The woman spoke first. Her pure white hair was long and unbound, yet her face looked remarkably young. She smiled at Rosalind and Rhys. “I am the Lady Alys. We have come at your request. Why do you seek our help?”
Rosalind looked at Rhys, whose gaze urged her to speak for them. “Our request is unusual in that it might appear to help our enemies.”
“Indeed?” The woman beckoned Rosalind to her feet. “Tell us more.”
Rosalind took a deep, steadying breath, and relayed everything she could think of about Anne Boleyn, the king, and the Vampires. When she ran out of things to say, she stepped back, and Rhys took her hand in a comforting clasp.
“Your request is indeed unusual.” The woman glanced at her companions, who had remained silent. “We shall deliberate.”
With that, the three figures seemed to dissolve into the smoke. Rosalind rubbed her eyes, unsure if she had really seen such a thing. Were not the Druid Elders mortal? Or was it that being within the stone circle gave them a measure of power unheard of in the human world?
“Are we supposed to wait?”
“I assume so.” Rhys sat down on the ground and crossed his legs. He patted the space next to him. “We might as well. It’s not as if we have anything else to do.”
Christopher studied the thick door that led into the crypt of Saint Bethesda’s chapel. A faint light shone from under it, so he knew he was in the right place, and he was certainly expected. He’d come unarmed, knowing that weapons were forbidden to all, also knowing that the chances of his life ending abruptly and painfully were quite high.
With a quick prayer to God and every saint he could think of, he knocked on the door. It was opened by Marcus Flavian, who acknowledged him with a curt nod.
“You are unarmed?”
“Yes, Marcus. You can check if you like.”
“No matter. If you try anything, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
“I assumed you would.” Christopher followed Marcus into the main body of the crypt and came to a halt. Candles illuminated the mosaic-tiled floor and the old oak benches that smelled of incense and damp. Twelve men, the minimum required for a meeting such as this, were gathered in the small space. His uncle sat in the center dressed in his ceremonial red robe, looking rather like an emperor about to dispense justice.
Christopher bowed, but he didn’t say anything. If they expected him to beg and plead for his life, they would be disappointed.
His uncle cleared his throat. “Christopher Ellis, you have been summoned before your peers to answer charges of breaking your vows.”
“In what way?”
“You have allied yourself with a Druid.”
There was some whispering amongst the hooded men. It reverberated through the walls and floor of the echoing crypt.
“At
your
command. Is not your word law, as leader of the Mithras Cult? If I had disobeyed you, wouldn’t I be in the same position I am now?”
“We are not here to debate my leadership or answer your questions. We are here to determine whether you should be tried for breaking your vows.”
Christopher made sure he looked at all the faces. “Am I not allowed to defend myself?”
“If the brethren decide that you must answer to the entire Mithraic court, you will have a chance to defend yourself then.”
“Freely?”
His uncle’s smile was chilling, his satisfied expression indicating that the babblings of an already condemned man wouldn’t hold much weight with any court. “As freely as you wish.” He turned to the rows of silent men. “I would ask you to vote. All those who believe Lord Christopher Ellis should be tried for treason to our cause, please raise your hand.”
There wasn’t a single member who was willing to go against his uncle and not send Christopher to trial. Not that he’d expected anyone to stand up for him. He glanced over at Marcus Flavian, who had also voted against him. He could only hope that by the time they decided to try him properly the leadership would have changed for the better. Or that he would’ve received fresh information from Brother Samuel that he could use to set himself free.
Uncle Edward cleared his throat. “It is unanimous. Christopher Ellis, you will stand trial.”
“And when will that be?”
“As soon as I can arrange it. We need to call out the entire membership.”
As Christopher stepped out of the center of the circle, Marcus pushed past him.
“By your leave, sir. There is another matter I should like to discuss.”
Christopher stiffened as his uncle glared down at Marcus. Trust Marcus to seize an opportunity and use the meeting for his own benefit.
“Sir Marcus Flavian?”
“I would also like to address the entire membership.”
“For what purpose?”
Marcus sucked in a visible breath. “To challenge your leadership of the Mithras Cult.”
