“After my initial disarray, it amused me to behave like one,” Lord Avenbury admitted, then looked at Marigold again. “My life as a drake contains everything I could wish, for my wife and baby son are with me.”
“Really?” Marigold was pleased. “But why have you never brought them to show us?”
“They’re shy, but maybe now all this is done with, they will accompany me to see you. Provided, of course, you first return me to my desired form.” He said this last in a tone of gentle persuasion.
Rowan put his arm around Marigold’s waist. “If that is what they all want, my darling, then that is what you must do for them.”
She glanced down at the scarlet ball in her hand. It was still glowing, and its energy still tingled through her. “But there are things I must ask.” She looked at Lord Avenbury. “Why did you become a mallard? Did Aquila do it?”
“No. There was a very wise druid seer here at Avenbury, who fell foul of Randol and was banished. This seer had the power too, and when I lay dying, he was able to see that I became one of the eternal birds. As my life slipped away, I was to become the first bird that was heard. It happened to be a mallard from the lake here. That’s why my wife and child are also mallards, for I made absolutely certain that I was the first bird they’d hear!” He smiled.
She smiled too. “How very sensible of you, sir.”
“I can be, even if as a drake I sometimes seem less sensible than irritating.” He became more serious. “I owe you my life, for if you hadn’t saved me from Mrs. Spindle ...”
“You owe me nothing, sir, because I am now in your debt.”
“Hardly.”
“Then let us agree to hold each other in high esteem.” She laughed a little. “Mind you, I didn’t think you were all that estimable when I first saw—and heard!—you at Dr. Bethel’s house.”
“I was splendidly noisy, wasn’t I?” he replied. “The reason was my annoyance that my delight at having used the boys’ demonic circle to ‘arrive’ was ruined by the indignities heaped upon my person.”
“You certainly registered your protests.”
“Well, a drake has to speak up for himself,” he said with a grin. “Anyway, I imposed upon Perry and Bysshe because I needed to be involved in what was to come, and I’d spied upon them enough to know they’d move heaven and earth to come here once they learned of your intention to take ‘doomed’ Lord Avenbury as your second husband.”
As Bysshe shuffled embarrassedly, and Perry gazed pointedly in another direction, Jenny’s brother continued. “Before I made my presence known in Eton, I’d been in frequent contact with Jenny and Robin, for we were all three aware of what must happen this year. We knew about your as yet undiscovered power, and about Rowan being the fourteenth not thirteenth lord, but unless you discovered both things, Randol’s scheme would have succeeded.”
“It’s of no consequence, I know, but I really would like to know why you left it to the eleventh hour to properly indicate which portrait I was supposed to look at. I know you went close to it before, but if you’d only told me sooner—”
He interrupted. “Time was ticking away, and I was afraid for poor Jenny.” He looked lovingly at his beautiful sister again. “For her sake I decided to make certain you considered the correct portrait. Fortunately it did no harm, on the contrary it achieved what was necessary.”
“But who decreed that I had to finally act alone? There isn’t anything in the legend, is there?”
Instead of answering straightaway, he looked up at the mistletoe. Although the sun was almost up now, the rotation of the earth was beginning to cast the shadow of the escarpment over it. Several sprays were still bathed in dawn rays, however, and Marigold thought he seemed relieved that this was so. She glanced at the bright green-gold sunlit leaves amid the darker foliage of the oak. It was like the tree’s heart, indeed, maybe that was exactly what it was. She cleared her throat a little. “My lord?” she prompted.
His attention swung back to her. “Forgive me, my dear, you asked a question, did you not? No, your crucial role isn’t in the legend, but it
is
indicated in my sister’s portrait, which happens to have been painted by the druid seer I mentioned earlier. He predicted that our salvation would come from the marigold, which is why he painted so many of your flowers into the portrait. He painted rowan leaves because he knew that tree would prove to be Aquila’s stumbling block, and the wheel lies useless in the grass because he knew it could be prevented from turning. He also foresaw that the birds of the lake would help to finally prevent Aquila’s victory. There are other things in the portrait as well, but right now I cannot remember them.”
He glanced up at the mistletoe again. “You must help us quickly now, my dear, for if the sun’s rays leave the mistletoe, it will be too late.”
At this, Perry shuffled alarmedly on Bysshe’s wrist, and gave one of his thin shrieks. His fear of remaining as he was forever was almost palpable, so he directed the cry at Marigold. It was an imploring sound that cut through her like a knife, and she knew she dared not delay. Her gaze moved wistfully to Jenny, with whom she felt such affinity. It would have been so good to use the anguinum to bring her to life once more, and just talk to her, but there was no time; the anguinum had to be used to another end.
Clutching the amulet, Marigold closed her eyes, and concentrated. She felt energy flowing into her, and asked aloud for everyone present be granted their wish. But instead of English, she heard herself speaking in the same ancient tongue that Falk had used earlier. An absolute silence followed, and she was afraid to open her eyes because she thought she’d failed, but Rowan’s arm tightened reassuringly around her. “You can look now, my lady,” he said softly.
