24: Better to Think That, Than To Remember the Blood

Chapter 24 of "A Grail for Eidothea" (last chapter)

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Heads up! If you’re receiving this via email, then you might want to click on that “View in Browser” link in the top right corner of the email. ‘Cause this is the last chapter. You don’t want to miss the end.

If you haven’t yet, go read the previous part. Seriously. If you don’t have the time, well, a lot happened: they found the Greal, they kissed (told you to go back), they go to the Victory celebrations in Sydney Gardens, they kiss again and a new vision is triggered.

Still haven’t gone back? Fine. Eidothea’s vision is of her death at Jasper’s hands as he steals the Greal from her.

I came to myself, heaving deep breaths. Jasper held me, murmuring, “I have got you. You are safe. I have got you.”

I pushed at his chest, an echo of the vision that made me fight him off harder. He released me at once. I stared at him, my mind blank with shock.

“A vision?” Jasper gently prodded.

“I cannot tell you … I need time to make sense of it.” Why did I have that vision? Was it fear or did Jasper also bear a birthmark?

Looking around, I spotted a lamp. “Let us stand over there. I need to see—“

Jasper obeyed and pliantly bent so I could examine behind each ear. I found it behind his left ear. A definite mark but in the flickering lamplight, impossible make out the shape.

“Eidothea?” He reached for my hand, but I snatched it away, staggering back a step or two.

“It cannot be real,” I whispered. “It cannot.”

“Tell me what you saw. Together, we can make sense of it.” Concern filled his face. He reached for me again.

I continued to back away. “No. I need time to think. Alone.”

Jasper relaxed his stance. “I will give you that time. Allow me to walk beside you, or even behind you a few paces. It is not safe to be alone.”

“Stay behind me then.” I walked further into the labyrinth, my pace quickening along with my thoughts.

I saw disaster both times in my vision. I hoped to change the first one. Could I change the second? I turned a corner, pressing on and swallowing tears. Why would Jasper betray me like that? How could I prevent it? What did his birthmark mean? A member of the Chosen Court? But he could never travel to Caer Morgana.

Unable to find an answer, I decided not to share the vision’s details with him. I only knew that my safety depended on not being left alone with him. I had the Greal with me now. I would not lose it.

Glancing about, the sky was clear. No fog. It would not be tonight. I turned and faced him. “We should return to my family.” I somehow managed a smile. “I fear I did not pay attention while I walked. Do you know the way out?”

“I think so.” Jasper held out a crooked elbow in invitation. “Shall we?”

I almost feared to touch him. I slipped my fingertips at the bend of his elbow. “Do not ask me about the vision,” I warned.

“I will not. I have been thinking about your first vision.”

“Go on.” Anything to stop the internal shrieks to flee.

“I wonder if the Greal has reappeared because now is the point of time where we can take steps to prevent your vision coming true.” He did not seem to mind my bristled silence, too intent on his theory. “It came to King Arthur because the land, and its people, were at stake. Perhaps it is not meant to go back to the dreigiau môr. Perhaps it needs someone who shares the blood of both worlds to bring about the change.”

‘Someone like you,’ I thought. My stomach clenched, glad the dark hid my shock.

“The old Holy Grail stories tell of purity of thought and action, and while this was so the land thrived. But when the king committed evil, the land became tainted and the people faltered. Maybe Arthur had done something and thus lost the Greal and then the kingdom to the Anglo-Saxons.”

He had my attention now. I knew the story of the Fisher King.

“I am of both land and sea, Eidothea. If I can help take part of this burden from you, I would gladly do it.”

He sounded sincere but his words held sinister echoes of my vision.

“The Greal is meant to go back,” I protested. “I promised I would find it and return it. If it is meant to be elsewhere that is something the dreigiau môr need to agree to—“

“Would they allow that after it has been lost for so long?”

I did not answer. I saw no point in speculating. I worry that this desire to become the Fisher King is what twists Jasper into a murderer. How long has the thought been brewing in him? Normally I would dismiss such a notion, but the vision of my death gave me pause.

“Eidothea, are things … right with us?”

I forced a smile. “Of course. The intensity of the visions overwhelm me. I will regain equilibrium soon.” I squeezed his arm, leaning against him, feeling both terrified and longing to touch him. “It has nothing to do with us,” I baldly lied.

“You have these visions often?” he murmured. We stepped out of the labyrinth and onto one of the Gardens’ wide paths.

“More often than I like.” For an instant, I forgot my fear and smiled fondly at the sight of his tousled hair.

“And you looked behind my ear because?”

“I thought I felt something there.” I tugged on his arm. “Let us hurry. The fireworks must surely be starting soon.”

In the better-lit pathway, I saw him consider me, biting on his lower lip, but then he smiled. “Yes, we do not want to miss those.”

We reached my family in time for the fireworks and then made our way back home. I tried not to shrink from Jasper’s attentions, the Greal ever between us.

19th April, 1814

Left Bath for Bristol after lunch. With the tides, we should be on our way to Carmarthen in the morning. Jasper made those arrangements. It took us a few hours to find an inn for the night.

