Chapter 9 - Gods of the Sky
'For the children of Dôn were certainly gods of the sky. Their names are writ large in heaven. The glittering W which we call "Cassiopeia's Chair" was to our Celtic ancestors Llys Dôn, or "Dôn's Court"; our "Northern Crown" was Caer Arianrod, the "Castle of Arianrod", Dôn's daughter; while the "Milky Way" was the "Castle of Gwydion", Dôn's son.'
" . . . The manuscript is entitled 'The Magical Stone of Tara', and it states: 'one evening Conn of the Hundred Battles repaired at sunrise to the Ri Raith at Tara, accompanied by his three druids, Mael, Bloc and Bluicne, and his three poets, Ethain, Corb and Cesaire; for he was accustomed every day to repair to this place with the same company, for the purpose of watching the stars, so that no hostile aerial beings should descend upon Ireland unknown to him."
. . . .
Having made his pronouncement, Yeats then scanned those seated before him, cleared his throat and quietly said,'We shall talk later...' and took his exit upstairs.
Everyone stared in utter bewilderment.
'Well. No birthday celebration is complete without the jolly
japes of Yeats...' Aleister observed wryly, standing and fetching a brandy. 'Anyone care to join me?'
Jack and Daryl both signalled assent, whilst Em opted out. She wished to keep her faculties sharp tonight; not often did she have both Jack and Daryl together in one place and sharing information rather than insults. 'I do believe I shall have another coffee, though...'
Al escorted her into the kitchen.
When they returned with a fresh pot of coffee Frenchly-pressed, they found Jack picking out tunes upon his birthday mandolin whilst Daryl paced slowly before the fireplace muttering, '...Maducas, maducas...'
'Well,' Emlyn began, 'It takes much maducas to grow a field of daffodils.'
'Indeed...' Daryl ceased pacing and turned to them, '...actually, one might take 'maducas' from the Welsh prince who discovered America: Madoc, sometimes spelled
'Madawc'...could Latinize that into 'Madawcus', ah, more or less...'
'Ah, yes..."'Ware Madawcus the Gladiator for he wouldst smite thee with his noxious vapor!"' Jack knew Uncle Daryl could go on so; sometimes he forgot to provide much-needed comic relief. 'How would that come to mean ah, horsepucky, then?' asked Jack with a grin.
'Well you may ask...' Daryl took a seat, 'not many believe the legend of Madoc. Hence...?'
'Ah, as in 'that's just a bunch of Madoc-cas,' eh?' Al was getting in the spirit. In more ways than one.
'Hm. Possibly the legend of Madoc came to be known as, 'alot of bull', one might say. There are many legends that are connected to Madoc. Some say he stopped in Mexico and thus the tale of Quetzalcoatl was born...'
'Mucho toro...' Al supplied as he upon snifter did sedulously sip.
'Ah, the Feathered Serpent! Kukulkan,' Em offered, interested now, 'He did come from over the seas, a bearded white man with red hair...but whence comes the feathered serpent?'
'Ah, but think, filla: the Welsh Dragon! A reptile, with wings! His wee forked tongue is plainly seen...' Daryl winked.
'Of course, if they carried banners or standards, I can see it all...' Em paused, regarding her cold coffee.
'But, if I may inquire, how does your family relate to the Welsh then? I thought the Mandan tribe had been decimated by smallpox.'
'They were, mostly. Also, being so different; fair-complected, light eyes, red and blond hair, beards...they were chased out by neighboring tribes, especially the Cherokee, always fleeing northward. Some, of course, were assimilated into other tribes. In our case, the Arikara.' Daryl answered, leaning back in his chair and making himself comfortable for a lecture, 'I managed to trace our family lineage, on father's side, back to a Dutch ancestor with ties to an Arikara shaman who had a Mandan wife.'
'You did?' Jack stopped playing, '...I can't imagine how...it was so long ago...' he narrowed his gaze at his enigmatic uncle.
Not quite answering, Daryl continued, '...Also, the legend of the Fountain of Youth, thought to be in the southeast, is somehow connected with Madoc!' Daryl smiled a slow slinky smile, 'As is the tale of King Arthur.'
'Oh!' Em sat up straight now, 'Do tell, Daryl! Agua Florida and Arthur too.'
'If one accepts Uther Pendragon as the progenitor, then Madoc was descended through Arthur. I have charts of ancient geneaological trees, if you would care to peruse them, filla...' Daryl mentioned casually.
All were quiet momentarily, then Jack began to pick out another lilting, keltic reel on the mandolin.
Emlyn lay her head against the sofa and listened...'And they say the Feathered Serpent will return again, just as they say Arthur Pendragon shall return...'
'Mandan...the name could derive from Mannawyddan of the Mabiogion,' Aleister offered.
'Oh, aye,' Daryl swirled the amber liquor in his snifter, 'and marvelous strange tales those are, but the Tuatha de Danann's are stranger by far...' Daryl drank off his brandy.
Emlyn's head swam with all this news...Arthur! Really...to think that somehow she could be distantly related to Arthur Pendragon, (if indeed he existed), strange news and yet; it might explain how her life had been so entwined with magic and mysteries--timewalkers, mowing devvils, druids, and disappearing 'gypsies'...
'...It is said that the meaning formerly given to Tuatha De Danann was “the men of science who were gods,” danann being here connected with dan, “knowledge," Daryl had continued his musings, 'and, according to legend, when the Tuatha De' landed in Ireland, they arrived from the sky on a ship of dark clouds on the eve of Beltane.' Daryl fixed Em with a knowing look. 'They brought with them the stone of destiny called Lia Fail, which was placed on Tara and used to choose who would be crowned king of Eire.' He paused and produced another quarter from thin air, began to rotate it about his knuckles once more, 'Arthur C. Clarke said, "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."'
Jack paused in his playing. 'That's right...there were legends of them coming from 'above' in ships of mist...most odd.'
'Yesss...' Daryl eyed them all over his glass, '...and one
tale is told thus:
"God suffered them, though He restrained them
they landed with horror, with lofty deed,
in their cloud of mighty combat of spectres,
upon a mountain of Conmaicne of Connacht.
Without distinction to descerning Ireland,
Without ships, a ruthless course,
the truth was not known beneath the sky of stars,
whether they were of heaven or of earth" '
Daryl paused in thought, his gaze seemed to follow up the stairway taken by Yeats.
'Most intriguing, Daryl.' Emlyn was wondering where all this was going. She was not sure if she wished to find out entirely. She needed answers, but she feared that indeed truth may be stranger than fiction... 'But that is Irish myth, not Welsh.'
'Ah. 'Tis all Keltic, lass. The Welsh equivalents are the legends of Don and the Children of Don. Don/Danu; 'tis all the goddess and her works.' Daryl the Bard reveled in ensnaring the attention of his captive audience, 'And, there are bits and pieces of history attesting to some truth of legend...that adds the spice that makes the tales so tasty.'
Em pondered a moment, refilling her cup. 'But how did the Sky Gods become dwellers underground? How did the Tuatha De' Danann become the Sidhe-folk of the hollow hills?'
Daryl sighed. 'A complicated tale, perhaps half in truth, states that a battle was fought by the Tuatha Dé Danann against an invasion of Milesians from Iberia; they encountered three of the Tuatha De' goddesses, one of whom, Eiru, was the goddess Eire was named after...this battle they lost to the invaders, however, and when it came time to divide the land, the portion underground was granted to the Tuatha De' Danann.'
Unconsciously, Em's hand had strayed to her moonstone and she was surprised to find herself holding it. She flicked a quick glance in Jack's direction, but he was busy tuning the mandolin. Quickly, she stowed away the 'evidence'...
'It's interesting...how much of the old tales all sound like family histories, really...' Daryl lay his head against the chair and stretched his legs before him, '...you know, even the old Greek and Roman myths seem to be just an airing of the Laundry of the Gods! So-and-so did such-and-such to a brother or wife or nephew and well, who are those judges who label one thing myth and the other religion!? Might not these have been real beings?'
Uncle Daryl seemed to be in his cups already, observed a relatively sober Emlyn. 'Still, one would hope one's uncle wouldn't turn one into a frog just because he had a bad day at the forge or was attacked by giant whatsomevers...'
Just then the grandfather clock struck midnight.
'Ah! The Witching Hour!' Aleister exclaimed. 'One more to go, Jack!'
'Yes, that's right. I'm not here yet.' Jack took a seat next to Em and propped his mandolin against the sofa's pillows. 'I wonder where I was before I was here...?' He spared a glance toward Daryl.
'Well, don't look at me!' Uncle Daryl blustered, 'I haven't ALL the answers. Not quite...' he finished off his brandy.
'One thing puzzles me...' Emlyn probed, '...did Arthur Pendragon have any children, or no? In the tale...'
'...Oh, bugger the tale! I assume you refer to Malory!' Daryl was rather vexed, 'He was but a romantic poet! Or gave it a go, sommat... Anyway, Em, sorry, but to answer your query, no one knows for sure, about any of this, but, whether he had issue or not--which I'm sure he did, if only by-blows, as they say...Mordred of curse, er, course' Daryl smiled sideways, 'but, he certainly had relatives.'
Jack had meanwhile taken up the mando again and struck up a jaunty tune: '"Oooh, What Are We Going To Do With Uncle Arfur?...A Bleedin' Stallion Is--Uncle Arfur!"' he sang with a Cockney lilt.
