Blazing Earth (3 page)

Elethea stepped outside the small cottage and stood up straight for the first time in hours. Pushing her kerchief off, she wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. Her hair lay matted against her head, so she loosened the tie holding it and shook it free. A breeze rustled through the nearby trees and lifted strands of her hair as it passed by her.

Pressing both fists into the small of her back, she stretched the overused, tense muscles for several minutes, enjoying both the pressure of her hands there and the cooler air here outside.

The babe was alive and well, but it had been a battle. Over the last two days, Linne had struggled to give birth to her very large son. To make it worse, the babe had been turned the wrong way around, so it took brute force and effort to guide him into the birth canal. Wee Medwyn's mother would most likely never forgive
him or his huge father, Rolfe, for the hours of pain she'd suffered.

Well, that was one of the things Linne had yelled out during her pains, along with cursing poor Rolfe's parentage and his other attributes. The words brought a smile to Thea's face now, for most women did the same thing during childbirth. And the pain and those harsh words usually faded at the babe's first smile . . . or burp. She'd seen it happen countless times.

From the happy murmurings she could hear inside, she thought everyone might be well enough and already on the path to forgiving and forgiveness. A pang of bittersweet envy filled her heart then at the sounds—the soft words being exchanged by husband and wife. She allowed it for a moment and used the time to ease out the tangles in her hair before gathering it once more into a braid.

Stuffing her kerchief in a pocket, Thea knocked on the door and pushed it open a bit, peering in at the new family. Rolfe's mother would arrive in the morn to help Linne out with the babe and other tasks, so they would be in the hands of a good woman.

“I am leaving now,” she said in a soft voice. “Summon me if you have need, at any hour, Linne.”

The woman nodded. “My thanks, Elethea,” she said without pausing as she rubbed the babe's head. “I could not have done this without you.”

“Rest as you can this night. I will check in on you on the morrow,” Thea promised.

She needed to escape. The feelings of loss and guilt and emptiness assailed her worst at times like this.
No words could fill the empty space within her, and no power on earth could give her a child. She could only content herself in knowing that she had helped many babes safely into this world.

Thea gathered up her supplies and put them in her basket, quietly moving around the room. When the babe whimpered, her knees nearly buckled. When Linne soothed him with sweet words and touches, her soul cried out in pain. She hurried her last steps and left quickly, pulling the door closed on Rolfe's words.

“Our thanks. . . .”

Her steps were rushed and quick as she made her way from their cottage in the darkness, along the path that led to the edge of village toward the woods. Only the moon's light illuminated her way and soon she plunged into the thicket. Following the flickers of light as they touched the ripples of the water, she slowed her pace and walked along the stream. There was a small pool that gathered near the turn of the stream, and she sought it now.

She'd spent many hours at the pool, allowing its calm current to ease her raged soul. Especially after helping with a birth. More especially when the delivery was not successful. For all her abilities and her seeming gift for healing, sometimes people died.

Babies died.

Those were the worst and each time it chipped away a bit of her heart, leaving her almost as damaged as when she lost her own. . . .

She had reached the pool just as the heat struck her, forcing her to her knees as it burst forth, from inside
her. It had happened like this many times before, but this, this time it felt stronger and deeper than any she'd known. Like the piercing heat of a roaring fire, it spread through her, making her sweat anew and sending tremors through her body.

Reaching down, she tugged her kerchief from her pocket and dipped it in the cold water. The first swipe of it across her brow cooled some of the heat, but it returned. Waves of heat poured through her body. She put the cloth back in the water and repeated the soothing action several times before stopping, not bothering to wring the cold water from it. Then, as quickly as it had struck, it left, leaving her chilled and shaking.

Shivers tore through her body then, and the wet kerchief that had offered relief now caused pain. She tossed it to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop the shaking. Hers had little effect, but the large, strong, masculine arms that surrounded her had more.

“Thea, what are you doing here?” Tolan lifted her to her feet, never releasing her from his embrace. “Are you ill?”

She could not be ill, for the first thing she noticed was that he wore nothing but his breeches. His chest was bare, wet, and hard as he held her close. She closed her eyes for but a moment in an attempt to absorb some of his strength. Then she lifted her head and turned in his arms.

“Nay, not ill,” she said, not yet able to meet his gaze.

“Ah,” he whispered, touching his lips to her
forehead. “Another birth? Or a death?” Stunned by his awareness, she frowned and looked into his dark brown eyes.

