Chapter 9: Yellow Flowers

"I'm glad he's dead," Lydia said in a flat tone.

"He was an honourable soldier, doing his duty. It could just as easily have been me," Darcy replied softly.

Lydia was staring at the fallen man, her expression the same.

"Come away, Lydia," Elizabeth said, leading her elsewhere. "It's done, and it's as well. This man meant us harm, though the reason's still not clear."

Darcy had been cleaning his sword on the ground, but now rose and came towards them. "It's true my Saxon kin in this country live in good harmony with your people. But we've reports at home of Lord Brennus' ambitions to conquer this land for himself and make war on all Saxons now living on it."

"I don't understand," Elizabeth said. She noticed that her father was peculiarly silent. "Why would this Lord Brennus risk the great peace won by Arthur…that is, when you spoke earlier, it sounded as if much bloodshed occurred before peace, not that I have much recollection of any of it."

"That Brennus entertains in his castle a dangerous guest," Darcy commented, and Elizabeth saw him glance at her ever-silent father. "A Norseman said to possess the wisdom to tame dragons. It's my King's fear Lord Brennus means to capture Querig to fight in the ranks of his army. This she-dragon would make a fierce soldier indeed, and Brennus would then rightly harbour ambition. It's for this I'm sent to destroy the dragon before her savagery becomes evern worse than it is now, turning on all who oppose Lord Brennus."

Sir Bennet finally spoke. "Querig is too wild to be tamed by any man." Her grabbed his horse Horace by the reins, and walked over to Darcy. "It's a great sadness this tranquil spot, surely a gift from God to all weary travellers, is now polluted by blood. You should bury this man quickly, before anyone else comes this way, and I'll take his horse to Lord Brennus' camp, together with news of how I came upon him attacked by bandits, and where his friends may find his grave."

"You're leaving?!" Elizabeth asked, shocked. Even Lydia turned in surprise, and Darcy looked almost contemptuously at Sir Bennet.

"Well, someone has to cover this up and prevent further damage," Sir Bennet replied.

Elizabeth started. "But what about us? The monastery? We can all help Darcy bury this man, and you can take us to the monastery. Wouldn't that be the best way to prevent further damage?"

Sir Bennet walked over to them and put his arms around Elizabeth and Lydia. "Unfortunately, girls, that is not possible given this situation. You will have to wait here until the burial is done, and then Darcy will take you to the monastery, where you will all await my return. I must to Lord Brennus' camp, and give an explanation of what happened here to avoid further trouble."

He hugged both of them, but Elizabeth was too shocked to take in her father's goodbye. Darcy stood near the body, his eyes as cold as stones.

Sir Bennet, once his goodbyes were done, turned to Darcy. "Meanwhile, sir, I urge you return straight away east. Think no more of Querig, for you can be assured Horace and I, hearing all we have today, will redouble our efforts to slay her. Now, put this man in the earth that he may return to his maker peacefully, and think no more of slaying dragons."

"I fear, Sir Bennet, Lord Brennus will not believe such a story," was the only response Darcy made.

"He'll believe it well enough," Sir Bennet replied. "There's a coolness between us, but he has me for an honest fool without the wit to invent devious tales. I may tell them how the soldier spoke of bandits even as he bled to death in my arms. Some will think it a grave sin to tell such a lie, yet I know God will look mercifully on it, for isn't it to stop further bloodshed? I'll make Brennus believe me, sir. Even so, you remain in danger and have good reason to hurry home."

"I'll do so without delay, as soon as my errand here's finished," Darcy said coldly.

"Speed is crucial, so be on your way and never mind your errand. Horace and I will see to the she-dragon, so you've no cause to think further of her. In any case, now I've had time to dwell on it, I see Lord Brennus can never succeed in recruiting Querig into his army. She's the most wild and untameable of creatures and will as quickly spew fire on her own ranks as on Brennus's foes. The whole idea's outlandish, sir. Think no more of it and hurry home before your enemies corner you."

Elizabeth thought she saw intense hostility on her father's features.

Darcy did not bother responding, but started poking his sword into the ground, and Elizabeth realised that he was looking for softer soil to start digging the grave.

Sir Bennet was insistent. "Do I have your word on it, Master Darcy?"

"On what?"

"That you'll think no more of the she-dragon and hurry home."

"You seem keen to hear me say so."

"I think not just of your safety, sir, but of those on whom Querig will turn should you arouse her. And what of my daughters, who travel with you?"

At this, Darcy scoffed openly. "It's true, the safety of your daughters has become my responsibility. I shall go beside them as far as the monastery, for I can hardly leave them defenceless on these wild roads. Thereafter, it may be best we part."

"So after the monastery, you'll make your way home."

"I'll set off home when I'm well and ready, sir knight."

