A/N: First off, TW for implied sexual assault. I tried to describe it secondhand without going into the gory details, because none of you are children (I hope) and will understand what's going on.
One of the things that has fascinated me about Greek mythology is the idea that the gods are not "perfect", in the same sense of the Christian ethos. They sometimes make mistakes and have to deal with some of the same consequences that humans do. That is something I am trying to explore in this story.
I am a perfectionist, so if I've completely lost you, please tell me. I'm posting this without going over it with a fine-tooth comb. If there are any glaring mistakes, I will fix them later.
Major thanks to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey for reading part of this and propping up my wavering self-confidence.
As much as Charles and Elsie would have enjoyed several days (really much longer) to themselves, they both knew that life would not allow for the indulgence.
The sheep would not watch themselves, even with the help of the dogs. Nor bread bake itself.
But they refused to be separated completely. Stolen moments and hours together, whether in the day or night, were spent in her home.
The apprentices would move in to Elsie's hut as soon as May could be spared to look after them. The older woman's sister-in-law had been ill since Midsummer, but was finally recovering.
May was surprised to hear the shepherd would no longer need her. But she agreed to look after the young men. "They can fight each other over meals instead of you," she said.
"I did not tell her we were married," Charles said to Elsie that evening as they stood under the oak tree. "She will find out soon enough. She assumed Daisy would take over the baking and such." He paused. "I think she thinks you are leaving."
They were going to the temple the next day to tell the priestesses and to make the sacrifice. "I am glad you kept silent about us," Elsie sighed, her hands on his chest. "Or else it would be spread all over the kingdom by dawn."
In truth, she was a little nervous as to how people would react.
Charles smiled, his arms around her waist. "The lads haven't told anyone." Thomas could have told everyone at court by now. He had only sent the letter three days previously, but doubted his son would be eager to spread the news.
She arched an eyebrow. "You have not let any of them off the land since Midsummer. Who could they tell?"
"Daisy is ready to burst," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I told her after we take her to Bill, she is at liberty to tell whoever she wants." His lips traveled lower to her cheek.
A moment later they were on hers. Elsie slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders, then to the back of his neck. They kissed quietly, slowly. A long exchange without words.
"I must rest," she whispered, breaking away. "As much as I would like you to stay. You have to take the watch - poor Andy has been up all day in this heat."
"Poor Andrew," he murmured against her lips, pulling her closer. "Poor me, more like. How can I leave you?"
"Think of this," she ran her hands down his arms, "the sooner you take the watch, the sooner the night will come, and the sooner the dawn. Then the sooner we go the temple, and the sooner we can be together in the same house-"
Charles began laughing before she was finished, his mirth vibrating against her body. "We will not be alone all the time, you remember. Daisy will come home every few days. I can control myself," he leaned his forehead against hers.
"I am capable of restraining myself as well, Master Shepherd," she murmured. "From time to time."
He left soon after, and she went into the hut. It was emptier than when she arrived. The small rug and bench were already in Charles's home. Her home. She would take the sheepskin with her the following day.
She woke at the sound of someone calling her name.
"Elsie? Elsie, wake up." It was the deep, distinct voice of her husband. She blinked heavily. The fire that she had lit burned low, the red coals glimmering in the dark.
Stretching, she smiled sleepily at him. "I should have known you would come here before dawn."
He was crouched beside her, his hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry to wake you, but something's happened. Will you come with me?" He did not sound concerned, but she detected a serious tone with him.
"What is it? What's wrong?" She took his outstretched hand and stood up, pulling on the cloak, and they walked into the night.
The stars shone above them. "Daisy asked for you," he said, keeping hold of her hand so she did not stumble behind him.
"Is she all right?" she stifled a yawn, feeling only half-awake.
"Y-yes." He wondered how to tell her. Not that his daughter had actually told him what had happened. Although he had a feeling he knew what it was.
He felt out of his depth.
I know nothing about this.
They reached the house. A fire burned low in the ashes. Andy snored against one wall, while Jimmy nodded at them, then laid down on his pallet on the opposite side. Charles pulled back the blanket. Daisy was sitting up, studying the flame of the oil lamp.
