Chapter 17 ~ Return of the Sisterhood

Chapter 17

The true Mason is not creed bound. He realizes with the divine illumination of his Lodge that as a Mason his religion must be universal; Christ, Buddha or Mohamed, the name means little, for he recognizes only the light and not the bearer.
No true Mason can be narrow, for his Lodge is the divine expression of all broadness. There is no place for little minds in a Great Work.
The true Mason is supremely unselfish in every expression and application of the powers that have been entrusted to him. No true Brother seeks anything for himself, but unselfishly labors for the good of all.
True Light can come only to those who, asking nothing, gladly give all to it.

Manly P. Hall
The Lost Keys of Freemasonry
                                  

...........
The objective does not necessarily surpass the subjective, you know. Reality does not necessarily extinguish fantasy.
Haruki Murakami
Killing Commendatore
............

An `ait a bhuil do chroi is ann a thabharfas do chosa th`u.

Your feet will bring you to where your heart is.

 ~ Auld Keltic Saying
............

Daryl managed to gain his own front door without further shadowing by Person Unknown.


However, before entering, he decided to patrol his parameters and betook himself around the back and to the stables and garden.
How the garden had grown! He was made uncomfortable by seeing all that had transpired without him...as though, Rip Van Winklelike, he'd slept through some years to find that Life, in all its natural glories, had bypassed him somewhat.

He felt he had been rendered somewhat superfluous. Well, he sighed...suppose that's what happens to one who acts in a manner befitting a solipsist.

Rosa and Manuel, and Emlyn, naturally, had certainly not been idle here; pole beans climbed energetically skyward and sunflowers heads hung heavy with seed, tomatoes had been robust this year he noted, and, yes! Artichokes had come, and gone; while snapdragons and blackeyed Susans stayed the course. Daryl searched for carrot tops and found them alongside onions and garlic. Pulling a large carrot, he headed to the stable.

He grinned as he heard Galahad's welcoming neigh: 'Where have you been?' Daryl heard that loud and clear in his four legged friend's not inconsiderable voice.

'Here you are then, big baby...' Galahad crunched carrot while Daryl shook off his jacket and went to the tack room.  A good curry and brush would do them both wonders, he felt, taking a handled box of such implements back to the stalls.

Patting the big dapple grey, Daryl set to with a will, after depositing a bucket with just a casual handful of oats before his faithful friend. The sound of horse teeth munching and tail swishing was like a balm to Daryl's rather raw nerves; what with being followed by odd strangers and then hunted by wolves...

He checked the beast's hooves and found them clear of any stray rocks or other objects and patting Galahad again, gave into his impulse to hug his big equine friend about the neck; Galahad, gentleman that he was, endured this fit of affection and leaned his head against his master's back, snorting softly.
                                

'We'll take a ride soon, eh, boy? No cart pulling, just we two lads...you'd like that, sim?'
  Galahad was nosing about Daryl's pockets and nudging him, horse lips nibbling about his jacket, hoping for more hidden carrots.
   'You know your priorities, I'll give you that!' With a final pat, he left the stables and returned to walking his property in the westering light of sunset.

Deciding that he would make plans for a taller fence, finally Daryl betook himself inside, calling, 'Hola?' No answer. A quick check about told him he was indeed home alone.
 
Ah. Well. To the kitchen then. Tea was calling.
Lifting lid from teapot, therein he spied the note.
His heart beat just a tad faster as he unfolded it, hoping it was from Emlyn...


He recognised, rather regretfully, Athena's neat block lettering:
    GONE TO GATEHOUSE. ATHENA AND EMLYN.


'Well, that's a fine howdoyoudo!' He sighed, and lifting the burner, let the note drop into the stove, curling at edges til gone to ash.
Now what?


Now, tea. He'd some thinking, and much catching up to do. Taking pot and mug to his study he set tray on table. Pouring a mugful,  he unlocked the armoire...and sighed with relief to find Cup and Box still there.


He'd half feared that Axelis or Thelene would have snatched them away when they'd returned him to this time with their dire sentence of exile as to his 'when', if not to where.


He reached for Cup and felt the weight of it, handled it carefully, studying it with his acquisitor's pull of ownership. They were somehow bound together, he and Cup. He didn't feel as deeply regarding Box, however. That, he could do without. It was trickier than Cup. He didn't trust it.


Not that he felt trust in Cup. Just a simple feeling of familiarity, relation. Was it indeed the same Cup he and Em had rescued from the Defenders of the Faith way back when? He wasn't sure, but all he could decide was that it 'felt' like it.

Well, he had been put in charge of keeping the Items. He would have to do something about that. Talk to Raimundo, and Sebastiao and explain what had happened, his being 'grounded'. Not to mention Connor's idea about his joining the local Freemasons...

Perhaps he should do, and soon. He looked outside, noting sunset was now edging into twilight. Perhaps manana...

Well, he'd promised Galahad an outing; sans carriage, it shouldn't take but an hour or so to reach the Village.
  'And...ain't nobody here but us chickens,' he told Cup and Box.
He sighed. Perhaps he should get a dog, he realized.

Who knew when Emlyn and Athena would return?
.........
Emlyn awoke well rested and energised for what she had decided would be the first day of her New Life. (Sans Daryl, etc.)
                          

She hadn't beaten Athena to tea, however, noting that her friend was already busy in the kitchen. Wrapping herself up in the crazy~ quilt, she began arranging sticks for kindling as she made up the new fire.

'Tea,' Athena announced simply, setting tray upon the pirate chest.
'Fire!' Em answered, waving a hand to the hearth, smiling.

A wry smile laced Athena's lips as she poured a mug, adding honey.
She yawned, as she curled in the sofa's corner. 'How did you sleep, cher?'

'Deep, dreamless. It was lovely...' Em added a few larger branches to fire, then took her tea to the opposite corner, wrapping blanket tighter. 'And you?'


'Umm,' she sipped tea, adding, 'the same. So, what are your plans now?'


Em was frowning into the fire. 'Well! I just realised that I have no way of...travel! That is, I have no idea where my mobile unit has gotten to. I've been tagging along on Daryl's coattails...' she frowned harder.
   'I was thinking that before I head for the hills, as it were, I should perhaps let Raimundo know that I am leaving, but, well, how to, manage all that?'
Athena stretched languorously, like a big white cat. She was wearing that snow leopard~like robe.
  'I'd not mind a visit to the Village. You recall last time, I was 'left standing on the shore', while you sailed off into the blue...'

'Yes,' Em bit her lip, 'And I am sorry about that, Athena. I simply lose all constraint when I think I may be seeing Alice again! Nothing else mattered at that moment...'

'Understood.' Athena reached for a mandarin and began peeling. 'Well, I could take us, sometime later today if you wish. But I do have a few  things I'd like to take care of about the place here later on. I need my time alone as well, cher.'

'Understood!' Emlyn did. 'And I do realise I have been rather, less than understanding lately, Athena. I simply come unglued when I have been subjected to Daryl's antics for too long. I'm trying to take steps at last to free myself of such...unpredictable, chaos!'

Athena chuckled. '~ As opposed to predictable chaos?' She sighed,    'Well, one could do so, predict chaos that is, whenever Daryl is about, indeed...' Athena stood.
   'I will say, however, that I feel this is a good idea, for you. From my sidelines seat, I've watched how all this has played out and yes, cher; it has been rather more reaction from you, to Daryl's actions. Seldom have you had time for your own endeavors when he is stirring up...stuff.'

'~ Which is always!' Emlyn had an orange in hand, juggling it to and fro, in thought. She stopped and nodded. 'You're right though, spot on. All I seem to do is react to his...chaotic actions. It gets tiresome.'


Athena regarded her mantle clock. 'This afternoon, then? Time is getting on, already.'


'"The best way out is often through",' Emlyn quoth. 'Robert Frost.
I suppose he's right.' She looked at Athena, smiling.


'Right. And "Probable impossibilities are to be preferred to improbable possibilities", Aristotle.' Athena replied, with serious mien.


'Ah, hm. Right.' Em blinked.'"He who travels happy must travel light". And I am all for that.'

Athena nodded. 'We're off again, then!'

..............


By noon, they found themselves standing dockside at The Village.
It was neither clear nor fogbound but light puffs and plumes of fog tendrils were wisping their way slowly eastward, and a hazy orange ball of Sol was now becoming discernible.
                                 

'Well, here we are!' Emlyn gazed about, breathing deeply of salt sea air. 'On the docks...' Why the docks, she wondered?


'Indeed.' Athena was smiling, also inhaling scents of sea and fish and wet hempen rope. 'Manuel and I had the best sopa in a little cafe` dockside.'


'Ah.' Em nodded. That explains their 'landing' location, Em strolled over to the marina seeking La Catherina, Athena trailing slowly.


   'Thar she be!' Em lapsed into piratese when about boats. She pointed to the yacht at anchor which had taken her south to Mexico.
    'Let us just see if Sebastiao be aboard.'

'Aye, aye, Long John! Lead on!' Athena sketched a salute and put her stomach on hold a while longer; though she could hear sopa calling her.

Down the stairway and gangway plank leading to the boats they maneuvered, til they stood before La Catherina.

'Be anyone aboard?' Athena wondered.


'Hola!' Emlyn called. 'Sebastiao! Be ye aboard? Hola?'


Presently a form presented itself from the cabin below decks. Not Sebastiao, however.


'Raimundo!' Em was thrilled. 'Such a surprise!'


'And just in time for sopa,' Athena added.
                            

.............

Ensconced at a window seat table, the party of three were feeding in a sopa frenzy upon their second bowls of sopa de peixe. Cracking open a sweet roll, Raimundo was explaining some sailor lore to the ladies.


'And as to hurricanes...yes, they are named after ladies, but do you know the reason why?' He inquired.

The ladies allowed they did not.


