Childe Morgan (19 page)

“Yes.” She leaned her cheek against his hand and closed her eyes, shivering, and he briefly stroked her hair. Then:

“Dearest Alyce,” he murmured. “I think I understand some of what you are doing, and a little of the why. Both would be dangerous, if found out. But if one does not know, one cannot betray that knowledge, even under coercion. Can you…block me so that I may not speak of this? Please. Do this for all of us,” he added, when her expression mirrored her reluctance.

“Very well,” she whispered. “Afterward. But for tonight, I need your active support—your protection. And I need your senses unclouded. Will you help me?”

“You know that I will, dearest heart,” he replied, turning her hands to kiss both palms.

J
UST
past midnight, they and Vera and two small, sleepy boys made their way quietly down to the garden and its mortuary chapel, the two boys bundled in fur-lined capes against the late-night chill. The mothers led their sons; Kenneth brought up the rear, a sword at his hip. Jared had taken himself off to bed soon after supper, declaring himself bone-weary from the day's hunting, though the opinion had been reinforced by his wife's deft suggestions. The rest of the castle slept.

The two women had oiled the hinges of the chapel door that afternoon, so their entry was silent save for their whispered admonitions to the children to be quiet in God's house. As they led the boys inside, the women's long, hooded cloaks swept in a flurry of leaves that scattered and then settled as Kenneth followed inside and closed the chapel door behind them. The silence, after the latch clicked into place, was profound.

Wordlessly Kenneth took up a guardian position with his back against the door, his dark green cloak almost invisible in the moon-dappled shadows. He had unsheathed his sword at Alyce's gesture, resting its point on the stone between his feet, his bare hands curved over the quillons, eyes downcast. Though he seemed distant, almost unaware of the presence of Vera and the sleepy Duncan, Alyce knew that his seeming detachment masked an acute awareness, if not an understanding, of what he was being called upon to perform. Young Alaric clung to his mother's hand and watched all with wide-eyed curiosity, not understanding why his father stood so still and solemn and did not smile at him.

They had entered from the south. The Lady chapel was small and square, little larger than an ordinary room, its ceiling spanned by plastered ribs that framed painted frescoes of the night sky. To their right, a Presence lamp washed ruby over the carved ivory intricacies of the altar and its delicate reredos. In the far northwest corner, angled to oversee the entire chamber, a painted statue of the Virgin stood vigil over a second candle flame shielded in glass of the color of a summer sky. Beneath the flagstones at the Virgin's feet lay the mortal remains of Vera and Jared's stillborn daughter, reinterred there only weeks before.

Moonlight filtered dimly through the stained glass of the east window as the two women led their sons into the center of the chamber. A small, square table lay in readiness there, its surface covered by pristine white linen that touched the polished marble floor all around, low enough that the children could see its surface. Upon this table four unlit candles in silver holders were set in a line.

A sheathed sword lay on the floor in front of the table, half hidden by the folds of the tablecloth, its cairngorm pommel glowing in the lamplight like a watchful eye. Other necessities had been placed beneath the table, where the children could not see them.

“Alaric, we must give reverence to God,” Alyce prompted in a low voice, suiting her own actions to her words as she made a deep curtsy toward the altar and the Presence symbolized by the vigil lamp.

The child Alaric carefully pushed back the hood of his cape and bowed his golden head, stubby legs bending in solemn imitation of adult genuflection. Beside him, his aunt and his cousin also made their obeisances, young Duncan sleepy-eyed but attentive as he held his mother's hand and watched her for further instruction.

With a smile, Vera led both boys behind the table, the three of them kneeling in a line with Vera in the center. As she folded her hands, the boys did the same, watching with fascination as Alyce knelt beside them and extended her palms over the center two candles.

“Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, King of all creation, Who hast sanctified us by Thy commandments and hast commanded us to kindle this light.”

At a slight movement of her hands, fire flared beneath them so that she had to draw them a little apart, to keep from being burned. She heard Alaric's sharp intake of breath at the creation of fire, and Vera's hushed
“Shh!”
as she closed her eyes and continued the invocation.