“A birth,” she said, searching his face.

How had he known this part of her? She thought that no one noticed the price she paid each time. Worse, what else had he noticed about her life?

“And all is well? Now?” So close that his breath touched her face, he held her securely against his chest, almost as though he feared the worst.

“The babe is well, though the birth started out with much difficulty. I thought I might lose both of them.” Thea leaned her forehead against his skin, inhaling the scent of him, allowing his strong arms to hold her.

A companionable silence surrounded them, and the sounds of the night creatures echoed in the forest. When the shivering stopped and she felt more at ease, she lifted her head and released her hold on him. A hold she had not even realized she'd had. Sliding her hands from under his belt at his back, she stepped back. A mistake, for it granted her a better look at Tolan, the overseer of Lord Geoffrey's lands.

He was taller than most men who lived and worked here, his dark hair touching his shoulders, shoulders strengthened through working with the land. Lean and muscled, his body held no softness. Every part of him was strong and sculpted. She shivered once more, but this had nothing to do with being chilled and everything to do with her intimate knowledge of every inch of his body.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, meeting her gaze and
smiling at what he saw there. She knew he recognized the hunger in her eyes that matched that in his own. And it was not for food.

“I have had little this day,” she admitted, smiling at him for the first time. “Surely you have eaten your supper?”

The night had fallen some time ago and she knew that he had a girl to make his and his son's meals. He held out his hand to her. “Come. There is plenty in the pot and 'tis still warm. Even some bread and cheese.”

“I wanted to wash,” she said, glancing at the water.

“The water is frigid here, Thea. I will warm some for your use.”

Thea knew that warming the water would lead to him helping her bathe. And that would lead to other pleasurable things. But her exhaustion was bone-deep and she doubted anything could rouse her body and keep her awake this night. She took his hand and allowed him to lead her back down the path to the village to his cottage even knowing 'twould do him no good.

They paused at his home to get the promised food before walking on to hers. While she ate, he built up the fire in the hearth and heated water for her use, all without uttering a word. Then she felt him at her back as he pulled her to stand. Thea's first thought was that she was too exhausted for anything but sleep, but even she was surprised when her body sought not sleep but more of his caresses.

Once she was clean, his touch became something else, something more insistent and enticing. Arousing
and invigorating. With few demands of his own and with an unexpected patience and generosity, Tolan tended to her through the night.

His touch and attentions eased her worries and the tension that followed her for days after seeing to a birth or death. His mouth and hands awakened the joy from deep within her and allowed her body to rejuvenate and refresh itself. His words soothed the fragility that haunted her yet and made her feel alive and living. All things she'd never expected to find with any man after her husband had died. She fell asleep smiling at that realization.

But the next morn, when she woke in her own bed and he was gone, she swore she would never underestimate his determination again.

When Thea rose and dressed, readying for another busy day in her life here, she noticed it. A patch of skin, on her forearm, was red and raised there. Almost like a burn, but she knew she had not done that. Pulling her sleeve up to take a closer look, she thought it did not look like a usual burn. Or infection. Or abrasion. Yet there it was. She found the jar of unguent she used for such things and dabbed some on the area. With her sleeve back in place, she went about her tasks and saw to those she needed to tend.

It was much later that she realized she'd underestimated the strange mark and what it would do, just as she had underestimated Tolan.

*   *   *

Geoffrey of Amesbury was a worried man.

He pushed his helm off his head and let it drop,
knowing the man who followed along behind his every step would catch it. Sliding the mail hood back, he let the chill air cool his head and neck. Hours of riding and searching this day had found him nothing.

Not a sign or symbol on any of the standing stones here. Or those that had fallen or been knocked down. Geoffrey had himself searched even when his men reported there were none. Now, exhausted and frustrated, he accepted a skin of wine and drank deeply from it.

“My lord?”

“What is it?” Geoffrey peered out over the land before him, not bothering to face the soldier.

“There are more of those strange mounds to the west,” the soldier offered. “We have not searched those yet.”

Without hesitation, Geoffrey knocked the man to the ground with the back of his hand. Since he had been with these men, searching these lands for the last fortnight, he knew what had or had not been examined. And he knew that the markings he sought must be on stones and not in the ground. That this soldier thought to advise him was unacceptable. Geoffrey strode off toward the tallest of the stones before him here.