'As the legend has it, hurricanes were created when a certain island princess, a Caribe, was kidnapped by white men, Columbus's no doubt, and taken to sea and abused and tortured for information as to where to find hidden treasures of gold they had heard tell of.


   'There was no treasure, of course, except that of the princess herself. As she lay dying, she cursed all sailors thereafter, with monstrous sea storms, a whirlpool of wind and water and cold death which we have come to know as a hurricane.' He paused to finish his sopa. 'And, the Africans as well, have their legends. It is no accident, they say, that hurricanes follow the route of the slave ships here.'


'That is horrible. Truly, Raimundo,' Emlyn pushed away her empty bowl. 'But I can certainly understand the princess's wrath against her captors!'


'Is that why they have a woman figurehead upon the ship's prow, then?' Athena asked.
                         

Raimundo grinned. 'Sim. Indeed it is so. And, why ships have a woman's name, to honor the princess, and to placate her, and all women. Sailors can never be too careful when it comes to appeasing the fickle forces of sea and weather; women being 'of the sea', he said, borne of sea~foam.

   'It is a known fact, that the bare breast of a woman, will calm troubled waters,' Raimundo ended, utterly serious.

'I am certain that it does.' Athena pronounced. She was full of sopa and happy to comply.She was looking at Em, and wondering if Emlyn had recalled to mind their lessons on the Dreamshore of the history of humankind, and how women were actual mer~maids, truly, in fact, hybrid sea~creatures.

'Well,' Em straightened to gaze out the window, noting that the fog had mostly dissipated and the sun was more noticeable, 'I, for one, am glad of smooth sailing at present. It is much too cool to have to soothe a savage sea in inclement weather!'

Raimundo softly chuckled, a sound rarely heard. He checked his pocketwatch and announced that Sebastiao would be closing shop soon, if they wished to meet up with him.
   'And then, we're off to St. Catherina's. It is a special celebration there tonight.'

The women were intrigued by this, but Raimundo would say no more, but insisted upon paying for the late lunch. He then escorted them, tout de suite, uptown to Sebastiao's antique shop.
.........

'He must be in the back.' Raimundo had a key to the shop, however, and, unlocking it, waved the ladies inside to the tinkle of an overhead bell. He then headed in back, tossing over his shoulder an invitation to 'take a look about, there is much new inventory you'll find...'

The Ladies needed no such prodding; the very shop drew one in, promising secrets and surprises cunningly strewn about, less like a pirate's den than an esoteric aristocrat's attic...

Emlyn noted several musical instruments in a corner and smoothly glided alongside, as she touched a gold flute, she fancied she could hear a soft Pan~like melody from somewhere. Taking her finger away, it stopped. Interesting.
                                 

Touching strings of what appeared to be a lute, again came soft strains of some rather baroque music. And, again, this dissipated when she set it down. It then...sighed.

Athena meanwhile, had been perusing some oddly shaped bottles of varying shapes and colours all displayed upon a rather rococo dressing table. She unstoppered one cobalt coloured bottle that looked like a vertical row of glass balls set one upon the other from large to small. The luscious home~grown scent of lavender wafted full~blown to her nose. Along with it, came a scene of purple flowered fields waving gently in the sunlight to her mind's eye.
   She corked it again and scent and scene disappeared. How odd!
                              

                                       
Reaching for a crimson bottle blown with bubbles, she lifted the glass top from it to a riot of roses; a deep red rose scent was present immediately, along with the scene of an English country rose garden, walkways lined with bowers of blooms overhead; birds sang and bees buzzed busily gathering rose scented pollen from labyrinthian bushes set about the winding paths...

'Ladies! Welcome!'

Neither had heard or noticed, but suddenly Sebastiao had appeared in the aisle between them, moustaches at the ready. Raimundo approached at a quick march behind him and announced they were off to the Inn, herding them all out the shop door.


When it closed, no one heard the soft laughter from all corners of the shop...


..........

St. Cat's, as the locals referred to the Inn, was indeed becoming busy already. It was early for supper, but people were noshing upon bread and cheeses, fruit and nuts, biscuits and pecan tarts, Emlyn couldn't help but notice. And, of course, wine, cider and ales flowed freely along with brews of strong espresso and teas.
                             

Impromptu sessions were heard as well, from various musicians who were talking, drinking, smoking and laughing as much as playing. Em was also glad to see the fire was lit in the great stone hearth...and speaking of such, she thought she recognised Volundar Kane, the muscled smith from the forge, adding a few logs to flame.

'Come and take a seat with us.' Raimundo was at her side suddenly, and taking her elbow, guided Em through the press of bodies to a corner table where Sebastiao and Athena waited.


'We've taken the liberty of ordering, hope you don't mind...' Sebastiao explained as he removed his hat and cloak from chairs to make room for them.
   'There will be an assortment; you're sure to find something you will like,' he continued, sitting back now, and glancing to Athena.
   'How provident that you ladies turned up when you did.' His moustaches seemed to smile as much as his lips, such personality did they posses.

'Providence, indeed.' Raimundo slowly sunk into his seat, a half grin to half his face. '"I claim not to have controlled events, but confess plainly that events have controlled me", as your Abraham Lincoln was rumored to have said.' He gazed pointedly first to Emlyn and then Athena.


To which Athena replied, '"A little rebellion now and then is a good thing",' she blinked. '~ Thomas Jefferson.'


'The penguin croaks at midnight,' Emlyn said, straight faced.

Everyone giggled, then Sebastiao pointed out, 'Penguins do not 'croak','he frowned. '~ I do not think.'


Emlyn spread open her palms on the table, shaking her head slowly. 'It's the only password phrase I could come up with on the spot.'

Raimundo was silent, but hiding a smile behind his hand. 'We will get to the whole secret society thing later, children,' he murmured softly, but was heard by all.
  'Ah, here comes trouble!'

As the barmaid approached carrying two trays, Volundar Kane appeared from the crowd and relieved her of one, smilingly hefting it to table.                         

   'Such a fine spread!' he announced, setting down the tray and pulling up a chair for himself, as the barmaid released her tray as well and disappeared.

'Volundar Kane!' Emlyn smiled at him, as he cut a leg from the roasted chicken before them.

'At your service, madame!' He inclined his head briefly and nodded.
'I remember you, Emlyn, yes? And your fiance`...what was the name...Dilbert? Dorfmeyer?' He chewed his leg thoughtfully.

'Indeed.' Raimundo was staring pointedly at Emlyn's naked hands bereft of emerald engagement ring. 'And has Diego returned then?'


'Actually ~ yes!' Athena took up the tale, as she passed round plates and began filling hers. 'He has. Just recently, in fact.'
'Ah!' Sebastiao acknowledged this sudden revelation. 'Diego is back, then. So, where is he?' His eyes shifted right to left, and back to Em.


'He's...been busy,' was Em's only comment, turning to Raimundo, she asked, 'Have you any news of Alice?'


He served Em slices of chicken, then himself. 'Alice? Truthfully, I have not heard a word from her since dropping her off with the priestess in Mehico.' Knowing the question for the distraction it was, he refrained from talking any more about Daryl.
                                

'"The Goddess who gave us life, gave us liberty at the same time",' Athena quoted, taking some chicken slices for herself, 'Thomas Jefferson.'

'Your Jefferson was a devotee of the Goddess, then?' Sebastiao chided her, grinning. 'A very intelligent man,' he stated to the table, peeling an orange.
    'Indeed,' Athena bit an orange slice from his hand.


Emlyn had been uncharacteristically quiet this evening, but as everyone turned their attention to supper, she shifted about in her seat, regarding everyone round the table. She sighed softly, and then announced, 'I am, leaving soon, Raimundo.'

'Are you now?' His attention remained fixed upon his plate.


'Yes. I wanted to tell you all,' her gaze included Sebastiao and Volundar Kane, 'before I go.'


'To where are you headed, then, Emlyn?' Sebastiao offered her an orange slice.


Em paused a moment in thought.
  'I believe, I shall return to the Sierra foothills. I have, a small room there. And friends.' She took the slice. 'Obrigado.'
  She bit her lip in thought. 'Well, more than friends, really. More like sisters.' She sat up a bit straighter. 'I make a third of our Triad. It is a Keltic Sisterhood,' she clarified, 'one lady represents Ireland; the other, Scotland. While I, myself, represent Wales...Cambria, in the old tales...'
                              

Raimundo looked up at last. He was smiling. 'That is wonderful news, hermanita.'
   This was the first he had ever referred to her as 'little sister' in Spanish, so that she would recognise the meaning, knowing her Portuguese to be shaky.
  This seemed to encompass their relationship wholly; for she did think of Raimundo as an older brother. And she loved him for that.
So rare that a man would willingly accept such a loving, giving relationship. Without all the usual 'strings'.

The smiling barmaid appeared again at table, this time bearing a tray with bottles and glasses, to much solid appreciation,  obrigados and graciases, as the men helpfully divested her of her burden and began to pop and pour.

'Just a wee bit of cider for me, gracias,' Emlyn allowed, holding up her glass.
  'Myself, as well,' Athena seconded, 'or I shall be asleep before long, after such good food!'

'Coffees, all 'round, if you please, Evangelina,' Raimundo directed,  eyeing the group. 'For the evening, is just beginning.' His gaze hooked onto Emlyn's and held it in his deep brown orbs, reflecting twin candle flames like a wild creature in the depths of a wood.
..........

And so it would seem to be: Volundar Kane called for desserts with coffee, and pecan tarts and cheeses to be delivered ala the redoubtable Evangelina, along with a chocolate liqueur.
                               

'So you see,' Athena was holding forth, as the feeding frenzy abated and all were comfortably nibbling nuts and cheese and sipping coffee, 'In ancient Mesopotamia, where the Goddess Ishtar reigned as the Queen of Heaven, the people loved and felt at home with their Goddess, and in Sumer where Nanshe of Lagash was worshiped as 'she who knows the orphan, knows the widow, seeks justice for the poor and weak', it was she who, on New Year's Day, judged all mankind.'