Em was beset by a giggle fit, whilst Aleister nearly choked on his cognac laughing.
'Oh, you may well larf,' Daryl shook his head...but he was smiling.
'The piano is in tune,' Jack said, nodding towards the grand, polished and gleaming, the mahogany so dark as to appear black in the shimmering firelight.
Daryl said nothing, but after a moment, rose and betook himself over to the great beast which sat, silent and waiting. He flung imaginary tails out behind him as he seated himself, then raised the lid. Jack ceased his picking while Daryl warmed up a bit and then settled into Mendelssohn.
'A Midsummer Night's Dream...perfect...' Emlyn breathed, drinking in the ringing tune as close to the song of a lark on the evening breeze as man could effect.
'Downright Puckish,' Al agreed, taking a seat at last.
Em leaned her head upon Jack's shoulder and closed her eyes, letting the song carry her away into the land of faerie and fay down along the winding road leading ever on and on ...what an odd little ball this planet earth, so full of myth and mystery... One really never knew what could happen next, she'd discovered. With all the strangeness in her own life, how could she discount the tales of others?
Jack leaned his own head upon hers and listened to the tune in his own way. To him, the music carried questions, a teasing tale of half-truths and glimpses in shadows of mist-wrapped apparitions. Jack wondered what he knew anymore and why he even assumed he knew anything at all...hadn't someone said, 'an expert is someone who knows more and more about less and less'?
. . . .
Much softer than midnight chimed the hour of one a.m. 'Happy Birthday, Jack,' Em looked up at Jack and gave him a birthday kiss upon the lips.
He smiled down at her.
'That it is! Well, I made it another year, then!'
As Daryl softly played the last closing notes, he folded down the piano lid and now they could hear soft snores coming from Aleister, sitting with chin on chest.
Daryl arose from the piano. '"No voice; but oh! the silence sank like music on my heart."' He bent to Aleister, nudging his shoulder gently.
'Eh, ah...Coleridge! Too right!' Al opened one eye and grinned up at him, 'thought me dead to the world, didn't you?' Al yawned mightily.
'Come: to bed with us both...' Daryl helped Aleister up then turned to Jack, 'Happy Birthday, Jack. And, thank you for having me here with you all tonight; no, don't get up on our account!' He put a hand out upon Jack's shoulder. 'Goodnight Jack, Em.' He gestured Al up the stairs ahead of him, 'For "what hath night to do with sleep?"' He winked at them both over his shoulder as he tossed Jack a quarter; then taking hold of Aleister, navigated the stairway to the Land of Nod for them both.
Jack watched them make their way upstairs, then put his arm about the sofa behind Em. He looked closely at the quarter his uncle had lobbed to him.
'It's a double-header!' he grinned down at Em, who smiled back.
. . . .
Monday, July 29, 2013
Monday, July 22, 2013
Chapter 8 - Family Ties With A Keltic Knot
Chapter 8 - Family Ties With A Keltic Knot
:.Gwydion followed Allyn in to a chamber of such splendor that it could only be the throne
room of some king of the Shining Ones. And so it was, for a high seat was set at the far end,
fair lords and fairer ladies thronged the steps around it. Their faces turned to him in
wonder, but he had eyes only for the one who sat in the throne beneath the golden-leaved
canopy.
*
Stern of face he was , dark of hair and darker still of eye and upon his brow was a circlet
of silver twin to the one Gwydion bore...this Lord of the Sidhe had a majesty no mortal
monarch could hold and when he came to the first steps of the throne, Gwydion went to one
knee before him.
*
"Welcome Prince of the House of Don, to our halls. I am Gwyn, son of Neith, and we are kin
from afar. What would you of me?".:
--from: The Copper Crown
by: Patricia Keneally-Morrison
. . . .
Thelene waited anxiously outside the council chambers, allowing her fellow members of the
High Council to disperse after this particularly highly-charged meeting, before she made her
exit in the opposite direction, having first assured herself everyone had, indeed, left the
meeting room.
Although she saw no one about, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as she
hurried down the back stairway, hoping she would not be late for her clandestine assignation.
Haste trumped caution, however, as her accomplice had not clearance for the area and was
taking a great risk in meeting her here.
Time, was not on their side at the moment.
She saw no one else as she headed down the pathway through the gardens and once she exited
the labyrinthian maze of hedgework and continued on into the wood proper, she gazed behind
and about her and allowed her shoulders to relax somewhat, seeing no one else about. She
slowed her gait with relief as she saw the tall, unmistakable figure of her cohort, seated
upon a driftwood log, staring out over the sea beyond.
'Axelis...thank you for waiting. The Council was engaged in a seemingly endless, and rather
volatile debate...as you may have surmised.' Thelene smoothed her hair, and seated herself
beside the tall man, who gazed down upon her from a considerable height.
'Still, despite, what, decades of debate?--they cannot bring themselves to see a clear
answer, nor come any nearer to agreement upon this?' Axelis' features displayed no hint of
any inner turmoil, although Thelene knew how deeply he felt about the issue. He and his
associates had been putting much on the line to pursue this somewhat insurgent scheme. As had
Thelene, herself.
Thelene just shook her head, staring at the ground. 'No. And we no longer have the luxury of
time! Or that bright blue jewel
we safeguard as Terra shall no longer exist, I fear!' She looked up and through the
surrounding trees and across the sea; unlike her companion, however, worry and anxiety, also
a certain determination, was writ large upon her usually serene and lovely face.
'We determined, long ago, that something had to be done, and soon.' His voice was gentle and
somewhat soothing to Thelene's overwrought nerves, still thrumming from the council meeting.
'The fat is in the fire, as the Terrans would say. It's time long past for any regrets...'
'No regrets.' Thelene looked up at him, 'None! This IS the only way we may safely change this
futile course!'
Her mouth was tight and her gaze narrowed, 'If I am banished from the Council, so be it. This
is much bigger than us both, my friend.'
Axelis smiled then, and took Thelene's hand. 'We are in agreement. And, all goes well enough
on our end. It is simply...' he sighed, '...so unnecessary, all this waffling and endless
dissension. No. For us the path is clear, and proceeds as planned.' He gently squeezed her
hand, and his gaze flickered around the wood about them, 'however, for you, dear friend, this
could have grave consequences indeed. As a Council member, this borders on heterodoxy...'
Thelene took his hand in both of hers. 'Let them brand me apostate! Or, outlaw. I care
not...' Thelene stood then and began a deliberate slow pacing, 'I decided my course, long
long ago, when the first wave went renegade...oh, how I wished to join you then!' She
stopped, gazing earnestly at Axelis, 'Many more of us agreed with me, with you, then. They
have since become more hidebound and entangled in debate...oh, not for nothing are the
Council Chambers surrounded by labyrinths!'
'As without, so within?' Axelis smiled.
Thelene sighed and returned his smile. 'Alas, that it is so.'
Axelis stood, Thelene's gaze follwed upward. 'So. We are agreed, then? The time for waiting
is long past. It is already done, in any case. It is simply a matter of disclosure.'
'Yes. We are agreed.'
'Very well, then. I will let the other League members know of your decision. I'm not sure
when we shall meet again, like this...it may have to be a dark matter meeting. From here on,
the League will be more closely watched, if not actively pursued.'
Thelene nodded, and the two comrades met in a swift embrace, and then Axelis faded from view,
hand upraised in a salute of solidarity.
At last, Thelene relaxed and allowed herself to view the tranquility of the seascape beyond.
So, it is done. She wondered how long they would have until her 'treachery', so-called, would
be widely known. Well, she should be able to remain and gather information as a council
member for some time to come. But when their seeds began to bear fruit, as it were, she would
have to find quick exit from anyone and anything to do with the Council.
'Oh, my Thelene...what have you done?'
A low, familiar voice startled Thelene, who turned about to find Shane Devin Rowland Yeats
suddenly behind her. 'Shane!' Her voice registered both surprise and regret.
Yeats stood some ways from her, hands in pockets, making no move. 'We have to talk,' he said.
. . . .
The days came and went in San Francisco; busy days, growing ever longer, in pursuit of
summer. Emlyn had settled into somewhat of a routine with work, (avoiding the dread
Beauregard the Bilious as much as possible), and every so often, she'd take the train to
Pankhurst...first to stop and see if Jack and Company had returned to Crowley Place and check
how the property was faring in their absence, and also to revisit Jethro and Homer and lend a
hand in shaping up the stage and amphitheatre, now nearly finished, with roof, back and short
side walls, along with a removable front panel so that the entire enterprise could be
shielded from the rains.
She had returned from just such a jaunt when she found the
front door open at Nob Hill House. 'Hello?' she called, putting a foot inside.
'Hola!' Daryl poked his head about the corner of the hallway. 'Ah, home at last, eh? I've
just been setting out some of the houseplants for an airing...' Daryl petted a pot of
colorful coleus which now sat upon the front porch.
'Very nice. Yes, I've just returned from a trip to Pankhurst,' Em reached up, removing her
hat, 'and I'm rather famished!'
'I believe Rosa is working on a risotto...' Daryl inhaled, 'about done, by the aroma! Do
relax, filla...I shall join you shortly.'
Em needed no encouragement and was inside, sofa-prone and sans boots within minutes, feet up
and working on unbraiding her hair when Daryl joined her in the parlor, bearing wine for them
both. 'Senorita...' he bowed to her with his offering.
