Pagan Fire (9 page)

“Maere?”

Surprised, Maere turned her head in the direction of the voice. “Seelie?”

“Aye.” Seelie reached a hand through the opening. “Grab hold. I’ll help you.”

Maere flattened herself against the dirt floor, extended her hand, and allowed the other woman to pull her through. When she emerged, she pushed herself to her feet and immediately shaded her eyes from the sun. Though it was fast approaching dusk, the orb still glowed with rich spring brilliance against the azure sky. Maere looked away and patted and tugged her habit into place. A cloud of dust she’d gathered in leaving the anchorage flew up around her. She shook as much of it away as she could, hoping the rest would blend into her clothing.

“I don’t think they’ll care much about how your dress looks,” Seelie said.

“I suppose not.” Maere bent over a patch of grass and wiped her hands on the ground covering. “You know what’s happened, then?”

Seelie nodded. “The abbess told me, when she asked that I come after you.” She grabbed Maere’s arm and leaned toward her friend as they began to walk. “I can’t believe you told the priest about your dreams.” She pinched the fleshy part of the young woman’s upper arm. “What could you have been thinking?”

Maere jerked to a stop, yelping and grimacing. She rubbed the bruise Seelie had inflicted. “What did you do that for?”

“To try and force some sense into you.” Seelie stopped walking as well. “Don’t you realize everyone has these same thoughts? But do you think they tell?” She stomped her foot, startling a squirrel. The animal turned tail and scurried up the scarred trunk of an old oak. “Of course they don’t tell! And do you know why? Because they know they’ll get a beating for having them!”

“What about the ones who did tell?” Maere countered. “Were they not absolved of the sin?” She pursed her lips together. “Or are you saying they wanted to be beaten?”

“I have no idea either way.” Seelie snorted. The girls began walking again. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s plain to see they’re simple-minded.” She glanced at Maere. “And now I suppose I’ll be putting you in the same basket.”

“I – I didn’t want this to happen, Seelie.” Tears tumbled down Maere’s cheeks.

“Oh, I know, girl.” Seelie put her arm around Maere’s shoulders. “I’m sorry to be scolding you at a time like this.”

“I don’t know what came over me. There I was, praying for guidance, when Father John appeared out of the air.” She shrugged. “I thought he was sent by God to help me sort out the thoughts in my head. I realized my mistake too late.” She stopped walking and leaned against the stone wall which separated the abbey and its grounds from the monastery. A bower of green ivy spilled over the rocks and teased the back of Maere’s neck. She brushed it away and continued talking. “I didn’t even tell him about the
other
man.”

“What
other
man?” Seelie asked, her eyes wide. “You haven’t told me about him, either.”

“He only just appeared since I’ve been ensconced. I saw him, here.” She pointed to her head. “He was older, with gray hair. He said he was coming for me.” Maere pushed herself away from the wall and faced Seelie. “Have I gone mad?” She searched the other woman’s face. “We’ve known each other for a long time. Tell me honestly. Do I seem different to you? Have I changed?”

Maere shifted from foot to foot as her friend looked her over. Seelie took Maere’s hands into her own. “Aye. You’ve changed. I can see the lines of worry etched around your mouth and across your forehead. There are dark circles under your eyes, like you haven’t slept. I don’t mind telling you, you’re a fright, girl.” She gripped Maere’s arms. “You must overcome this. The priests’ll like nothing better than for you to become hysterical. They’ll say the devil himself has possessed you and beat you more.”

Maere looked away and hung her head. She blinked back the new tears forming in her eyes. “I fear they’ll be right,” she murmured.

Seelie gave her a hard shake and Maere’s hair tumbled loose down her back. “Leave that nonsense behind. Keep your head high when they question you and try not to stumble before them.” She released her and Maere pushed the coppery strands out of her eyes.

Maere stared hard at Seelie for a moment, considering her words. “When did you become so wise?” she finally asked, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. “You give good advice, my friend.” She offered a weak smile. “I’ll try my best to follow it.”