Athena was indeed paying attention at their Kabbalah meetings, Em noted, adding, 'There is a word in Sumerian, 'amargi', which means both 'return to the Mother' and 'freedom'.'


'"If all men are born free, why is it that women are born as slaves?",' Athena added. '~ Mary Astell.'


The men had no answer to that one. But Sebastiao added a tot more liqueur to her cup, and to Em's.


Raimundo was still watching Emlyn closely. He put a hand upon her arm and said softly, 'Not all men are born free, but, yes, freer than women, in the world of men.'
  He turned and addressed the table, 'But the world of men, is a very small world, being only what is discernible to the senses of men.' He paused. '~ Most men.'
   His glance took in those around him.

Em had just opened her boca to speak when, suddenly the door to La Cat opened and along with the cool breeze and night air, there entered, to the utter amazement of all, Daryl/Diego/Diablo.

                               

No one had paid much notice to the newcomer except their table, which had lapsed into profound silence at his appearance.
   Daryl was searching about the room with narrowed gaze which unerringly found their corner table and homed in on them with the determined stride of a man who was nobodys 'former' fiance`...

No one said a word as he stood before them until Athena finally broke the spell, asking: '"What's Up, Doc?"'
                               

The others looked at her as though she had spilt a few brain cells, but, unable to stop himself, Daryl had a hand to his mouth to hide a grin that was beyond his control.
   Athena matched his grin and shifted over to make room for him on the bench.


Removing his hat and drover's coat, wet with fog dew, he slung it over an empty chair and sat down, running both hands through his damp locks as he surveyed the scene.


Taking a water glass, Raimundo poured the water into his own, then proffered the bottle of brandy and glass to Daryl, who nodded and accepted, pouring a hefty tot for himself.
   'Obrigado.'


'Cold are the evenings now,' Raimundo was saying. 'And very damp going, in the fog. Did you ride?' He was pouring hot coffee for Daryl unasked, and Daryl took the mug gratefully.

'I did ride, and sim; it is colder than a banker's eyes out there...,' Daryl replied, true to his revolutionary roots.


The men all smiled and relaxed somewhat then, tension broken. Sebastiao signaled to the servers for more coffee and brandy, as Daryl removed his leather riding gloves and stretched and rotated his neck to relieve the kinks.


Sebastiao was smiling at Daryl. 'How fortuitous you have come!' He glanced about. 'We were just celebrating the unexpected arrival of Emlyn and Athena. And now yourself.' He nodded knowingly. 'Tonight is a special night indeed,' he added, mysteriously.


'It is?' Daryl inquired, but received no answer. His gaze went to Emlyn, trying to catch her eye. Finally she looked his way and their eyes met. Unexpressed emotion weighted their meeting like the heavy fog outside. Daryl nodded to her: 'Emlyn.'


'Daryl,' she replied.



Daryl sighed raggedly. 'Merci aux les saints!...Em, I, I have much to tell you...' Daryl began, his eyes entreating.


But their long~postponed meeting was further interrupted by the appearance of Evangelina, who set between them bottle and pot.
   Then, to the amazement of them both, she put a hand upon Emlyn and Athena's shoulders and commanded them: 'Come with me.'


Em began to laugh, but catching Raimundo's no~nonsense look, she heard him say, 'Go with her,' and nodded, brooking no nay~saying.
Athena caught her eye and shrugged, stood and began to follow the barmaid, with Emlyn close behind.


Evangelina reached in  her apron pocket and produced a large iron key which she inserted in the back door. This, Em recalled, led to the infamous Back Room, where she and Athena had undergone Initiation into the Order. Where she had Dreamwalked, with Raimundo, her guide...


Inside, the women found only dim shadows at first, lighted only by the low fire burning in the stone fireplace, and several candles about the room.
   But the atmosphere was charged with Presence, and they soon became aware of Others in the room with them as well.

'Be seated,' Evangelina told them, and then left the way she'd come.

Emlyn and Athena found two seats, facing the fireplace. Then from the back corners of the room, people in dark robes began to file forward until a row of berobed figures stood before the fire and facing them.

A hood was thrown back and Emlyn then beheld the face of a most intriguing woman.
 
She was tall, and broad, and her hair was white and plaited in long rows about her head. She appeared to be of Afrikan heritage, and wore long silver earrings that sparkled in the flames of fire.
   She also had incredible golden eyes like a jaguar which reflected the candle light, just as Raimundo's had, and Em's gaze was caught by their twin flames.


'I am Madame Celine. Welcome.'
                                                                 

Her voice echoed as though from a deep cavern, with a sort of trickling sound like water falling.

Emlyn had heard of her. Wasn't she the voudoun priestess that Alice had sought?


All the women then, pulled back their hoods and showed their faces; most of them were elders, bearing white or grey hair, but a few were younger, although no young maidens were present.
   Emlyn recognised none of these ladies, seemingly of all races, at least by what she could tell in this dim light, except for one woman who slowly removed her hood.


  ~ Alice.


Emlyn started, and nearly said a word, but Athena put a hand on her arm, holding her still.


Alice said nothing, but smiled at Em. Then she looked to Madame Celine.

'Welcome in.' The High Priestess was saying. 'Welcome to the Sisterhood of the Matriarchs.' She paused. 'Just as women have lost their names in marriages, and their identities through the trying years of patriarchal reigns, we, the Sisterhood, have saved their lineages, that they may never be forgotten. Energy is never lost, only Transformed.
   'Yes, Younger Sisters; we know your stories. Her~stories. We know your mother's mothers, all the way back to Eve and Lillith, Isis and Cerridwen, Ishtar and Innana.'
                                          

The Priestess, Madame Celine, then stepped forward, putting a hand upon the shoulders of Athena and Emlyn.
   'And Now Is The Time. Now is the Great Revealing. All will be known. All will be Honored. All will be healed.'
                              

CLICK BELOW TO LISTEN!
Wytches Chant - Inkubus Sukkubus

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Chapter 16 - Sailing Strange Seas

Chapter 16

The life of the Scottish Highlander was rich in lore and legend, music and song and the whole  of everyday life was circumscribed by  the powers that were believed to be everywhere present and to be placated by ritual or exploited by magical processes.

The otherworld forces, and the ghosts and monsters of hill and water were as real, substantial, and infinitely more menacing than one's own neighbors. Everyplace had its name and its legend -- how it got its name; what famous hero or infamous criminal, savage, supernatural animal, or shaggy, semi-human sprite was associated with it were stories known at one time to all.
                                                                        

This Celtic predilection for immediate locality, the love and knowledge of not only the homeland, but every detail of the native landscape, is an absolutely fundamental characteristic of the Celts, linked with their ancient and passionate love of nature and their feeling for the world of birds and animals which manifests itself so early in their recorded history.

Ancient tales about the gods and goddesses, and heroes long dead and gone are still told with simple sincerity and total credulity by those in whom the tradition still lives and who, like the ancient Celtic god Ogmios, holds the ears of his listeners enchained to the eloquence and  fluency of his native tongue.

A tendency was for each community to have its seanachaidh, a 'tale-teller', par excellence. The Highlander has always loved stories and a whole group from a township would gather together in the tigh-cheilidh, or house of entertainment, to pass the long, dark and often wild winter nights listening enraptured to tales, many of incredible length, some of almost unbelievable antiquity, which formed part of the rich store of oral tradition, which itself is commented upon as early as the writings of Caesar.

Anne Ross
The Folklore of the Scottish Highlands
                                                                          

                                                                         .....................

Hippolytus describes the teachings of the descent and ascent of the psyche as the history revealed to those "admitted to the highest grade of Eleusianian rites" and states that initiates of the Naassene school of gnosticism had developed their teachings specifically from this source.

Plato tells us the name Persephone comes from sophe and means "wise," so it derives from the same root as "Sophia." Persephone, who was known as Kore, meaning "daughter" or "girl," represents the fallen psyche. In the acts of Thomas, the psyche is called Kore. Demeter means "mother." She is the Celestial Queen who represents the pure psyche.

In the myth, Demeter's daughter Persephone is abducted by Hades, God of the underworld. This represents the fall into incarnation. Initiates into the mysteries of Eleusis had to imitate the grief felt by Demeter and Persephone at their separation. This represents the experience of metanoia which results from the initiates' grief at becoming separated from their deeper nature lost in the world.

Hermes goes to the underworld to rescue Persephone and reunite her with her mother Demeter. This represents rescuing the psyche from identification with the circumference of the circle of self and reuniting it with its true nature at the center.

Hades secretly gives Persephone pomegranate seeds, however, and because she eats the seeds she must return to the underworld for a third of every year. The pomegranate seeds represent the seeds of future lives which we create in this life, which brings us back into human incarnation to continue the journey of awakening.

The motif of returning to the underworld for a third of the year is an allusion to the threefold nature of the Self: consciousness, psyche, body. A third of our identity, the body, is in the underworld.

The figures of Demeter and Persephone were developed by the Greeks from ancient Egyptian mythology. The Egyptian Isis is equivalent to both Demeter and Persephone. In  Egyptian mythology the higher and lower aspects of the goddess are represented by Isis and her sister Nepthys, the wife of the evil god Set, who, like Hades, represents the material world.

These Egyptian myths are the earliest sources of what was to become the myth of the lost and redeemed goddess. Although this perennial story has been expunged from Christianity, it survived in the form of fairy tales such as Sleeping Beauty. As her name suggests, Sleeping Beauty is an image of the Psyche, fallen asleep in the world. The story portrays her as a princess cursed to sleep forever, imprisoned in a dark castle surrounded by deep impenetrable forest, but finally rescued by her lover, the hero prince.

Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy
Jesus and the Lost Goddess; Secret Teachings of the Original Christians

.....                                                                 

    ............