Walking into the center of the several concentric rings, he knew this place held power. He could feel it there, beneath his feet, as it moved into his body and sent small sparks of some energy into his skin. He squinted into the sun as it set in the west and waited for more.

Nothing.

He knew then that this was not the place that Hugh de Gifford sought. Geoffrey slid his hand inside his tunic and withdrew the parchment he'd received from his distant cousin just days ago. Though something prevented Hugh from reaching England, this missive had arrived and given him orders and knowledge, sketches even, of what to look for on his lands.

For some reason not disclosed, de Gifford believed that the circle of power lay here, in this area, on Geoffrey's lands. Whether or not his belief was based on the many strange mounds and stones and other artifacts, Geoffrey knew not. He only knew he must find it, for there were warriors on their way to destroy it.

He turned to find his men standing just outside the stones, in watchful readiness for his next command. Calling out an order to set up camp, he faced the sun again and wondered what would happen when Hugh arrived and he'd not found the circle yet. Tremors shot through him at the thought of failing this man. Well, de Gifford was more than a mere man—there was a power in him that defied explanation. Geoffrey had seen that power used and would never want to be its target.

He could return to his keep and the comforts it offered, but his time to find the stones was dwindling and he could not afford to let his desire for comfort interfere with his duty. Hugh said there were signs and so he knew there were. All Geoffrey had to do was find them.

And find them now.

The two guards standing over the gates to Amesbury Castle nodded and waved Tolan inside. He guided his horse along the well-worn path, up the slight hill to the stark stone building in the center of the large yard. The design and coloring of this keep made it blend into the landscape around it, almost as though it had been done apurpose to hide it from sight.

As he glanced back out through the gates, the other prominent building in the area—the Amesbury Abbey—glistened in the sun. At the edges of the town, it caught the best light and seemed to call visitors to it as the flickering sun captured their attention. Visitors and pilgrims came aplenty to it, seeking repentance or favor. Even the king's daughter was there, answering the call of God or her father's orders. Rumors swirled that the king's mother would join her there soon. A blessed place, that.

A chill raced through him then, turning his attention back to the dark and dreary castle in which Lord
Geoffrey lived. He'd noticed the feeling before, indeed, on many visits here. Not one of evil so much as a lacking of good. As though the black and gray stones resisted the light even as the man ruling over this keep and these lands resisted the good around him.

Though Geoffrey had not been overtly a bad lord to serve, Tolan always waited for him to show his true nature. Thinking on that as he left his mount with a waiting stable boy and entered the keep, he wondered at his observation. Mayhap he was wrong? Geoffrey tended to his lands and his people as he should, but there was something else that Tolan could feel and yet not describe. A sense of something dark deep within him.

“Here he is, my lord.” Bordan's impatient and panicking voice echoed across the large but empty chamber of the great hall. Tolan quickened his pace to reach the front of the room.

“My lord,” he said, bowing his head. “I came at your call.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he tried not to let his surprise show as he looked on Lord Geoffrey.

A haunted expression sat in the nobleman's gaze, and his coloring was pale and nearly gray. And some nervous movements accompanied the change in appearance, for he kept running his hand over his face and shaking his head. A touch of the palsy? Or some other affliction? It was new, for Tolan had not seen it before Geoffrey departed on this latest excursion of his.

“The field?” Lord Geoffrey demanded without pretense. “Will it take seed now?”

Tolan nodded. “I have seen to it,” he said. “It will be ready for the second planting in a few weeks.”

Tolan had not checked it this morn, but he had no doubt it would be. His faith in the Old Ones or their methods had not failed him yet. A nod was Lord Geoffrey's only answer as the nobleman turned away to address Bordan on some other matter. This behavior was strange. The lord went on about his business, never taking notice of Tolan, until Tolan finally spoke up on his own.

“My lord? If there is nothing else, I will go back to my duties?” Tolan began to nod and step back, but was stopped by a sharp command.

“Stay!” Lord Geoffrey called out, without turning to face him. “We leave at noon.”

“Leave, my lord?” Tolan said. “Do you leave so soon after returning, then?” He must have misheard the words.

“Gather what you need, Tolan. We will be on the road for several days. Tell Langston to see to things until we return.” Langston, of Norman descent, was assigned to help Tolan with his work on Lord Geoffrey's lands, but the man was nothing more than a worthless spy. Keeping him busy with meaningless tasks kept the man out of things he should not be involved in, but he was no one to be put in charge of . . . anything growing.

