It was Rowan, and Marigold’s very soul was wrenched as he pulled his mistress sensuously close, then kissed her tenderly on the lips. His eyes were dark with seduction, and his pleasure could not be mistaken as Alauda pressed eagerly to him. His hands moved yearningly over the silk of her gown, and no one else seemed to exist for either of them as the kiss became more demanding and erotic. At last Alauda drew away, then took him by one hand to lead him toward the house. They went up the steps to the second floor, then turned toward the hunting tower and disappeared around the end of the balcony. It did not need to be spelled out that they were going to Alauda’s bedroom to make love.
Distraught, Marigold tossed the telescope aside, and scrambled back from the edge of the slope. Far from being kept at Romans against his will, it was clearly very much to Rowan’s
liking
to be reunited with the mistress he said he’d rejected! A discord of emotions pounded through her, and she was so upset she couldn’t even cry. Robin fluttered anxiously beside her, but then there sounded some very cross-sounding quacks that heralded the approach of a certain mallard. The robin flew away as Sir Francis landed awkwardly a few feet away from Marigold, who sat up unhappily. “Oh, Sir Francis, what do
you
want?”
To say that he was angry about something would be to put it far too mildly, for he was positively incandescent with rage. He jumped up and down, quacking all the time, then waddled close enough to jab her painfully with his bill. “Whatever is the matter?” she gasped, recoiling in astonishment. His response was to resume his ranting. He was quite beside himself, gibbering and stamping as if she had caused mortal offense, but at last he calmed down a little, and confined himself to disapproving snorts.
Marigold stared. “Why are you like this?” she asked, as he clacked his bill, and muttered under his breath. She was indignant too; after all, Rowan’s betrayal had been a terrible shock. “This is horridly unfair! If you knew how unutterably wretched I feel, you wouldn’t—”
It was the wrong thing to say, for he erupted into another bombardment of cursing quacks, and rushed up to peck her again. After that he quivered from bill to webbed feet as he made himself tall and thin so he could be eye to eye with her. He oozed with outrage, and his ire was so intense that Marigold couldn’t help but know he considered her to be gravely at fault. But what had she done? She hadn’t even
seen
the drake since the breakfast when Perry and Bysshe had been acquainted with details of recent events.
At last Sir Francis seemed to calm down a little. He waddled to the edge of the slope, looked over, and shook his head. Then he looked at her, snorted, and shook his head again. It was all too much for Marigold. She was devastated by seeing Rowan and Alauda together like that, and was in no state to cope with this as well. She simply wanted to run away from everything! Stifling another sob, she got up and hurried to her horse. Sir Francis gave a dismayed quack, and took to the air, diving so low over her head that she felt the draft of his passing. His clamor recommenced, and he harried her all the way back to Avenbury Park, so that by the time she dismounted again, her head was ringing with his endless quacking. She realized she’d left the telescope behind, but nothing would have induced her to return. She’d send one of the men....
Sir Francis was just about to make another aerial attack, when he broke off midquack, and flew away very hastily. Marigold gazed after him with a mixture of relief and puzzlement. He’d seemed almost frightened. Why? The answer was immediately forthcoming, for Falk spoke a few feet behind her.
Marigold whirled fearfully about, for no one had been in sight when she arrived. Falk was standing at the commencement of the garden path, and there was no sign of a horse or carriage. How had he arrived without her hearing? His wig was very golden as he came toward her. He wore a maroon coat and gray breeches, and a ruby pin sparkled in the folds of his muslin neckcloth.
“I trust I find you well, Marigold?”
“I fear I cannot sincerely offer the same felicitations,” she replied frankly.
“How charming,” he murmured with a thin smile. Then his gaze moved beyond her as Perry and Bysshe came out of the house and ran to her side. She was later to discover they had returned from the search because Bysshe’s horse had gone lame, but right now she was too intent upon Falk to give the boys’ unexpected presence a second thought.
Perry placed himself between his mother and uncle. “Where is Lord Avenbury, Uncle Falk?” he demanded.
Falk’s eyes flickered. “Right now he is with Alauda at Romans, as I think your mother will confirm,” he said smoothly.
Perry turned inquiringly to her. “Mama?”
