Druid''s Sword

  Why call Malcolm “Prasutagus”? What was happening?

  There was a sound behind me, then Malcolm appeared at my side. In his hands he bore a wide leather box of some six inches in depth. It was beautiful, its hinges and clasp made of twisted gold, and I felt Jack shudder as he looked at it.

  About us I felt the watching circle stir. I had been unaware of their presence until now—all I’d seen was Jack, all I’d felt was Jack—but now I sensed their curiosity and bewilderment.

  Finally Jack’s hands slid away from me, and now it was I who shivered.

  He ran his hands over the box, lovingly, then, one hand still resting on the box, looked back to me.

  “Grace,” he said, “do you remember I said I would give you a birthday gift?”

  It had been that night we danced here, that night he said he had felt that our powers were matched.

  I nodded. I was so overcome with emotion that he had remembered, and thought to give me a gift now, before all these people, that I didn’t think I could speak.

  “Then this is my gift to you,” he said, and with his hand he opened the box.

  My eyes must still have been misted with tears, because for a moment all I could see was a blur of brilliant light. Then Jack lifted something from the box and, as I heard Ariadne laugh and my mother gasp, I blinked away my remaining tears and looked at a piece of jewellery that was so extraordinary I simply could not immediately comprehend it.

  It was a bracelet of exquisite delicacy. From a thin wrist band of diamond-set platinum, tendrils, or sprays, of diamonds radiated out in a complex and not immediately discernible pattern. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. I must have frowned, trying to make it out, for from the corner of my eye I saw Jack smile, and reach out with one hand to take my right wrist and with the other slip the bracelet over my right hand.

  The platinum band fitted perfectly about my wrist. From there the tendrils, some fourteen or fifteen of them, spread up my arm like twisted rivulets, some of the tendrils almost to my elbow.

  They followed precisely the lines of my scars.

  “Grace,” Jack said, “these lines of diamonds track the lines of your scars, but they do not hide them, they celebrate them. Do you know what I’m saying to you? Do you understand?”

  I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to think. I had no idea what Jack meant with this gift.

  “Grace,” he said, “I know of very few people, I know of no one, who could have survived what Catling has done to you with the same courage and dignity that you have managed. I couldn’t do it, haven’t done it, neither has your mother, nor anyone else who has been caught up in this terrible Game. Everyone has made mistakes, taken missteps, and created havoc as they’ve done it. You’ve managed to exist with a purity and a grace and a clarity that is extraordinary. Grace, these bands,” now he lifted another one from its box and slipped it over my left wrist, where the sprays of diamonds again aligned themselves perfectly with the twistings of my scars, “celebrate your courage and your dignity. The diamonds are for your clarity, your sheer brilliance, the platinum celebrates your courage and dignity.”

  And they also replace what I have taken from you, he spoke into my mind. You gifted bands to me, now I gift these to you.

  I couldn’t speak.

  He smiled, the expression very gentle, very sweet. “Can you see what I’ve done to them? Can you feel it?”

  I shook my head. I felt numb. I had no idea what he was going to say.

  The grin widened very slightly. “These diamond bands were made by a jeweller in the West End to my design. He thought I was a crazy Yank.” That smile stretched just a little further. “When he gave them to me yesterday morning I brought them to this spot and here I put something else into them. Something of me. A glamour. Grace, if you accept these bands from me they will never come off. They will cleave to your flesh as closely as do the kingship bands of Troy to mine. But what the glamour enables you to do is to hide them or display them as you wish. Do you feel it?”

  I was still numb (I was actually thinking that he’d arranged all of this yesterday, and then had taken me to dinner and had said nothing of it), but now he’d pointed it out to me then, yes, I could sense the glamour.

  “They will not stop Catling from touching you, Grace, but when she does fire up her hex, and encircle you with agony, then the diamonds will flare into light, and everyone about you will know of your courage and your grace.”

  I wished he would stop speaking; I didn’t think I could stand any more.