Elsie stepped past Charles and sat down next to her. One look at the girl's face and she knew.
Daisy cried as Elsie held her. Questions tumbled out, and her new mother did her best to explain what had happened to her.
Yes, it was normal for there to be a lot of blood. Yes, there were herbs she could take to help with the pain. No, she would not have to stay in the house during every cycle.
"In the eyes of the world, you are a woman now," Elsie said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Daisy sniffed. "I don't feel like one," she whispered.
"That will come with time," Elsie rubbed her back. Daisy frowned, her eyes fearful.
"Papa's not going to make a betrothal for me, is he? When my friend Faun started bleeding, her father betrothed her to a man from Crowborough. They were married last autumn – I have not seen her since!"
Elsie shook her head firmly. "No, your father would never do that. You are too young."
He will let you choose your mate, in your own time.
If only my father were like that.
"Will you tell him what happened? I…I don't think I can." Daisy's voice was small.
She kissed Daisy's head. "I can, if you insist. But I think he would rather hear it from you."
"It's…it's embarrassing," the girl muttered.
"It is not meant to be," Elsie said. "It is a part of life." After a while, Daisy worked up her courage. Elsie went to get Charles, who sat near the fire behind the blanket. He tentatively joined his daughter, trepidation on his face. Elsie went outside to give them privacy.
It was as he expected. His little girl was a child no longer. Daisy gave him a big hug, and asked if he was all right. That made him shed a few tears.
"You must think your papa's an old fool," he said, smiling as he wiped his eyes. "You go through a change like that, and I'm the one in tears!"
"I cried too," Daisy confessed. She grinned, and nudged him. "I must have gotten that from you."
Charles reminded her that she needed to go to the temple. As he and Elsie were going the next morning, he decided that Daisy would go with them to make the necessary prayers.
The early morning dew was gone by the time they set out.
"I am sorry to have woken you last night," Daisy yawned, her eyes heavy.
Elsie shrugged. "I am glad you did," her eyes twinkled as she and Charles exchanged a glance.
The road to the village was mostly empty, except for a man driving a cart ahead of them. When they reached Downton, there were hardly more people to be seen. Charles frowned.
"That's odd. The market should be open – where is everyone?"
Stalls were set out, though not as many as usual. Only a few people wandered among them. Elsie held her hand over her eyes to shield the sun. "Maybe there is sickness." With all the people who had been there on Midsummer it would not be surprising. Charles nodded, a worried expression on his face.
"Daisy?" A man's voice made them all turn. Bill hurried down the street. "I thought I saw you! I should have known your father would never have let you walk here alone." He nodded at Charles and Elsie in greeting. "Joseph has not left Phyllis's side every time she leaves the house."
"Is it the fever?" Charles asked. "It can spread like fire once someone has it-"
Bill shook his head, confused. "No, it is not the fever. Nor any sickness. Have you not heard?" He looked from one face to another, and closed his eyes. "Let's sit down." They followed him to a spot on the riverbank, not far from where the competition had been held.
"I-I would not usually speak of it in front of women," Joseph's father said, his voice almost in a whisper. "But you need to know. On Midsummer Night, two women were attacked-"
"What!?" Elsie cried out at the same time as Charles, before she gasped out another question. "Here!?"
Bill nodded. "It was after your lads and Daisy had left. The dancing was going on just a little ways from here-" he pointed up the bank. "I was there with Joseph and Phyllis. And then," his face darkened, "a young woman stumbled into the middle of the circle. Her tunic was almost torn from her body, and even in the dim firelight, we could see how badly hurt she was. My Joseph caught her before she fell down. Bleeding terribly, scratches and bruises all over her. Her face was so swollen it was a miracle she did not lose her sight, Richard said."
"Who was she?" Elsie whispered. She kept her eyes down on the ground, her mind raging. Without thinking, she began tearing the grass around them.
How dare he. How dare he! When I find out who did this-
"Her name is Lavinia," Bill said. "She's from a kingdom far south of here. She came with her cousins to celebrate Midsummer here, and to visit friends. Apparently she knew Lady Mary's late husband Matthew in her childhood."