Seelie patted Maere on the shoulder. “What you call wisdom is very new to me. The knowledge has only come upon me since that night in your room. It’s only fitting that I should use it now to assist you.” She nodded in the direction of the timber and dried-sod chapel. “They’ll be waiting.”

“Lead the way, then,” Maere said, her voice strained. “I’ll offer up the beating for the sinful souls of the deceased who are burning with the devil. Surely, they need comfort more badly than I do.” She shook her head as they began to walk again. “And next time, I swear I’ll be keeping my thoughts to myself.”

“Maere! Seelie!” A girl came running toward them,  dark brown hair flying behind her.

“What is it, Robin?” Seelie said. It was Abbess Magrethe’s young maid. “You look as if you’ve seen a spirit.”

“Not a spirit,” she panted. “A man!”

Maere smiled and ruffled the girl’s hair. “It’s not like you haven’t seen one before. The priests and monks do live in the building on the other side of the wall, after all.”

Robin sighed, exasperated. “There’s something different about ‘im. And, besides, he’s asked for you, Maere. The abbess says you’re to come right away.”

Maere’s stomach dropped. She pushed her hands against the soft flesh as her face grew pale. “What did he look like?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Robin turned and started running toward the abbey. “I don’t have time to tell you,” she called over her shoulder. “Abbess’ll punish me if I don’t return right away.” She turned and ran backwards, her long skirt whipping between her gangly legs. “Please. You have to come along now!” she shouted, then turned around again and began running in earnest.

Seelie started after the girl but Maere stepped in front of her, her eyes wild. She waved her hand in the air. “We can’t go! What if it’s him?”

Seelie planted her fists on her hips. “So what if it is? You can’t be running forever.” She pointed at Maere. “Get some courage, girl, and let’s go face whatever the Lord has planned for you.”

Maere glanced over Seelie’s shoulder. The sun was almost down. The abbey – with its tall bell tower and long corridors that reached out like pointed fingers – was looming dark in the distance. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Deep in thought, Maere began walking. Seelie was right. She couldn’t run from her fears for the rest of her life. It was time she faced them, head on. She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin a notch higher. Face them she would, beginning with this moment.

Chapter Ten

Despite her firm resolve, when Maere entered the abbey, the voice of doubt began ringing in her head. With each stone step she climbed toward the abbess’ upstairs office, the words repeated themselves over and over. Step. “Run.”‘ Step. “Away.” Step. “Run.” Each scrape of her thin leather shoes sounded out the verse like a child’s song. But before she could react to the command, she was at the top of the long open stairway.

Don’t do this
! The words screamed inside her soul. It’s going to be
him
! Panic – already living in the pit of her stomach like a hungry snake – uncoiled and shot through her breast. It choked her with its fury. She couldn’t breathe. With a sudden rush, she took heed of the warning and turned to bolt back down the stairs. At that moment, a door opened behind her. She froze as Abbess Magrethe spoke.

“Maere? Where are you going, girl? I’ve been waiting for you.”

Slowly, tentatively, Maere turned around and faced the abbess. Magrethe waved a long thin hand delicately toward her. “Come along. There’s something we need to discuss.”

Maere followed the older woman into her chambers, dragging her feet across the slate floor. She braced herself – ready to run if need be – as her eyes darted around the room. When she saw the abbess was alone, she let her breath out and relaxed a little. Not much, but a little. Could it be that Robin was mistaken in what she’d told her?

“Take a care, Maere,” Magrethe bade, her watery blue eyes mirroring concern. “You look frightened half to death.”

“Is it true?” Maere asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Is there a man here to see me?”

“Don’t mumble, girl,” the abbess scolded as she took her place behind the finely carved desk, the same desk she’d sat behind almost ten years ago when Maere was first brought to the convent.

Maere cleared her throat and asked louder this time, “Where is he?”

Magrethe frowned. “Robin has obviously told you more than she had a right to. It’s a fine testimony to your obedience training that you came at all.” She leaned forward and crossed her arms in front of her. “What exactly did the child reveal to you?”

“Only that there was a man here who wanted to see me.” She wrung her hands together and glanced around the room again. It was almost dark and she could see the rising moon outside the window behind the abbess. “Is it true?”