 Early on in the experiment of masculine power several thousand years ago, those in power wished to keep things this way. This separation and disconnection from the divine essence/self - you as goddess - furthered their goals to keep you in the game of ego, access, acquisition, and desires.

This is the challenge: those who designed the game played it also. They became fully engrossed in the rules and design. In other words, as players they forgot, they overlooked the fact that they are not separate from the game, failing to recall that there ever was another version of reality.

This forgotten connection to, and as, spirit is a fundamental error in the experiment design. It has created all manner of destruction, to the point that life on your heavenly planet home is in grave danger.

We call this being in the game, when you are currently embodied into form and personality. what you would call a life. It was never intended that the separation from the ocean of what is, would be completely forgotten.

Claire Sierra
The Magdalene Path
.......................

The psyche is dragged by the body into the region of the changeable, where she wanders in confusion. The world spins around her and she is like a drunkard under its influence. In returning to herself, she reflects. Then she passes into the realm of purity, eternity, immortality, and unchangeableness, which are her kindred. When she is herself and not obstructed or hindered she is ever with them. When she ceases from her erring ways and is in communion with the unchanging, she is herself unchanging. This state of the psyche is called Sophia.

Plato                                                                          

                                                      
.....................

Daryl was deep in thought leaving the tea room as he headed back up the great hills towards home. True, he had to give both Yvonna and young Anna credit for their instinctive wariness of St.John, however...
  'However,' he told himself, halting, and turning to gaze down at the docks, he allowed there was still something decidedly fishy in this newest enterprise of St.John's, '-- And it ain't all clams and caviar, either,' he decided, shoving hands in pockets as he turned and renewed his climb.

Thinking then that he'd perhaps spotted someone who knew him, he glanced over his shoulder, only to see the man in question duck quickly behind a corner. Hm. Odd, that.

Daryl slowed his pace, and decided to become inordinately interested in the dry goods shop he  was near. Gazing deeply at the array of shoe-shine kits, powders and unguents for bunions and bruises, hair-restoring miracles and flour guaranteed to make one's biscuits '...so light they float off the plate', illustrated by airborne discs he took to be the winged biscuits, he glanced to his right and espied his tail who had paused to light a cigarillo whilst Daryl window shopped.

This bodes not well, Daryl told himself as he slowly turned from the shop front and resumed his homeward trek. He had only just returned after having been away for some months; already some intrigue seemed to be brewing. Had it to  do with St.John? Yvonna's Alaska expedition? Or both?

Bending to tie a bootlace, he sneak'd a quick peek sideways and was dismayed to find his shadow gaining on him somewhat. He could see now that the gent was also taller than he'd first appeared, and broader. A heavy.

Daryl quickly straightened and decided to cut over to California and try to grab a trolley, and maybe lose this guy...
                                                             

Seeing that a large dray was pulling over to the dry goods shop, he took advantage of the unloading and sprinted at a run across the street and down the alley, hoping he might have thrown off his man.

Luck was with him: the ring-ding of the trolley bell sounded as welcome as supper; he leapt aboard the slowing car and swung himself into a seat, removing his hat. He slouched down a bit, then chanced a glance behind: dammitol! Although he'd missed the cable car, his tail had been on him still -- there he stood, obviously miffed to see his prey escape, having just missed the trolley.

Heart pounding, Daryl eased himself upright and exhaled. That was close. That was also most disturbing. St.John put a tail on him? Had to be he...but whatever for? Daryl was at a loss there.

Well, one thing he knew for certain; he wasn't going straight home. Although he was rather concerned about Athena, he knew Manuel was there, most likely. He would be there soon, but first he'd have to find some different approach to Nob Hill House, perhaps...

Ascending the hilltop, Daryl jumped out at the corner, and noting the Leek's residence, decided that Connor would be just the bloke to aid him in this. He would see him first, and keep an eye out from there for a while.

With this new plan in mind, Daryl felt somewhat relieved. Connor did have quite an arsenal as well...both sword and gun. The bloody man had, indeed, a wee cannon!

It was kept in the backyard, facing the bay. Connor had joked that Daryl had best not cross him or he'd be pointing that barrel his way, ha ha! The auld pirate."Wee blaster," he'd call it, patting it like a dog. Connor'd gotten it off an old ship in harbor that was being dismantled, Daryl recalled. It had been the one prize of his that Daryl had envied, and  did still.

He sighed then. What would Emlyn think, to see him wheeling in cannon, eh?  A sad smile ghosted his lips then quickly fled.
................
The chill here always took Emlyn by surprise.

Massachusetts  seemed out of season to her California-shaped mindset; there it was summer still, but here...
   Tree tips were coldly singed with reds, especially the maples.  And the chill!
                                                                    

They had arrived at the gatehouse earlier, after Em had shown up at Nob Hill House
completely undone. She had refused to speak of whatever had happened; she was simply "very upset" and wished to be away from "this awful place" as soon as possible.

And so to the gatehouse they had escaped.

It was now nearly evening and Emlyn and Athena were seated together before a welcome fire. Tea had been administered upon arrival and now the two of them were polishing off the remains of dinner and discussing a film Athena had just played for Em: The Little Mermaid.

'Oh, Athena -- such colors! Indeed, beyond nature's palette...and I had no idea, what it truly was about! This Disney fellow had to be a Mason, too, at the very least.'

'I believe you are right there,' Athena replied, pouring a bit more cider for Em and a little less for herself.
    'Although there were odd rumors about his rather, um...far right leanings. He did a great deal however, with agitprop against the Nazis in WWII. His most famous cartoon characters were all actively engaged in smearing the evildoers, which at that time were not only Germany, Italy, Spain and Japan, but let us not forget Vichy...part of then-Occupied France. Petain was as bad as the others; sometimes even worse...or so it seemed, perhaps, as he was a 'fellow' Frenchman.'

'It all seems so…impossible, now,' Em pondered, frowning. 'Although you say that a first world war actually now looms upon our horizon.'

Athena shook her head as she set down her cider, waving away that thought.
  'Pray, don't mention it... for, who knows? Perhaps things may change. One thing we did learn in the future before things went to hell, was that thoughts have power. Words even more so. A branch of physics, quantum physics, was discovered when scientists found that simply having a human about during an experiment could influence the outcome. This was referred to as the 'observer effect'.'

'Hm...,' Em mused. She sighed. 'And then, sometimes, one is simply blind-sided by events which one could never have imagined…'

A pause. Athena stood and added more wood to the fire. She came round behind the sofa and gently began to knead Emlyn's shoulders. Em sighed again. She put her hand over Athena's then.
    'Thank you. For everything.' She leaned her head back and offered a wan smile to Athena. 'Again.'

Athena patted her hand and then took her seat beside Em. 'You ready to talk about it?'
   Emlyn nodded. 'I...suppose I should.' She sounded unsure. 'Well, I guess I have found out where Daryl has been all this time.'

Ah, bethought Athena. Figures it involves Daryl. Daryl/Diego/Diablo. 'You have?'
    Em looked straight into her friends eyes. 'I SAW them, Athena.'
  'Yes? You saw whom?'
   Em sighed shortly, 'Daryl, of course! With HER!'

Athena frowned, taken aback. 'Who? Her, whom?'
   'SHE! That young...whatever!' Em waved a hand, dismissive. 'That girl at Madame Yvonna's tea room!' Em drank down her cider, pouring more. Emptying the bottle, she railed on at last, 'He, Daryl, with her! Having TEA!'
                                                                           

                                                                     
'Yes?' Athena was somewhat confused now. 'You stopped at the Tea Room, then?'
    'I did.' Em was geared up now. 'I hadn't slept or eaten, not much, throughout the voyage home, and Sebastiao brought me all the way to the city docks. I was so tired...but hungry more than anything, and it felt good to walk on dry land; I was still wobbly from sailing. So, I stopped in early, before the rush. I thought.'
    She looked down at her hands, frowning. 'Although, it did seem odd not to see Yvonna at all. I wonder if she knows about...all that?'

To Emlyn's amazed bewilderment, Athena began to laugh heartily.
    'Excuse me?!' Em sat up hands on hips, ready to be most offended.

Athena reached out to her, bottling her mirth a minute. 'Oh, cherie...why, oh, why could you not have told me this earlier? Oh, my...' She was still chuckling. At last she lay back against the sofa and shook her head slowly.
   'My dear Em. Yes, Daryl has returned. No, Yvonna isn't here but in Alaska now, on business. And, yes, she has engaged someone to run the shop and restaurant in her absence; her niece, Anna, who, although I'm sure she is a competent sort, has Daryl referring to her as "a major pain in the"...neck.'

Em sat stunned for a full minute.
  'Well the masochist was all for some major pain then; they were practically holding hands.'
  'Truly?!' Athena was doubtful.
   Em sighed. 'Well...he had a hand on her arm, entreating her...'

'Oh, Em...' Athena stood, hands on hips in turn. 'If only...  Well, too late now. At least I left him a note.'
   'That note was to Daryl? Why didn't you tell me of his return?'
   Athena looked down upon the girl. 'You did not want to talk. Especially about Daryl, so you said.'

'So I did.' Em pondered. 'What was he doing there, then? When did he get back?'

Athena took their plates and empty cider bottles to the kitchen. She returned bearing fruit and nuts. And brandy.
    'Found your tongue now, have you?' She wrestled with the cork a moment. 'Armagnac?'

'Oh, oui, merci! And, Athena...thank you, again. Forgive me?'

 'There is nothing to forgive, cher. Salud!' Athena sat, sipping a snifter of her own.
'Yes, Daryl returned...just after you left! Hours in fact! But...perhaps I should allow him to tell you about it all.'
   Em began to protest, but Athena put up a hand. 'I will say that he is safe, and well. And that he had been in the Otherwhere and when, with Thelene and Axelis and Yeats.
He thought he had only been gone overnight. When he was returned, he needed but a slight shave. I believe him.'