  “I wish I could stop the pain, Grace,” he said, and I saw tears in his eyes. “I wish I could, but I am powerless in that.”

  I tried to take a deep breath, felt it tremble alarmingly, and stopped it before I could embarrass myself with tears.

  “Will you accept the diamond bands, Grace?”

  I looked at him then, and thought of everything we had shared and felt in this magical place on this day.

  “Yes,” I said.

  THREE

  Faerie Hill Manor

  Sunday, 22nd September 1940

  Noah stood in the drawing room at Faerie Hill Manor and watched as Grace, now dressed in more modern and modest clothing, slipped out the French windows. Noah glanced around the room.

  Jack was nowhere to be seen.

  She looked back to the French windows. It didn’t take much imagination to work out that Grace had gone to talk to Jack.

  Noah was torn. She needed to speak to the two of them, and now would be the perfect chance while everyone else remained in the room, but on the other hand she didn’t want to disturb them.

  Noah, as everyone else, save, she thought, the strange enigmatic Malcolm (or Prasutagus, as Jack had called him), had been stunned by what had happened atop Ambersbury Banks. Not merely by Grace’s sheer beauty and power and competence, but by what Jack had done for her afterwards.

  Those diamond bands. Stunning. And, oh, their meaning. The gift itself was extraordinary, but Jack could have chosen to gift those bands to Grace at any time. His timing was no fluke, and it was deeply meaningful. What had happened was virtually an exchange of bands, of rings, and all that that symbolised. When it happened between a Kingman and a Mistress of the Labyrinth it added further layers of meaning and symbolism.

  Until today Noah had not suspected the depth of what Jack felt for Grace.

  Damn, she needed to talk to them both so badly. Noah put down her glass and slowly moved around the room, heading for the glass doors. What was Jack planning? And why was she so concerned? Did her uneasiness come from her role as woman, mother or Mistress of the Labyrinth?

  “What a mess,” Noah muttered, and, taking a deep breath, slipped out to the terrace.

  Jack, now back in his military uniform, and Grace were standing not very far away and, to Noah’s relief, they weren’t engaged in anything even vaguely intimate. In fact, they were merely standing together, talking.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Noah said. “I wanted the opportunity to speak with both of you.”

  Jack looked wary, but Grace smiled, and Noah leaned forward, gave her a hug, then took Grace’s hands in hers, using the opportunity to inspect the diamond bracelets.

  “They’re beautiful,” Noah said. She gave her head a little shake in wonderment. “And so powerful. Jack, these are extraordinary. As is what you said to Grace when you gave them to her. Thank you, from my heart. You have done more for her in the year you’ve been back than I’ve managed in three hundred.”

  Noah gave her daughter’s hands a little squeeze, then let them go. “Jack, how does it feel, to have four of the bands back?”

  Noah was genuinely curious. Jack had hunted and lusted and fought for those bands for well over three thousand years, yet now he seemed so calm. She could sense the change in him, the deepening and shifting of power, but to be so calm? He had changed, indeed.

  Jack’s face had relaxed a little. “They feel warm, Noah.” He laughed a little at the expressio
n on her face. “Really. They feel warm against my skin, and they feel…happy. Glad to be home, perhaps.”

  “And have they given you a greater understanding, Jack?” Noah asked, and Grace looked inquisitively at Jack as well.

  Jack hesitated before replying. “I need to get down to London to see if the bands help any more with untangling the meaning of the strange shadow. But I won’t do that until I retrieve the other two bands.”

  “And you’ll do that…when?” said Noah.

  “Tomorrow,” Jack said. “The Lord of the Faerie will take me into the Otherworld tomorrow.”

  Noah looked at him carefully. It seemed to her that Jack was torn between two competing emotions—excitement and worry.