Silence greeted his remark, a silence that seemed to grow bigger and fill the small space until there was no air left.
“You have no right!”
“Verily, I do, sir. According to the records, which I have consulted, there is a formal process for these occasions when the leader is challenged. As an honorable member of the cult, I am allowed to express my grievances and request your response in front of the entire membership. If we do not find your answers satisfactory, we can vote to replace you as leader.”
Edward stood up, his face white with fury, his hands braced on the arms of his chair. Christopher backed away toward the door. He didn’t want his uncle thinking he had anything to do with this. Marcus stood his ground, his stance wide and his expression a study in polite defiance.
“I will consult the records myself, Sir Marcus. If I find that you are correct, of course, I will follow the correct procedure.”
“Thank you.” Marcus hesitated.
“What is it now?” Edward snapped.
“If we are gathering the membership to sit in judgment on Ellis, I ask that I may address the question of your leadership at the same time.”
“Don’t you wish to gather your evidence first?”
Marcus smiled for the first time, his gaze fixed on Edward. “I have my evidence.”
Edward sat back down again with a thump. “You should take care, Marcus Flavian. Some members of the cult might not like you challenging their leader.”
“Is that a threat, sir?”
“Not at all. Merely a warning. I am quite confident that my leadership will survive your attempt to overthrow it.”
Marcus bowed. “I’ll bid you good night, sir.”
Christopher was out of the door before Marcus even finished speaking. He had no wish to talk to his uncle, who would be furious beyond measure at this turn of events. Especially now, when Edward believed he was so close to getting what he wanted through Anne Boleyn.
With a soft whistle, Christopher mounted his horse and headed back for Hampton Court. He still wasn’t a free man, but at least he’d witnessed his uncle’s shock at finding his leadership under fire. And as matters stood, he needed every scrap of good news he could get. As he walked his horse back out onto the main thoroughfare, he had the most peculiar sensation that he was being watched. The sensation persisted as he kicked the horse into a canter, and it followed him all the way back to Hampton Court.
Rosalind yawned and quickly covered her mouth. She had no idea what the time was, but from the grayness now edging out the black, she suspected it was almost dawn. Even though Rhys’s shoulder had proved a comfortable place to lay her head, the rest of her was cramped from sitting in the same position for so long.
“Should we go, Rhys?”
He stirred beside her, and she moved away from him to allow him to stretch. “Perhaps we should.”
Rosalind stood and took a moment to straighten her legs before offering Rhys a hand. He grinned at her as she pulled him up. “Thank you, my lady.”
She turned to answer him, and went still as the three Druid Elders appeared behind him. Rhys spun around too, his grin slowly fading to be replaced by a look of reverence.
The woman called Alys slowly inclined her head. “We have deliberated and we are in agreement.”
Rosalind realized she had been holding her breath. It seemed presumptuous to ask what the decision was, but she couldn’t help looking hopeful.
“We will help you defeat Anne Boleyn and the Vampire Council. Our duty is to our race and yours is to safeguard the king.”
“Thank you,” Rosalind whispered. “We are humbled by the honor you do us.”
“We will provide you with a fertility charm that the Lady Anne Boleyn must wear about her person. We will also make her a potion that she will need to drink every day until she conceives.”
The woman waved her hand over the stone altar, and a small blackish item appeared. Rosalind stepped closer to examine it. It was the size and shape of an acorn, which Rosalind already knew was a symbol of fruitfulness, and made of something that resembled wood.
“This charm is carved from ancient bog oak, which is one of the most potent fertility charms known to us.”
Rosalind picked up the charm and held it in the palm of her hand so that Rhys could examine it. It was almost weightless. “I will take great care of it, my lady.”
“I’m sure you will. But while it is in your keeping, do not allow it to touch your skin. You have no need of its powers.”
Rhys offered his kerchief, and Rosalind wrapped up the acorn charm and stowed it in her leather pouch.
Rhys cleared his throat. “My lady, how shall we obtain the potion?”
“I will send a wisewoman to you. She will prepare the potion and give you all the necessary instructions on its use.”
