Darkwitch Rising by Sara Douglass

Unusually, he did not move instantly to disrobe me, and make love to me. We often talked far into the night, but always the physical intimacy came first, so that we might the more easily establish the greater intimacy later.

Instead John took my face between his hands, and regarded me soberly.

“I have put many things to one side for you,” he said. “My loyalty to my patron, the earl. My moral righteousness. My duty to God. My very faith in God! Everything you are, and everything you have shown me over the past years, has turned my world upside down…and what do I have for that? Your love? No, I do not have that. Your hand in marriage? No, that even less. I have merely been a dalliance for you—”

His voice had turned black with bitterness, and I went rigid, and tears filled my eyes.

“—a means by which to pass the time.”

“No! You have given me so much comfort and friendship—”

“Comfort and friendship? Comfort and friendship? For almost ten years you have twisted my heart and wrung it dry, and yet for that you will give me nothing in return. Not your love, not—”

“I do…” I stopped. I couldn’t lie to him.

He saw it, and his mouth twisted even more than it had thus far. “You do love me?” He shook his head. “Nay. You don’t. You wanted a lover, and so you took me. I was convenient, Noah. Admit it.”

I said nothing, admitting everything with my silence.

“Marry me,” he whispered. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

“I would destroy you if I did that. I’m so sorry, John.”

John pulled my face towards his, but he did not kiss me. Instead he rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, and for a long time we stood there like that, leaning into each other, silent.

“Will you come back from Hampstead?” he said eventually, so softly I could barely hear him.

“I hope so,” I said, “more than you can imagine.”

Much later, after we had made love with a desperation that made me weep, we lay sleepless. He was as lost in his own thoughts as I was in mine.

I was thankful he did not inquire as to what I pondered, for I thought of nothing but Brutus.

Brutus would be there, in Hampstead.

I’d had time to think how his presence might be accomplished, and I’d reached the conclusion that Brutus-reborn would not travel physically to Hampstead. Brutus would not dare to set foot in England for the same reason I was terrified of setting foot in London: Asterion. The Minotaur had more power than ever, and I don’t think Brutus had the power to confront him.

No, he and the others would use the power of the Circle to send him to me. It was dangerous, but it could be done.

I didn’t think it was a coincidence that Long Tom had come to me and told me to go to Hampstead just after the Circle had failed to reach out to me on May Night. I’d been worried about that, but now I think I knew the answer.

Long Tom had gone to them, probably using their power as they formed the Circle to catapult himself into their midst. They’d formed the Circle, intending to touch me, and instead had received Long Tom for their troubles.

I smiled a little to myself in the dark. Had Brutus been disappointed?

At this further thought of Brutus I stiffened in excitement, fool that I was, and John felt it.

“Who is he?” he whispered in my ear, one hand on my breast. “Who is he that you long for so desperately? Who is it you are going to Hampstead to meet?”

What could I say?

Seven

Antwerp, the Netherlands, Hampstead, Middlesex, and London

It was Midsummer Day, the nativity of St John the Baptist, and England and western Europe sweltered under a hot sun and the shared headache of a splendidly celebrated Midsummer Eve the previous night. In the afternoon of the day just gone, men and women had danced into the forests and taken branches which they hauled back to their dwellings to plant over their front doors. To any priest who asked, this ritual was to honour the nativity of St John the Baptist, but in hearts and memories, this ritual recalled a time long past when there was something more to be celebrated in the forests at the solstice than the nativity of Christian martyrs.

Dead wood was collected for the night, and piled into great bonfires, recalling the ancient bone fires designed to frighten away witches. Then, as twilight set in, all across Europe men set these massive bonfires alight. When the fires were burning well, and the men and women present fuelled with alcohol, the dances began. People grasped hands and formed concentric rings about the fires, moving first this way and then that, with the occasional foolhardy youth breaking free of the ring to leap through the flames.

Most of the dancers didn’t even pretend to associate these fire dances with the Baptist. Instead, they remembered the circling dance as Ringwalker’s Dance and, if asked what that meant, the only reply to be received was a sly look and a cunning smile.

Londoners, dancing about fires in both east and west Smithfield, called their dances the Troy Game, although one or two were heard to refer to it as Ringwalker’s Troy.

Lady Anne and Noah occupied a townhouse in Highgate village, some four miles to the north-west of London and just on the edge of Hampstead Heath. They had been at Highgate some two weeks now, and Lady Anne was pleased to see that Noah’s initial nervousness at being so close to London had abated so that she now appeared as relaxed as Lady Anne was herself.

Every day they rode in a trap pulled by a small pony from their rented townhouse to the spring-fed ponds on the eastern reaches of the Heath, and there Lady Anne took of the waters, either orally or, when she dared and when she felt it seemly, by clothing herself in a voluminous linen garment and immersing herself in one of the ponds. Noah would usually sit with her, or assist in whatever way she could, but this Midsummer’s Day the lady settled into a chair by the side of one of the ponds under the shade of a spreading oak tree and told Noah that she might amuse herself as she pleased, for she, Lady Anne, felt so lethargic she wanted only to doze away the day.

Noah smiled, ensured Lady Anne was comfortable and wanted for nothing, then wandered off towards Parliament Hill which rose in the western near distance.

In Antwerp, Charles convened the Circle in his bedchamber at one hour past midday. Normally it would have been difficult for him to have acquired several hours free during the day, but such had been the celebrations of Midsummer’s Eve few people begrudged the king a few hours rest within his chamber.

They sat on his bed, five of them, for Long Tom had materialised—using his own power this time—just as they were forming the Circle and was wordlessly accepted. Charles sat in the centre at the head of the bed, Marguerite to his right, Kate to his left, then Louis to Marguerite’s right, then Long Tom between Louis and Kate. All were naked, save for Long Tom who, apparently, was incapable of shedding his clothes.

They were quiet and introspective.

“Much depends on our strength today,” Charles said eventually, looking at each in turn, his eyes resting fractionally longer on Louis than on any of the others.

There was silent acceptance for a reply. They all knew it.

“Asterion will feel something, and wonder,” Charles continued. He lifted his hands and touched his biceps briefly, as if feeling there the golden bands of Troy. “I will be here for him, to ease his worry.”

“It is not Asterion I worry so much about,” said Louis, “but Noah’s imp. Are you sure—”

“It will sleep, along with Noah,” said Long Tom. “I am sure of it.”

“’Sure’ is not quite the extent of reassurance I was seeking,” Louis muttered. He was tense, and very nervous, and Long Tom smiled at him and reached out a hand, resting it momentarily on his shoulder.

“We will do all we can,” he said. “There is risk, yes, but once what is done is done, then the imp will…” his voice trailed off.

The imp will be deceived, everyone finished in their own minds, and prayed that it might be so.

“It is time,” said Charles, and Marguerite reached for the box and the small piece of browned turf it contained.

Noah wandered to the lower reaches of Parliament Hill. She did not want to climb to its peak, mainly because she had a fear of standing there outlined against the clear blue sky for any who cared to lift their eyes and see, so she walked slowly about the base of the hill to a gigantic elm tree that someone in the village had mentioned to her.