'Gracias, Diego!' Em deigned to favor him with his Spanish alias when Daryl was 'being nice',
as she termed it. 'Delicioso!'
'And, how is Pankhurst, then?' Daryl seated himself across from her, sipping his own
riesling.
'The bloody same...oh, sorry, I meant the town itself. I rather tire of it's obstinate
stodginess...I head for the hills as soon as I can when there. The amphitheatre looks
marvellous fine, though! Won't Jack be surprised!'
'Indeed. He has been away quite some time now...I wonder...' Daryl's thought trailed off down
some winding brainway. 'So!' he slapped the armrests of his chair suddenly, 'Jack's birthday
soon! How shall we celebrate, then?'
'Oh, my stars, that's right!' Em recalled, 'the 26th of May, isn't it? That's...this
weekend!' Em wondered why Jack had been so...quiet. She thought surely she would have had
word of him by now. 'How time flies...'
'Yes....' Daryl sipped slowly, agreeing, 'I thought he might have returned by now. Well, no
matter. It's about time I paid a visit to the old domain and see how it has been keeping.'
Em sat up straight. 'You, are suggesting a return to Massachusetts?'
Daryl eyed her, frowning, 'It IS my...well, it was my house!' He smiled then, rubbing a
finger over his lips, 'I used to pop in occasionally when I was sure no one was there. I
haven't been altogether the Invisible Uncle...' Daryl turned and peeked behind him, 'Ah, I
believe dinner is served!' He stood, holding out an arm, 'Shall we?'
Em took his arm and the conversation into the dining room, 'Gracias, Rosa! It does smell
wonderful...' Daryl served them, motioning Rosa off work with a smile.
'So...when do you plan to, ah, make this, trip?' Em enquired, tasting the wonderous rice dish
done to perfection with pine nuts, mushrooms and fresh peppers.
Daryl poured a rose' for dinner and took his seat across from Em. 'Oh...why not tomorrow? He
is born on Sunday, the 26th only technically, really...'
'How so?' Em put a slice of ice in her rose' as it always made Daryl frown.
'1 a.m., you see. So...'
'Ah. Quite a surprise.' Em had had some unpleasant experiences with surprises of late.
'Perhaps...is there not some way to, announce our, inviting ourselves, really, Daryl?'
'I suppose. It, was, my house...' Daryl sighed, 'I shall have to get used to Jack being the
master of the, ah, moment...' he smiled a slow sideways smile, then yawned deeply. 'Very
well...I'll let them know they may expect us Saturday evening, how's that? Enough warning for
you as well?'
Emlyn was caught amidst a yawn behind her hand, 'Oh, ahh, yes...! That will give me a moment
to catch my breath at least. I have been working, too, you know!' Em took a long drink of
water.
'So, yes, I'd like my weekend, and Jack's birthday, to be fairly trouble-free.'
'We'll see...' Daryl rested his chin upon one hand.
Em just yawned once more. 'No...no trouble. Ah, sorry! Oh, Daryl I am not used to two wines
at once!' She set her wineglass away. 'So, what shall we bring to Jack for a gift?'
Daryl looked down at her earnestly, one eyebrow cocked.
'Seriously, Diego.'
Uncle Daryl snapped to and looked about him. 'What, indeed?' Daryl stared at the table before
him, 'I can't even recall his age, now...how sad. I am an utter reprobate as an uncle.'
Emlyn had a far-away look in her eyes. 'I wish I could have had Carlos make a guitar for
Jack...' If I hadn't been kidnapped, etcetera, she didn't bother adding.
'Ah! I have a wonderful mandolin made by Carlos, at the Massachusetts house, it's a twin of
yours, cara...'Daryl tapped his chin in thought, 'I wonder if he has found it and
appropriated it already...'
Em felt her eyelids becoming heavy. 'We have all day manana, Diego. I am falling asleep where
I sit!'
Daryl helped Em out of her seat and insisted upon escorting her upstairs. 'My apologies,
filla! I am unused to acting as a young lady's guardian...I keep forgetting I am supposed to
comport myself in such a manner as to exert a wise and conscientious influence upon my
charge.' He opened the door to her room, 'There you are, my dear...and you working all week,
too!' Daryl shook his head, 'I fear you'll have to teach me, Em, how to be, ah...'
'More wise and abstentious, perhaps, si. Good evening, Diego. Do not call for me before
noon,' and Em closed her door, leaning upon it, listening for Daryl's retreating slow steps.
Em smiled, as she sat upon her bed and lay her head upon her pillow at last!
Diosa! She had wanted to do this hours ago!
Yawning once more, she slowly undressed, trying to stay prone whilst doing so. So
tired...well, it was a Friday...and with Daryl at home, it was rather difficult not to imbibe
a touch of grape; he did pair the wines well with dinners... All in all, Em hadn't much to
complain of lately. She flung her skirt upon a chair, it needed washing anyway. Well, so they
were off to see Jack across country manana... She had had a small gift made for his birthday,
some time ago...it wasn't easy finding a gift for a rich genius; but she'd thought perhaps
something else?
Em had an idea. She'd see if she still had it come the morrow...
. . . .
Saturday flew by...and Emlyn found herself favoring her idea still, come departure time.
However, she was rather balky regarding their mode of transport...
'Must we, use the artefact, Diego?' Em stared down at the innocuous-seeming ovoid, white and
still in her hand.
'Cara, it is safest!' He sighed, putting an arm about her shoulder, 'I know and understand
why you do not trust timewalking...but I have come and gone of late without running into any
unwanted detours, yes?' He took her other hand in his,
'Now. All shall be well. I truly believe that our previous deviations were part of a sortof
time-slip: it happened THEN,
as if coming upon a tornado on the trail, which picks one up and deposits one elsewhere. And
now, the tornado is past.'
A good yarn, and possibly not without some truth in it. Em decided that was the best
assurance she would have for now. 'Alright. Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose!'
Daryl smiled reassuringly and held fast her hand in his. 'Here we go then.' He put his other
hand atop hers which held the artefact and immediately it began a low hum. They could both
feel a subtle vibration as it charged into life, turning the familiar pinkish color and fast
becoming red as the hum increased in volume. And then--
They were completely drenched.
'Ah!' Daryl shook his head, sending water flying, 'We made it!
There is the house!'
'Ooohhh!! Daryl!! Could you not have checked the weather first?'
'Sorry, filla...come, let's run for it!' He draped his jacket over their heads as they tore
off for the front steps. Daryl pounded mightily upon the big oaken door, whilst Em hugged her
arms about her tightly and marvelled at the storm blowing about them.
'A fine nor'easter, so it is!' Daryl smiled, gazing down at her.
Em was not smiling. She looked as though she was ready to kill him, in fact. 'Ah,
well...someone will hear us soon...' Daryl tried the door. Finding it locked, he leaned a
shoulder upon it, and pressed upon certain areas of the door frame, and it opened to them at
last. 'Em?' He waved an arm for her to proceed within.
'Halloo, the House!' Daryl yelled, closing the door behind them as they stood dripping
rivulets upon the chessboard patterned parquet floor '...We must get dry...'
'Did you not tell them we were coming? Daryl, you promised!' Em
was telling herself she knew this had been a rum idea from the first, and now she had proof
of it. 'Ohh, for all we know, THEY are back in Pankhurst now, and DRY!'
Daryl set his mouth tight, and taking Emlyn's hand, drew her along with him upstairs. 'Come
on, then...we'll just go get dried and changed...you'll be good as new, and much refreshed!'
Em stopped, nearly taking Daryl off his feet and down the stairs and gave him a hard look in
warning. 'Alright! Alright! Yes, I had sent word we would be here sometime this evening...'
He continued upward, pulling her along once more, 'they're probably down in the basement lab.
Can't hear a blessed thing down there...'
Reaching the second level hallway, he opened a door and peeked within, '...doesn't appear to
be occupied...this will do. Come, Em, there's a fine large bath here, you can warm up...and
here!'
He took large fluffy towels out and set them by the bath, and taking a robe from the closet,
lay it upon the bed. 'Just, ah,
leave your wet things hanging on the doorknob without, and I'll see that all are dried in no
time. Meanwhile, I'll dry off my self and seek out Jack.' He took in Emlyn's soaked,
shivering and bedraggled person and rubbed both her shoulders as if that would help warm her.
'You'll feel much better after a warm bath, here, I'll get it started for you...' he was off
to the tub and had the steaming water going. 'There. I'll leave you alone for now. No
worries, filla!' And out he went, seemingly well-satisfied.
Bloody Daryl.
. . . .
Jack and Aleister, meanwhile, had just finished up their latest calculations and were running
them through the computer for cross-referencing. 'There. That will take some while...' Jack
sat back and rubbed his forehead. 'I wonder if the storm is still raging without...what is
the time...?'
'It's just gone 5 o'clock...I take it our guests will be due here soon?' Aleister drained his
coffee mug, making a face at the dregs, 'Bleah...' he stuck his tongue out and wiped the
grounds from it.
'Yes, that's my opinion of Daryl's visit as well...' Jack grinned his way, '...but, it would
be nice to see Em of course.'
His tone held a note of question, however, or perhaps caution.
He felt like someone who had stubbed a toe in the dark and wasn't too sure where to put a
foot...
'Of course it will! It's your birthday, m'boyo!' Al endeavored a heartiness he was hoping he
would soon feel. 'Although...I did think we would see Yeats back here by now.'
