Chapter Nineteen
The ship was anchored far from the shoreline, and so Leonardo had seen to it that a small boat was secured, and it was now being rowed toward the ship with his master on board. The evening was cool, with a slight breeze, but LeGace seemed not to notice. He was quiet and looked sullen. He knew that his note had reached its mark, and now the waiting had begun.
As the boat approached the ship, he finally said to Leonardo, “We have to be certain that our forces are to be all in one place, and ready for war. And I do feel that we shall, before too much time has expired, be at war with Craycroft. And perhaps done before word could reach King Henry.”
His companion, who had heard all of this before, acknowledged his lord, and said, “It is as you say, but I do not yet know if all the troops are back from the island. It was said that they experienced some serious fighting, which they did not expect, and I know not whether they shall be at strength.”
“Well, be certain that they be ready in three days. This may be more serious than anything before.”
“Aye, sire, I shall.”
They approached the side of the ship, and Leonardo called for a ladder to be thrown down. The men on the deck quickly complied, and the two men then came up the side of the ship. But before going up himself, Leonardo paid the oarsman, and told him to be back the following evening.
Aboard the ship now, LeGace still found it difficult to relax. He turned toward Leonardo again, and said, “If ye need me, I shall be below, midships, in my room. I have some serious matters to ponder. But do bring me reports as to the condition of our prisoners, as well as our men-at-arms.”
“Aye, sire. I shan’t bother ye till supper be served.”
Leonardo next went down to the lower deck and checked with the man taking care of his two prisoners. He asked if there were any problems with the two of them, and was told there were none, and that they were being cared for as directed. Leonardo then went up to the main deck and sought the captain.
“Well, me good sire, how d’ye be this day?” Asked the captain upon seeing Leonardo, climbing up to the wheelhouse.
“Thank ye, Flannigan, I’m tolerably well. What are ye hearing as to our troops? Are they going to be ready within two days?”
“That I canna’ say, sire. I have not seen, nor heard from the ground troops in the last few days, but what I can tell ye is that they were in some skirmishes wi’ the island’s forces, and they were bein’ tossed on their arses was the last I’d heard.”
“Can ye tell me who I might speak to as to their readiness? For Master LeGace has determined that they need to be at the ready within three days and has tasked me with that duty.”
“Methinks that it would be Master Boniface, for it was he that told me of their struggle.”
“And can ye tell me where he is at this time?”
“In town, at the inn, I would suppose.” He thought for an instant, then added, “If not there, then at the stables, fer he was seein’ to gettin’ mounts and arms fer the men.”
“Well, then if ye could get me a boat fer this evening, after dinner, then I shall seek him out.”
“Consider it done, sire!”
Leonardo stepped down to the main deck and peered out over the railing toward the town. His mind was swirling at this task ahead of him, and he definitely did not feel like sitting down to dinner with LeGace.
Antoine LeGace was sitting in his little room below deck and considered his next moves. He did have his two prisoners here on the ship, and the note had been sent, and it had been taken by one of Craycroft’s men. And he considered that part of his plan successful. But what he did not know was what to do, if anything about Count Gregorio. This rascal was an unexpected disruption, which he thought nonetheless that he should be able to turn into a diversion of sorts. At the very least, Craycroft’s forces should be directed elsewhere. And he also thought about the two Scotsmen who arrived as “students” on the isle. The more he thought about them, the more he considered they might actually be spies, and the information they might obtain could be useful indeed.
He also thought about Guarneri and Patronis and wondered what they were up to. There was no doubt in his mind that they were both useful and a nuisance. He would like to get rid of them, but their ties to King Henry could pose problems if he was not careful in how he sought to get rid of them.
He wondered if it was wise to let them meander about the place without tighter reins on their rather unpredictable behavior. They had already shown some areas of concern, and Patronis had shown an inordinate interest in the doings of Master Robert. And that must stop! He thought, but he could not figure a way to stop him without drawing undue attention to his own plans. Ah, well, I need to set up a meeting with them in neutral territory. And I shall need to make it clear that they both need to be there.
And then he thought about Drachma, and what his old nemesis had been doing. He knew that young Tom was acting in his stead. But what exactly did he know? He had an inclination, but no certainty of his hunch. Then he thought of just how he could find out. He took out of the drawer his quill and bottle of ink, set them to the side, and next he took a paper from his stack, and composed a short epistle. He then folded the paper over, and took his sealing wax, and then a small candle. He heated the sealing wax, and then after a large blob had formed, he took his own seal out of his coat and pressed it closed over the wax. There, upon the letter was his seal, which showed a wolf’s head. He smiled, looked satisfied, as he placed the seal back inside his cloak, along with his letter.