"You said there were two women attacked," Charles swallowed. "Who else?"
"A young woman named Ethel was able to run from him. She ran straight to the temple, to safety," Bill explained. "I heard from Richard that Ethel said someone helped her. Someone tried to stop her attacker, and it gave her enough time to get away from the danger. But I don't know who helped her," he pulled at his thinning hair. "From when Lavinia appeared, it sounds like the man attacked Ethel first."
"And the villain who attacked her? Was it the same man who attacked Lavinia? Or was there more than one?" Charles asked. A terrible feeling of dread took hold of him. It could have been Daisy. Or Elsie. Or someone else you know.
Those women are someone's family.
"Yes, as far as we know," Bill replied. "Just the one. Ethel was able to give a better description of him, mostly because she saw his face. A stranger, not from here. No one knew who he was." He swallowed. "From what Lavinia could remember, it sounded like the same man. He grabbed her from behind, and dragged her into an abandoned stall."
Elsie pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, swallowing back bile. Daisy's eyes were wide. Charles leaned forward.
"And no one heard anything? Or saw anything? Surely someone would have seen-"
Shaking his head, Bill sighed. "The man, whoever he was, chose the time well. He was also fortunate that Ethel was initially too shaken to raise the alarm at once. No one blames her for that, poor woman. Lavinia was attacked after moonrise, only a few feet away from her cousins. The music and dancing were very loud. They never heard anything. Naturally, they feel terrible." He explained they had sent word to Lavinia's father, and were waiting for her to recover enough before traveling once again.
Elsie sat motionless, consumed by horror and guilt. If she prayed, then I should have heard her.
After moonrise on Midsummer? Did you hear anything that night other than the beat of your own heart?
It sickened her that she did remember now – the voice had been faint, and not very coherent. A small voice, pleading for help. From her.
And I was not there.
I…failed.
"Ow," Daisy muttered. Elsie loosened her grip, realizing she had been squeezing Daisy's arm.
"Sorry," she whispered. Charles and Bill were still talking. Even though it was mostly clear that the man was a stranger, there was no hint as to whether he had left the kingdom, or still lurked near Downton.
It was not sickness, but fear that kept people inside. Children did not play outdoors, and no female went anywhere alone.
Lavinia was being cared for by her cousin Helen, and Isobel. Richard would usually do so, but the young woman did not want to be touched by any man. Hector, Helen's brother, was staying with the healer while the women stayed with the priestesses.
Violet had written to her son. Robert had immediately sent several of his most trusted men to scour the village and the hills beyond for any sign of the stranger. Several guards also stayed in the village to keep a watch.
"The king went into a rage, I heard," Bill said. "That something like that happened the day he was here, that women were treated in such a way, in his kingdom. The queen and Lady Mary were horrified."
"I can imagine," Charles said, his eyes dark with anger. His dread lessened as his anger rose. "If there is anything I or my lads can do to help-"
"Murray will be here in the next day or so," Bill said, standing up. The others did the same. "I will tell him of your offer. In the meantime," he gently put a hand on Daisy's shoulder, "Joseph, Phyllis and I will keep a close watch on your girl. We won't let anything happen to her, I promise." He gave her a small smile. "Let's go to the house, shall we?"
"Oh," Charles said. He had almost forgotten why they had come. "She needs to come with us for now. We-we have business to attend to. But I'll bring her back later this morning."
"All right. I will see you later, Daisy," Bill walked away.
The three of them stood for a moment. The sun was bright, the morning clear, and yet it felt as though a dark cloud had descended upon them.
They walked through the mostly deserted marketplace, the temple of Eala ahead of them. Both Elsie and Daisy turned to look and see if Ivy was there. Neither was surprised that she was not.
There were four guards posted by the great doors to the temple, two on either side. They let Elsie and Daisy pass, but stopped Charles.
"Who are you?" one asked, his voice curt. "Why do you come here?"
"Steady on, Roland," another said, motioning for Charles to pass. "He does not match Ethel's account. He's too tall."
Charles went through the doors. He heard another guard speak behind him. "Too old, as well."
Elsie and Daisy stood just inside, waiting for him.