Jack stood and stretched his lanky frame. 'Well, nothing for it but to do the cooking
ourselves...that means you, too! If you can cook for Diana....!' He shot his partner a
lopsided grin.
'Yes, yes, I guess that bat's out of the bag, then! I can turn a fair hand to a skillet I
suppose, when required. Just prefer being waited upon you know...'
'Now I know how most women must feel...' Jack shrugged out of his lab coat, in black, not
white, flaunting convention; adorned with a Flogging Molly patch on the breast pocket.
'Come, come, now lad...you know women's wiles work just as well on us! When it's time to give
something heavy a heave, they'll sit and watch demurely whilst we shoulder the weight...'
"'Boy...you're gonna carry that weight!'" Jack sang the old Beatles tune as he headed up the
stairs, Aleister following, as they both sang on: "'Carry that weight, a looong time!'"
Exiting the lab, Jack set the controls and made sure all was secure. Aleister preceded him
into the hallway, 'What the devil!?'
Jack rounded the corner to find Al staring at a small pond within the front door. He sighed.
'Exactly.' His gaze went up the stairway, following the wet footprints. '...speak of the
devil...' he began taking stairs two at a time, heading resolutely upward, and nearly running
into Daryl who was exiting a bedroom, clad in a robe with hair still wet, carrying an armload
of wet clothing. '...And here he is!'
'Ah! Well met, Jack! We, ah, got caught out in the storm, you see! Ah, just heading down to
mop up...' Daryl somehow managed to look both sheepish and enthusiastic by turns.
'Where is Emmeline?' asked Jack, obviously not, himself, enthused, at least not with Daryl.
'She's just in the bath, warming up a bit!'
'In HERE?' Jack pushed past Daryl, into the room his uncle had just exited. Daryl followed,
rolling his eyes. Jack checked the bathroom, finding no one within.
'Of course not! I gave her the Blue Room...I, well, no one was about, you see...'
'Oh, yes. I see.' Jack was not amused.
Aleister came upon them at last. 'Ah, Daryl Van Horn, so it is!
Caught in the rain, I see! Let's just get these things dry, then, shall we?' Aleister put out
an arm to usher Daryl downstairs and shot Jack a warning glance. 'You can meet us in the
kitchen once you've settled...we've just come from the lab, can't hear a thing down there!'
Daryl allowed himself to be mollified and went quietly downstairs with Al, still clutching
his wet laundry, while Jack ran a hand through his hair. exciting his cowlick, and just stood
at the top of the stairs, watching them. His gaze then went down the hallway, noting the door
to the Blue Room closed. He bit his lip. Alright then, he could play a civilized host. If he
must.
He followed Aleister and Daryl downstairs.
. . . .
Emlyn had taken her time in the luxurious bathroom, noting some things rather changed from
when she last was here. She amused herself trying out the odd gadgets she found within
cupboards and figured out the hair dryer at last, to her delight. She made a quick braid of
her crimson locks and wrapped it about her head with pins. Well, she looked passable, she
supposed, sighing. Damn bloody Daryl! It had to be his fault they were transported without
and not within the house! She was feeling much put-upon and rather rebellious.
She fetched the necklace Jack had given her and was fastening it about her neck when her gaze
alighted upon Gwydion's moonstone...well, why not? She could wear it underneath her dress, no
one need know. She wore the moonstone then, which was on a slightly longer chain, beneath her
Herkimer. They made a nice pair, actually, she decided.
Wondering if Daryl had managed to dry her clothes, she padded into the bedroom and found her
dress and petticoat and etceteras, all laid nicely upon the bedspread. They were still warm,
indeed, and gratefully she drew them on, tucking the moonstone beneath her collar. Not seeing
her boots, she did take note of the Chinese slippers and availed herself of their welcome
satin softness, wondering if they were, in fact, the same ones she had worn on her last,
ill-fated trip here.
Taking a last glance in the mirror, she thought she would do.
She had kept her reticule with her, and emptied it, letting it dry on it's own. She took the
box she'd set out and opened it.
A beauteous silver pocket watch lay within, a lyre etched upon it's casing. Pressing the top,
it opened to the inscription:
'To Jack, With Love from Emlyn. "If Music Be The Food Of Love, Play On"' Em smiled, and shut
the case. She hoped Jack would like it. There was, of course, something else to come...but
that would be for later.
Well, she supposed she should head downstairs...she wondered if Daryl had located Jack and
Al, and how they were all getting on.
Or not...
. . . .
To Emlyn's surprise, and relief, she could detect the strains of music as she approached the
kitchen. Oh, excellent, she thought, they haven't killed one another as yet! Or at least
they'd some musical accompaniment to the task...
Opening the swinging kitchen doors, she found Jack seated upon a stool in the corner,
seemingly pleasantly engrossed in playing a fine mandolin. 'Oh, it's lovely, Jack!'
'Em!' He looked up, then; smiling like a boy with a new toy, his forelock hanging over one
eye. He put down the instrument and rose to greet her. 'And so are you. Lovely, that is!' He
bent to plant a light kiss upon her lips. 'Long time, no see...do have a seat! Some wine?' he
offered.
'Oh, thank you, no, Jack, dear...perhaps a cup of tea?' Em took the high stool beside Jack
at the counter, noting that Daryl and Aleister were busy with dinner preparations; seemingly
all was well with the men, thus far.
'Tea! That I can handle!' Al went to fill the kettle. 'How are you, Em? Had rather a surprise
soak, I take it?'
'Eh, hmmm, yes...' less said about that, the better, for now...discretion and all that...'but
all's well now! May I assist at all...?' she inquired.
'Under control!' Daryl assured her, looking well-fluffed and recovered from his drenching.
'Jack keeps a nicely-stocked larder here! Salmon steaks, won't take but a minute...pasta with
green beans, lemon and basil, already done! I'm juuust about ready to bake the cake...' he
poured the batter into a baking pan. 'Devil's food, of course!' he added, cocking an eyebrow
up, his own fallen forelock and sideways grin giving him the air of a chef aboard a pirate's
galley. Stuffing the cake into the oven he set the timer. 'There. What sort of icing then,
Jack?'
'Chocolate. Naturally.' Jack took up the mando and began a keltic flavored tune.
'Righto...let's see...' Daryl opened cupboards, seeminly happy to be busy in a kitchen,
wherever it may be. He found a bag of chocolate chips and began heating them over the stove.
Aleister set Em's teacup and saucer before her and poured, 'Mam'selle...'
'Thank you, Aleister! So what have you been up to? You have missed much at home! Oh, Jack!'
she paused, taking a sip, 'I'll have you know the amphitheatre is finished! It looks
amazing...'
. . . .
Dinner was rather amazing as well, thought Em, as evening found them all gathered at last
about table, eating, drinking and listening to soft classical music that Em was told was
somehow piped through 'speakers', a sortof public-address system, set all about the house, a
'stereo' Jack referred to it, '...although it's more multi-phonic, really...'
Indeed, it seemed nearly a normal gathering of family and friends. Em never thought she would
behold both Jack and Daryl breaking bread at the same table. And not throwing it at each
other. They were obviously trying hard to put a good face on things.
'So, where is our good Yeats this evening?' Daryl enquired, pouring more wine.
'Unknown.' Aleister held his glass for topping off, 'He has been, rather closer than
usual...don't you think, Jack? I wonder what has him so preoccupied?'
'Umm...timebursts, no doubt.' Jack took another helping of pasta. His third, Em noted,
wondering where it all went.
'No luck locating the source of these, bursts?' she asked, holding her hand over her glass.
She really was not about to try to keep up with the men.
'We've some ideas...but nothing concrete.' Aleister informed her, 'I've a notion that Yeats
knows more about them than he's let on.'
'I don't think they are originating from here,' Jack put in.
'What do you mean, Jack?' Daryl asked blandly.
'Well,' Jack paused, took a sip of wine, 'No trace signatures found from any points on earth.
The signatures would seem to originate, otherwhere.'
'As in, space?'
Jack nodded. 'So it might seem. Inconclusive, thus far, of course.'
Daryl leaned back, toying with his wineglass. 'Hmmm...interesting. That would mean they're
not a random phenomenon, but something orchestrated, by someone, 'otherwhere', then.'
'Possibly. All conjecture at this point.'
All were quiet for a while, listening to the rain pattering against the tall windows. 'The
storm doesn't seems to be abating as yet...' Em ventured.
'Well, I'm ready for cake!' Aleister rose. 'I'll make the coffee!
Jack, shovel-to, already! You can always keep leftovers, you know, no need to clear the table
of every crumb!' Al chuckled, as he took their plates to the kitchen.
Em smiled benignly upon the two Van Horns, relieved at last that what she had considered an
ill-hazarded venture was somehow turning out to be so agreeably homey. Jack appeared to be at
ease, (well-stuffed, certainly...), and almost nonchalant. Daryl
was rolling a quarter dollar piece back and forth along the knuckles of one hand, flipping it
in the air occasionally, and catching it.
One time, it did not land. 'Where did the coin go?' asked Em, innocently. Daryl reached
forward and drew it forth from behind her ear.
'Taa-daa!' Aleister appeared on cue with cake, one candle lit in the middle of the expanse of
chocolate, and set it before Jack.
All sang the well-known chant to appease the birthday gods and wish Jack well for another
year. 'Do make a wish, Jack!' Em urged. Jack locked his gaze with hers and did not smile,
then blew slowly and steadily til the candle flame gave out and went smoking.