Marigold gave him a brave smile, then quickly addressed Falk again. “What makes you think I would know my husband is with your sister?” she asked.
“Because you watched them from the escarpment. Oh, by the way, you left this behind.” He drew the telescope from his pocket.
Her hand shook a little as she took it. She no longer needed to ask him how he had arrived here without horse or carriage, nor did she wonder how he was in possession of something she had only just left at the earthworks, because she now knew the answer. Falk Arnold could not only turn his followers into birds, he could become one himself!
Falk gave one of his cold smiles. “Poor Marigold, how unfortunate you are when it comes to marriage. I trust you saw how overjoyed your new husband is to be with Alauda again?”
She strove to think clearly. So far in this conversation Falk had enjoyed all the advantages, and for Robin and Jenny’s sake—if no longer for unfaithful, uncaring Rowan’s—she had to redress the balance. How could she retain her power’s credibility in Falk’s eyes? She glanced at the topiary bush, and was startled to see Robin peeping out. Then from behind the bush there came a single belligerent quack that she knew was directed at Falk.
It was somehow reassuring to know the mallard was close by as well, and it was certainly good to know that when it came to Falk Arnold, Sir Francis was her friend again. The two birds’ support encouraged her, and she smiled coolly at Falk. “I trust Mr. Crowe is in a great deal of pain. He took such a fall last night, did he not? You know, I found him ridiculously easy to deal with.” There, make what you will of
that,
she thought, determinedly ignoring Perry’s incredulous stare.
A new wariness crept into Falk’s cold amber eyes. “I’m not sure I understand you, my dear,” he murmured. “A certain robin and wren were responsible, you had nothing to do with it.”
“Please continue to think that way.”
The reply irritated him. “I promise you will soon regret such flippancy.”
“You are in error again, for I am in earnest. If I had been more vigilant last night, Lord Toby would not have caught poor Jenny. It was a lapse of concentration that will not be repeated.” She slipped her hand pointedly into her riding habit pocket, and pretended to be toying with something about the size of a billiard ball. Let him wonder if she had an anguinum!
Falk’s eyes became piercing. “Are you presuming to challenge me, Marigold?”
She managed a smile. “That is for you to find out, Falk,” she replied, only too aware that Perry and Bysshe thought she’d taken leave of her senses. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps Bedlam was the best place for her.
“Look into my eyes and know you are playing with fire, for I am all-powerful,” Falk said softly.
She could not help but be frightened, but wild horses could not have dragged the fact from her. “All-powerful? You ever were a braggart, Falk, and I have learned not to take anything you say at face value,” she replied, and the moment the words were uttered, her sixth sense flashed with insight.
Wasn’t taking something at face value the very thing she’d done on seeing Rowan at Romans? He hadn’t been lying to her about ending things with Alauda, and no matter how much to the contrary it might have seemed, he wasn’t at Romans of his own volition, nor was he willingly with his former mistress. He was this man’s prisoner!
Suddenly she knew why Sir Francis had been so angry with her. Far from being the betrayed, she had, by her lack of faith, been the betrayer! The drake was supernatural, and was incensed by her reaction, because he knew Rowan was bewitched by druid magic and therefore not responsible for his actions. So the splendid but vociferous demon duck had come to the earthworks in very high dudgeon to put her right on the matter. She didn’t know why Sir Francis should harbor such fierce feelings on Rowan’s account, but he certainly did. Even now she could feel the sharp jab of the drake’s bill.
“Perhaps you should believe me, my dear,” Falk murmured, “for when I claim to have great power, I mean it, and I’m going to defeat your miserable challenge.” Before Marigold knew what was happening, he raised his hand and pointed toward Perry, who to her horror changed into the peregrine falcon of his name. Panic-stricken, Perry gave a thin, piercing shriek, and flapped his wings.
Bysshe stumbled backward with a frightened gasp, but although Marigold was deeply shaken, her maternal instinct surged to the fore. Making soothing noises, she gathered her beloved son into her arms, and as he cowered against her, she could feel his sharp talons through the stuff of her riding habit. “Oh, Perry, my poor darling,” she whispered, stroking his head, which together with his wings and upper body was dark gray, whereas his legs and lower body were more pale and banded. He was very beautiful, but completely terrified.