Violet was on duty, overseeing two girls who were hanging a tapestry near the fertility altar. Charles quickly explained the reason for Daisy's presence. The older woman, who normally had a rather stern countenance, smiled gently at the girl and took her into the garden. They came back with a rose cutting. The priestess then sent the two girls out.
Charles and Elsie stood back and watched Daisy approach the great altar and lay the cutting down. She looked tiny beneath the statute of Eala. Charles sniffed once, and Elsie slipped her hand into his. The priestess chanted a prayer, signaling Daisy to repeat the phrases after her.
They stood with Daisy in front, Violet's hands on her shoulders.
"You have now crossed the threshold," the priestess told her. "When you leave these walls, you will no longer be a child, but will begin your journey to womanhood. Some girls reach it faster than others. And some," a twinkle glimmered in her eye as she whispered in Daisy's ear, "some of us never quite grow up."
Daisy smiled widely, showing her dimples.
"Now," the older woman turned to the couple watching, "are you planning on making your vows?" she half-laughed, her blue eyes shining. "That would be a first – Charles does nothing in haste."
The two gaped at her for a moment, then both looked down. Their hands were still intertwined.
"Actually," Charles felt his face warm, "we already made our vows. On Midsummer-"
"At the shrine," Elsie finished, her own face flushed. "We came here to tell you, and to make the necessary sacrifice."
Violet put a hand on her chest, clearly shocked. She glanced at Daisy, who nodded, her glee evident. "Well," she cleared her throat, "that is not what I expected to hear."
Charles thought the look she gave him was one of surprise, with a hint of a smile in it. But when her eyes slid to Elsie he saw fear in them.
He was probably seeing things. After hearing the news Bill had shared earlier, he felt as though everyone around him was likely anxious. Especially the priestesses. They were the ones who had actually dealt with the two women attacked.
"The both of you had better come with me," Violet said, regaining her composure. They followed her to the garden, where Charles cut a rose. Then they returned inside to stand in front of the altar.
Kneeling on the floor, they let the priestess bind their wrists together. She lit the incense while they offered prayers to the goddess. Charles coughed, the acrid scent making his eyes water.
Violet stood behind them, one hand on each of their heads. "Divine Love, bless this pair before you. Look upon them with favor. May they honor each other, and honor you as they walk together." She had them get up, and face each other, holding hands. "May the vows you have spoken never be forgotten," she continued. "Remember that you belong to one another. Let no angry words, misdeeds, or any person come between you. Beauty and fruitfulness fade, but your vows remain. Remember that love unites you."
For a moment, it felt to Charles as though everything else faded away. All of the worry, anger and fear from earlier disappeared, and only Elsie mattered. Only them.
Daisy smiled as they kissed before the altar. High in the rafters a dove cooed.
000000000
"I want to stay awhile," Elsie said quietly, as Violet went to summon Isobel. She touched Charles's arm. "Go and take Daisy to Bill's."
He reached out and cupped a hand around her face, his thumb on her cheek. "Promise me," he said solemnly, "that you will stay here until I return." A glimmer of a smile appeared at the corner of his lip. "I don't want you to go looking for trouble."
"I will stay," she promised. He sighed, relieved that she knew he was serious.
If anything happened to her or Daisy, I do not know what I would do.
He kissed her once more. Daisy then gave Elsie an enormous hug, and the two made plans for when she would next be home.
"I told her to wait for a big baking day," his daughter said as they went out the doors past the guards. "Of course she has to make bread while I'm away, but I want to help her as much as I can." She walked next to her father, holding his hand.
Charles felt a lump in his throat. He could not express how much it meant to him that his daughter was still his little girl, and was not afraid to show it.
After he said goodbye to Daisy at Bill's, he began walking back to the temple. Smiling, he knew no sooner had the door closed at the weaver's house, than his daughter had most likely dragged the older man to the wheelwright's stall so she could tell Phyllis and Joseph.
The village was unnaturally quiet. A few of the stalls in the marketplace were still occupied, but most had been closed for the day. Charles shivered, a weight in his belly.
I hope they find the man soon.