'I'll just get that coffee...' Daryl was up and about whilst Jack cut the cake.
'A sliver for me, thanks! Oh, 'tis rich and divine, for devil's food!' Em remarked, licking
her fork. 'Oh, thank you, Daryl!'
she sipped the coffee he delivered all 'round. 'This has been a most delicious birthday
party, I'll say.'
'It has, indeed. Thank you, all!' Jack raised his cup to them.
'Here's to...family and friends!' All clinked their cups together and Em noted that Daryl was
blinking, and looking down, trying to hide the moisture pooling in his eyes. It cost Jack
dear to make that concession, she knew. She knew as well, what a gift he had just made Daryl
with that simple acknowledgement.
'Well, you have my present already,' Daryl rallied and was finishing off his cake. 'That's a
one of a kind mandolin, made by a master. Utterly suigeneris...'
'It looks much like my own, and Josephina's but yes, it is much more ornate!' Em observed,
noting the inlays. 'And the sound!
A princely gift, Jack!'
'Indeed.' Jack looked well pleased, as Aleister leaned back, opened a cupboard behind him,
and fished out a bottle of cognac tied round the neck with a red bow.
'Happy Days, Jack!' he set the bottle before the Man of the Hour, and sipped his coffee. 'It
goes well with coffee, too...' he hinted.
Jack chuckled, as he opened the bottle and sniffed the aromatic liquor within. 'Ahhh, that it
does!' He poured a wee shot all round in their coffees and stoppered it. 'Leftovers!' he
announced. 'I'll not be finishing this in one evening!'
Em meanwhile fished the box from her dress pocket and slowly slid it toward Jack. 'Happy
Birthday, Jack. From me to you.'
'Ah, Em...well, thank you!' He picked the box up, turned it about, 'Whatever could it be?' He
grinned, and opened it. 'Ah, Em! Gosh, it's beautiful! Look, Al!' He held the watch up by
it's chain, and if Aleister was recalling a similar gift given by Em to another, he kept it
well hidden. Jack opened it up then and read the inscription, as Em quietly arose and made
her way to his side. 'Play on, indeed...' he looked up at her standing by his chair, and she
leaned over to give him a birthday kiss. 'Thank you, Em...I'll treasure it always...'
'And, it will make you look a proper 19th century gentleman...'
Em touseled his hair, making Jack smile.
'You have the same cowlick as your father, Drake,' Daryl commented, as he leaned back in his
chair, studying Jack. 'He could never get it to lie down...would just keep cutting it close
to the scalp, just there...'
'That's how he did it, eh? I just thought he didn't have one.' He gazed up at Em, 'I should
try that trick.'
'Did someone say, 'trick'"?' Daryl reached into his pocket and
appeared to extract, something, and tossed it high above them all; suddenly a rain of golden
glitter coruscated slowly down only to disappear before reaching the table. Em laughed
delightedly, touching the glitter on Jack's nose.
'How did you do that, then?' she enquired, knowing that Daryl would never tell. She rubbed it
between her fingers. 'It's real.
How did it disappear before getting in the cake and coffee?'
Daryl waved his hands about, looking mock-seriously at them all:
'The ways of the Great Maducas are mysterious and esoteric in truth! Forbidden Secrets of the
East, I am verily sworn to uphold!'
Jack burst out laughing heartily. 'The Great Maducas, indeed! Ha, ha!' He shook his finger at
his uncle, smiling, 'Go on, tell them!' He turned to the others. 'My father's nickname for
Daryl, when he was doing his 'conjuring' acts, was 'The Great Maducas'!'
Em took her seat again, sipping her coffee. 'And what does it mean, this 'maducas'--sounds a
bit Welsh? Or perhaps Yiddish...'
Daryl snorted. 'It means, 'horseshit', my dear...ah, excuse me, but you wished to know!' All
joined Jack in a good laugh then.
'Ohh, but is it a real word?' Em wanted to know.
'They had their own vocabulary and language, seemingly...' Jack looked sideways at Daryl.
'Where did you get these words from, anyway? Hm...does sound rather Welsh-ish, with our
family could be either Welsh or Yiddish...not Dutch certainly.'
He paused '...Is it?'
'That, would be telling...' Daryl finished his coffee.
'Well, shall we adjourn to the parlor then? Should get a fire going there, the kitchen heat
is about dissipated...' Jack arose and held Em's chair out for her, holding her hand as the
others
made their way into the parlor, leaving them a space of privacy.
'I do hope the watch is alright...' Em began, shy suddenly.
'It's perfect. And so is the inscription. Ah, you will be staying the night, I assume?' He
slipped his arms about her, roguishly.
'You don't want to chance the weather out there now.'
'Apparently! Oh, I'd not miss your birthday for the world, Jack, but, I'm not fond of
timewalking, you know! Yes, we'll stay on, if we may.'
'There's my brave girl,' Jack kissed her nose, after brushing off bits of golden glitter.
'All this for me! Well, I'll see what I can do to earn it.'
'You already have, Jack. That was awfully good of you, to have Daryl here...he does
appreciate it so.' Em stood on tiptoe and gave Jack a kiss. Jack tightened his hold about
her, and returned the favor, drawing the moment out...'Umm, chocolate kisses...'
he murmured, '...my favorite.'
'No wonder they call it Devil's Food!' Em touched a finger into the frosting and stuck it on
Jack's nose, laughed and slipped out of his embrace and trotted behind the door, peeking
round before she scuttled off.
'Why, you...' Jack followed her lead...
...and found her in the parlor, watching Daryl make up a fire.
'Just listen to the wind roar! Has it been such a gale here all day, then?'
Just then they heard the front door slam open, causing everyone to jump. They then heard the
door shut hard, and slow, wet, heavy steps headed their way.
Mr. Yeats stood dripping before them, in black raincoat and hat, looking even more morose
than usual.
'Gandalf Stormcrow!' Daryl stood and made this absurd comment.
Yeats frowned at him, and removed his hat, shaking it upon the carpet. He then turned round
and surveyed them all.
'Happy Birthday, Jack,' he said, deadpan, as if delivering a court summons.
. . . .
:.Gwydion followed Allyn in to a chamber of such splendor that it could only be the throne
room of some king of the Shining Ones. And so it was, for a high seat was set at the far end,
fair lords and fairer ladies thronged the steps around it. Their faces turned to him in
wonder, but he had eyes only for the one who sat in the throne beneath the golden-leaved
canopy.
*
Stern of face he was , dark of hair and darker still of eye and upon his brow was a circlet
of silver twin to the one Gwydion bore...this Lord of the Sidhe had a majesty no mortal
monarch could hold and when he came to the first steps of the throne, Gwydion went to one
knee before him.
*
"Welcome Prince of the House of Don, to our halls. I am Gwyn, son of Neith, and we are kin
from afar. What would you of me?".:
--from: The Copper Crown
by: Patricia Keneally-Morrison
. . . .
Thelene waited anxiously outside the council chambers, allowing her fellow members of the
High Council to disperse after this particularly highly-charged meeting, before she made her
exit in the opposite direction, having first assured herself everyone had, indeed, left the
meeting room.
Although she saw no one about, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as she
hurried down the back stairway, hoping she would not be late for her clandestine assignation.
Haste trumped caution, however, as her accomplice had not clearance for the area and was
taking a great risk in meeting her here.
Time, was not on their side at the moment.
She saw no one else as she headed down the pathway through the gardens and once she exited
the labyrinthian maze of hedgework and continued on into the wood proper, she gazed behind
and about her and allowed her shoulders to relax somewhat, seeing no one else about. She
slowed her gait with relief as she saw the tall, unmistakable figure of her cohort, seated
upon a driftwood log, staring out over the sea beyond.
'Axelis...thank you for waiting. The Council was engaged in a seemingly endless, and rather
volatile debate...as you may have surmised.' Thelene smoothed her hair, and seated herself
beside the tall man, who gazed down upon her from a considerable height.
'Still, despite, what, decades of debate?--they cannot bring themselves to see a clear
answer, nor come any nearer to agreement upon this?' Axelis' features displayed no hint of
any inner turmoil, although Thelene knew how deeply he felt about the issue. He and his
associates had been putting much on the line to pursue this somewhat insurgent scheme. As had
Thelene, herself.
Thelene just shook her head, staring at the ground. 'No. And we no longer have the luxury of
time! Or that bright blue jewel
we safeguard as Terra shall no longer exist, I fear!' She looked up and through the
surrounding trees and across the sea; unlike her companion, however, worry and anxiety, also
a certain determination, was writ large upon her usually serene and lovely face.
'We determined, long ago, that something had to be done, and soon.' His voice was gentle and
somewhat soothing to Thelene's overwrought nerves, still thrumming from the council meeting.
'The fat is in the fire, as the Terrans would say. It's time long past for any regrets...'
'No regrets.' Thelene looked up at him, 'None! This IS the only way we may safely change this
futile course!'
Her mouth was tight and her gaze narrowed, 'If I am banished from the Council, so be it. This
is much bigger than us both, my friend.'
Axelis smiled then, and took Thelene's hand. 'We are in agreement. And, all goes well enough
on our end. It is simply...' he sighed, '...so unnecessary, all this waffling and endless
dissension. No. For us the path is clear, and proceeds as planned.' He gently squeezed her
hand, and his gaze flickered around the wood about them, 'however, for you, dear friend, this
could have grave consequences indeed. As a Council member, this borders on heterodoxy...'
