Chapter 13: Oath of Fealty

Loud pounding on the back door woke Brigid from a thin sleep troubled by ominous dreams. Pulling on her robe, she stumbled through the night-dark house, noting the time, 11:47, and thinking to herself that whoever this was, they had better have a good story to tell.

She flipped the back porch light switch, but nothing happened. Of all the times for a bulb to burn out. Grabbing the big utility flashlight which hung by the back door, she swung the intense light directly through the glass, and then uttered a little cry of surprise.

There stood a mud-covered Anton, wincing from the brightness, tear-tracks cutting pale streaks down his round cheeks and into his beard.

"Oh, sweet milk of Mary, what the hell happened to you?" Brigid unbolted the door and drew him into the kitchen with a warm embrace, ignoring the mud that flaked off everywhere.

He plopped down onto the nearest wooden chair, which gave a dangerous creak under his weight. Then he took her into his arms and just held her there for a long while, head against her breast, faintly trembling, while she unbound his long, earth-encrusted hair.

"Did you walk all the way out here?"

"Yeah. I tried to get Regina to drop me off, but she wouldn't."

"Regina, huh?" This tale was going to be worth listening to, but not necessarily in a good way. "Let me put on some tea. Chamomile, so it won't keep us up all night."

He shook his head, agreeing. "Are the kids here?"

"Down the hall. I guess they didn't hear you, because otherwise they'd have joined us already."

"Good. 'Cause I just want to talk to you right now, Brigid. And I need to get cleaned up, too."

"We can manage that. But can you at least give me a hint what this is about?"

He kicked off his mud-coated leather giant-shoes, then took off his embroidered belt and outer robe. Turning to her with an anguished face he said, "Brigid, I did something terrible tonight..."

As Anton told Brigid of his encounter with Regina, she ran hot water into the claw-foot tub, tossed in a couple of squirts of dish detergent besides, then swirled the water with her hand to make mounds of white foam. When Anton sat down in the tub, the bubbly suds peaked up over the sides like the topping of a lemon meringue pie.

Brigid grabbed a loofah. "Lean over and I'll get your back."

When she switched to the front, he laid his head back, eyes closed. "I needed this."

"You know, Anton, I think you did the right thing."

He sank under the water, then surfaced like a seal, his long dark hair streaming-wet. "I guess magic beans just aren't meant for this land."

She dragged an old milk stool close to the tub. "It would have been terrible if beans had gotten across the Line. I don't even want to think what some people might do with them."

"This world's as full of dangers as the Enchanted Land, isn't it?"

"Nowhere's safe. Nowhere's perfect. And while I may look settled here in Storybrooke, I've always lived my life ready to pick up and go at a moment's notice." She laid her hand on his forearm, not caring if the rolled-up sleeve of her robe got wet. "Ever since Cora died, I've known it. I look at that broken clock in the square every time I walk through the center of town, and it's like a message."

"Regina gave me papers, a license, stuff like that."

Her face brightened. "Good. Just make sure you don't use that driver's license right away. Let Carl and I teach you how to drive first."

He pouted. "Jacques let me drive the yard tractor. It even has gears, like the truck."

"Well, that's more advantage than Alex had when she learned on the five-speed." Then Brigid sobered. "Sooner or later, the dwarves are going to find out, and they're going to blame Regina, which I suppose isn't far off the mark."

"Like I said, Brigid, Regina was going to do it no matter what."

She leaned up against the tile wall, wishing that the claw-foot tub would fit them both. Right now she wanted nothing more than to curl up on Anton's chest and close her eyes. No reason to get her night-clothes sopping wet, though. So she slipped out of her robe and flannel nightgown, the bathroom warm and humid as a sauna.

She plunged her arms in the warm soapy water and started to wash her own face. "Anton, I know you're not supposed to talk about what happens in group, but can you tell me this? Carl really wants to leave Storybrooke, right?"

"More than anything."

"Then why hasn't he left?"

He didn't even have to answer. His expression told Brigid everything she needed to know.

"It's because of me, right? Because he doesn't think I'd want Alex to go."

Anton just nodded, then pulled himself up so that water slopped a little. "You know, I've been wanting to say this for awhile. I want us, all of us to go over the Line together. Like, like—"

"Like a family."

He blushed deeply. "That's right."

Inside Brigid, something warm and wonderful took wing. That soaring feeling of lightness fluttered around the big bathroom, taking in Anton's pile of muddy clothes in the corner, her robe and nightgown neatly hung on a hook, a pile of towels on the floor left by Carl or Alex, who knows. Then there was Anton, thoroughly filling the tub, and wearing nothing but bubble-bath soap and a smile just faintly tinged with anxiety along the edges.