The sound of a hammer striking iron rang nearby. He decided on the spur of the moment to visit John, remembering as he quickened his pace, that his friend did not know of his marriage. The blacksmith would rather hear the news from him.
Several figures lounged just outside the forge in the shade of a maple tree. Two were the king's guards, and the rest were local men. One was a farmer Charles recognized. Tim lived near a tiny hamlet east of Downton, called Drewe.
"What brings you here?" Charles asked. The dark-haired man's forehead crinkled in worry.
"To get my sword sharpened," he said grimly. "That's why most of us are here. I was here on Midsummer with my family. Margie, the children, and Dad. Margie's been nearly ill with worry over what happened to those poor women, and I have to say the same." He crossed his arms. "If something like that happened to my wife, or to our little Susie, I'd find the scum who did it and kill him."
"Are you here to get a sword, Charles?" Jarvis asked. "I'm not sure a shepherd's crook is enough. Though you've also got three young men on your land. I know they all treat Daisy like a sister."
Charles shook his head. "No, I just want to see John."
"You found him," his friend emerged from the forge stripped to the waist, his skin glowing with sweat, his face red. "Toby! Daniel! Go fetch some water for us, please." Two young lads raced out of the hot forge, buckets in hand. John wiped his face.
"I don't know how I would manage without them," he leaned against the tree. "Or without Joe. First Robert sent guards here. Now with what happened on Midsummer, every man for miles is coming to me for either a sword, or to sharpen one they've already got." He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm acquiring more gold than I have had in years, but I can scarcely keep up with the work."
Charles frowned. "Joe? I thought he had taken over the wheelwright's stall."
"He did. Joseph and Phyllis are busy there. That is not who I meant," John gestured to the forge. Charles followed him. Under the roof a breeze blew, but the open fire was almost too hot to stand. "Do you remember Old Joe? He's back."
An ugly, wizened man bent over the fire, delicately tapping a tiny hunk of iron. He did not stop until John touched his shoulder. "Why don't we stop for a while, Joe? Have some water? You must be as dry as the desert." The old man wiped his sweaty face on his filthy apron.
A memory crossed Charles's mind. "I thought you looked familiar at Midsummer," he said. "I am sorry I didn't introduce myself then, I was looking for someone." He thought it had been at least ten years since he had seen Joe.
He hardly looks a day older.
Or a day younger.
"Charles," Joe replied, dour as the last time the shepherd had seen him. "I remember you." He hesitated. "Thank you for helping me. I lost my balance in the crowd. Not," he frowned, "for the first time that day. Your son nearly ran me over-"
"Did he?" Charles scowled. "I will make sure he apologizes to you when he is next home." Joe waved his hand as they walked out of the forge into the shade.
"No need. He already made his apology. I really do not think he saw me." They sat down, John on one side of the shepherd and Joe on the other. "I met your daughter then as well. Daisy? She's a sweet girl."
The lads returned from the well with the buckets brimming with water. John let Joe drink first before refreshing himself. He then shooed the lads away, with the warning that he would call them soon.
"How is your head, Joe?" John asked, after pouring half a bucket of water on himself. "Do I need to send Toby for another poultice?"
The old man reached up and gingerly removed the cloth tied against his head. "The swelling's gone down. Maybe this evening before I go to sleep."
"That looks painful," Charles said, seeing the egg-shaped knot on Joe's freckled skin. "How did you get that?"
Joe sighed, anger burning in his eyes. "I would get one again a hundred times over if it would have stopped that brute from hurting either of those girls. As it is, he knocked me out." Seizing the ends of his beard, he yanked on the long hair. "At least Ethel got away. But that poor girl, Leslie-"
"Lavinia," John corrected.
"Yes, her – she never stood a chance. That foul swine," Joe got to his feet, clearly incensed. "That filth, he's lower than the fleas on a dog-"
John stood up. "Calm down, Joe." He put his hand on his partner's arm. "You did your best. Richard was right. If you hadn't interfered, Ethel would not have been able to get away. You saved one of them, at least."
"I should not have had to save either of them!" the old man roared. The group of men waiting abruptly stopped talking and looked over. "Eala's temple is here, this is her place! Where was the goddess when they needed her!?"