Falk began to laugh. “So much for your ability! There is nothing you can do for my unfortunate nephew, is there? You bluff well, my dear, but I have just proved you don’t possess the anguinum. Perry is now mine. You should have remembered that he is of my blood, and therefore likely to be particularly susceptible to my will. It is because he is so close to me that I cannot kill him, but believe me, I am able to leave him as he now is for the rest of his life. He is my insurance against any reckless attempt to interfere. Do anything at all, Marigold, and he will never be other than you see him now.”
She was choked with anger and distress. “No! Please, Falk, release him,” she begged, her voice catching on a sob.
“At dawn on midsummer day, at the precise moment the sun’s rays strike the mistletoe on the oak, I intend to again perform the ancient and solemn druidic rites of the wheel.”
“What is the wheel?” she cried, still holding Perry close.
“It is what must be if I, Aquila Randol, am to have what has always been rightfully mine.”
So Falk Arnold and Aquila Randol
were
one and the same, Marigold thought. Or was it just that Falk was convinced of the fact? Perhaps he was quite mad, and should be locked away!
Falk went on. “The wheel will only turn if all the elements are there, and when Alauda was last here at this house with Avenbury, she found the long-lost anguinum again. It was in the moat, where it had lain since 1534, and was only revealed when Avenbury himself had ordered that part of the henge to be dredged. Oh, foolish Avenbury, he was instrumental in my rise, and therefore his own fall. The moment the anguinum was placed in my hand again, I knew I could not fail in anything I attempted. Now nearly all the elements for the wheel are in my possession, from Jennifer to the thirteenth and last lord himself. Only Raddock remains, and he will fall into my hands yet.”
Marigold glanced toward a nearby topiary bush again. Robin was still there, barely ten feet from Falk!
Falk drew a long, satisfied breath, then gave a cool, mirthless chuckle sound. “When the wheel turns, I will be assured of all this,” he waved his arms to encompass Avenbury Park, “and Jennifer Avenbury will become my bride. Can you conceive what it is to desire someone across the centuries? Can you imagine the strength of a passion that has burned constantly in readiness for this one midsummer? The thirteenth and last lord has reached his time, and so have I. Jennifer is about to come to me, and when she does, my love will be complete.”
“You aren’t capable of love,” Marigold whispered, wishing he could indeed be locked away.
Falk was amused. “Launder your best black, for you are about to be a widow again; but in the meantime, for Perry’s sake, remember to bow to my will. You cannot save your husband, because his fate is preordained, nor can you do anything for Jennifer, who was always meant to be mine. As for that upstart Raddock, he will be alone for the rest of eternity, which is no more than his presumption deserves. And by the way, if you imagine you can muster help from the staff here or from the village, remember that they too are subject to the anguinum’s power. I can ensure that everyone remains asleep, and that those who are awake become either what their name denotes, or anything else I choose.”
Bysshe gasped with realization. “The tree by the orchard door. It was a rowan, wasn’t it?”
“Of course. Avenbury very nearly escaped, but luck was on my side, not his.” Falk’s amber eyes swung coldly back to Marigold. “As for what will happen to you and this boy during the rites, let me say I intend to leave you as you are, for I want you to observe what happens. Just remember my abilities to change or transfix you if I so desire. Now then, do we understand each other, my lady?”
She cuddled her beloved son. “Yes,” she whispered, for what else could she say?
Suddenly there was a whir of little wings as Robin darted from the topiary bush to attack Falk’s toupee. It was David and Goliath again, just as it had been that day at Castell Arnold. Falk gave a howl of fury, and lashed out, but the resolute robin sank its claws into the false hair and began to tug. Then Sir Francis waddled purposefully from behind the bush, quacking and flapping as he deliberately got in the way of Falk’s feet. With a yell, Falk fell heavily to the ground, and the loosened wig was jolted free.
As he stretched out to retrieve it, Sir Francis dove on it first, and bore it aloft. The mallard flew strongly toward the lake, then disappeared down among the reeds. Marigold stared after him, and so did Perry, whose curved bill had opened in astonishment. Bysshe gaped as well, for the two birds had so clearly worked in concert that it was quite breathtaking.