Thelene took his hand in both of hers. 'Let them brand me apostate! Or, outlaw. I care
not...' Thelene stood then and began a deliberate slow pacing, 'I decided my course, long
long ago, when the first wave went renegade...oh, how I wished to join you then!' She
stopped, gazing earnestly at Axelis, 'Many more of us agreed with me, with you, then. They
have since become more hidebound and entangled in debate...oh, not for nothing are the
Council Chambers surrounded by labyrinths!'
'As without, so within?' Axelis smiled.
Thelene sighed and returned his smile. 'Alas, that it is so.'
Axelis stood, Thelene's gaze follwed upward. 'So. We are agreed, then? The time for waiting
is long past. It is already done, in any case. It is simply a matter of disclosure.'
'Yes. We are agreed.'
'Very well, then. I will let the other League members know of your decision. I'm not sure
when we shall meet again, like this...it may have to be a dark matter meeting. From here on,
the League will be more closely watched, if not actively pursued.'
Thelene nodded, and the two comrades met in a swift embrace, and then Axelis faded from view,
hand upraised in a salute of solidarity.
At last, Thelene relaxed and allowed herself to view the tranquility of the seascape beyond.
So, it is done. She wondered how long they would have until her 'treachery', so-called, would
be widely known. Well, she should be able to remain and gather information as a council
member for some time to come. But when their seeds began to bear fruit, as it were, she would
have to find quick exit from anyone and anything to do with the Council.
'Oh, my Thelene...what have you done?'
A low, familiar voice startled Thelene, who turned about to find Shane Devin Rowland Yeats
suddenly behind her. 'Shane!' Her voice registered both surprise and regret.
Yeats stood some ways from her, hands in pockets, making no move. 'We have to talk,' he said.
. . . .
The days came and went in San Francisco; busy days, growing ever longer, in pursuit of
summer. Emlyn had settled into somewhat of a routine with work, (avoiding the dread
Beauregard the Bilious as much as possible), and every so often, she'd take the train to
Pankhurst...first to stop and see if Jack and Company had returned to Crowley Place and check
how the property was faring in their absence, and also to revisit Jethro and Homer and lend a
hand in shaping up the stage and amphitheatre, now nearly finished, with roof, back and short
side walls, along with a removable front panel so that the entire enterprise could be
shielded from the rains.
She had returned from just such a jaunt when she found the
front door open at Nob Hill House. 'Hello?' she called, putting a foot inside.
'Hola!' Daryl poked his head about the corner of the hallway. 'Ah, home at last, eh? I've
just been setting out some of the houseplants for an airing...' Daryl petted a pot of
colorful coleus which now sat upon the front porch.
'Very nice. Yes, I've just returned from a trip to Pankhurst,' Em reached up, removing her
hat, 'and I'm rather famished!'
'I believe Rosa is working on a risotto...' Daryl inhaled, 'about done, by the aroma! Do
relax, filla...I shall join you shortly.'
Em needed no encouragement and was inside, sofa-prone and sans boots within minutes, feet up
and working on unbraiding her hair when Daryl joined her in the parlor, bearing wine for them
both. 'Senorita...' he bowed to her with his offering.
'Gracias, Diego!' Em deigned to favor him with his Spanish alias when Daryl was 'being nice',
as she termed it. 'Delicioso!'
'And, how is Pankhurst, then?' Daryl seated himself across from her, sipping his own
riesling.
'The bloody same...oh, sorry, I meant the town itself. I rather tire of it's obstinate
stodginess...I head for the hills as soon as I can when there. The amphitheatre looks
marvellous fine, though! Won't Jack be surprised!'
'Indeed. He has been away quite some time now...I wonder...' Daryl's thought trailed off down
some winding brainway. 'So!' he slapped the armrests of his chair suddenly, 'Jack's birthday
soon! How shall we celebrate, then?'
'Oh, my stars, that's right!' Em recalled, 'the 26th of May, isn't it? That's...this
weekend!' Em wondered why Jack had been so...quiet. She thought surely she would have had
word of him by now. 'How time flies...'
'Yes....' Daryl sipped slowly, agreeing, 'I thought he might have returned by now. Well, no
matter. It's about time I paid a visit to the old domain and see how it has been keeping.'
Em sat up straight. 'You, are suggesting a return to Massachusetts?'
Daryl eyed her, frowning, 'It IS my...well, it was my house!' He smiled then, rubbing a
finger over his lips, 'I used to pop in occasionally when I was sure no one was there. I
haven't been altogether the Invisible Uncle...' Daryl turned and peeked behind him, 'Ah, I
believe dinner is served!' He stood, holding out an arm, 'Shall we?'
Em took his arm and the conversation into the dining room, 'Gracias, Rosa! It does smell
wonderful...' Daryl served them, motioning Rosa off work with a smile.
'So...when do you plan to, ah, make this, trip?' Em enquired, tasting the wonderous rice dish
done to perfection with pine nuts, mushrooms and fresh peppers.
Daryl poured a rose' for dinner and took his seat across from Em. 'Oh...why not tomorrow? He
is born on Sunday, the 26th only technically, really...'
'How so?' Em put a slice of ice in her rose' as it always made Daryl frown.
'1 a.m., you see. So...'
'Ah. Quite a surprise.' Em had had some unpleasant experiences with surprises of late.
'Perhaps...is there not some way to, announce our, inviting ourselves, really, Daryl?'
'I suppose. It, was, my house...' Daryl sighed, 'I shall have to get used to Jack being the
master of the, ah, moment...' he smiled a slow sideways smile, then yawned deeply. 'Very
well...I'll let them know they may expect us Saturday evening, how's that? Enough warning for
you as well?'
Emlyn was caught amidst a yawn behind her hand, 'Oh, ahh, yes...! That will give me a moment
to catch my breath at least. I have been working, too, you know!' Em took a long drink of
water.
'So, yes, I'd like my weekend, and Jack's birthday, to be fairly trouble-free.'
'We'll see...' Daryl rested his chin upon one hand.
Em just yawned once more. 'No...no trouble. Ah, sorry! Oh, Daryl I am not used to two wines
at once!' She set her wineglass away. 'So, what shall we bring to Jack for a gift?'
Daryl looked down at her earnestly, one eyebrow cocked.
'Seriously, Diego.'
Uncle Daryl snapped to and looked about him. 'What, indeed?' Daryl stared at the table before
him, 'I can't even recall his age, now...how sad. I am an utter reprobate as an uncle.'
Emlyn had a far-away look in her eyes. 'I wish I could have had Carlos make a guitar for
Jack...' If I hadn't been kidnapped, etcetera, she didn't bother adding.
'Ah! I have a wonderful mandolin made by Carlos, at the Massachusetts house, it's a twin of
yours, cara...'Daryl tapped his chin in thought, 'I wonder if he has found it and
appropriated it already...'
Em felt her eyelids becoming heavy. 'We have all day manana, Diego. I am falling asleep where
I sit!'
Daryl helped Em out of her seat and insisted upon escorting her upstairs. 'My apologies,
filla! I am unused to acting as a young lady's guardian...I keep forgetting I am supposed to
comport myself in such a manner as to exert a wise and conscientious influence upon my
charge.' He opened the door to her room, 'There you are, my dear...and you working all week,
too!' Daryl shook his head, 'I fear you'll have to teach me, Em, how to be, ah...'
'More wise and abstentious, perhaps, si. Good evening, Diego. Do not call for me before
noon,' and Em closed her door, leaning upon it, listening for Daryl's retreating slow steps.
Em smiled, as she sat upon her bed and lay her head upon her pillow at last!
Diosa! She had wanted to do this hours ago!
Yawning once more, she slowly undressed, trying to stay prone whilst doing so. So
tired...well, it was a Friday...and with Daryl at home, it was rather difficult not to imbibe
a touch of grape; he did pair the wines well with dinners... All in all, Em hadn't much to
complain of lately. She flung her skirt upon a chair, it needed washing anyway. Well, so they
were off to see Jack across country manana... She had had a small gift made for his birthday,
some time ago...it wasn't easy finding a gift for a rich genius; but she'd thought perhaps
something else?
Em had an idea. She'd see if she still had it come the morrow...
. . . .
Saturday flew by...and Emlyn found herself favoring her idea still, come departure time.
However, she was rather balky regarding their mode of transport...
'Must we, use the artefact, Diego?' Em stared down at the innocuous-seeming ovoid, white and
still in her hand.
'Cara, it is safest!' He sighed, putting an arm about her shoulder, 'I know and understand
why you do not trust timewalking...but I have come and gone of late without running into any
unwanted detours, yes?' He took her other hand in his,
'Now. All shall be well. I truly believe that our previous deviations were part of a sortof
time-slip: it happened THEN,
as if coming upon a tornado on the trail, which picks one up and deposits one elsewhere. And
now, the tornado is past.'
A good yarn, and possibly not without some truth in it. Em decided that was the best
assurance she would have for now. 'Alright. Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose!'
Daryl smiled reassuringly and held fast her hand in his. 'Here we go then.' He put his other
hand atop hers which held the artefact and immediately it began a low hum. They could both
feel a subtle vibration as it charged into life, turning the familiar pinkish color and fast
becoming red as the hum increased in volume. And then--
They were completely drenched.
