Page 135 of The Daughters of Avalon
Rosalynde could scarce take her eyes off the rich, colorful tapestries placed high on the walls, depicting terrible battles. Some of the figures wore a Scot’s manner of dress, others wore armor. Still others were depictions of swarthy strangers from faraway lands.
Elspeth smiled, noting the direction of her gaze. “Lovely, to be sure, but, alas, they serve more than to please the eye. This part of the castel was built during the Roman days, much like Blackwood. The walls are not always so sound as they shouldbe to weather the winters. If you listen closely—particularly in my solar—you can hear the howl of the wind through stone and mortar.”
“Not so much unlike our cottage at Llanthony, eh? Sometimes I miss those days,” said Rosalynde, sadly. “As poor as we were, life was simpler then.”
And even as pleased as she was for her sister’s good fortune, tears pricked at her eyes, and she planted her heels to recover her emotions. Elspeth spun to face her, her sweet blue eyes full of concern. It took Rosalynde a long moment to find her voice. “As you must know, I am not come for pleasure.”
“Of course, I suspected,” Elspeth said, and with a sigh, she took Rosalynde’s hands in hers, warming them. It was a familiar gesture that Rosalynde had sorely missed. Only Elspeth had ever lavished motherly affection on her this way—loving her, reassuringly.
God forbid Morwen should ever do so. “Our mother is a demon,” Rose said, in case Elspeth did not realize.
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
Rosalynde felt her throat thickening, again. Only when she could, there, in the hall, she explained all about thegrimoire… and the perilous journey she had embarked upon. She told her sister about the Shadow Beast that bore Mordecai’s face. She told her about having stolen Giles’s horse in London, and Seren’s betrothal to the lord of Warkworth. Skipping over the night at Neasham she told her about the night of Morwen’s arrival at Llanthony and the atrocities their mother committed at Darkwood.
“She swept into our cottage like a cold, bitter wind, put us on our knees and railed at us for being ingrates. All the while, Ersinius stood smirking as we knelt, choking on our tears. Once she was through, the windbag sent in two guards to escort Rhiannon out the door.”
Elspeth’s brow furrowed. “Did they perchance take her to Blackwood?”
“How did you know?”
“Malcom spoke to her.”
“When?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Elspeth said, patting Rosalynde’s hand, and whatever joy she’d had twinkling in her familiar eyes, it was gone now, at least for the moment.
“We cannot allow Morwen to retrieve the book,” Rosalynde said, and she brought a hand to her breast. “In my heart of hearts, I know that book is crucial, and I am as certain of that fact as Rhi was the day she bade you leave us at the priory.”
Fat tears swelled in her sister’s eyes; one slid past her lashes, then rolled down her cheek. “I am so… so… sorry,” she said, taking both of Rosalynde’s hands, and folding them together, covering them with her own. “I would have returned if I could… and yet… I did send Malcom to find you.” She peered down at her blue-slippered feet. “You were gone.”
Rosalynde nodded. “We were gone by first light. Ersinius, for all his pandering to the Church, is her willing servant. He does her bidding no matter what cost. I dare not imagine what treachery they have planned together. But, alas, she has agents across the realm, including the Count of Mortain, and that stupid fool burned Warkworth by her behest—burned it to the ground.”
Elspeth’s eyes grew round with ill-concealed horror. “Is that not the lord you traveled with?”
Rosalynde nodded.
“Does he know you are Morwen’s daughter?”
Rosalynde nodded again and squeezed her sister’s hand. “Eustace mustnotbe confirmed, Elspeth, and if you have any way to send word to Matilda, you must warn her. He is a villain,no less than our mother, and you were right… we must not turn blind eyes to the truth.”
“I have dealt with that man; well I know it.”
“So we heard. And yet mother would endeavor to convince everyone you are not here of your own free will.”
Elspeth’s face flushed. “Rest assured, my sweet sister. So much as I loathe being apart from you, there is nowhere in this world I would rather be. Malcom is…” She inhaled deeply. “Blood of my blood, bone of my bone. He is The One the Goddess ordained for me, and I love him to the depths of my soul.” But then, Elspeth looked momentarily away, as though she feared the answer to her next question. “Pray tell, how are Seren and Arwyn?”
Rosalynde shook her head sadly. “I do not know. They were well enough when I left London, but Morwen…”
“Say no more.” Elspeth patted Rosalynde’s hand again. “We must not fear the worst,” she said. “Our sisters are as savvy as you, Rose, else I’d not be here today, and you… you, my dear sister, you would never have found me.” She shook her head with a look that betrayed both grief and wonder. “And to think you endured so much. I must thank Giles for taking such great care of my littlest sister, and I will be sure the kitchen prepares him something special.”
Now it was Rosalynde’s turn to blush, and she did so fiercely, even as she lifted a thumb to her lips in dismay. “Aye well, as to that… there is something else you should know.” And then she told Elspeth all about their bonding… about Rhiannon… about the night they spent at Neasham.
“I see,” said Elspeth, but if Rosalynde had expected her sister’s censure, it wasn’t forthcoming. Elspeth gave Rose a sly smile. “I should be the first to say virtue is prized far too highly. You must follow your heart, Rose, and the Goddess will bless you for it. Our sister will doubtless forgive you.” And then her smilereturned, even brighter. “Come,” she demanded again, taking one of Rosalynde’s hands and pulling her again down the hall. “I will show you the rest of my home later, but now I really need to show you something…”
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