Silence reigned for a moment as Emlyn digested this multi-faceted morsel.

Athena swirled her Armagnac. 'Daryl had gone to the Tea Room that morning to warn Anna and Yvonna not to trust St.John, his friend,' Athena paused, wondering just what sort of friend, but..she sighed, '...well, business associate, with whom Yvonna had been dealing in trade,  furs and caviar in Sitka.'

'Strictly business, then?' Em hoped.
    'Indeed.' Athena answered dryly. 'Did you truly expect anything else?'

Em leaned forward, head in hands a moment as she rubbed her forehead, then stood, arms wrapped about herself as she began to pace about the sofa...
   'You know what, Athena?' She said at last, as she ceased her elliptic orbit and came to stand at the mantle, 'I am simply truly weary of...all that.'

'Yes? All what, cher?' Athena leaned her head upon the sofa back.

Em gazed downward, pondering feet. 'All that...with Daryl.' She turned and sat suddenly. 'You know, for months I had been going mad, wondering if he was dead or alive, and then, I was getting over it or had at least found a way to live around it...
  'And, then, I met up with Alice, who is well, by the way, but still...well, still chasing through time, after Frank, her husband...as she should, and I only commend her for that. But, she has been doing this for, decades, Athena!' Em shook her head. 'I do not wish to live like that. Like this!'

She fell back into the sofa corner, spent.
   'I was content, just being here with you, and the Kabbalah meetings with the others, and gardening, cooking, with Rosa and our trips out with Manuel, I was content!' She looked pained as her eyes met Athena's. 'I am content no longer.'

Athena allowed her time to sit and stew a bit. She knew that being a young woman was truly not as enviable a state as some recalled, through rose-tinted memories.

She was not about to reveal to her young friend how glad she now was not to be obsessed with a 'significant other' who just happened to be a time-traveling magus-madman. Though he was a dab hand at playing the fiddle. Much as Old Nick himself was rumored to do.
                                                                          

                                                                   
.............
Daryl drew himself up and adjusted his tie as he rapped upon the Leek's front door,  surreptitiously gazing about, trying to discern any creeping shadows...
   When had he last been here? No doubt the Winter Solstice Ball.  Which seemed like only yesterday.Tempus Fugit; especially for Daryl.

Sharp barks and a growl issued from behind the door then. Since when did the Leeks keep watchdogs? Daryl backed away from the door somewhat.
  
'Fergus! Maeve! Back now! Sit! And stay!' Bridget's voice came echoing down the hall as she approached, and slowly opened the door a crack.
   'Daryl! Such a surprise!' Bridget's bright face with apple red cheeks smiled through the doorway.

'Who's there?' He heard Connor's voice call, as heavy footfalls approached and the barking recommenced. 'Avast ye buggers! Woman, call off your wolfpack, will ye no?'

'A moment...' Bridget shut the door to. Much scrambling about, barking and oaths  were heard behind the door. At last, it was reopened by Connor, who stood smoothing his lapels and silver-russet curls.'
    'Daryl, man! How're ye, then?' He held out a rough hand.

'Fine, fine, Connor. You and Bridget look well!' They shook and Connor ushered Daryl into Leek House. 'Have some new guard dogs, eh?' Daryl looked cautiously about.

  
Connor shook his head. 'If only!' He took Daryl's elbow. 'Let's be off to my study, shall we, away from all this hooley...'

Daryl loved Connor's study. It was everything that his study back home wasn't; whereas Daryl's designs were to emphasize what light could be conjured from without with blond furniture, and golden raffia woven shades, the window seat open to the light; Connor's was as a gentleman's study should be in the time-honored tradition of walnut wainscotting, a great stone fireplace, books lining  walls, ladders and a loft. No hunting trophies however, though much adored by the braw men of Scotland; Connor's tastes ran to  sword and shield, axes a plenty, however. Rifles and guns were kept in a locked case.

Oddly, Daryl felt somewhat safer ensconced here in thick walls, with a no-nonsense friend at his back with a fair arsenal, and now guard dogs!

'A wee dram, Daryl?' Knowing Daryl's tastes, Connor proffered the Courvoisier.
'Don't mind if I do,' Daryl answered amiably, wandering over to the window and gazing about, noting the wonderfully high fence about the property. Time for some high fencing of his own, he decided.

Connor joined him at the window, handing over a snifter. 'Sla'inte',' he raised his glass.
   'Sla'inte,' Daryl nodded, sipping.

The men stood together at the window a minute and then Daryl noted two moving shadows. These soon resolved into the largest, furriest gray 'dogs' Daryl had seen in some time.
   'No dogs,' Connor was reading his mind. 'The wife has her own wolf pack now.' He drank a hefty tot.                                                                       

'Wolves?!' Daryl stared. 'Bigods, so they are! Handsome beasts, eh?' They were indeed; thick grey and white coats, one having rather darker markings than the other, and was taller, more filled-out. The male, Daryl guessed.
   'A mated pair?' he asked.

Connor sighed. 'Ach, indeed. They're hybrids, actually. Wolf-dogs. But raised since pups by a friend of Bridget's, who had to move to Europe.  Bit tricky to take the beasts; and they would be happier staying here anyway. So we offered to take them on.'

'How is that working out?'

'Weel, noo...' Connor refreshed his glass, Daryl shook his head. 'It's, coming along. The beasts adore Bridget! Who doesn't, eh? But, as they had been used to her, they're more her pets, you see. Me, they're not so sure about. Yet. They'll have to learn that I'm not going anywhere!' His brows beetled a challenge, frowning out the window.

They watched the wolves sniff about the yard until they disappeared into a copse of conifers.

'So!' Connor sauntered over to his chair by the fireplace, waving to Daryl to join him. 'What's going on  with you then? Ye seem a trifle...distracted.'

Daryl followed, taking a seat opposite. 'I am that, Connor.' He finished his cognac.
'Actually, I just had a rather odd experience, and wished to run it by you, see what you think.'
    Daryl's gaze wandered about the room, taking in the armory. He grinned then, shaking his head. 'I have to say I'm feeling better about things just being here with you, this armory here,' he waved a hand about the walls, '...and your wolves!'

Connor's eyebrows rose to this admission. 'Ach. That sort of experience! Do tell.'
   'Well,' Daryl wasn't certain where to begin. 'I believe, I may have had someone following me as I walked up the hill.' He raised a hand, 'Don't worry; I think I lost them before I got this far. I grabbed a trolley and left him on the corner of Van Ness.'

'Any idea who it was? Or why the tail?' Connor frowned as he packed his pipe.

Daryl slowly shook his head, deep in thought. 'No-o...not really. But, it might have something to do with an associate of mine in the antiques trade. I just came from a place where we usually meet for a bite while discussing business matters. Somehow I think it has to do with him, since I picked up the tail after leaving there.'

'Do you know any detectives in town?' Connor asked.
'No,' answered Daryl. 'Do you think I should?'

Connor struck a lucifer and puffed up his bowl. 'I do. Knowledge is power. It's best to nip this in the bud, find out what's what. Take action, man.' He tossed the match in the fire. 'I know a man. Discreet. Careful. He knows this city like no one else.'

Connor stood and went to his desk, taking a key from his pocket and unlocking a wee drawer, he shuffled papers a minute, then found a tattered address book. He wrote down the detective's name and phone number, handing it to Daryl.
   'He changes offices every so often. Not sure where he may be now, so best to call first.' Connor hovered over Daryl a moment. 'Yer not in any need of  extra sword or shot, are ye?'

Daryl stood then, smiling as he pocketed the note. 'I thank you, Connor, but no, I have plenty at home. And Manuel is there, too; a good man to have your back.' He regarded Connor then. 'I'm sure it's nothing. My eh, associate, is sometimes prone to rather unorthodox forays. He may simply be keeping watch on me to see if I have any business contacts, fancy deals that I'm keeping from him...'

Connor said nought but was eyeing Daryl curiously.  At last, he sauntered back round and  knocked his pipe against the fireplace into the ashes, then turned to his young neighbor and put a hand on his shoulder.
   'I ken yer a mon who likes to keep much to himself, and that's all to the good, as far as it goes. But, when chips are doon and ye have some wolf or other at your door, it's good to have backup, no?'

'It is that, aye,' Daryl agreed, wondering indeed, who that may be now...with Jack at odds and Raimundo and Sebastiao seemingly unknown ciphers there, he didn't know whom he could count as a friend, especially when he wasn't throwing dollars around but instead in need of aid. Manuel was his right-hand man, of course, but he was also silent and solitary, and a very secretive sort.,

'Ye may, or may not have ken't that I, myself have Masonic brethern,' Connor confessed, tapping his be-ringed finger with the Square and Compass on the wooden mantlepiece. 'Scottish Rite, of course. Aye, there are some business men aboot town there as well, and some come just for the association with others for that reason mainly.
    'But, there are some brothers who do take the Work seriously. All in all, they're good people to know, and to cultivate knowing.'

All I need is yet another secret society, Daryl thought. But he knew what Connor was about; it might not be a bad thing to present himself as a more  available and approachable figure in the local business community. And get to know some 'good people' as well. He sighed.

'Aye. I can see the wisdom there, Connor. You have a good point...' Daryl ran a hand through his hair in thought. 'Scottish, yes? -- Not York Rite?'

Connor's 'Ach!' was followed by mutterings unintelligible but the gist of the growling was decidedly in favor of Scottish, not York Rite.
   'Ye can believe in the Great Spirit or Gitchie Manitou, whatever ye wish! Ye need not necessarily be Christian in faith and deed.' Connor paced about, glancing outside for wolf sightings, no doubt. 'Do ye think I would be in it, then? Bridget would have me flayed and roasted...'

Daryl smiled. 'Bridget has many fine qualities, indeed.'
Connor barked a laugh at that.
    'Weel, think it over, eh? Let me know if ye'd consider it. I'd put in a recommendation for ye.'