“Master LeGace?” The interruption broke his concentration, and he was suddenly vexed at the intruder.
“What is it?” He asked icily.
“Pardon the interruption, Master, but I was told to t’ tell ye that supper is bein’ served above.”
He looked up at the doorway where his intruder stood against the glow from his meager lamp. He waved his hand, dismissively, and said, “I shall be up anon. Now get ye hence.”
When the young man had left, LeGace leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and began chanting the ancient words to the darkness. He had places he had to be before dealing with anything as mundane as eating with fools.
Below deck, as the two of them just sat in their prison, Lisa could see off to the right the faint blue light from the face of Maggie, who smiled at Lisa, and motioned for her to come to her. She looked toward her companion, and he seemed to be sleeping, so Lisa stood and walked over toward the blue light.
“Come, Lisa,” she said, and put out her hand, “we have places we need to be this evening.”
“Where would we be goin’?”
“Away, away from here. Come, I know the way.”
“But what of Master Melchior?” Lisa asked.
“Worry not, my child, for he too shall have his day,” came the answer.
Without further questioning, Lisa took Maggie’s hand, and the two of them just walked out the previously locked door, and over the side of the ship, and could be seen as a faint blue speck, going out into the sea, and disappearing into the vastness of the ocean.
After the two had gone, Melchior woke, and he was startled to find himself alone. What have they done with Lisa? He wondered, and he searched his meager room, finding no trace of the girl. But right where she would have been, he was startled to find something quite unexpected. There on her small seat was a loaf of bread, still warm.
He lifted the loaf to his face and smelled the fragrance as if just from the oven. What is this? He wondered. And quite suddenly the story of Brother Philip and his quest came to him, and so after a moment of silent thanks, he broke off a piece and ate it. And in the stillness, as he ate the bread, he could sense the young girl, and she seemed to be telling him that all would be well, and Lisa would be cared for.
So, he just ate the bread, grateful for its soothing effect, as he silently cried, and let the evening envelope him and his circumstances.
Alone in his room, Drachma sat and stared into the future, as if he could truly see it unfolding. He knew Tom could take care of things here. But there was something nagging at his consciousness. Something was there, far off in the distance of time and space. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He could feel the pull of this other world drawing him ever closer, and he felt himself emerge into the back room of an inn. There in front of him, at a large table was the gathering of persons, and together they emitted an aura, which tugged at his soul.
At the head of the table sat the earl of Shepperton, who now appeared to be in excellent health, with a vitality he had not seen in years. And he sat there at a table full of women and one young girl. They seemed to be enjoying the meal, and the music, which flowed from a band of five musicians in another corner of the room. He could see the emotions at the table were deep. There were both joys and sorrows cutting at the persons around the table.
As they ate and drank from the table, with the food and ale flowing freely, their talk also loosened. It became apparent that one of them, the young girl, became the center of their attention. There she was, beautiful, yet totally bald, and fragile as a plucked flower. She seemed to hold them all enthralled as she spoke. She spoke with wild gestures, and with authority of voice. Drachma leaned in to try to see what she was saying, but her words were not distinct to him. He was able to only make out the name of Janie, and that “Janie would have wanted it this way.”
Drachma settled back down, absorbing what he could of the atmosphere of the place, and simply observing what he was able. His attention was then drawn toward the far right, and to a corner where he could see none other than Antoine LeGace, who was also studying the table of participants. He could see LeGace pull something from his cloak and set it on the table in front of him, as he waited patiently for the right time.
LeGace - here? Now what in the world is he planning? LeGace’s presence in this place was as disturbing as anything he could imagine. Yet he decided to sit and observe. Perhaps the answer would come in time. The implications, though, were staggering.
The evening wore on, and the music flowed, and as the participants’ voices grew quieter, he noticed that LeGace stood up, and walked over to the table. Evidently, his presence was not seen, and with casual aloofness, he dropped a paper onto the table near the earl, and then, with a nod to Drachma, he was gone.
Realizing his circumstances, Drachma got up, and moved quickly toward the table. As he got close, he could tell that no one saw him, and yet there was one who recognized that things had changed – the young girl. She looked about her, took in a deep breath, and then smiled. Meanwhile, attention was directed toward the earl and the letter, which had appeared on the table to his right, seemingly out of nowhere. The earl, though obviously startled, reached for the paper, but then thought better of it.
“Now, before I touch this note, and aye, I do know something of whence it came, I should ask Christine to examine it, and to tell us what she can of its origin, and intent, though I should like to hold back on reading it until she is done with it.”
As strange as it seemed, she complied. Chris Lewinski reached into her purse, and drew out a pair of latex gloves, which she put on, and then she reached over toward the earl, and picked up the letter. She carefully examined the paper and the wax seal. She held it up toward the light, frowned intensely as she put the note back down. And then she addressed the others.
