigal
when she sailed. Trusting him, she told him where the cave was located, having to pause several times in confusion when he questioned her in detail about the path and any identifiable markers they would be able to follow. But once on the island, she would be able to find it again, she reassured him. Belatedly, because of his questioning, she began to doubt his promise, but he didn't go back on his word, and when the
Madrigal
set sail for the Indies she
had
been aboard.

It had seemed to Lily, since she hadn't had to face a disapproving parental eye, that Simon had had an even more difficult time in convincing Lady Elspeth and Sir William to allow him to accompany Valentine on his voyage.

"My father lies buried there, where his only son has never been able to mourn for him, except in his heart. I have the right, Mother, to stand beside his grave. I will never know any peace unless I do. I want to pay my respects to a man who is only a vague memory to me now, to a man I knew for too short a while, but who is still my father. I would prefer to go with your and Sir William's blessing, but I will go, Mother. I am my own master now, and no one has the right to forbid my actions. I will stand on that island one day," Simon told them. "I have already spoken to Valentine, and he has given me permission to sail aboard the
Madrigal
. But he has also said that if you ask him not to allow me to sail with him, then he will abide by your wishes. Mother, please, give me your blessing," Simon implored her, and Lily, watching Lady Elspeth's expression, knew that she wished above all else that he would not venture from England and from her side, but wisely knew that Simon must make this journey.

Lady Elspeth and Sir William gave Simon their blessing and even came into
London
to bed him Godspeed when the
Madrigal
sailed with the tide. Valentine
Whitelaw’s
trusted friends, Thomas Sandrick and George Hargraves, as well as Sir Charles Denning, all of whom accompanied them back to London, had been invited to join the voyage. Thomas Sandrick had declined. His wife was Sir Raymond's sister, and although he'd never been very close to his brother-in-law, he could not participate in gathering evidence against him; besides, he'd added on a lighter note, he had already proven himself less than a capable sailor. George Hargraves had looked astounded and claimed that he needed no further proof of his unseaworthiness; he got sick crossing the Thames. And Sir Charles Denning, sputtering while he hemmed and hawed, said he was far too old to go gallivanting around the world
-
-nonsensical idea, surprised Valentine had even suggested such a thing, he'd declared huffily.

Sir Rodger Penmorley and Quinta Whitelaw, however, had been on board when the
Madrigal
weighed anchor and they began their journey down the Thames. Quinta had arrived two days after they'd returned to London. Upon hearing the news, Lily knew, had Artemis not been expecting her first child, Quinta would have been with them now, standing on deck viewing the island.

Fairfax and Farley and Tillie Odell, one tall, one short, one rotund, stood on the dock waving until the
Madrigal
had disappeared downriver. Soon they would travel to Whiteswood, where Simon Whitelaw had invited them to stay until Hartwell Barclay had been dealt with. Tristram and Dulcie, and the menagerie of animals, had been aboard for the brief voyage to Falmouth, where the
Madrigal
had docked and taken on fresh water and supplies while her captain and passengers had traveled by land to Ravindzara.

During the three years since she'd visited Valentine Whitelaw's home, Ravindzara had undergon
e a startling transformation. T
hey approached Ravindzara from the sea. Riding across a wild heath, they entered the parkland along a lane planted with carefully nurtured
saplings
that were already beginning to plant their roots deep and stretch to the sky with strong limbs. The terraced gardens surrounding the house were interlaced with brick paths, bordered with sweet-scented plants and flowers rich in color, that led to rose arbors and fountains secluded behind clipped yew hedges.

Across the gray stone front of the great house were tall, diamond-paned windows flanking the columned frontispiece and overlooking the sea. On
each end
of the south front were curved oriel windows displaying a large expanse of glass on three sides that must have served more than one floor and allowed light to enter the great hall from dawn until dusk. Work was almost completed on the west wing. And next year, the master of Ravindzara proudly told them, work would begin on the east wing.

The lane had curved in front of the entrance and before they'd even dismounted attentive grooms had appeared from the stables to see to their horses. Entering the great hall, Lily felt as if she'd come home. Except for the sunshine streaming through the great wall of gleaming windows, and the additional furnishings, the hall was little changed. Colorful Turkish carpets in bright blues and reds covered the floor, while tapestries and paintings added color and warmth beneath the high-arched ceiling. The oak banqueting table, where a tall vase held fragrant dark red roses, was being set with silver plate, and already maids were lighting a fire in the great hearth.