'I will. Thank you, for your advice, I do appreciate it.  Daryl paused, then added, 'Connor...do you still have your cannon?'

Connor smiled. 'O'course! I do indeed! A beauty...from one o'the ships left to mold away in harbor whilst the mad buggers onboard deserted for the gold fields, daft bastards... Aye, I'd not part w'that prize. Care to see her?'

'Always. If it isn't too much trouble...' Daryl's curiosity had renewed just recalling the odd wee cannon.

'Ach, nivver...it could use some grease and polish before the weather turns wet, any road...this way!' Connor exited the front door, then put a hand to Daryl. 'Eh, hold back a moment whilst I check for the wee wolf pack.'  He went round the corner then signaled a come-ahead to Daryl.

'She has them on the screen porch with some bones. We're safe for noo..' And he led the way to the corner overlook with a grand shot, or view, of the bay. There chained to a  large granite boulder was the fat black cannon, squatting like a long-nosed iron dragon awaiting trouble.

'Here she be; a ton o'fun, she is. Ach, the bloody birds...sooch a mess, here!' Connor went into a nearby stone shed and brought out some rags and cleaner, began wiping nature's flotsam from the barrel. As he cleaned, Daryl noticed the sculptured form of a lovely woman begin to take form upon the old gun.

'Ye can see her better noo; that be Santa Barbara, eh? She is the patron saint of artillerymen, ye ken.'
                                                                    

                                                               

'I didn't know!' Daryl bent closer and ran a hand over the lovely lady's features. 'It's finely worked, isn't it? You have a prize here, indeed, Connor.' Daryl's antiques acquisition lust began to do a slow burn in his veins. He vowed he would have his own cannon as well then. And why not?

Just then, the back door opened and barks and growls were heard as the wolf pack was loosed among them.

'"Cry havoc! And loose the dogs of war!"' Daryl yelled, taking to his heels, with Connor close behind.

They managed to outrun them and gained the front gate.  Panting safely on the street,
Connor and Daryl grinned at one another.
   'It'll keep ye on yer toes here, lad; nivver a dull moment.' He put a hand on Daryl's shoulder.  'Contact my man. And keep yer wits about ye. Ye ever considered having a wee dog yerself?'

Daryl paused. 'Hm. I travel, or used to, too much to keep any pets. But, my circumstances may be changing. I plan to stay put for a while now.'

................. 
It was evening at the gatehouse and Athena had built up the fire to last the night.

She had put Emlyn to work on chopping wood by the last light of day to give her something else to think about other than Daryl. 
    Evening  had now settled about the cottage like a flock of black crows and Em shut the door to and deposited her load of fuel, glad to be indoors.  She poured some hot tea took her mug to the sofa where Athena joined her, each curling into her respective corner.

 'So. What's it to be then?' Athena leaned an arm on the sofa back, eyeing Em. 'Are you staying here now? That is to say...There? In Daryl's mausoleum-cum-mansion?'

Emlyn shivered and slowly shook her head. 'No. I cannot imagine how anyone could live in that museum of his. Full of Things, but no Life.' She sighed. 'I will probably return to the west and head for the hills, as I usually do when I wish to return to my Self. Back to Mrs. Murphy's, if she'll have me, after all this time! I miss my Triad sisters. I miss being alone, more...'
                                                                                                 

'I can always head up to the loft,' Athena smiled.

Em laughed. 'You know what I mean... Your presence is no intrusion, but complementary.' She stared into the fire a while, musing. 'I'm still mesmerised by that Disney film...I cannot believe some of the more obvious metaphors once you pointed them out!' She looked with wide eyes at Athena. 'La Tours "The Penitent Magdalene"! Holding a skull! Amazing. And few people would even notice, or wonder...'                                                             

 'That's how they did it, the Disney animators. Very sly and subtle. Have to be, to escape the heavy scrutinization of the Church. But, yes, with such a blatantly obvious tale of the subjugation of women due to the banishment of the Divine Feminine from scripture, it could not be left out.' Athena knew her onions, indeed.

'And Ursula! What a great villainess!' Em's eyes lit up like candles. 'To portray her as an octopus is brilliant; the corporate state...greedy politicians and the lust for material wealth and powerful monopolies. She who enticed all the merfolk to abandon their watery paradise for the promise of bright, shiny Things!
        'It so obviously and perfectly portrays the fall of humankind, separation from the pleroma, the Otherworld and Summerland...our true home where we need not things nor this fleshy burden. We know and long for this blissful state of all-knowing, all-encompassing oneness with all, our natural state of being. As it is said, the Buddha did not become enlightened, but only remembered that he already was.'

'Many, many folk tales all attempted to illustrate this,' Athena continued, 'The Swan Maiden, the Selkies...the Eleusian mysteries of Greece and their initiations revolving around the myth of Persephone and Demeter...the daughter separates from the mother and 'eats the seeds' given her by Hades. Obviously, the girl is no longer virgin, and has been 'seeded'; once one falls into carnality and lust, there is no longer any time for thoughts of the nature of reality or something greater, beyond the everyday demands of husband and family...
   'Sometime I will have to show you The Wizard of Oz. About Kansas, which is portraying heaven, truly, in the countryside, and a loving family, and  a little girl who longs for a more colorful Somewhere, Over the Rainbow...'

'Does she find it?' Em wondered.
'Oh yes,' Athena nodded. 'She finds it, in all its multicolored chaos, flying monkeys and all!' Athena shifted round, putting her feet up on her pirate's chest. 'But, in the end, she comes back round to knowing that "there's no place like home;" that is, our true home the pleroma. Only then will this longing for 'the other' be truly satisfied; when we become once again part of the whole, and remember what we lost.'

'Like all country kids who long for bright lights, big city...they soon find out that concrete makes a cold, hard bed.' Emlyn was pensive. 'That's another thing...I am wearying of city life, back at Nob Hill. It has been so long since I have been in the wild. It's where I belong, truly..my wee corner of the pleroma here on earth.'

'Then make it so.' Athena was adamant.

'Will do.' Em nodded. And then yawned. 'I actually think I could sleep.'

Athena slunk up from the sofa then and brought round blankets and a pillow. 'Here you are, ma cheri. And I am off to Bedfordshire. Good night and sweet dreams.'

'You too, Athena. I hope only for dreamless sleep.'

'Tomorrow will take care of itself then. Bon soir.'
And Athena blew out the candles, and headed up to her loft, leaving Emlyn the fire.

'The Goddess is in her heaven and all is right tonight,' she murmured.
                                                                     

............................
CLICK BELOW TO LISTEN!Waterboys - Strange Boat
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-PvLd29MCvM

Chapter 15 - Can You Outrun A Memory?

..::Enoch wrote down "the signs of Heaven" (the zodiac signs) according to their months in a book. This was so human beings would know the seasons of the years in relation to the order of the months and their respective stellar and planetary influences.

 The indication is that Enoch received this information from extraterrestrial angelic sources, i.e. the Watchers, and therefore he was a cultural exemplar.

According to the Bible, the consequence of a miscegenation between the Fallen Ones and mortals led to the creation of half-angelic, half-human offspring (Genesis 6:4).

 These children were called the Nefelim or Nephilim and they were the giant race that once inhabited Old Earth.
                                                                             

The fallen angels taught their wives and children a variety of new technological skills, magical knowledge and occult wisdom. This suggests that psychic abilities and magical powers were originally an ancient inheritance from the angelic realm given to early humans.

 In the ancient traditions this is known in spiritual and metaphorical terms as the 'witch blood', 'elven blood' or 'faery blood' that is possessed by witches and wizards.

Azazel  taught them metallurgy and how to mine from the earth and use different metals. To the women he taught the art of making bracelets, ornaments, rings and necklaces from precious metals and stones. He also showed them how to 'beautify their eyelids' with kohl and the use of cosmetic tricks to attract and seduce the opposite sex.

 This was the basis for the early Church condemning the fallen angels for teaching women to make necklaces from pieces of gold and bracelets for their arms.  Paul said that women should cover their head in the synagogue (Corinthians: 11:5-6). 

This was because the fallen angels were supposed to be attracted to human females with long flowing hair. The custom of women covering their hair in churches is still found in Roman Catholicism and also in the customs of Islam.

 The fallen angel Shemyaza, another form of Azazel, is said by Enoch to have taught humans the use of root cuttings and the magical art of enchantment; the angel, Kokabiel, the knowledge of the constellations (astronomy)

• Armaros taught the resolving (banishing) of enchantments
• Baraqijal taught astrology
• Chazaqiel, the knowledge of the clouds and the sky (weather lore and divination)
• Shamsiel, the signs of the sun (the solar mysteries)
• Sariel the  lunar cycles  (in horticulture; agriculture and  lunar mysteries)
• Penemuel instructed humans in the art of writing and reading
• Kashdejan taught the diagnosis and healing of diseases and the science of medicine

It is obvious from these descriptions of the teaching abilities of the Watchers that they were cultural exemplars and the bringers of civilization to the early human race::...
                                                             

                                                              
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 ..::The Kurds claim to be the descendants of the 'Children of the Djinn' (spirits), the offspring of a mating between the djinns and mortal women. In some parts of Kurdistan, especially among the sect of Yezedis, who worship the Peacock Angel (Azazel, the leader of the fallen angels), can be found tall, fair-haired people with blue eyes. 

Although anthropologists believe they may be of ancient European ancestry, popular folk belief among the Kurds says they are descendants of the 'Children of the Djinn', who in ancient times brought civilization to early humankind::..

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..::Christian O'Brien has suggested  there is a connection between the biblical Watchers and the semi-divine, semi-mythical Tuatha De Danann (Children of the goddess Dana). This race of ancient magicians descended to Earth on the sacred hill of Tara in prehistoric Ireland.