"Now wait," Charles said, standing up himself. "That is no way to talk about the Divine Lady, we don't know what her plan is-"
Joe threw his hands up in exasperation. "I highly doubt she is happy when women are violated! I think this proves the stories are true, and she only cares for herself, her vanity, her pleasure-"
"Stop," thundered Charles, his temper rising. "You know nothing about the goddess, or any of those who watch over us! The terrible deeds that happened here were because of a man's depravity, not Eala-"
"You know nothing either, shepherd," Joe snapped, poking a gnarled finger in Charles's chest. "It would be better for you if you kept silent!"
John shook his head in warning to Charles, who was ready to yell at the old man again. He then motioned for Joe to sit down once more. "You see," he said, his voice calm, "this is why I don't believe in the gods at all. They can never disappoint me. Enough," he raised his eyebrows at Charles. "What matters is a man did something horrible here, and we are all doing our best to protect our families and friends."
Joe went back into the forge soon after, and resumed hammering. Perhaps with a little more vigor than before. John and Charles walked a short distance away.
"He is a tremendous help to me," John murmured, "and he means well. But he has a temper, and what happened-well, he feels like until the man is found and punished, justice will not be done."
"We all feel that way," Charles replied, still feeling rankled. "That does not excuse him from insulting Eala!"
John ran a hand through his hair. "To tell the truth, I've never heard him insult any of the gods. Certainly not Eala. Before today, I would have thought his piety matched yours."
"He has a funny way of showing it." They approached the empty marketplace.
"What is it you wanted to see me for, if not a sword?" John asked, crossing his arms.
Charles relaxed, a smile dissolving his anger. "I wanted to tell you, before you found out elsewhere," he cleared his throat, "I married Elsie. At Midsummer. We've just been to the temple to make the sacrifice."
John's mouth fell open. He stood gaping for several moments, before a soft smile of his own appeared. "Well, I'll be. I never thought you could surprise me, but I stand corrected." He gripped Charles's shoulder. "May you and your wife have many happy years together," He shook his head in wonder. "I suppose you simply did not feel the need to wait? And neither did she, apparently."
"No," Charles felt his smile grow wider.
Laughing, John slapped him on the back. "When you find the right woman, you just know." He paused. "I know how you feel."
"Oh?" It was the shepherd's turn to be surprised. A little smile played on his friend's face.
She stood facing the statue. So many emotions swirled inside her. Joy, love, happiness for her marriage. Pride in Daisy, who made her sacrifice with such grace. The girl was not afraid.
Troubled at Violet's expression. The priestess was no fool. It made Elsie uneasy, the fear in the woman's eyes. Perhaps she suspects something.
Shame, guilt and rage over what had happened to Ethel and Lavinia.
Had I been anywhere else, I would have stopped him.
It unnerved her that such a thing had happened here, on Midsummer, on her day. It almost smelled to her of someone lurking in the shadows.
Or perhaps not.
Evil men do not always care what day they set their plans in motion. Neither do the gods, if they have mischief in mind.
Perhaps she was just being overly suspicious. After all, the king had attended for the first time in years. The crowds were larger, more travelers had come to Downton.
"There you are," a voice startled her out of her thoughts. Isobel came through the doorway from the garden, smiling. "My cousin tells me you are to be congratulated." She held out her hands and took Elsie's, then embraced her. "May you be blessed, you and Charles both."
For a split second, Elsie thought she saw a spark of fear in the woman's eyes.
Steady on, girl.
"Thank you," she said, feeling her trepidation melt away at the thought of her husband. A warm smile spread across her face. "We did not do things in the traditional way. I'm afraid we shocked Violet."
"Oh nonsense," the woman scoffed. "Charles actually doing something quickly for once is shocking in and of itself!" She linked an arm through Elsie's, leading her to the bench by the wall. "You are in much better spirits than the last time I saw you here. Am I correct in thinking you have found a way to be together with the one you love?"
It impressed her that Isobel remembered their conversation. "Yes," she replied. For a while.
"I'm glad," Isobel patted her hand as they sat down, "because you were so devastated when you were last here. No one should have to endure pain if they don't have to."