  “Jack,” she said quietly, “where are we going?” Before Jack could answer, Noah hurried on. “Please don’t take what I say amiss. I just don’t know…Jack, what you did for Grace today was wonderful, and I begrudge neither you nor her whatever awaits you…but I don’t know where we, I, stand now with the Troy Game. Grace is a powerful Mistress of the Labyrinth, and she matches you, Jack, anyone can see that, but she can’t help with the Troy Game. Grace,” Noah turned back to her daughter, “don’t think I am trying to—”

  “Mother,” Grace said, smiling, “don’t worry. Jack and I were just talking of the same thing when you came out.”

  “Grace is pivotal,” said Jack, “but no one seems to know why. You’re right. Grace can’t help with the Troy Game; she’s too tightly tied to it. Catling’s fate is hers.”

  Noah reached out a hand and laid it gently against Grace’s cheek. “Gods’ damn it,” she said softly, “I wish I could protect you.” Her mouth gave a rueful quirk. “But I know I can’t, and I know I’ve tried too hard to shelter you. Fly off with my blessing, Grace, but don’t ask me to stop worrying about you.”

  Then she looked back to Jack. “And remember always that she is my daughter, Jack, and that I love her above anything else. Don’t hurt her, please don’t hurt her.”

  Then, before either Jack or Grace could respond, Noah turned and walked back inside.

  They watched her go, waited until the door closed behind her, then lapsed into a momentarily awkward silence.

  “Noah has a highly uncomfortable way of talking truth,” said Jack. “I have a terrible reputation with women, Grace—”

  “I trust you, Jack.”

  “Surely Matilda and Ecub have told you some terrible tales.”

  “I trust you, Jack.”

  I’m not too sure I trust myself, Jack thought, keeping the thought from Grace.

  “Shit,” he muttered, “I’ve been doing this for at least three thousand years. You’d think I’d be a bit better at it by now.”

  “Jack?”

  He reached out a hand and cupped her face, then leaned forward and kissed her very softly, very quietly.

  Grace’s mouth twitched. “That’s all you’ve learned in three thousand years?”

  He laughed, once again taken by surprise by her sense of humour. “Grace Orr, I am very much going to enjoy getting to know you.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, now that you’ve had what you wanted from me.” Once again, rich humour ran through her voice.

  “I said, Grace, that there were four reasons I wanted to get to know you better, and the fact you carried the four bands within your flesh was the fourth and least of those reasons.”

  She held his eyes easily, but when she spoke, it was to change the subject, and Jack realised that this getting-to-know-her process would necessarily be done slowly.

  Surprisingly, for a man who had once been Brutus, the thought caused him no impatience at all.

  “Why did you call Malcolm ‘Prasutagus’?” Grace said.

  “Do you know the name?” “It is familiar, but I don’t know why.” “King Prasutagus was Boudicca’s husband.” Her eyes widened. “Malcolm is Prasutagus?” “Aye. It is why he came to me at Copt Hall.” Grace frowned. “I don’t understand.” “You don’t know the legend of Boudicca?” “I’ve heard of it, yes. But the details? No.” Jack leaned back against the wall of the house, folding his arms. “Boudicca and her army faced the Romans in Epping Forest. Ambersbury Banks was her last stand. She lost, and some sixty thousand of her soldiers died on the ancient fort.”

  Grace’s mouth dropped open, but Jack continued before she could say anything. “Boudicca survived the slaughter and fled, the Romans harrying at her heels. She went to the site of Copt Hall, and there, with her daughters, took poison. Both Ambersbury Banks and Copt Hall are important sites for Prasutagus. He’s not merely a king, Grace, but a powerful druid as well.”

  “Ah, then no wonder the druidic magic that surrounds Copt Hall and Ambersbury Banks. Why is he back, Jack?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know. I sense he is trustworthy, and that he is for the land, but Malcolm—Prasutagus—is none too forthcoming when asked a direct question.”

  “Why did you call him Prasutagus today?”

  Jack hesitated a little before replying. “Because I wanted him to hand me those bands in his capacity as a druid, not a servant.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wanted those bands to be as special as possible.” Because I wanted them infused with druidic power.

  She took a deep breath, her eyes bright with emotion.