“Yes, it’s true. A man
is
here for you.” Maere’s eyes grew wide and the abbess quickly added, “But he’s not the evil you fear, my daughter.” She shook her head and offered a small smile. “I’ve spoken with him. He’s not the evil you have dreamed about.”

Maere took a tentative step forward. “What manner of man is he then, that he should come seeking me?”

“He was sent by your kind Uncle Eugis.” Magrethe watched the younger woman closely as she continued, “He is your betrothed.”

Maere’s mouth fell open. She quickly closed it again. “Betrothed?” She dropped into the wooden chair opposite the abbess’ desk. “I have no betrothed.” Her arms fell to her sides. “Even if it
were
so, I couldn’t leave. You and the sisters are the only family I have ever known.”

“That’s not true,” a male voice replied.

Her back grew rigid and the hair on Maere’s nape stood on end. She frantically searched her memory. She’d heard this voice before, but where? Was it in one of her dreams?

“Would you tell me truly you have no memory of your people?” he continued. “The Dumnonii who live in the lush green hills and thick forests of Tintagel?”

The abbess rose and walked toward the door. “Please, enter, sir. It is most unfortunate but, you see, Maere has no recollection of her life before arriving at Saint Columba’s.” She ushered him into her office. “In the beginning, we tried everything we could think of to bring back her memories. After a while, when they didn’t return, we determined it was God’s will that she remain apart from them and let it be.”

“
God’s
will?”

“You question the workings of our Savior? You are pagan, aren’t you? I suspected as much.” Magrethe sat back down at her desk and spoke directly to Maere. “Think of the joy in heaven you’ll bring for converting this man.” She sat back in her chair and directed her words to the man, “Maere and I were just now discussing the  details of your arrival.”

Maere heard the man walking toward her, but she couldn’t turn around. She was frozen solid, like a stream in the dead of winter. Oh, sweet Jesus, where is my strength? Get a firm hold on yourself, she scolded silently. She held her breath tight as he approached her chair.

“So I heard as I neared your office.”

That voice! She remembered now! He was the pilgrim who’d left behind the strange drawing, the one who knew her kin’s names. Maere finally forced herself to breathe and, gripping the arms of the chair, pushed herself to her feet. Slowly, she turned to face him, to face the nameless entity who had haunted her ever since that brief encounter.

As she turned, she found him standing close to her as if his being there, so near, was the most natural thing in the world. Her eyes met his: As dark as a winter’s night, they were. She ignored his mild look of amusement as her gaze lingered on what otherwise would be a most serious face …. That face! She had never seen such a man. He was handsome and dangerous-looking, with well-formed lips, high cheekbones, and wild black hair hanging to his wide shoulders.

Fear enveloped her, overwhelming in its intensity. Her head swam. Maere took a step back and bumped into the desk. She grabbed hold of the edge, squeezing so hard her fingers hurt. Dearest Blessed Mother but he was the man in her dreams! He had to be! Never mind that she’d never seen the face of the demon in such detail, she felt a kinship between him and this man here. And the thin silvery scar that ran like an easy caress down his cheek only served to make him more sinister. He was from another world, there could be no doubt about it.

She shuddered as his eyes moved over her face and down her body. The black orbs returned to meet hers and held her own in a tight embrace. Near the open window, a raven cried out and the spell was broken. Maere’s gut jumped and stumbled over itself as she looked toward the sound.

With a thumping of wings, the raven settled on the window’s thick stone ledge. The man held out his cloaked arm and, with a rapid movement, the bird flew through the room and perched on his forearm.

Maere looked from the man to the abbess, whose own fair face had grown even paler. She watched as the older woman made a quick sign of the cross over her breast. Maere looked at the bird. It sat quietly, with silver eyes that seemed to take in its surroundings. Its eyes were much too wise for a simple bird.

“Abbess?” Maere cried out weakly. “What goes on here?” Her legs trembled and her knees threatened to give way. She forced out the words, “Surely you cannot mean for me to go with this, this devil?”

“Really, sir. Can’t you see you’re frightening the girl?” Magrethe said, gesturing at the bird. She swallowed hard. “Have a care for her delicate nature.”