“Blessed art Thou Who hast kept us alive and sustained us and brought us to this place,” she murmured. “May we be consecrated, O God, by the light of Thy countenance, shining upon us in blessing and bringing us peace. Amen.”

“Amen,” Vera repeated, the boys adding their own tremulous echo to hers.

Next Alyce took up the two remaining unlit candles and handed one to each of the children, gently guiding her son's hand to light his from one on the table. Alaric scrambled to his feet and watched the flame in awe as his mother released his hand, for he had never been allowed to hold a lighted candle by himself before. Beside them, Duncan was grinning widely as he, too, held his first lighted candle. Alyce smiled as she took each boy's free hand and led them back a few paces behind the table.

“Now, come and sit here, on either side of me,” she whispered, crouching down as they settled cross-legged on the floor and listened eagerly. “Put your candles on the floor in front of you and pay close attention. We are about to do some very grown-up things, which most children do not get to see until they are much older than you are. This is a very special privilege.”

“We be good, Auntie Alyce,” young Duncan piped.

“I know you will, darling. Now, watch what your mama does. She's taken one of the first candles that I lit. Alaric, watch your auntie Vera. Someday, when you are grown, you may have to do what she is doing, all by yourself.

“Now, did you notice the four candles around the room?” Alyce gestured toward the larger, fatter candles set on the floor at the four quarters of the room and caught the movement of both young heads nodding.

“Good. Now, watch as she lights them, starting with the one in front of the altar,” she instructed. “Those are called Ward candles. To ward means to guard or protect. The Ward candles guard the four quarters, and each of them is named for one of the archangels. Can either of you tell me who is the archangel of the east?”

Both young pairs of eyes turned toward the altar, where Vera was kneeling to touch a lighted taper to the first Ward candle, which was set on the floor before it. Alaric glanced up at his mother tentatively.

“It's…Raphael?” he said a little uncertainly.

“It is, indeed. The Archangel Raphael is the Healer, the guardian of the element of air. Duncan, do you know who is the archangel of the south?”

Duncan looked to the right, where his mother had just lit the second candle, not seeming to see Kenneth, standing against the door.

“That's Michael,” he said confidently. “He has a big, fiery sword.”

Alyce nodded her approval. “That's absolutely correct. St. Michael is the leader of all the hosts of heaven, and he represents the element of fire, in the south. Alaric, who is the archangel of the west?”

Vera was lighting the candle behind them now, and Alaric twisted around to look at her before returning his attention to his mother.

“The archangel of the west is Gabriel, who-did-bring-glad-tidings-to-our-blessed-Lady,” he rattled off proudly, a rote answer that he obviously had memorized from some catechism. Alyce suspected that Father Anselm, the chaplain at Rhemuth Castle, might have had a hand in that.

“Very good,” she murmured, allowing herself a reassuring smile. “And what element does Gabriel command, do you know?”

Alaric considered the question briefly, then pronounced wisely, “Water.”

“Correct!” Alyce smiled as she smoothed his white-gold hair. “Saint Gabriel rules the element of water. Now, Duncan, the last one is yours. See, your mother lights the candle in the north. Do you know whose candle it is? This one is a little harder.”

She almost had to laugh at the intensity of Duncan's expression as he searched for the answer.

“He's the archangel for earth,” he said after a studied pause. “And his name is…his name is…I forget! It's too hard!”

“Never mind, darling. You got it partly right. He
is
the archangel of the earth, and his name is Uriel. Say ‘Uriel,' both of you.”

“Ur-i-el,” the boys repeated obediently.

“Good. Now, see, Duncan, your mother has lit Uriel's candle, and now she comes back around to the east, because the east is the source of light, where the sun comes up. When setting Wards, we always start and finish in the east, to do honor to the Light of God. Will you remember that for me?”