The mention of pain reminded Elsie of her troubled feelings. "How are the women? Ethel, and Lavinia?"
Isobel's face grew grave. "Ethel will be all right in time. She has only a few bruises, but her fear, and her anger, will linger for a while. Lavinia…her wounds will heal. But I fear her spirit is broken." Tears filled her eyes. "She will carry that night with her for as long as she lives."
Elsie felt a lump in her throat. "Is there no hope for her?"
"Some," Isobel wiped her eyes. "Her cousins have been wonderful. They do anything for her. And everything they say about her father is encouraging. They say he will not blame her for what happened."
Closing her eyes, Elsie let out a breath. That is what she needs more than anything. Kind, patient, and loving family and friends.
A young woman with dark eyes and rich wine-colored hair poked her head around the corner. "Priestess," she murmured, "Lavinia wanted to sit in the garden a little while. Helen went to lay down, so Violet and I brought her. Your cousin wanted you to know."
"Thank you, Ethel," Isobel said, her eyes gentle. "Come in, if you want. Elsie and I were only talking."
Misery marred the young woman's face, tinged with more than a little anger. "No," she snapped. "I told you yesterday I won't have anything to do with Eala. Some help she is – a total stranger saved me from Lavinia's fate! The goddess had nothing to do with him!"
It was as if someone had stabbed Elsie with a dagger.
"Well," Isobel seemed unfazed, "if you change your mind, the temple is always open to you." Ethel disappeared around the corner, her eyes hard.
Her very being reeked of hostility. Elsie could hardly blame her.
Swallowing hard, she turned to the priestess. "Do you-do you think Lavinia would mind if I saw her? I-I only want to give her comfort." If I can.
Isobel hesitated, then nodded. "If you aren't too long."
Elsie got up and went into the garden. Ethel was cutting several dahlias in one corner. Tears were visible on her face. Violet sat on a stone bench near the center, by a riot of tall yellow ranunculus.
A pale woman with light rose-colored hair sat, half leaning against the older priestess. A chill went down Elsie's back.
Both of them have reddish hair.
Like mine.
"Lavinia?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The woman turned her head slightly. In her eyes was an expression of such suffering Elsie lost her breath. She licked her lips. "My name is Elsie." She slowly walked toward the bench, moving until she knelt down next to it.
Reaching out, she touched Lavinia's hand. It was cold. "I-I am so, so sorry," she whispered. "It was not your fault. None of it was your fault."
"I know," the woman said. Her voice was soft. "I-thank you for your concern."
Her pain and grief are almost too much to bear. She has wept until she feels almost nothing. But when she does, her anger will begin. And after that?
The only consolation was that beneath the woman's desolation, Elsie detected a strength, like a tree cut almost to its roots. Almost, but not quite.
Her spirit is damaged, but not broken.
"May you have healing," she whispered. No other words seemed necessary. She pressed a soft kiss to Lavinia's hand before getting to her feet. The young woman blinked and her chin wobbled, an unshed tear dangling in the corner of her eye.
Without looking back, Elsie returned inside. She strode to the center of the stone floor, turning in a circle before facing the altar. Isobel rose from the bench but said nothing. Silently, Violet wandered to the arched doorway and stood next to her.
The statute of Eala stared vacantly into the quiet room.
"She should have been here," Elsie whispered, staring at the blank figurine, tears running down her face. "She should have protected those women from such a monster!"
It is my fault. Had I not been so enamored with Charles, I would have been there to help them.
"The goddess has many obligations," Isobel said quietly. "I am sure her absence was for a good reason."
Elsie did not regret her marriage, or her love for Charles. But what had happened reminded her that though she was in mortal form, desperate pleas addressed to her could not be ignored.
Never again. This must never happen again.
With this awareness came another understanding.
Violet came and stood beside her, looking up at the statue. "It is not the fault of the divine when evil strikes – though the man may have been influenced by one of the gods. That we do not know. But it may have been of his own will." Her eyes softened. "Eala no doubt knows that she does not, cannot control the actions of men. Whether they have dark intentions towards women or others. Or," she turned slightly to the figure next to her, "when they fall in love with a goddess."