With the coming of Christianity, the Tuatha De Danann was banished into the 'hollow hills' and became the Sidhe (Shee) or 'Shining Ones', the elves and faeries of Irish folklore. There has always been a strong belief among the peasantry in Ireland that the Good People or faeries were originally the fallen angels in the Battle of Heaven::..
                                                                      

              


..................

"One of the Sanskrit words for 'victorious' were the gods of 'Abhijit'. That's what Vega was called in ancient India. It was under the influence of Vega that the Hindu divinities, our culture heroes, conquered  the gods of evil.

Now, it's a curious thing. In Persia there are asuras also, but in Persia, the asuras were the gods of good. Eventually religions sprang up in which the chief god, the god of light, the sun god, was called Ahura Mazda. The Zoroastrians,  for example, and Mithraists. Ahura, asura, it is the same name.

There are still Zoroastrians today, and the Mithraists gave the Christians a good fright. But in this same story,  those Hindu divinities -- they were mostly female by the way -- where called Devis. In India, the devis are gods of good. In Persia, devis became gods of evil...

All this is probably some vaguely remembered account of the Aryan invasion that pushed the Dravidian's, my ancestors, to the south. So, depending on which side of the Kirthar Range one lives on, Vega supports either god or the devil."

"Devi"
Carl Sagan
Contact                                                         

...................

After a late supper that evening, Daryl brought coffee and calvados to
Athena who was stretched out comfortably upon the parlor sofa before the hearthfire.

'Merci' Daryl,' Athena was full of frittata and ready to relax. 'And my complements
to the chef.'


'You are most welcome, cara, of course,' Daryl set the tray between them on the tea table and took his wing chair, crossing his feet upon the hearth.
     'Ahh, I so have missed this...just the simple life...harvesting new herbs from the garden, cooking simply, eating simply. That St.John, I don't know how he manages all that rich food he stows away so prodigiously. I could not live like that.'


'You were all bone and angle as a kid, I recall,' Athena mused. 'Fat had no chance to accumulate; you chased it off.'
    Daryl frowned at that. 'St.John has others to do his chasing for him...'


They sipped silently as Daryl bestirred the fire. Athena was eyeing the obscure little piece by the hearth that hid the trigger to the secret stairway. Best keep that to herself a bit longer, she decided. Plenty of time for more intrigue after Emlyn returns. Whenever that may be...
                                                                           

'It bodes not well, Yvonna's so-called partnership with St.John,' Daryl was leaning forward, poker in hand, still frowning at the fire. 'He is using her, her Russian connections, only to get what he wants...'

'Is not Yvonna getting what she wants, in return?' Athena began cracking walnuts from the basket by the fireside.

'Perhaps, but at what cost? St.John's contacts and methods leave much to be desired in the way of legality. I do not wish to see her land in some snake nest of trouble down the road...' Daryl jabbed at the fire logs. 'Perhaps I could get a letter to her also; just a general, gentle warning. Send it through her niece Anna. She seems to be a capable little person.'

'"Little person"? She is of small stature?' Athena wondered now. He made it sound as though she were a leprechaun.


'She is young,' Daryl clarified. '20's perhaps, at most. Not tall or statuesque, like Yvonna. But, good for the ballet. I did note she has a nice foot. Yvonna was rather tall for a dancer.'


Daryl replaced the poker and sat back, calva in hand. 'I'll get a note to her manana. Nothing wrong in just putting the suggestion  to her of being cautious, when dealing with  that old recreant St.John. And, to  request a meeting with me upon her return...'
     Daryl sighed softly. 'I feel it incumbent upon me to steer her clear of St.John; it was all my doing, introducing them...I had no idea I'd not be around to keep an eye on things.'


'I must admit I am curious about the letter you sent to Emlyn, via St.John...' Athena remarked impetuously.


'Oh, you are, are you?' Daryl's brows reached new heights.  He poured a dash more of the amber liquid into their glasses.  'If you must know, I told her I was home, awaiting her arrival. That...I was well, and planning to remain here, at home. And to do my duty by her and by the Order.'


'"The Order"...yes. We have both had dealings with them...' Athena swirled her calva. 'Is Raimundo's Order the same as Yeats' old one? -- And Jack's as well, I believe... Hard keeping all these secret societies straight.'
                                                                                

                   

'I believe...they may have some tenets in common.' Frankly, now that he thought on it, Daryl had to admit he wasn't sure.
      'One thing I do know, it is decidedly at odds with whatever society that the Professor and Frank were messing about with here...' Daryl regarded  his calva, remembering the rather jarring incident he'd been transported into via one of his recent workings gone awry; when he'd found Frank in the basement being demolecularized by some savage machine of the Professor's.
     ' Yeats or Axelis would know more about all of this,' Daryl allowed. He then glanced to Athena, 'However, they're not saying.'


'I noticed. Axelis at least, keeps his own counsel.' Athena smiled to herself, recalling her brief interactions with those enigmatic gentlemen.


'What, exactly, IS Axelis? You're the librarian. And you've had time to study,  him.' Daryl nearly said, 'the creature'.  'I proffered a few ideas Em's way, but she was offended, I think, when I mentioned the Nephilim as a possibility...'
                                                                                     

Athena did not think it so odd. 'Not a bad guess, actually,' she remarked, surprising Daryl.  'I did muse upon that as well...frankly, I'm not all that concerned about his origins. I do trust him though, to do the right thing. Was he always thus? I also have the feeling that he was at one time, perhaps far past,  not so  trustworthy an entity. So, your Nephilim designation fits as well as any.'
    Sighing, she offered,  'I suppose Yeats is also rather sparing with any information he may impart your way?'


Daryl snorted. 'Like the proverbial Sphinx...' He stood and stretched, regarding the portrait of Rossetti's Magdalene above the mantle piece.
    Capturing Athena's gaze he declared, 'He took off my head once, you know.'


'I heard, something about that. From Emlyn I believe.' Athena wondered that he would be talking of this now.


'Yes. It was back when we were on opposite sides of the Albigensian Crusade. ' Daryl
inhaled deeply,  then slowly exhaling, he rubbed the back of his neck. 'I happened to be on the losing side...'


Athena 'hmm'd' to herself...'It is hard to see our Yeats in that role. Defender of the Faith, eh?'


Daryl nodded, and seated himself next to Athena. She shifted her legs and curled up on her corner like a large white cat; made all the more so by her faux-snow leopard robe.


'Yes. He did say that experience was what changed him then. After that, he gave up his position as head of the Order and left this world, to be with Thelene.' Thelene; she of the Tuatha de Dannan...
      Daryl hung his head, hands clasped. Athena knew what he was thinking: why not himself, and Anara, in that other world, and together? But it was not meant to be.

                                                                       

'That was genocide,' Athena pronounced. 'And that is Truth; rarely pure and never simple, to paraphrase  Wilde....but there had to be something more to it than just Phillip the Fair owing the landowners in the south money, or the 'threat' of gnosticism to the Church...don't you think?' She finished off her brandy. 'Men, women, children, by the thousands, tens of thousands, fell to the iron law of the 'god of love', and the 'mercy' of the Church of Rome...'


'What do you mean, ma cheri?' Daryl leaned back in his corner and tossed an arm across the sofa back, facing Athena.


'Well, you do know the legend of the Magdalene is rife throughout the south, from Marsielles outward, on into Italy and Spain and beyond.' Athena continued.
   'The Black Madonna, black to signify 'hidden' or eclipsed,  worshiped throughout the Langedoc -- so beloved by your gypsies! -- statues and paintings famously celebrate the Magdalene and her daughter Sarah; Sarah of the Gypsies -- and supposedly Yeshua ben Yoseph's daughter as well.'
                                                                       

           
 'Those were, are the rumors...' Daryl agreed, pouring more calvados .  'Indeed, being around thirty years of age, and 'teacher, master' would be the interpretation in Greek of 'rabbi' ... as such, a Jewish male , a rabbi the age of Yeshua, would have been married, and rather earlier than age thirty.'

'Yes, well, the Powers That Be were making sure they eradicated any of the surviving bloodline, then!  A threat indeed; to the whole mish mash of hastily cobbled 'gospels' written by men who never knew the purported man called Jesus, 30 years,  or 100 and more after his supposed crucifixion...and, where were the apostles, after? It was reported that the Magdalene, the women, went to his tomb. While the apostles were off on a fishing trip! Truly bizarre stuff.'


'"It has served us well, this myth of the christ," the church fathers have been quoted as saying,' Daryl agreed. 'And, you know that in the Koran, it is written that Jesus was not dead when he was taken from the cross. In Islam, Jesus is hailed as a prophet. Like many of the Jewish prophets and contenders for the title of Messiah that were about at that time. But not a god. That was added probably at the Council of Nicaea in 300 AD.   All of the bible can be read as myth and metaphor, like the Greek or Egyptian tales of the gods.
    'And there is as much that is beautiful and admirable there, as there is abominable and terrifying, as well as shameful...purely power plays.  The heavy hand of the Church was not giving up their infallible power over the world;  remaining ever ready to wield the sword against  nay-sayers.' He sighed. 'Like myself...'


'You were not alone in that. Not then, and not now.' Athena reached back and took Daryl's hand in solidarity.
   'Thank you, cara,' Daryl leaned up, kissed her hand. 'I appreciate your sympathetic ear.' He  looked troubled then. 'I just wonder how Emlyn is going to take my disappearance. And return.' He looked down. 'I just, don't know...perhaps, she would rather I had remained...disappeared.'

                                                                               

.........

Waiting, again...
At the liminal  edge of dawn, Emlyn and Sebastiao were eyeing the jungle, awaiting the return of Raimundo, or of a new sailor to substitute for him if, not finding the mambo, he had to take Alice farther east tonight .
   '"The human heart is like a ship upon stormy seas, driven by winds blown from all four corners..."' Em quietly quoted Luther, feeling rather pious suddenly.