Darcy had asked Elizabeth and Lydia to keep watch on the road, as he dug a grave for the soldier. Elizabeth saw that Darcy was using the dead man's sword to dig the grave, remarking that he was reluctant to blunt his own on such a task.

Elizabeth had offered to help, but Darcy had absolutely refused, stating that they still had a long way to go and that she needed to conserve her strength. She wondered at the meaning of this, because the monastery could not be more than two or three hours from their location, even though night was falling. Nevertheless, she complied with his request.

Lydia had climbed a small elm tree nearby to get a view from the road from afar. It was odd, Elizabeth thought to herself. Lydia had never been an active sort, and now, she was almost animal-like, clambering up the tree.

Elizabeth stood nearby below, watching the road from the opposite direction. From her position, Elizabeth turned back to look at Darcy. The warrior was now waist deep in the ground, and perspiration had drenched his forehead. Elizabeth was upset by all that had happened. She understood rationally that had the soldier lived, he would have orchestrated death for Darcy as well as Lydia. But she also felt a sadness for the slain man. She remembered the soldier's courtesy towards them on the little bridge.

She suddenly looked back to Darcy, dug up earth all around him. Something in the way he looked tugged on her memory, and now with the stillness in the air, Elizabeth remembered a blue sky, and a flock of sheep coming through the heather.

"It can't be rosemary, sir," she remembered saying, rolling her eyes and her tone wry.

Darcy had been crouching down in front of her, one knee pressed into the ground, for it had been a fine day and the soil dry. She could remember his shadow on the forest floor before her, as she parted the undergrowth with her hands. His hair was longer, face younger and full of brightness, but still holding the same commanding demeanour that he did even today.

"It can't be rosemary, sir. Who ever saw rosemary with such yellow flowers on it?"

"Then I have its name wrong," Darcy had said. "But I know for certain it's one commonly seen, and not one to bring you mischief."

"But are you really one who knows his plants, sir? My mother taught me everything grows wild in this country, yet what's before us now is strange to me."

"Then it's likely something foreign to these parts lately arrived. Why distress yourself so, maiden?"

"I distress myself, sir, because it's likely this is a weed I'm brought up to fear. You ask silly questions."

"Why fear a weed except that it's poisonous, and then all's needed is not to touch it. Yet there you were, reaching down with your hands, and now getting me to do the same!"

"Oh, it's not poisonous, sir! At least not in the way you mean. Yet my mother once described closely a plant and warned that to see it in the heather was bad luck for any young girl."

"What sort of bad luck, maiden?"

"I'm not bold enough to tell you, sir."

But even as she had said this, Elizabeth remembered crouching down beside Darcy so that their elbows touched for a brief moment, and smiling into his gaze.

Elizabeth could remember now the feel of the wind in the branches above, and the presence of Darcy beside her. Could that have been the first time they had conversed? Surely they had at least known one another by sight; surely it was inconceivable she would have been so trusting of a total stranger.

"If it's such bad luck to see it," Darcy had said, "what kindness is it to bring me from the road just to place my gaze on it? Recall that you summoned me here to help with your lost bucket."

"Oh, it's not bad luck for you! Only for unmarried girls. There's another plant entirely brings bad luck to men like yourself."

"You'd better tell me what this other looks like, so I may dread it as you do this one."

"You may enjoy mocking me, sir. Yet one day you'll take a tumble and find the weed next to your nose. You'll see then if it's funny or not."

And now Elizabeth heard the deep laughter she had kept hearing in her Visions. Darcy had laughed at her, deeply, openly, such a beautiful sound that she joined in despite herself.

"You are truly evil sir, making me laugh at myself," she had said.

"My most sincere apologies, maiden," Darcy had said, still laughing. "How can I make up for my ill-manners? I am at your service."

"What would a soldier like you know about serving a humble farm girl like me?" she had replied teasingly, and the memory of the joy she had felt at the time washed over Elizabeth in waves.

"Princess, I certainly think I know as much as farming as you know about flowers," Darcy had said. "Besides which, I was raised a farmer as well as a soldier."

"Princess?" she had asked questioningly.

"The way you have been commanding me about, how can you be anything but a princess, and I your humble servant?"

Some loud noise brought Elizabeth back to the present time. Lydia was screeching something, and Darcy was making his way towards them in a hurry. Elizabeth realised then that she had seated herself on the ground, in shock of her own memory.

It dawned on Elizabeth that her Visions were no visions at all…they were memories from her past. A past in which she had known Darcy, met him, teased him, laughed at him…and fallen in love with him. She did not have all her memories with her yet, but Elizabeth just knew it.

However, she was not able to dwell on this, as she realised that Lydia's screeching had nothing to do with her own collapse.

"Are you all right?" Darcy asked her briefly, and she nodded.

"Lydia, what is it?"

"He's coming up the road! Look! It's Wickham!"