It was as though the very air held its breath. Elsie could see tiny particles hanging in the sunlight as it fell from the high windows onto the floor.
Gazing straight in front of her, Elsie opened her mouth and sighed. The air stirred again. A sparrow high up in a window sang. "I will not," she murmured, "insult you by asking what you mean."
A strange sense of calm filled her. She – they – know.
They know who, and what, I am.
"Nor would we expect you to," Isobel crossed the floor and stood on her other side, her hands folded on her waist. "But will you forgive us for not addressing you with the proper respect?"
Elsie turned and looked into her eyes. "Yes. You…were not meant to know. No mortal was."
She knew instinctively not to reveal herself in divine form in front of the two women. There is no need, not when their eyes are already open.
"Perhaps not," Violet said. "But the heavens have been alight for days, and the very earth blossoms because of your joy. Love is kindled even in the most unlikely of hearts. I have served in this place for many years, and my cousin has long studied your ways. We would be poor stewards indeed if we did not recognize the Divine Lady when she made her presence known."
Then the priestess, servant of Eala, once a mortal queen herself and mother to a king, curtsied until her knees were on the floor, her head bowed. Isobel did the same.
"Rise," Elsie said. They did so. She swallowed, feeling the steady rhythm in her chest. The sign of her mortal form. "You must already know this, but I will be plain – only here, in my house, will we speak of this." A slight smile curved on her lips. "We are safe here from the ears of those who would use this knowledge for evil purposes." She sighed. "I have brought terrible danger to you, and to this kingdom. But," her voice wavered and her heart skipped a beat, "There are friends in the heavens who know of my plight, and even now are helping to lessen my peril, and thus your own."
The priestesses exchanged a glance. "Thank you for that. If it sets your mind at ease at all," Isobel stepped forward hesitatingly, "we have been watching for any sign or whisper of your appearance in the village, and beyond, since before Midsummer. The reputation of your beauty has spread far and wide, but no one has yet guessed who you are."
"There is one besides us who needs to know," Violet said, her voice strong. "You know this yourself."
For the first time, Elsie felt her calm waver. "What-what if he doesn't believe me? Then I have risked all for nothing. He would think I have gone mad. And if he does believe me…" she bit her lip, her heart pounding, "will he not think I am simply using him for my own pleasure? You both know well what my reputation is."
"Truth is a high virtue, even among the divine, is it not?" Violet asked. "You must try. Neither of us can say what he will think. Neither can you."
"If harm comes to anyone else," Elsie's voice broke, "it is my fault. I have long sought only my own pleasure and happiness. It was only when I came here…that I found my balance. Found peace." She put a hand on her forehead. "The gods are not always wiser than mortals. As much as we would have you think so."
"And you think your actions will harm others because of your so-called folly?" Isobel tucked an errant strand of hair back. "The gods do not always adhere to rules. Who is to say only harm will come of your being here? It may be a blessing."
My love for Charles, a blessing? She had been so worried about the adverse effects of her devotion, and the potential danger from her father and Victor, that the idea had not occurred to her. Elsie looked at Violet, who wore an expression she could not read.
"I believe in rules, and traditions, and playing our part," the priestess proclaimed. "But there is something else." Her voice trembled. "Despite my fear for Charles, for our people, for this kingdom…I believe in love."
Elsie smiled as her heart regained its steady beat. "As do I. Above all else."
That evening, in their shared home, the couple lay together whispering quietly. "You seemed troubled when I left with Daisy," Charles ran a finger over his wife's brow. "But when I came back, you looked as though a weight had left you. Your talk with the priestesses went well?"
"Yes," Elsie kissed him, her lips lingering against his mouth. She had not figured out how, or when to tell him, but the burden of her secret was no longer carried alone. "They had wisdom in abundance to share."
"Good," he gasped, his hand sliding down to her hip. "Do you want to share it with me?"
"Not just now," she whispered. Her fingers ran through his wild hair, untidying it further. "I was hoping to share what I feel for you. Unless you would rather hear wisdom," she teased.
"It can wait," he said in a strangled voice.
The knowledge, and the wisdom, would wait for another day. But their love would not wait for the night to come.
A/N: Please review if you have time. Thanks a million!