Unsure because he still wasn't confident of what she was going to say in return, no doubt. There was only one answer, though, and as Brigid said it, the soaring hope let loose by Anton's words took full flight, passed through the walls of the tile-lined room, surged through the roof, to spread out across the whole night-blanketed sky. "Of course," she answered. "I would love that, too." She leaned over to kiss him, and when her breasts fell onto his soapy wet chest, they both laughed.

"We'll tell Alex and Carl in the morning."

He rose out of the tub like some huge sea creature, water streaming everywhere. "Maybe they'll have something to tell us, too."

"That wouldn't surprise me at all," said Brigid.

Brigid's bedroom was dark and cozy, full of velvets, bright-colored scarves draped everywhere, and pillows thick with embroidery. Squeaky-clean and dried, Anton crawled into the old four-poster bed, sliding up against Brigid as he entwined his thick legs around hers. Brigid brought him close, nuzzling his face and hair, loving how their bare skin slid together, the herbal smell of his breath, his soft damp masses of hair, the taste of honey on his beard where he'd missed a spot with the napkin.

He said, "I'm no good at making up what to say at a time like this. You know, to pledge ourselves to each other."

"Don't worry about perfection. What would you have said, back in your old home?"

"I wasn't the eldest, so I wouldn't have had to make the declaration. That would have been Arlo. But it went something like this." He took in a deep breath, which she could feel all down the length and breadth of him. "'We thank you, mistresses of our hearts, for entering into our castle and our lives.' Even if I don't have a castle anymore."

"That's beautiful, Anton. I never wanted a castle, anyway. So I'll say the same to you, and change it around so it's just for us. 'I thank you, master of my heart, for entering into my castle and my life.'" And everywhere else you've entered. She laid her cheek alongside his, hoping he could feel her smile in the darkness.

He lay there wide-eyed and solemn as he pulled her close. "Thank you."

She breathed into his ear, her voice low. "A fresh start, new places, it's kind of exciting, isn't it?"

"You have no idea."

As she ran her hand all the way down his front, checking, she laughed a little. "Not what I meant, but yes. Oh, yes."

Later, Brigid lay by his side, glowing over every inch and listening to his light breathing, his hand draped around her belly and head pillowed snugly on her arm. All at once she was licked by the same flame-like desire for exploration which had sent her across the Atlantic in a wind-blown wooden sailing ship a century and a half ago.

Brigid woke to the sound of footsteps shuffling down the narrow hallway. A bathroom door opened, then closed. The rich smell of freshly-brewed coffee filled the air.

"Hmmm?" said Anton, rubbing his eyes against the bright morning light which shot relentlessly through the half-drawn blinds.

"It's the kids." She stretched over, squinting at the clock. "Oh, sweet mother of mayhem, it's eight-fifteen. The goats must be frantic."

She scrambled for a flannel shirt and pair of overalls, while Anton had to make do with his long linen chemise and a blanket, wrapping it around himself like a shawl.

Alex and Carl, both dressed in t-shirts and sweat pants, were already sitting at the kitchen table by the time Brigid and Anton got to the kitchen. Alex said, "Hi, Mom. Hey, Anton, we missed you last night at supper."

Carl just gave Anton a sober nod, his long face unsmiling, brown hair all bed-tousled.

Alex pointed to the tracked-in mud. "You been doing some late-night gardening, Anton?"

Anton still sounded a bit sleep-befuddled. "Something like that."

"Boy, Mom, you must really like him. You'd have hit the ceiling if Carl or I made that kind of mess." As Brigid reached for her rubber wellies, Alex said, "Where you going?"

"Bonnie and Bluebell—"

"It's OK, Brigid," Carl said. "We took care of that a few hours ago. The cans are in the refrigerator in the barn."

Brigid sank into a kitchen chair. "You two, you're invaluable. Seriously. OK, you guys, Anton and I, well, we all have to talk."

"Yeah, Mom, Carl and I have got something to tell you, too."

Brigid almost spit out her coffee, struggling to keep her face impassive. She glanced over at Anton, who didn't seem to be fazed at all, then back to Alex. "OK, honey. You first."

Alex hesitated, but Carl gave her an encouraging nod. "Carl and I have been talking, a lot, ever since the dance out at the farm. I know I've only got like a month of school left, and you thought that after I was done I'd be able to help you a lot more with the restaurant. But Mom, that's not what I want. It's not what Carl and I want."

Carl said, "We want to leave, Alex and I. But we haven't brought it up till now, because we weren't sure what you thought."