'I do have some experience sailing, you know...' Emlyn whispered to Sebastiao, who regarded her with one tired eyebrow raised.
   'Indeed?' He questioned flatly. Then hiding a smile, he turned back to his scoping out the foliage. 'Ah. With your Capitan, eh?'


'Well, yes. And Raimundo.' Em huddled for warmth  under a brightly woven cotton Mexican blanket she'd found on board, surprisingly soft and warm for its light weight.


'I am sure you are able and eager, but your services won't be necessary, I am fairly certain,' Sebastiao, the capitan here, assured her. 'Weather will remain fair, and winds favorable for our homeward journey. We should be able to take you all the way home, to the City docks.'


Em was more reassured now; though always energized by her two friend's company, she had to admit she was beginning to lag a bit after being up all night and traveling so long.
A decent hot meal, bath and bed was  her new siren's song. Oh, but it had all been worth it, even for a glimpse of Alice again. Sheer relief seemed to have taken all the spunk out of her.


'Here he is, Raimundo returns!' Sebastiao had the rope ladder over the side as Raimundo pulled forth the dingy and began rowing their way.

...............


'So, you found the mambo, then?' Emlyn helped Raimundo on board.
    'Sim.' He smiled a tired smile Em's way. 'All is well. Those two got along like sisters!
Alice wishes to stay and to learn the voudoun way from Queen Cecille. '
                                                     

 'Oh, I am glad!' Em was. 'She will be staying in Mexico then?' That would have her closer...
    'Ah, yes, for a while. ' Raimundo and Sebastiao began unfurling sails and preparing to weigh anchor.  'Cecille had mentioned something about heading up to New Orleans for a while.'


Hm. New Orleans. That would take them farther east... But knowing Alice would be in Mexico for a while, who knows? Perhaps she would be able to visit sometime.
     'But, for now,' Raimundo paused in his activity long enough to take Em by the shoulders, smile and say, 'Let us get you home, no?'
                                                               

...................

'It is rather early, Monsieur!' Anna was at the shop door, in answer to Daryl's relentless rapping. An entire hour until luncheon and cafe' opening! The nerve...


'Yes!' Daryl muscled his way in, slinking bonelessly through the door, slippery as a cat, 'I am so glad you could see me, Anna...'  He removed his hat, running a hand through dark, wet locks as Anna regarded this damp desperado.


'I can see that you are here too early.' Anna was not amused.  'Luncheon will not be served for another, oh, at earliest, a quarter hour yet! Why, ze zoup --!'
   -- Daryl took her elbow and lowered his voice...'I apologize, truly, for rather ambushing you like this...but I wish to speak with you, about your aunt.'


Telling herself that Aunt Yvonna will return  and that this wild man will be her problem soon enough, Anna collected herself and closed the door behind Daryl.
     'Very well, Monsieur!'


And with that tilt of her head upward, lifting the slightly retrousse' nose high,  Anna  resignedly led  Daryl through the shop and into the restaurant proper. . .cursing this interruption to her morning as '...sheer solecism,  a putsch!...the very idea...,'  she muttered to herself as she snatched a towel and ostentatiously swept it about a table and stood back, arm stretched toward it in regal offering: 'You will sit.'
      Daryl sat.


'Sergei, tea, please?' She asked, tightly, over her shoulder.
   Daryl stood, again, and held the other chair for her. 'Mlle?' He attempted to display some belated manners now. Couldn't hurt...


Anna sighed and looked at the chair as if it held a noxious puddle on the seat. At last, with a long-suffering glance Daryl's way, she took her seat. Daryl removed his overcoat and draped it upon an empty chair, of which there were many.


Clasping her hands before her, Anna studied Daryl intently. 'Oui, Monsieur? I am here.'


'Ah, yes,' he began, feeling rather on the spot now. 'You see,  well, I have a letter here, for Yvonna, your aunt,  and I was hoping that, you might be able to see that it reaches her.' He proffered the envelope, then slid it along the table toward her.


Anna made no move to take it, but gazed upon it as if it were an offending insect.
   'In Sitka, Monsieur?' She slowly shook her head. 'I do not know...I can make no guarantees...boats come and go,  seas,  weather, there is much that can not be relied upon!'


'Yes, yes...I realize all that...' Daryl began, but Sergei had returned with the tea, wheeling a sizeable tea tray with steaming samovar to  table.  Placing delicate china cups and saucers before them he poured, and then, handing the cups about, bowed and disappeared, silent and efficient as an automaton.


Daryl paused a moment, inhaling the dark earthy scent of strong black tea.
    'Sweet, with lemon,' he smiled at Anna as he prepared his cup.

                                                                           

  
'Ah,' Anna allowed her composure to relax somewhat, as she too, took some lemon. 'You do not follow the English way to drench good tea in milk, then?'

'Not usually, no. Although when visiting, England or Canada, I will sometimes. For the ambiance.'
    Anna was shaking her head again, although a smile hovered about her lips.
'Ginger scones. With hazelnut.' She offered the covered basket from which wafted the warm spicy scents of lemon, nut and ginger.


'Speciba, Anna.' Daryl had relaxed somewhat as well. Breaking bread, always a good way to disarm the enemy, or the recalcitrant niece, he mused to himself.
    'So, no, I would not be expecting anything,' he returned to the letter at hand. 'But I feel I must make an effort to reach her, as soon as may be.'


'If I may ask, Monsieur --'
'-- Daryl, Anna, please.'
Anna sighed again. Americans. Always wishing to be...chummy. 'Very well, Monsieur Darrrryll, then, what is the hurry? Is anything amiss?' Any threat to her aunt or her aunt's business was something Anna felt incumbent upon her to find out.

Daryl sat back, regarding the young fille. Her gaze was serious, astute.
   'Very well...in short, mlle, although I have dealings with Monsieur St.John, I would not advise a friend to trust him.'


Anna smiled slowly then, and daintily sipped her tea. 'Ah. Monsieur Daryl, you need not to worry...Aunt Yvonna does not trust him either.'
   A sudden interruption in concert sounded about them -- clocks in the shop all striking the hour of eleven o'clock -- cuckoo clocks, Grandfather clocks, ormolu, everything but a water clock or sundial gave voice to the start of the luncheon hour.
 'I must be off. But stay, do!'


Daryl placed a gentle hand on her arm, 'You will come and finish tea, with me, when you have the time?'
   Anna was looking over her shoulder at Sergei and the other waiters, anxious.  'Yes, yes; if there is time! I must go -- !'


Like  the ringmaster in a circus, Anna orchestrated the luncheon rush, seeing to reservations, samovars full of hot tea, entree's ready to be served, tables and settings properly placed and, at last, bringing a large arrangement of roses and lilies of the valley which she set upon the reservations desk from which she captained her 'ship'; her aunt's tea room. At last, she threw up a hand, and called, 'Ready? Avancier!' and Sergei opened the doors...


Daryl viewed all this with an air of amused surprise, to see how industrious and efficient young Anna was in this running of her aunt's enterprise. No more than two or three tables at first, but Anna assured him that today would be a busy one.
   'Friday,' she explained. 'And fish is on the menu, of every possible sort...' She took her seat, waving Daryl down as he attempted to stand for her, and refilled her tea cup. 'It is cold now,' her winsome wee nose crinkled in disgust. 'Sergei!' She waved a fair hand his way and a fresh hot samovar was ordered.
                                                                   

'Now.' Daryl's hand was upon her arm once. 'Sit, please? Not so busy now, until folk are off work at noon.'
     Sighing, Anna nodded,  and the second samovar sidled soundlessly alongside the table. She allowed Daryl to refill their cups and hand hers to her, smiling.
    'So. You were saying , Yvonna does not trust St.John, then?'


Anna sipped, and smiled wryly. 'Ah, Monsieur Daryl...mais non.' She fluttered a white wrist encircled with ruffles about as if to chase away crows.  'One has but to glance the man's way to see he is of a duplicitous nature. '


'Indeed.' Daryl's eyebrows reached his brow, surprised that the women were not taken in by St.John's ostentatious displays of wealth and command. 'Mendacity is the man's middle name. But what tipped you off?'

A soft chuckle from Anna, who shook her head slowly, slightly. 'But, it is obvious, monsieur.'

Daryl's sideways smile was back. 'Women's intuition, is it?'

'You may call it that if you wish...' Anna refilled her cup, returning a smile. 'More tea? I hope you do not mind, I opted for jasmine this time...'
                                                                           

 
...............

Watching all this wrapped in silence, she simply couldn't believe her own eyes.

All this, Emlyn had spied from her entrance at the threshold of the restaurant. She could hardly believe it!  -- Daryl!
     ...And having tea, if you please, just as casual and indiscreet as could be.

 Where was Yvonna in all this? And who, just who was this,  this, little person, whom Daryl was handling  with such familiarity? Just see the two of them! -- Smiling, giggling, and having TEA, together!

Em had stood there, taking in the friendly little scene with both eyes open wide...(was this where Daryl had been, all this time?) Oh, she had missed nothing; the quiet speech between the two, as if sharing secrets, the gestures, the way Daryl touched the girl's arm with such propriety...and the young girl herself; so prettily attired in her lace and ruffles, not an ebony hair out of place...

Emlyn looked closely at her hands, not quite clean despite her scrubbing (and dishwashing in the galley), and her clothes a bit worse for wear after having slept in them, traveled in them, by boat no less.


She ran a hand along her hair, and could tell it must look a fright despite her attempts to corral her red and riotous masses into a semblance of order, long strands were escaping their hold...
    She had been so hungry, despite a hasty bite at their early morning launch, she bethought it wouldn't be so out of place to stop in at Yvonna's before the lunch crowd, it wouldn't be too busy, and, she thought she would be here, among friends...
     -- Without a word, she turned on her heel and fled that cosy, terrible scene...
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CLICK BELOW TO LISTEN: Drifters, Dreamers and Desperados Like Me -- Tim Ryan
Desperados Like Me - Tim Ryan

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