  Jack could see she was struggling to find the right words to say, so he slipped his arm about her back and pulled her to him gently. “Just dance with me, here on the terrace, with no one to witness but the stars and the trees.”

  “Tell me you know where you’re going, Jack.”

  He knew she referred to so much with that question.

  “Grace,” he said very quietly, resting his cheek against her curls as they started to dance slowly about the terrace, “I will go wherever you lead.”

  FOUR

  The Otherworld

  Monday, 23rd September 1940

  “Well, Jack, are you ready?” Jack stood with the Lord of the Faerie at the summit of The Naked, dressed as he had been the previous day atop Ambersbury Banks, in his white linen wrap. He felt very calm, and curiously detached. He’d been worried about the first four bands—could Grace truly do it?—but these…these would be easy. The Lord of the Faerie was so powerful that not even a trip into the Otherworld would tax him. The bands were an hour away at best.

  “You’re sure you remember where you left them?” he said. When the Lord of the Faerie had been merely Harold of Wessex, Coel-reborn, he’d taken the remaining two bands, the leg bands, into the Otherworld at the time of his death in order to keep them safe.

  “Of course. Are you sure you can handle the power?”

  Jack grinned. That final comment had been pure Coel. He raised his arms, crossing them over in front of him and running his hands over the bands on his biceps and upper forearms. “Are you afraid of what I might do with the power?”

  The Lord of the Faerie laughed. “Aye, indeed I am. Tell me, Jack, do you feel different?”

  “Every breath feels sweeter, Coel. The sun shines more warmly. I feel complete. Almost.”

  Jack had not slept at all the previous night. Instead he’d lain awake, feeling the four golden bands with every sense that he had. They felt so right. They felt as if they had never been away. And, aye, he did feel almost complete. In the past twenty-four hours his every sense had sharpened: those he commanded as a man, as a Kingman, and as Ringwalker, god of the forests. He felt as if he understood more, and when he thought on the shadow over London, then its truth seemed so close, as if all he needed to do was reach out and grab it…

  Those final two bands, and he’d have the truth, once and for all.

  Another hour, and his path ahead would be clear.

  “Let’s go,” he said to the Lord of the Faerie.

  They stepped off The Naked and directly onto the road for the Otherworld. Jack was awed by Coel’s power; Jack could not have done this so easily.

  The road stretched
out before them, a faint track through a grassy field.

  Jack looked about curiously. This wasn’t the first time he’d travelled the road into the Otherworld—he’d died as Brutus and as William—but this roadway was different from either of the two roads he’d taken before.

  “The road is different each time and for each person,” said the Lord of the Faerie, who walked a half pace ahead of Jack. “For us, now, it will be short. We have not come to stay, but only to visit.”

  “We won’t go entirely into the Otherworld?”

  “No.”

  “But then how will you find the bands?”

  The Lord of the Faerie grinned a little at the anxiety in Jack’s voice. “I gave them to someone who has kept them safe. He knows we’re on our way and will meet us at the border. With the bands.”

  “Who did you give them to?”

  The Lord of the Faerie nodded ahead. “Him.”

  Jack looked forward. There was a faint line of trees in the distance, and he could just make out the shape of a man standing beneath them.

  As they neared, the man stepped forward into the open, and Jack saw that the man had shoulder-length black curly hair, and wore the costume of an Aegean prince.

  “Do you recognise him, Jack?” the Lord of the Faerie said.

  Jack nodded. “Oh, aye,” he said softly.

  When they got to the man they halted, and Jack bowed slightly. “Greetings, Aeneas,” he said. Aeneas, his forefather, son of Aphrodite and a prince of Troy.

  Aeneas stared a long moment at Jack, then he stepped forward, put his hands on Jack’s shoulders, and kissed him on each cheek.

  “Greetings to you, Brutus. I have been watching you, off and on, for all these years.”

  Jack grimaced. “It must not have been pretty viewing.”

  Aeneas grinned. The Lord of the Faerie thought that he looked strikingly similar to Jack, although his forehead was broader and his nose blunter.