Then Perry cried out jubilantly. “Mama! Oh, Mama, you’ve done it!”
Her eyes flew open as he ran to hug her, and she could have wept for joy that he was as strong and handsome as before. She held him close, and then looked up to see her three bird friends, Jenny Wren, Robin Redbreast, and Sir Francis, flying happy and free in the morning sunshine.
Suddenly the assembled army of waterfowl rose noisily from the grass, filling the early morning air with cries as they wheeled above the common. The unnatural new trees had disappeared from the village, which was now fully awake. People had emerged from their homes, and were going about their business as if nothing had happened, which indeed, as far as they were concerned, was the case. It was just an ordinary day, except that tonight there would be dancing and amusements on the common.
The great multitude of birds streamed noisily away toward the lake, led by Sir Francis, whose loud quacks could be heard above the general clamor. Robin and Jenny remained, and alighted on a branch of the oak. Jenny gazed brightly down at Marigold. “Thank you, Marigold, thank you so much,” she said.
Tears filled Marigold’s eyes. “You will come to me again, won’t you? We’ve shared so much, and I feel so close to you both, yet we haven’t had time to talk. I so long to know you better.”
“We would like to know you too. We will come,” the wren promised, then she and her robin lover flew away.
* * *
Marigold and Rowan lay naked in each other’s arms. The bed was scented with lavender, and the early evening sunshine warm and hazy. They could hear music on the common, as the villagers celebrated midsummer day. Everything was quite perfect. Rowan leaned over her, cupping her breast with his hand. “I adore you with all my heart, Lady Avenbury,” he whispered.
“And I adore you,” she whispered back.
He hesitated. “Marigold, about what happened at Romans with Alauda—”
She put a finger briefly to his lips. “There is no need to say anything, for I know you were under Falk’s control.”
“But I was unfaithful, my darling,” he whispered.
“I don’t see it in that light.”
“I was aware of what was happening, but I didn’t seem to care. I even knew I was to be the sacrifice this morning, yet nothing seemed to matter. I was spellbound, I suppose.”
He took one of her heavy red-gold tresses in his hand, and parted the strands. “They spoke quite openly in front of me, you know. When Alauda sent that note trying to prevent me from leaving, she was going to deliver me into Falk’s hands then. I’d ruined their original plan, you see. She’d wanted to spend time here with me, but my sudden marriage put a stop to that. If I’d been under their control here in this house, no one would have remarked anything untoward. As it was, they had to keep me at Romans, and you know what a stir
that
caused!”
“Your good name has suffered considerably,” she admitted, thinking of the servants and villagers.
“I will do all I can to redeem myself.”
“If that entails being very agreeable and attentive to your wronged wife, she will not complain,” Marigold said softly, then she looked inquiringly at him. “Now that our little flock of chickens have been found in the attic, what do you intend to do with them?”
“I’m tempted to hand them over to Mrs. Spindle, but I can’t quite bring myself to that point. Actually, I thought I’d send them to Salisbury market. They should fetch a good price.”
“Speaking of fetches ...”
He smiled down into her green eyes. “You made very fast and loose with my person, madam.”
“Did you like the experience?”
“Very much.”
“I’m so glad you knew it was happening.”
He laughed. “I knew, all right!”
“I wanted you so very much, and at first I didn’t even know what I was bringing about. It was very agreeable, however,” she added in a whisper.
“Just think, my darling, if ever we should be parted at night, you can summon me at will.”
“Only at night?” she inquired, widening her eyes innocently. “What if the mood should take me in the morning, or afternoon?”
“Do with me as you please, my darling,” he breathed.
“Make love to me again,” she whispered, for they had done so more than once already, but still she wanted more of him.
“Madam, you are insatiable.”
“I fear so. My lord, are you telling me you are too tired?”
He smiled. “What would you do if I said yes?”
She reached under the pillow, and drew out the anguinum. “You wouldn’t stand a chance, I fear.” she said teasingly.
“Have you no mercy?” He bent his head to kiss her nipple, drawing it slowly into his mouth.
She closed her eyes in delight. “No mercy at all.” She sighed, her hands roaming over his back and then down to his taut buttocks as he moved on top of her.
“Then it is as well you have no need of an anguinum to arouse me,” he replied, pushing deep into her. When he could push no more, he looked down into her eyes again. “What think you of your second marriage, my lady?”
“Oh, it compares very favorably indeed with my first.”
“I’m relieved to hear it, because I intend this to be the last of Marigold’s marriages.”
“And I intend it to be the only one of Rowan’s,” she replied, closing her eyes with pleasure as he began to make slow, delicious love to her.
She was faintly aware of two tiny bills tapping at the window as Robin and Jenny peeped in and then flew off again. She was also aware of the distant quack of a very individual mallard, but the sounds drifted into oblivion as ecstasy melted her entire being.
Copyright © 1999 by Sandra Heath
Originally published by Signet (ISBN 9780451196828)
Electronically published in 2016 by Belgrave House/Regency
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.