“My lord . . .”

“I have need of your expertise with the lands around Amesbury, Tolan. You and your family have lived here for generations and I—”

“My lord, I can accompany you. My family has lived here as long as Tolan's,” Bordan began. The big man began to sweat as he spoke and pressed his case to their lord, never recognizing the growing anger and frustration on Geoffrey's face.

But Tolan did and so accepted what must be the inevitable result of this order. “I understand, my lord,” he said, bowing lower now.

An angry nobleman was not someone he wanted to face down or set on the villagers or others under his hand, so Tolan had acquiesced. Even though the feeling of dread filled him now with Geoffrey's reference to the generations before him there.

“We will meet you in the village, Tolan. And bring along whatever tools or accoutrements you need.”

“My lord, what will we be doing?”

Bordan gasped at Tolan's question and looked as though he would strike out at him, but Tolan needed to understand what this journey was about and how to hide his true gift from others.

“Bring along whatever you need to test the soil. To find obstructions beneath the surface. I am searching for hidden st . . .”

Lord Geoffrey stopped and glanced around them, over both of his shoulders and back to the doorway as though someone might be listening. That was not what made Tolan nervous. What made his skin crawl and his stomach heave was the word that the nobleman hesitated on.

St . . .

Stones.

Hidden stones.

Tolan fought to keep his reaction off his face. He knew the stories and the legends about these lands, passed down from a time when the pagans held sway and the Christians had not yet arrived. The stories about those who built and carved the huge circles of stones that lay across the Salisbury Plain for miles in all directions. None of those were hidden, though some lay partially out of sight due to the overgrowth of weeds and other plants.

He also knew about the other stones, the ones rarely known or spoken about. He knew their origin and their purpose and he knew, most importantly, of his duty to them. He clenched his jaw, trying to regain his control before he said something he should not. Pulling in a deep breath and easing it out, he nodded at Lord Geoffrey. “Very well, my lord. I will gather my tools and be ready.”

His agreement seemed to break Lord Geoffrey's consternation and the man nodded and waved him off now. Tolan turned to go, knowing he must make other arrangements before he could leave and that there was little time. It took all his control not to break his pace and run from the keep back to his house. He urged his horse to move faster than he would usually and Tolan refused to stop even when several of those known to him called out as he rode by.

His first stop, though, was at the cottage of Githa and Durwan and arrange for them to see to Kirwyn while he was gone. Though a young man, Kirwyn could care for himself in most situations, but Tolan
would be more at ease if he knew someone was looking after his son. Once Githa had been told, he went to see Thea. As was her custom, she was not at home but out visiting with those who needed her attention.

He laughed then as thoughts of her and the night they'd shared made his body begin to react in a way that he had neither the time nor the possibility of acting on now. But he would seek her out on his return and they would speak. There were many matters they needed to discuss and he would not allow her to push his questions and concerns away. Tolan gathered up a tunic and a few other supplies and searched for Kirwyn in the fields.

When he reached the fields, Tolan sought out some tools from the storage building there. With his only intention to pacify Lord Geoffrey in this, he gathered a hoe and a measuring stick and a spade. He had no idea of what the lord would ask him to do, but these simple tools would handle many possible situations. After securing them to his horse, he rode to the field that was being worked this day to find Kirwyn.

His son stood in the midst of the other young men working there, but he seemed so much older than them. Kirwyn would have Tolan's height and breadth, but he carried his mother's fairer coloring. Tolan prayed that the boy had inherited the same strong connection to the earth and its power as he himself had. Soon, on the next anniversary of his birth, Kirwyn would be of age to assume his place amongst the generations of Tolan's family to tend the earth and guard its secrets. Waving him over, he prepared for
the battle between father and headstrong son that had been the way of things between them for some time.

“I must accompany Lord Geoffrey on a journey, Kirwyn. We leave shortly,” he said. The mulish expression appeared in less than a moment, for his son knew what would follow next. “Githa and Durwan will see to you while I am gone.”

“Father, I can—” Kirwyn started.

“This is not about your ability to care for yourself, son,” Tolan interrupted, reaching out and placing his hand on his son's shoulder. “This is so that I know you will be well. My only requirement is that you eat supper with them and sleep in their cottage. I still expect you to oversee ours and to tend to your duties here.”

“And Blythe?”