“What I can say so far, is that this letter, though seemingly not addressed to anyone in particular, was clearly intended to be received by our earl. It would appear to come from the same time and place from where the other notes have come. And yet… this is different somehow. The paper is not identical. It is lighter to the touch, and not quite the same color. And this seal, though it looks superficially similar, is also not identical to that on one of our previous notes. So, what I could say is that this letter was delivered, somehow, to the rightful earl for whom it was intended. But underlying all of that, I do not have a good feeling about its contents… for I sense that there is evil here.”
“That is remarkable, truly,” said the earl. “Christine has discerned much, without reading the letter. And I would say that I agree with her thus far. And now, in front of all of you, I shall read this epistle.” The earl took back the letter and looked carefully at the seal. Using his table knife, he opened the letter, and then frowned intently at the message before reading it aloud to the people at the table.
To the former Earl of Shepperton – greetings
Let it be known to thee, that thy former realm is now
being ruled by a commoner, a certain Craycroft,
who does rule, in absentia, for the Earl of Derrymoor.
It be my intention to put an end to this, and to take up
rule over the Island Nation. I shall be doing so with
the blessing of England’s King Henry.
Now I do know that you still carry influence over
persons who might still exert some power over
events in Shepperton.
So, be ye warned – if I do find that Drachma, or anyone
else within his service or thine has been meddling in
the events of Shepperton, I shall take it upon myself
to make certain that this window through time shall
be forever closed, and all of Drachma’s doings
shall be forever made naught.
Antoine LeGace
Third Prefect, Order of Byzantium
There was silence throughout the inn. The music had even paused. The folks around the table were looking at each other, thinking about who should say something. Finally, it was Amanda who opened her mouth to speak.
“It would seem to me that this letter does open up a number of possibilities. But first I must ask, is this Antoine fellow capable of doing the kinds of things that he says? And next have we been doing what he implies? Now, I assume that this letter is being given to you in our presence for a specific reason, and what is that?”
“It is not accidental that this young lass is among us now,” said the earl. “She is most perceptive and does see through our vain attempts to try as we may to move our own created mountains. Now, young lassie, to answer your queries, first I would state that I know little of Master LeGace’s abilities to do what he threatens, but I do know of his treachery, and that he has escaped the clutches of the law many times over, and in multiple places. And to think that he perhaps is protected by powers beyond our ken would not be unreasonable. I personally have only met the man once, but he has been described as having the visage of the devil himself by those whom he has threatened. Now I cannot say with any certainty, for I do not remember precisely, and I did not feel overtly threatened by him at the time.
“Now, to your other question, you ask if we have been doing what he implies – and to that I would say emphatically that we have, indeed, been meddling in the affairs of Shepperton. For you see that I am here and am healed of the illness from which I was dying in Shepperton. And that was an illness inflicted upon me by none other than our Master LeGace and his conspirator, Councilor Reordan. Further, it should be noted that we have sent envoys from here and now who have insinuated themselves into the lives of the people of Shepperton. And these include our own Dr. Robert Gilsen, the Lady Judy Morrison, and more recently Marilyn Gilsen and Charles Stephens.”
“Then what are we supposed to do,” Amanda asked, “and more precisely, what are you suggesting that we do? For I do have a feeling that the message was also intended for the man, Drachma, who is among us now.”
“Drachma – here?” asked Lonnie. “I don’t see him anywhere.”
“Neither do I, but I know he’s here. I can feel him and smell him next to me.”
“Feel and smell him? Whatever do you mean, young lady?” asked the earl.
“Shortly after your letter arrived, I could sense something, as if a faint breeze came in from the forest, and I could smell the aroma of the forest, as if I could smell the earth, mixed with ancient trees. And somehow, I knew it was Drachma.”
“Drachma, or someone from that other time and place,” noted Lonnie.
“Oh, it’s definitely Drachma - there’s his authority and power I can sense.”
“Can you communicate with him?” asked Chris.
“I really don’t know, but I get the feeling that what we say and do now he will carry with him. And he seems to be saying, “Do not fear.””
Back in his own room, Drachma was writing a note on a small piece of paper. He next rolled up the little piece of paper and fit it into a tiny cylinder. He went out to where the pigeons were and chose one. He clamped the note to the holder on the bird’s left leg and then carried the bird ever so gently outside.
As he watched the bird take flight, he muttered quietly, “Get ye hence now, and take the message to Tom. I shall await, though I know not how much time I have left.”
Then the old man, exhausted, walked back into his study, found his chair and his flask of wine, and sat down. As he drifted to sleep, he thought he could make out the form of Maggie in the distance, out on the water, leading a young girl by the hand.
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