'Ah!' Daryl shook his head, sending water flying, 'We made it!
There is the house!'
'Ooohhh!! Daryl!! Could you not have checked the weather first?'
'Sorry, filla...come, let's run for it!' He draped his jacket over their heads as they tore
off for the front steps. Daryl pounded mightily upon the big oaken door, whilst Em hugged her
arms about her tightly and marvelled at the storm blowing about them.
'A fine nor'easter, so it is!' Daryl smiled, gazing down at her.
Em was not smiling. She looked as though she was ready to kill him, in fact. 'Ah,
well...someone will hear us soon...' Daryl tried the door. Finding it locked, he leaned a
shoulder upon it, and pressed upon certain areas of the door frame, and it opened to them at
last. 'Em?' He waved an arm for her to proceed within.
'Halloo, the House!' Daryl yelled, closing the door behind them as they stood dripping
rivulets upon the chessboard patterned parquet floor '...We must get dry...'
'Did you not tell them we were coming? Daryl, you promised!' Em
was telling herself she knew this had been a rum idea from the first, and now she had proof
of it. 'Ohh, for all we know, THEY are back in Pankhurst now, and DRY!'
Daryl set his mouth tight, and taking Emlyn's hand, drew her along with him upstairs. 'Come
on, then...we'll just go get dried and changed...you'll be good as new, and much refreshed!'
Em stopped, nearly taking Daryl off his feet and down the stairs and gave him a hard look in
warning. 'Alright! Alright! Yes, I had sent word we would be here sometime this evening...'
He continued upward, pulling her along once more, 'they're probably down in the basement lab.
Can't hear a blessed thing down there...'
Reaching the second level hallway, he opened a door and peeked within, '...doesn't appear to
be occupied...this will do. Come, Em, there's a fine large bath here, you can warm up...and
here!'
He took large fluffy towels out and set them by the bath, and taking a robe from the closet,
lay it upon the bed. 'Just, ah,
leave your wet things hanging on the doorknob without, and I'll see that all are dried in no
time. Meanwhile, I'll dry off my self and seek out Jack.' He took in Emlyn's soaked,
shivering and bedraggled person and rubbed both her shoulders as if that would help warm her.
'You'll feel much better after a warm bath, here, I'll get it started for you...' he was off
to the tub and had the steaming water going. 'There. I'll leave you alone for now. No
worries, filla!' And out he went, seemingly well-satisfied.
Bloody Daryl.
. . . .
Jack and Aleister, meanwhile, had just finished up their latest calculations and were running
them through the computer for cross-referencing. 'There. That will take some while...' Jack
sat back and rubbed his forehead. 'I wonder if the storm is still raging without...what is
the time...?'
'It's just gone 5 o'clock...I take it our guests will be due here soon?' Aleister drained his
coffee mug, making a face at the dregs, 'Bleah...' he stuck his tongue out and wiped the
grounds from it.
'Yes, that's my opinion of Daryl's visit as well...' Jack grinned his way, '...but, it would
be nice to see Em of course.'
His tone held a note of question, however, or perhaps caution.
He felt like someone who had stubbed a toe in the dark and wasn't too sure where to put a
foot...
'Of course it will! It's your birthday, m'boyo!' Al endeavored a heartiness he was hoping he
would soon feel. 'Although...I did think we would see Yeats back here by now.'
Jack stood and stretched his lanky frame. 'Well, nothing for it but to do the cooking
ourselves...that means you, too! If you can cook for Diana....!' He shot his partner a
lopsided grin.
'Yes, yes, I guess that bat's out of the bag, then! I can turn a fair hand to a skillet I
suppose, when required. Just prefer being waited upon you know...'
'Now I know how most women must feel...' Jack shrugged out of his lab coat, in black, not
white, flaunting convention; adorned with a Flogging Molly patch on the breast pocket.
'Come, come, now lad...you know women's wiles work just as well on us! When it's time to give
something heavy a heave, they'll sit and watch demurely whilst we shoulder the weight...'
"'Boy...you're gonna carry that weight!'" Jack sang the old Beatles tune as he headed up the
stairs, Aleister following, as they both sang on: "'Carry that weight, a looong time!'"
Exiting the lab, Jack set the controls and made sure all was secure. Aleister preceded him
into the hallway, 'What the devil!?'
Jack rounded the corner to find Al staring at a small pond within the front door. He sighed.
'Exactly.' His gaze went up the stairway, following the wet footprints. '...speak of the
devil...' he began taking stairs two at a time, heading resolutely upward, and nearly running
into Daryl who was exiting a bedroom, clad in a robe with hair still wet, carrying an armload
of wet clothing. '...And here he is!'
'Ah! Well met, Jack! We, ah, got caught out in the storm, you see! Ah, just heading down to
mop up...' Daryl somehow managed to look both sheepish and enthusiastic by turns.
'Where is Emmeline?' asked Jack, obviously not, himself, enthused, at least not with Daryl.
'She's just in the bath, warming up a bit!'
'In HERE?' Jack pushed past Daryl, into the room his uncle had just exited. Daryl followed,
rolling his eyes. Jack checked the bathroom, finding no one within.
'Of course not! I gave her the Blue Room...I, well, no one was about, you see...'
'Oh, yes. I see.' Jack was not amused.
Aleister came upon them at last. 'Ah, Daryl Van Horn, so it is!
Caught in the rain, I see! Let's just get these things dry, then, shall we?' Aleister put out
an arm to usher Daryl downstairs and shot Jack a warning glance. 'You can meet us in the
kitchen once you've settled...we've just come from the lab, can't hear a thing down there!'
Daryl allowed himself to be mollified and went quietly downstairs with Al, still clutching
his wet laundry, while Jack ran a hand through his hair. exciting his cowlick, and just stood
at the top of the stairs, watching them. His gaze then went down the hallway, noting the door
to the Blue Room closed. He bit his lip. Alright then, he could play a civilized host. If he
must.
He followed Aleister and Daryl downstairs.
. . . .
Emlyn had taken her time in the luxurious bathroom, noting some things rather changed from
when she last was here. She amused herself trying out the odd gadgets she found within
cupboards and figured out the hair dryer at last, to her delight. She made a quick braid of
her crimson locks and wrapped it about her head with pins. Well, she looked passable, she
supposed, sighing. Damn bloody Daryl! It had to be his fault they were transported without
and not within the house! She was feeling much put-upon and rather rebellious.
She fetched the necklace Jack had given her and was fastening it about her neck when her gaze
alighted upon Gwydion's moonstone...well, why not? She could wear it underneath her dress, no
one need know. She wore the moonstone then, which was on a slightly longer chain, beneath her
Herkimer. They made a nice pair, actually, she decided.
Wondering if Daryl had managed to dry her clothes, she padded into the bedroom and found her
dress and petticoat and etceteras, all laid nicely upon the bedspread. They were still warm,
indeed, and gratefully she drew them on, tucking the moonstone beneath her collar. Not seeing
her boots, she did take note of the Chinese slippers and availed herself of their welcome
satin softness, wondering if they were, in fact, the same ones she had worn on her last,
ill-fated trip here.
Taking a last glance in the mirror, she thought she would do.
She had kept her reticule with her, and emptied it, letting it dry on it's own. She took the
box she'd set out and opened it.
A beauteous silver pocket watch lay within, a lyre etched upon it's casing. Pressing the top,
it opened to the inscription:
'To Jack, With Love from Emlyn. "If Music Be The Food Of Love, Play On"' Em smiled, and shut
the case. She hoped Jack would like it. There was, of course, something else to come...but
that would be for later.
Well, she supposed she should head downstairs...she wondered if Daryl had located Jack and
Al, and how they were all getting on.
Or not...
. . . .
To Emlyn's surprise, and relief, she could detect the strains of music as she approached the
kitchen. Oh, excellent, she thought, they haven't killed one another as yet! Or at least
they'd some musical accompaniment to the task...
Opening the swinging kitchen doors, she found Jack seated upon a stool in the corner,
seemingly pleasantly engrossed in playing a fine mandolin. 'Oh, it's lovely, Jack!'
'Em!' He looked up, then; smiling like a boy with a new toy, his forelock hanging over one
eye. He put down the instrument and rose to greet her. 'And so are you. Lovely, that is!' He
bent to plant a light kiss upon her lips. 'Long time, no see...do have a seat! Some wine?' he
offered.
'Oh, thank you, no, Jack, dear...perhaps a cup of tea?' Em took the high stool beside Jack
at the counter, noting that Daryl and Aleister were busy with dinner preparations; seemingly
all was well with the men, thus far.
'Tea! That I can handle!' Al went to fill the kettle. 'How are you, Em? Had rather a surprise
soak, I take it?'
'Eh, hmmm, yes...' less said about that, the better, for now...discretion and all that...'but
all's well now! May I assist at all...?' she inquired.
'Under control!' Daryl assured her, looking well-fluffed and recovered from his drenching.
'Jack keeps a nicely-stocked larder here! Salmon steaks, won't take but a minute...pasta with
green beans, lemon and basil, already done! I'm juuust about ready to bake the cake...' he
poured the batter into a baking pan. 'Devil's food, of course!' he added, cocking an eyebrow
up, his own fallen forelock and sideways grin giving him the air of a chef aboard a pirate's
galley. Stuffing the cake into the oven he set the timer. 'There. What sort of icing then,
Jack?'
'Chocolate. Naturally.' Jack took up the mando and began a keltic flavored tune.
