Dusky shadows stretched from the corners of the room. A small fire burned in the hearth, its light appearing brighter with the passing sun. Cate stood and crossed to the mantel where she lit several candles. As the flames came to life, I saw the oddest collection of curiosities; a jade statue of a four-armed man, intricately carved ivory depicting a young woman from the waist up, a warrior’s battle helm with narrow slits for eyes, and a pounded bronze cross. Amidst these other items, the small, non-descript gray stone would have gone unnoticed if Cate hadn’t run a finger across its top before turning back toward me.
“By this time,” she said, “I had already killed a handful of Cailleach’s hounds, but I had yet to face my biggest danger. Outlaws and bandits plagued the countryside, and not ten miles into my journey, I crossed paths with a band of black-hearted savages.” Mischief filled her eyes. “This time I had no difficulty relaying thoughts, and the moment any of the men touched me, I planted the idea that I was Queen Boudica on my way to battle the Romans. So rather than murdering me, they acted my royal escort into the city.”
“You didn’t!” I cried with a burst of shocked laughter.
“Oh, I certainly did. And believe me, what I did to them was a world kinder than their intentions toward me. When it came time to leave London, I recruited travel companions in the same manner, by waiting for the first band of thieves to attack me. With a few well-placed thoughts, they became the best protectors a woman could wish for, ruthless and cunning from so many years of roaming the land.” She scrunched her nose as though smelling something foul. “Their hygiene suffered at times, but even this could be amended with right sort of persuasion.”
Awed by her bravery and ingenuity, I would have overlooked the less desirable side of her methods if not for the persistent niggling of my conscience. “Did you ever feel guilty for coercing them to your will?”
“Not once I glimpsed their thoughts. If anything, I saw it as penance for wanting to rob, rape and murder me. And they certainly benefited from the arrangement for all the ailments and wounds I healed along the way. Rotted teeth, skin lesions, broken bones, you name it, I fixed everything. At the end of our association, these men were healthier than anyone else alive, and by my estimation, duly compensated for their inconvenience. Besides, it was the only way for me to fulfill the first of Brigid’s conditions. The least these humans could do was provide assistance from time to time since I had stayed in this world for their benefit.”
Her straightforward manner and clear expression seemed to confirm a complete lack of remorse. I couldn’t blame her, living as she did in such a brutal world. Anything less would have resulted in death.
“For the next two centuries,” she continued, “I traveled this way through much of Europe, moving on every twenty years or so. Then around 487AD, I returned to London with the intention of sailing to Ireland. Tom and I met by chance in a tavern and were married shortly thereafter.”
“But what of Lord Din—” The remainder of his name disappeared in a gasp. “Tom was Lord Dinley! And...and...” I tripped over the words, caught up in the sudden revelation. “You were really your own mother!”
“Well done,” Cate said with a smile. “While I lived as an old widow, Tom began construction on this home. Once I passed away of consumption, a much younger Cate returned from the continent and married Lord Dinley within the year.”
“Why did Tom...I mean Lord Dinley have to die?” After so much work it seemed absurd to choose a covert existence rather than living openly as husband and wife, surrounded by all of life’s comforts.
Cate gave an exasperated sigh. “Because your great grandfather is never quite at home unless he’s camped on a battlefield or holed up in a blacksmith shop. He despises pomp and has very little patience for the gentry. Which is why he had secret passageways built throughout the home, so he could visit undetected once the feeble Lord Dinley met his demise in a carriage accident.”
And for Miss Rose to traipse through, I thought darkly.
“Do you have other children besides Justine?”
“Most of our children have passed into the Otherworld. One surviving son lives in Ireland, and Justine and Sophie are our only living daughters.”
I felt a burst of indignation. “If Sophie is your daughter, then why is she acting as your maid?”
“The same reason I have served as her maid in years past—to get a respite from society. For the past forty years, she lived as a noble woman in France, and only came to England when her husband died. Sophie loved him dearly, and the loss has been difficult to bear.”
From every answer, sprang a dozen more questions. “Why did he die? Couldn’t you have extended his life according to Brigid’s conditions?” Such longevity for Henry and myself was too great to even consider at the moment. A serious headache threatened, and I pressed a hand to my temple in an attempt to hold it at bay. Perhaps there had been some sense in allowing more than a day to relay so much information.
Taking one of the candles from the mantel, Cate placed it on the table beside me. She then ran a finger across my brow, and the mounting pressure vanished in an instant. I dropped my hand and watched her return to the bed.