Too Many Prophets

Chapter 26 of "A Sword for Wellington", Book Three of The Môrdreigiau Chronicles

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The story began in A Grail for Eidothea and continued with A River Trembles. Now the Chosen Court seeks another Arthurian treasure. New here? Save this post and have a binge read. You deserve it.

Sir Hugh and Gwen continued their search for the assassin. She invited Jasper to join in the search and the Chosen Court turned out to assist. Hugh and Gwen track a young man to the assassin and bloodshed ensued, witnessed by Llyr.

“He doesn’t want us to help him.” Jasper leaned against the alleyway wall opposite the tavern. “He has tucked us out of the way and sent Llyr and Ondine on a wild goose chase.”

I stood beside him, glancing up and down the narrow alley. Two men could not walk abreast in the tight space. “I agree he has done so, but why do you think this?”

“The Wondrous Cross is a bawdy house.” Jasper glanced at me to register my shock. “During the wars, it was a favourite haunt of the French. Might still be.”

“Why would a Frenchman want to hurt Miss Jones?” I did not wish to ask how he knew of the tavern’s reputation.

Jasper shook his head. “There is something they have not told us. I do not like being kept in the dark. It could endanger you.”

My cheeks warmed at his concern. I agreed with him. “We should find out.”

City sounds surrounded us: the rolling of carriage wheels, voices, even a violin.

We would be waiting for a while, it seemed. “Is Monsieur Peeters none the wiser about your pretending to find an artefact?”

“None.” Jasper glanced down the alleyway, not meeting my gaze. “I think I may have found something.”

“Oh?” I tried to sound casual, but my gaze narrowed. “Is this what you have been keeping from me, from the Court?”

He looked abashed. “Yes, but only because it might be nothing at all.”

“Jasper…”

“It has to do with the Fisher King. For now, it is no more than hints and possibilities. When I have more, I will share it with you and the Court.” He changed the subject. “You seem … settled after the other night.”

I knew the night he meant, when I cried in his arms. I shifted, uncomfortable at the reminder. “I mourned our past.”

He hobbled closer. “I want to apologise for being at odds with you. Llyr rather took me to task for it.” He grimaced.

I smiled. “Did he?”

“However, I cannot promise it won’t happen again. You need true advisors around you, Eidothea. Not those who will only tell you want you want to hear.”

I touched his coat sleeve with my fingertips. “Jasper—“

“Someone’s in the tavern doorway,” Jasper whispered. I focused upon the almost imperceptible movement of his lips. “He’s looking our way.”

Without thinking, I stood on tiptoe, framed Jasper’s face with my hands and kissed him. He froze at my touch. I kept my eyes open, staring into his startled expression.

Jasper’s eyes fluttered shut. His arms closed around me. He answered my kiss with a tender one of his own.

His kisses remained as intoxicating as before, familiar and yet thrilling. I thought the shielding spell to spare Llyr and Ondine.

He broke away, nuzzling my neck before straightening. “He’s gone back inside.”

I stepped back, knees trembling, and surveyed the alleyway. “He didn’t pass us?”

“No.” Jasper adjusted his cravat. “Perhaps he waits for someone.”

I could not look at him, embarrassed at having thrown myself at him. “I apologise for the kiss,” I muttered, my cheeks burning.

He reached for my hand. “It was quick thinking on your part. I do not… I do not think I would have dared.”

I stepped closer, searching his face for answers. Through our bond, I felt his love for me, and a renewed hope that I might return his feelings. “You know I love you.” My fingertips brushed the front of his coat, over his heart. “You feel it. You must.”

“I also feel your pain and confusion.” He remained utterly still, watching me. “After all I have done, I will not force my way back into your heart, Eidothea. It is enough that I am by your side in this venture.”

“Is it enough?” I murmured.

“No,” he admitted, his voice strengthening. “I want to be the one who holds you, comforts you, and protects you. I will love you, Eidothea, even if you choose to spend your life with someone else.” He took a deep breath. “There is also this: I cannot be the one who keeps you from your people.”

“What did you and Llyr talk about the other night?” I let my hand rest against his chest. I wanted to step into his embrace, to block out the world and all its demands upon me to save it.

Jasper muttered the shielding spell. “He made it clear that you no longer belong to the land. He still hopes, you know, and we both know you are attracted to him.”

“I cannot imagine him anywhere but in my life. I nearly lost him, Jasper, and I do not wish to stare into that void again.” My fingers slipped between the gap of his waistcoat and buttons. “When I thought you were dead, I never wanted to believe it, because I was never more alive than when adventuring with you. I still keep this.”