'Righto...let's see...' Daryl opened cupboards, seeminly happy to be busy in a kitchen,
wherever it may be. He found a bag of chocolate chips and began heating them over the stove.
Aleister set Em's teacup and saucer before her and poured, 'Mam'selle...'
'Thank you, Aleister! So what have you been up to? You have missed much at home! Oh, Jack!'
she paused, taking a sip, 'I'll have you know the amphitheatre is finished! It looks
amazing...'
. . . .
Dinner was rather amazing as well, thought Em, as evening found them all gathered at last
about table, eating, drinking and listening to soft classical music that Em was told was
somehow piped through 'speakers', a sortof public-address system, set all about the house, a
'stereo' Jack referred to it, '...although it's more multi-phonic, really...'
Indeed, it seemed nearly a normal gathering of family and friends. Em never thought she would
behold both Jack and Daryl breaking bread at the same table. And not throwing it at each
other. They were obviously trying hard to put a good face on things.
'So, where is our good Yeats this evening?' Daryl enquired, pouring more wine.
'Unknown.' Aleister held his glass for topping off, 'He has been, rather closer than
usual...don't you think, Jack? I wonder what has him so preoccupied?'
'Umm...timebursts, no doubt.' Jack took another helping of pasta. His third, Em noted,
wondering where it all went.
'No luck locating the source of these, bursts?' she asked, holding her hand over her glass.
She really was not about to try to keep up with the men.
'We've some ideas...but nothing concrete.' Aleister informed her, 'I've a notion that Yeats
knows more about them than he's let on.'
'I don't think they are originating from here,' Jack put in.
'What do you mean, Jack?' Daryl asked blandly.
'Well,' Jack paused, took a sip of wine, 'No trace signatures found from any points on earth.
The signatures would seem to originate, otherwhere.'
'As in, space?'
Jack nodded. 'So it might seem. Inconclusive, thus far, of course.'
Daryl leaned back, toying with his wineglass. 'Hmmm...interesting. That would mean they're
not a random phenomenon, but something orchestrated, by someone, 'otherwhere', then.'
'Possibly. All conjecture at this point.'
All were quiet for a while, listening to the rain pattering against the tall windows. 'The
storm doesn't seems to be abating as yet...' Em ventured.
'Well, I'm ready for cake!' Aleister rose. 'I'll make the coffee!
Jack, shovel-to, already! You can always keep leftovers, you know, no need to clear the table
of every crumb!' Al chuckled, as he took their plates to the kitchen.
Em smiled benignly upon the two Van Horns, relieved at last that what she had considered an
ill-hazarded venture was somehow turning out to be so agreeably homey. Jack appeared to be at
ease, (well-stuffed, certainly...), and almost nonchalant. Daryl
was rolling a quarter dollar piece back and forth along the knuckles of one hand, flipping it
in the air occasionally, and catching it.
One time, it did not land. 'Where did the coin go?' asked Em, innocently. Daryl reached
forward and drew it forth from behind her ear.
'Taa-daa!' Aleister appeared on cue with cake, one candle lit in the middle of the expanse of
chocolate, and set it before Jack.
All sang the well-known chant to appease the birthday gods and wish Jack well for another
year. 'Do make a wish, Jack!' Em urged. Jack locked his gaze with hers and did not smile,
then blew slowly and steadily til the candle flame gave out and went smoking.
'I'll just get that coffee...' Daryl was up and about whilst Jack cut the cake.
'A sliver for me, thanks! Oh, 'tis rich and divine, for devil's food!' Em remarked, licking
her fork. 'Oh, thank you, Daryl!'
she sipped the coffee he delivered all 'round. 'This has been a most delicious birthday
party, I'll say.'
'It has, indeed. Thank you, all!' Jack raised his cup to them.
'Here's to...family and friends!' All clinked their cups together and Em noted that Daryl was
blinking, and looking down, trying to hide the moisture pooling in his eyes. It cost Jack
dear to make that concession, she knew. She knew as well, what a gift he had just made Daryl
with that simple acknowledgement.
'Well, you have my present already,' Daryl rallied and was finishing off his cake. 'That's a
one of a kind mandolin, made by a master. Utterly suigeneris...'
'It looks much like my own, and Josephina's but yes, it is much more ornate!' Em observed,
noting the inlays. 'And the sound!
A princely gift, Jack!'
'Indeed.' Jack looked well pleased, as Aleister leaned back, opened a cupboard behind him,
and fished out a bottle of cognac tied round the neck with a red bow.
'Happy Days, Jack!' he set the bottle before the Man of the Hour, and sipped his coffee. 'It
goes well with coffee, too...' he hinted.
Jack chuckled, as he opened the bottle and sniffed the aromatic liquor within. 'Ahhh, that it
does!' He poured a wee shot all round in their coffees and stoppered it. 'Leftovers!' he
announced. 'I'll not be finishing this in one evening!'
Em meanwhile fished the box from her dress pocket and slowly slid it toward Jack. 'Happy
Birthday, Jack. From me to you.'
'Ah, Em...well, thank you!' He picked the box up, turned it about, 'Whatever could it be?' He
grinned, and opened it. 'Ah, Em! Gosh, it's beautiful! Look, Al!' He held the watch up by
it's chain, and if Aleister was recalling a similar gift given by Em to another, he kept it
well hidden. Jack opened it up then and read the inscription, as Em quietly arose and made
her way to his side. 'Play on, indeed...' he looked up at her standing by his chair, and she
leaned over to give him a birthday kiss. 'Thank you, Em...I'll treasure it always...'
'And, it will make you look a proper 19th century gentleman...'
Em touseled his hair, making Jack smile.
'You have the same cowlick as your father, Drake,' Daryl commented, as he leaned back in his
chair, studying Jack. 'He could never get it to lie down...would just keep cutting it close
to the scalp, just there...'
'That's how he did it, eh? I just thought he didn't have one.' He gazed up at Em, 'I should
try that trick.'
'Did someone say, 'trick'"?' Daryl reached into his pocket and
appeared to extract, something, and tossed it high above them all; suddenly a rain of golden
glitter coruscated slowly down only to disappear before reaching the table. Em laughed
delightedly, touching the glitter on Jack's nose.
'How did you do that, then?' she enquired, knowing that Daryl would never tell. She rubbed it
between her fingers. 'It's real.
How did it disappear before getting in the cake and coffee?'
Daryl waved his hands about, looking mock-seriously at them all:
'The ways of the Great Maducas are mysterious and esoteric in truth! Forbidden Secrets of the
East, I am verily sworn to uphold!'
Jack burst out laughing heartily. 'The Great Maducas, indeed! Ha, ha!' He shook his finger at
his uncle, smiling, 'Go on, tell them!' He turned to the others. 'My father's nickname for
Daryl, when he was doing his 'conjuring' acts, was 'The Great Maducas'!'
Em took her seat again, sipping her coffee. 'And what does it mean, this 'maducas'--sounds a
bit Welsh? Or perhaps Yiddish...'
Daryl snorted. 'It means, 'horseshit', my dear...ah, excuse me, but you wished to know!' All
joined Jack in a good laugh then.
'Ohh, but is it a real word?' Em wanted to know.
'They had their own vocabulary and language, seemingly...' Jack looked sideways at Daryl.
'Where did you get these words from, anyway? Hm...does sound rather Welsh-ish, with our
family could be either Welsh or Yiddish...not Dutch certainly.'
He paused '...Is it?'
'That, would be telling...' Daryl finished his coffee.
'Well, shall we adjourn to the parlor then? Should get a fire going there, the kitchen heat
is about dissipated...' Jack arose and held Em's chair out for her, holding her hand as the
others
made their way into the parlor, leaving them a space of privacy.
'I do hope the watch is alright...' Em began, shy suddenly.
'It's perfect. And so is the inscription. Ah, you will be staying the night, I assume?' He
slipped his arms about her, roguishly.
'You don't want to chance the weather out there now.'
'Apparently! Oh, I'd not miss your birthday for the world, Jack, but, I'm not fond of
timewalking, you know! Yes, we'll stay on, if we may.'
'There's my brave girl,' Jack kissed her nose, after brushing off bits of golden glitter.
'All this for me! Well, I'll see what I can do to earn it.'
'You already have, Jack. That was awfully good of you, to have Daryl here...he does
appreciate it so.' Em stood on tiptoe and gave Jack a kiss. Jack tightened his hold about
her, and returned the favor, drawing the moment out...'Umm, chocolate kisses...'
he murmured, '...my favorite.'
'No wonder they call it Devil's Food!' Em touched a finger into the frosting and stuck it on
Jack's nose, laughed and slipped out of his embrace and trotted behind the door, peeking
round before she scuttled off.
'Why, you...' Jack followed her lead...
...and found her in the parlor, watching Daryl make up a fire.
'Just listen to the wind roar! Has it been such a gale here all day, then?'
Just then they heard the front door slam open, causing everyone to jump. They then heard the
door shut hard, and slow, wet, heavy steps headed their way.
Mr. Yeats stood dripping before them, in black raincoat and hat, looking even more morose
than usual.
'Gandalf Stormcrow!' Daryl stood and made this absurd comment.
Yeats frowned at him, and removed his hat, shaking it upon the carpet. He then turned round
and surveyed them all.
'Happy Birthday, Jack,' he said, deadpan, as if delivering a court summons.
. . . .
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