Both boys nodded solemnly as Vera returned to the table and knelt to set down her candle with its mate. They watched with fascination as she took a charcoal brazier from under the table and set it between the two candles, brought out a small dish of incense with a spoon of carved horn.

She held her hands over the charcoal for only a few seconds before it began to smolder, to the boys' chortling delight. She gave them a stern glance, which at least produced silence, then spooned a few grains of incense onto the glowing charcoal and raised the censer a little toward the altar, inclining her head slightly in homage.

“Stetit Angelus justa aram temple,”
she murmured, continuing the phrase as she set the censer down long enough to get to her feet.

“Mummy, what she said?” Alaric demanded in a loud whisper, tugging impatiently at his mother's sleeve.

“Shhh. Those are ancient words of blessing, darling,” Alyce explained. “She said, ‘An angel came and stood before the altar of the temple, having a golden censer in his hand…'”

As the fragrant smoke spiraled upward, dispersing in the draft from a partially opened window, Vera picked up the brazier and carried it toward the eastern quarter again, again speaking in Latin.

“Ab illo benedicaris, in cujus honore cremaberis, Amen.”

“‘Be thou blessed by Him in Whose honor thou shalt be burned,'” Alyce translated for her two rapt listeners. “Now, watch what happens as she walks around us to visit the other quarters. She's tracing out a circle to protect us. It's possible that you may see something in the smoke she leaves in her path. Tell me if you notice anything strange.”

As Vera traced the circle with incense, Alyce could feel and see the next layer of energy being built around them. A glance at the two children confirmed that they, too, were aware that something was happening. By the time Vera had returned to the center of the circle to cense the three of them, Alaric was craning his neck to look at the candle-marked boundaries, squinting as if trying to focus on something that was not quite clear to his untrained eyes.

“What did Auntie Vera do, Mummy?” he whispered, tugging at her sleeve again and looking again at the candles. “Something funny. I see it, but I don't. It's all fuzzy.”

“Shhh, just watch,” Alyce murmured, resting her hands on both the boys' shoulders.

The incense was back on the table, and now Vera moved around the circle again, this time sprinkling the perimeter with water from a small earthen bowl. When she had completed her third circuit, the haze of the protective circle was unmistakable. Alaric's cherubic face was wreathed in smiles, and Duncan's a study in delight as he pointed out the golden glow to his cousin. As Vera came to kneel before them with her bowl of water, Alyce caught their gaze and laid a finger across her lips for silence.

The two watched intently as first Alyce and then Vera dipped two fingers in the water and blessed themselves. But this, at least, they understood, for they had done it many times before. Very solemnly, for children so young, each of the boys followed suit, neither of them spilling even a drop in their determination to do things correctly. Both of them watched expectantly as Vera set the water bowl on the little table and changed places with Alyce.

Alyce could feel the boys' eyes following her as she went to the other side of the table and unsheathed the sword, heard their little gasps of wondering as she lifted it point-upward before her and moved toward the eastern Ward. With both hands wrapped around the hilt to steady the weight of the weapon, she brought the hilt to eye-level and closed her eyes, breathing a silent invocation from a bygone time, whose precise sense was no longer accessible to conscious thought. The crimson light of the vigil lamp and the warmer fire of the eastern candle burnished her face to richest gold, save where the shadow of the quillons fell across her forehead.

She extended the sword in salute then, the hood slipping from her pale hair as she threw back her head and gazed for an instant along the length of shining blade, her eyes momentarily dazzled by a light brighter than mere reflected fire, which rippled along the polished metal.

Then she was lowering the tip of the sword to touch the floor, turning to the right to trace the circle of protection a third and final time. Golden light followed her blade where the sword passed, merging and growing with the earlier glow to rise in an increasing wall that curved inward far above their heads.

She could not see anything besides the light as she walked, though she could feel Vera's sustaining strength adding to her own and knew that the boys were watching with awe. As she completed the circuit, she felt the shielding canopy of the circle close above their heads with a satisfyingly hollow surge of energy, a golden hemisphere of light that obscured what lay outside.