With my other hand, I lifted my necklace. At the end, dangled his coat button, still warm from where it had lain between my breasts.

He reached for it, fingering it. “Eidothea…”

“What spell did you cast upon it that it saved me from Ladon’s seduction spell and from your father?”

Jasper’s brow creased. “I did not cast a spell upon it.” He released the button and it fell back against my pelisse.

I tucked it away. “When I touched your Mark after I found you still alive, I saw your sword at my throat and mine at yours. Maeve says that sometimes the visions are not literal—”

“We do argue about everything, it seems,” Jasper mused. His hand closed around my mine where I still grasped his coat. “Perhaps there will come a time when we cannot, or will not, agree?” His fingertips stroked the back of my hand. “But I will never harm you, Eidothea. Never.”

I reminded myself that his knife had been meant for the bag holding the Greal, not me, but I had already pulled free of him. My hands twisted together. At least that way, I would not reach out for him again.

“The vision did not end there. We will come through this, somehow, as Monarch and Fisher King. I have seen it, but I do not think the way will be easy.”

Gwenddydd had captured the assassin. She tried to bury her excitement. In an hour or two, she would hand the sword to Wellington.

She sat on his chest, her knife at his throat. “Do not move,” she advised. “Tell me how it is you can touch Caledfwlch.” She heard Llyr’s sharp intake of breath.

“I am Chosen too,” he replied, his pale green eyes shifting, searching for a weakness, for an escape. “The sword is not meant for your upstart Wellington but for the Savior of France. Wellington’s demise would have ensured this.”

She stared at him, not comprehending. “Wellington is the Arthur reincarnated.”

“That’s not how the legend goes. It is the Savior of France who is Arthur once more. And that man is Napoleon.”

She shook her head sadly at his mistake. “You are wrong. I am the one sent forward to do the Lady’s bidding.”

His green eyes blazed. “As if it were ever up to the women.”

“What does he mean by being Chosen?” Llyr growled, coming alongside them. “How can he be a part of the Court?”

Gwenddydd didn’t take her gaze from the assassin’s face. “What Court? The only people who can hold the sword are Arthur’s reincarnation and the one who delivers it to him.”

Llyr fell back, landing hard on his rear. “How is that even poss—”

The assassin surged up beneath her, tumbling her across the floorboards. Llyr leapt forward, unbalanced, but the man knocked him down with a stiff arm. She ended in a crouch, facing him, as did Llyr.

The assassin turned to run.

Hugh appeared in the doorway. “The fiacre is wai—“

She threw her knife.

It found its mark in the Frenchman’s back. The assassin fell and did not move again, blood pooling about him.

Hugh paled. “You should have knocked him out, not killed him.”

“He wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you. You were in his way.” She shuddered at the image of Hugh tumbling down floor after floor of the circular stairs. “We will take him to the Duke,” Gwen said, rising from her crouch.

“He is not going to want to see a dead body...”

“We will take him, Hugh.” Her words brooked no argument.

Llyr and Hugh carried out the corpse, leaving the young man’s body behind.

“Who is he?” Llyr asked. “Why did he try to kill you?”

They navigated down the steep winding staircase. Gwenddydd glared at him over Hugh’s shoulder. “He tried to kill Wellington.”

“Miss Jones saw him,” Hugh put in. “I believe he has been trying to silence her.”

“And take the sword,” Gwenddydd added. Hugh’s leg threatened to collapse beneath him and she steadied him with a hand on his back. “Let me take over for a bit,” she murmured. They switched positions with Hugh guiding them down the stairs.

“You are Chosen?” Llyr asked, grunting as they navigated the tight circular stairs with the body slung between them.

“Not initially,” Gwenddydd confessed. “There was another, but she was killed.”

Hugh looked at the two of them, between backward glances down the stairwell. “It is why we doubt your friend Miss Pendyr. I cannot hold the sword and neither can Lady Meredith. Only Miss Jones.”

Llyr nodded and let the conversation lapse, a frown marring his brow.

Hugh exited the house, glancing to make sure they would not be witnessed. The young woman, Ondine, waited on the footpath, chatting to the fiacre’s driver. Her eyes widened upon seeing their baggage. She curled an errant lock behind her ear. Hugh thought he saw a faint blue streak near her hairline but it had to be the light shining through her bonnet.

She said nothing, casting worried glances at Llyr.