“Ah, please tell her we will need her not to cook for us. I do not know when I will return but will try to send word, Kirwyn.” Tolan purposely issued no decrees about not seeing the girl, knowing they would be ignored. He noticed the hopeful expression in the boy's eyes. “But have a care, as I said.”

Kirwyn nodded and smiled. “What is this about, Father?” he asked in a low voice. Others were close enough to overhear anything spoken too loudly.

“I know not. Lord Geoffrey ordered me to accompany him and so I do. Langston is in charge of the fields while I am gone.”

Kirwyn grimaced.

“Aye, I know. So, give him counsel as you can.”

“Me? He will not listen to me,” his son scoffed.

“He will if it means he will do less work.”

Kirwyn nodded and smiled knowingly. Langston's laziness was widely known among those working the fields, even if the lord knew it not. The arrival of men on horseback stopped any other exchanges. Tolan patted his son's shoulder and nodded to him.

“Tolan, is this your son?” Lord Geoffrey called to him. Urging his horse closer, the lord scrutinized his son's face. “How many years does he have?”

“Aye, my lord. This is Kirwyn. He has ten and five years.” Tolan put his arm around Kirwyn's shoulders and brought him closer.

“He does not have your look about him.”

The words startled Tolan. Glancing at his son's face and then at Lord Geoffrey, he shrugged it off. Or tried to, for a deep sense of danger swirled in his gut, making it difficult to ignore what he wanted to believe was a simple comment.

“His coloring favors his mother, my lord,” Tolan explained.

“His mother?”

“My late wife, my lord. Corliss. She died of a fever four years ago.” A strange expression passed over the nobleman's face and disappeared in an instant before he spoke again.

“And you have not married again? You need more sons, Tolan, to work the land with you. We will speak of this on our return.” Lord Geoffrey motioned with his hand at one of the men, who nodded. The man was charged with keeping track of the lord's business and concerns and was rarely anywhere but at Geoffrey's side.

“We ride,” Lord Geoffrey called out without further conversation.

Tolan hugged Kirwyn and mounted up, following the group along the road, out of the village, and away from the fields. They traveled farther into the lands and properties owned by Lord Geoffrey and away from those controlled by the abbey and a few minor noblemen. Though he never said so, Geoffrey had a clear destination in mind and an urgency about the journey and task.

They traveled for miles, going south, around the abbey and then toward Salisbury and its great cathedral. They passed by Old Sarum and the huge hill fort still in use by the king's bishop. An awareness shot through Tolan as they approached the place where the earth had been pushed up into a bank surrounding the protected land within the circle. Built in olden times and covered with the remnants of the original cathedral, this land held power.

Although a score of men rode in this group, it was a hushed and silent journey through those first hours and first days. For Tolan, who rarely left Lord Geoffrey's land, it was interesting. The soil of the Salisbury Plain felt very different from that of the fields and hills of his own lands, too. His hummed with some living force that he had not found anywhere else.

Their journey moved along at a painfully slow pace as they stopped at various hills and mounds and stones along their path. At first, Lord Geoffrey disclosed nothing about his search and since they were journeying farther and farther away from any familiar
places, Tolan offered no comments and practiced his patience. His thoughts were filled with all the tasks he should be completing back home.

When the orders were given to ride north, his unease grew.

On the sixth day of their journey, as they approached the more familiar large circle of stones nearer to the west of Amesbury, Geoffrey called for them to stop and make camp. A sense of nervous anticipation filled Tolan and he found himself holding his breath every time the nobleman uttered a word. And when the sun dropped behind the mountains to the west and Lord Geoffrey approached him alone, Tolan waited to learn the reason behind the journey.

“My lord,” Tolan said, standing as the man grew nearer to his own place by the fire. “How can I be of service?”

“Sit.” Geoffrey motioned back to the rock on which he'd been sitting. “Leave us,” he said to the others who yet sat too close by. After those few wandered off to other places, Lord Geoffrey sat down. “What do you know of these stones, Tolan? Did your family pass down stories about them?”

“I know little, my lord. No one knows their origin or why they sit in such strange circles.” Tolan shrugged, relieved that his questions involved
this
group of stones and not another. “Some say they were brought here by the ancient magician Merlin,” he said, chuckling. “But I know not the truth of it.”

Lord Geoffrey stared at him then, as though trying to discern whether or not to say more. When the man
let out a rough breath, Tolan knew he had decided to do that.