“Thank you, Lady Alys,” Rosalind said. There was a singsong tone to the woman’s voice that reminded Rosalind of home. “We will do our best to protect our kin and destroy this Vampire.”
“You must succeed. We are all counting on you.”
The woman and the men faded back into the shadows of the stones and Rosalind was left with Rhys. She patted her leather purse and managed to smile at him. “Let’s hope that this is the key to bringing down the Boleyns.”
Rhys smiled back. “Well, if it isn’t, we won’t have much time to worry about it. I imagine if Anne and the Vampire Council succeed, we’ll be quite high on their list of people to dispose of.” He turned and headed back the way they had come. “Now we’d better get back, or you’ll be missed.”
Rosalind followed more slowly, her mind in a whirl as she tried to work out what they should do next. They had to wait for the wisewoman to make the potion for them, but apart from that . . . Rosalind clutched her stomach and ran toward the nearest clump of bushes. By the time Rhys came back to find her, she had already stopped retching and knelt on the ground struggling to breathe normally.
“Are you all right,
cariad
?” Rhys’s hand landed on her shoulder.
Rosalind wiped her mouth on her sleeve and got to her feet. “I’m fine now.”
Rhys cast her a quick glance and then wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “When we meet the wisewoman, you will consult with her as well. Promise me.”
She leaned in to him, suddenly glad of his warmth and solid strength. “Don’t worry. I will.”
It was, perhaps, unfortunate that the first person they met as they approached the darkened stables was Christopher. He waited for them to reach him, his hands on his hips, his expression unamused.
“You look like lovers returning from a tumble in the hay.”
Rhys didn’t release her. “My lady was unwell and, as you weren’t available, I was merely seeing to her safety.”
“Well, I’m here now, so you can unhand her.”
“She’ll probably swoon if I do.” There was an edge to Rhys’s voice that made Rosalind feel tired.
“Not if I am holding her,” Christopher snapped.
She managed to push herself away from Rhys and lean up against the corner of the stable block. “There is no need for either of you to take me anywhere. I am perfectly well.” They both stared at her, their expressions equally skeptical. “For goodness’ sake! I have already promised to consult with a healer. What else do you want?”
“For you to go to bed.” Rhys glanced around the still-quiet space. “The grooms and stable hands will be up soon. The king is going hunting.”
Christopher held out his hand. “I’ll take you.”
“You are not meant to be seen with me, especially near my bedchamber.”
Christopher’s hand dropped to his side. “Sometimes I want to pick you up, throw you over my shoulder, and damn all this pretense.”
“We might soon have a solution to that.”
“What?”
Rosalind managed to edge past him toward the path. “Why don’t you tell him, Rhys, while I put
myself
to bed?”
Christopher stared at Rhys, who was faintly smiling. “What happened?”
“The Druid Elders agreed to help us. They gave us an acorn charm that is full of fertility magic. If Anne wears it close to her skin, she will conceive an heir for the king.”
Christopher let out his breath. “Do you think it will work?”
Rhys raised his eyebrows. “Of course I do. A wisewoman will visit us to give us a potion Lady Anne will need to drink as well.”
“Do you think it will be enough to tempt Anne into a temporary alliance with us?”
“I don’t know, but it’s the only thing we have left to try, isn’t it?” Rhys nodded. “Good night, my lord.”
Christopher watched Rhys leave, and stared out into the night sky, searching for answers that weren’t there. A shadow appeared on his left, and he reacted instinctively, his sword blade flashing in the moonlight. He looked up at the high wall that surrounded the stable yard.
A figure dressed in black boy’s clothes perched on the top of the wall, long hair loose in the breeze, blue eyes sparkling. The scent of orange blossom drifted over Christopher. His gut tightened as he recognized the Vampire female he believed was his kin. Rhys and Rosalind were instantly forgotten. Had the Vampire followed him to the earlier meeting as well? Had she overheard their discussion?
“What do you want?” Christopher asked, his sword at the ready, just in case she did the unthinkable and sprang for him.
“I was just seeing you home safely, my lord.” Her voice was sweet and breathy with a hint of a Spanish accent.