The driver baulked at them heaving a dead body into his carriage, but Hugh paid him well. Their destination, the Duke’s residence, also did much to relieve the poor man’s mind. Llyr and Ondine did not join them on their trip, going to collect Miss Pendyr and Mr. Tregallas.

On arrival at Wellington’s headquarters, Hugh called over two soldiers and they carried the body into the building. Hugh directed them to the room reserved for staff meetings. He asked after the Duke.

“He’s not here,” came the response.

“Where is he?”

“He’s taken young Jackson to reconnoiter south of the city,” the young intern replied.

“Don’t move the body. The Duke needs to see it.” Hugh turned to Gwen, arms outstretched in apology. “We may as well sit here and wait.”

Llyr’s thought reached me, relieving me of some anxiety for he and Ondine. :We have him. Meet you at the house?:

I told Jasper. We walked back to the Peeters’ home, near the Parc.

“Your father is out somewhere,” Ondine informed me. She and Llyr waited for us in the drawing room. Llyr sat on a chair, bent forward, pushing his hands through his hair.

“I thought this was good news.” I sat next to Ondine on the sofa. Jasper collapsed into another chair, straightening out his leg before him and rubbing his thigh. “Do you need a stool?” I asked him.

Jasper shook his head. “Did you have any part in his capture?” he asked Llyr. “Devenish seemed determined to keep us out of it.”

“Very little,” Llyr agreed, “but I learned there is someone else after the sword, possibly also guided by a prophet of their own.”

Not another one. Wearily, I closed my eyes, burying the trauma caused by Lady Angharad and the false prophet Edryd ap Amlawdd. “I think you need to explain further.”

Llyr did, sharing that the captured man had been killed. “I recognised him from his portrait.” He pointed to the life-sized portrait of a young man freshly returned from a Grand Tour. Judging by his dress, it was from at least ten years ago. “He’s Monsieur Peeters’ son. He called himself Chosen to bear Caledfwlch to Napoleon. Sir Hugh was after him because he tried to murder the Duke of Wellington.”

“Monsieur Peeters had a living son?” I, of course, had noticed the portrait but Madame had said nothing about any other children besides her daughters.

Jasper wiped his hand across his mouth. “It sadly makes sense. Monsieur Peeters is an employee of my father first. If he learned of our quest—”

“But we told no-one the specifics,” I interrupted. I paled. “Unless you think one of Father’s servants…”

Jasper shook his head. “We never spoke of it outside of your father’s study. Letters may have been intercepted and if the young monsieur is Chosen, who then is this other prophet?”

“Miss Jones is Chosen also,” Llyr rose, beginning to pace. “It might be grasping at straws but do you think it’s possible they use the same word for different things?”

Ondine frowned. “Miss Jones is human, as is Monsieur Peeters and presumably his son. How could they be part of the Chosen Court?”

“Maeve might know,” Llyr put in. “If Edryd survived the attack at the bonding ceremony, he could be this other prophet.”

“He was not on the list of those dead or captured,” I reminded him. “Maybe Lady Angharad discarded him because he was no longer useful?”

“We have another problem,” Jasper said. “We are living in the house of someone who tried to kill the Duke of Wellington. There is no chance we can get anywhere near the duke now. In fact, we could be arrested.”

I bit my lip.

“Neither Sir Hugh or Miss Jones seemed to know who he was.” Llyr frowned.

“His father moved in society. Someone will find out.”

“But we had nothing to do with it!” Ondine protested.

A knock sounded on the door. At Jasper’s call, a manservant entered. “A letter for you, sir.”

Jasper picked up the letter from the proffered tray and read it. “It is from Monsieur Peeters. It states he and his family have left the city ahead of Napoleon’s arrival. There is another letter enclosed.”

He unfolded the paper and read it. He lowered the letter and stared unseeing at the vermilion hues of the carpet.

“Jasper?” I prompted, awash in his horror and fear.

“It is a letter from my brother.”

Fear spiked a punch into my gut. “Ladon? He lives?”

Jasper nodded. “My father has died. Ladon has taken over the business, including this house. He wrote this to Monsieur Peeters. There are orders in here to kidnap you, Eidothea, and dispose of the rest of us.”

My skin prickled. “But he has not done so. Monsieur Peeters chose to flee. When is the letter dated?”

“A few days ago. I agree that he chose to run instead.” Jasper frowned. “My father’s men are usually made of sterner stuff.”

“We are not safe here.” Llyr stood. “We need to get out before—”

The drawing room door flew open.

I know. A terrible place to end a chapter. Who do we think is coming through the door?? Thoughts about today’s instalment? Comments? Share below or join the Chat!

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