Still, Jasper found a moment to speak to me privately. When I emerged for the evening meal, I found him leaning against the wall opposite my door.

He glanced up and down the narrow hallway. “Allow me to escort you. It is a bit of a rough crowd downstairs.”

I did not protest, even knowing my father could have fulfilled that role for me.

“I want to apologise for all my wishful thinking last night,” Jasper murmured as we walked toward the stairs. “I wish only to be with you and be of use to you. I did not mean to cause you any additional distress.”

I demurred, even though that was a lie. I guessed he knew that also, as he had plumbed my dismay with accuracy, if not exactly the cause of them. “I wish I knew what our future held, that I could be certain…”

But I knew. Oh, I knew.

“If I can, I will be beside you, in whatever capacity you desire, or is willed.”

He meant it. He did not seem like he would betray me. Was it a false vision? Maybe there was more than what I saw.

I slipped my hand into his. He stopped at my touch. “Thank you,” I said. “Let us enjoy this evening together. It will be the last until we reach Carmarthen.” We faced each other. “I would not be repulsed by your green scales,” I added in a whisper.

Jasper swallowed. “When we travel to Wells for our honeymoon, we will be sharing a cabin then.”

The unspoken thought of ‘whenever that may be’ hung between us.

He cleared his throat. “Let us go downstairs.” He released my hand and tucked my arm into his.

We spent a pleasant evening together with Father talking about the end of the war. I ignored the pangs in my heart—that this might be the last time I would see Jasper for a long while.

20th April, 1814.

We have boarded a packet due for Carmarthen on the morning tide. Jasper, as usual, has retired to his cabin.

I wonder how scaly his skin gets at sea. It is after dinner. I have written a note to my father. It is best I leave the ship now without giving any notice, rather than waiting to return to Caer Morgana until after we reach home. There is mist on the water tonight but I dare not delay.

Dear Father,

The ocean calls to me. I must return. I am sorry to do so in secret but it is to avoid a calamity I have foreseen. I will come and see you as soon as it is possible. I do not know what the future holds. Thank you for trusting me in this adventure. I cherish you as my father.

Yours,

Eidothea

19th May, 1814

There is no point in keeping this candle lit for her in my window. I do not believe she will ever see it. I have no expectations, but still I hope, still I hope.

Those first few nights when I lodged here, in her bedroom, I did not have the capacity to even light a candle, let alone put it on the windowsill. When I grew stronger, I found this journal on her writing table. I ignored it at first, but my curiosity — no, my longing for her — won out and I read every word.

I should tell the whole of the story. It was more than that dreadful moment she envisioned. Much more.

Before I came to live here at the Pendyr home, I had to submit to my father’s wrath and beatings until I was more dead than alive. I had betrayed him too.

I do not know what stayed his hand from the final blow, but some days later, after I had somewhat recovered, he came to my bedside.

“You are no Tregallas.” My father’s teeth flashed wetly in the candlelit dark. “Leave this house and never return. I do not care where you go, so long as you do not die on my land.”

And so, I am here, in Eidothea’s room, sleeping in Eidothea’s bed. Mr. Pendyr seems to know she is not coming back and I do not have the heart to tell him that she is very probably dead.

Better to think, like her father does, that she is living in that underwater city, fulfilling her destiny as prophet. Better to think that than remember the blood.

Even that is make-believe, for the Greal has been lost. Father took great pains to punish me for its loss. He does not possess it and neither does any other draig môr. How can Eidothea continue with her cause without the Greal, assuming she even lives?

Although she will never forgive me, at least I know she managed to evade my father’s men — no, his dreigiau môr. Perhaps there is a dreigiau môr magic that will let her live.

So, I light the candle, place it in her window. Mr. Pendyr thinks I am a fool. Her aunt will say the same but news of Eidothea’s disappearance has kept her heartbroken in Bath.

Daily, I walk the cliffs, if you can call it walking. I swing my crutches and I hobble along. My right leg refuses to heal and I can barely put weight on the left. I look for her.

I half-hope, half-dread that some dreigiau môr will come seeking vengeance on her behalf. Her Llyr, perhaps.  For I do not deserve to live.

If I could undo what I have done. If I had been more careful. If it hadn’t been for — All the ifs taunt me.

I shall never forget the stricken look on her face as she fell away, the bloodstain blooming across her nightgown.

I am hollowed out. I cannot write any more. I am broken-hearted and it has been my own doing.

Of course I filmed a reaction video of me reading Jasper’s words for the first time. You’re welcome.

Malinda’s song is still playing in my head.

It’s not The End for The Môrdreigiau Chronicles. There will be a little break as the second book has proven to be much more complicated to prepare. I’ve had to pull from several sources and weave it into a comprehensible whole as well as break it up into Substack-sized chunks and write summaries. I’m almost there with that and should have an update for you next week.

I also want those who have been holding off, waiting to read the whole thing in one fell swoop, to have a chance to read everything before the new book starts.

In the coming weeks, I’ll share a full flipthrough of Eidothea’s journal, talk about a referral program, host an Ask Me Anything (get ready!). Plus more and not necessarily in that order.

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