"I didn't say anything, because I didn't think I could just, you know, uproot you two."

"Mom, everything's started to uproot already. Haven't you noticed?"

Carl added, "A lot of people have felt this coming."

"Alicia and Jen left with Mara just the other day, Mom."

This hit Brigid with a shock. "They did?"

"Mom, all they did was go over the Line. It's no big deal. I mean, we still have our phones. They've been updating their Facebook pages like every 30 minutes."

"No, it is a big deal. I've been such a fool, thinking that even after Astrid and the nuns left, that everything would just sail on its merry way. You saw it too, Carl, and I didn't really listen to you, either. And Anton, we should have talked more about this, before it came to a crisis."

"We're talking about it now," Anton answered.

Brigid tried to pull herself together. "So, Alex, is there anybody left going to school at all?"

"Mr. Gale, he said yesterday that he wasn't going to be there on Monday. Today's his last day, and that's just to collect his books and clean out his desk. He didn't have to say anything else. I know exactly what he's going to do."

Brigid said, "It sounds like school's not going to be an issue. That's one less thing to worry about."

"You could always home-school me for a month. Not like you haven't done that before."

"Car-schooling, more likely. Because we may be on the road for awhile."

"Well, Mom, like you always said, education is something that extends way beyond walls."

Brigid laughed, then looked over at Anton. "See what happens when you teach them to talk? They remember every word you say, then hand it back to you, gift-wrapped."

Carl took a sip of coffee, then cleared his throat. "Um, so about Alex and I leaving—"

"Yeah, Mom, it would be really nice if—"

Brigid took Anton's hand. "Would you like a matched set to accompany you?"

Alex leaped up, almost spilling her coffee. "Oh, my God, Mom, finally. It's about time." When she hugged Anton, the quick kiss she aimed at his cheek missed and landed on his temple instead. "I'm not calling you 'Dad,' though."

"You don't have to," Anton said.

Brigid raised her coffee mug. "So it sounds like we're all agreed. Here's to our fellowship."

Everyone raised their cups. Then Alex remarked, "Hope we don't meet any orcs on the road."

"The only ones we'll have to worry about are the human ones," said Carl.

"Orcs can be part human," Alex protested.

Brigid beamed. "We're going to do this. But first, Anton's got to bring you up to speed on something. Who's up for cheese omelets?"

Everyone was, so Brigid cooked while Anton told his story for a second time.

Anton was busy savoring the omelet which Brigid had just set in front of him, four eggs running with melted feta cheese. If heaven had been sauteed in butter and lifted hot from the pan, that's what it would taste like.

Suddenly he dropped his fork, and it hit the plate with a clatter.

Brigid laid a hand on his arm. "What's wrong?" He barely felt her touch, and her voice came from far away.

There weren't any words for what passed through his whole body like a vibration. The plant in Regina's office slept quietly, portal beans hanging heavy in their pods. Even though still green, the plant was starting to die. Still, her sleep was full of quiet satisfaction, as if she'd accomplished some pleasing task and was now ready to join her sisters in the Source.

The high-pitched shrieking which he felt all along the length of his nerves didn't come from her, but rather from Regina's sprig, the one he'd given her so that she could prove to Henry that return to the Enchanted Land was possible. The sounds of the kitchen faded, as well as the yellowed walls and kitchen table, along with the smells of breakfast. Everything melted into a dull greyish white.

Suddenly, Anton saw Regina's piercing dark eyes, then the round childish face of Henry Mills.

The sprig. Anton was seeing what the sprig saw, feeling what she felt. But because she had no words to interpret her experience, all Anton could see was Henry's young face as it changed from curious to perplexed to terrified.

Still partially attached to his body, Anton could sense Brigid and the others as they circled around him, shaking his arms as they made worried sounds, but he couldn't respond. The frightened cries of the bean-sprig drowned out everything. Regina's voice rose, angry, followed by Henry's urgent, angry protests. Regina thrust the sprig at the boy with sharp, harsh motions, which made Anton reel with dizziness, and before he could help himself, he started to topple over.

They lowered his head to the table, and so many hands supported him all over: head, neck, shoulders, under his arms. Henry's voice grew low and urgent as he begged his mother for something, Anton couldn't tell what. The wood of the table was cool against his cheek, and he shivered a little. He tried to ignore everything except what the plant was trying to tell him, but all he could make out were tiny shrieks of fear and terror. Something very bad was going to happen, and soon.

Then, all at once, the scene with Henry and Regina shut off just like the truck's radio. Brigid's kitchen swung into view and Brigid patted his cheeks, not hard enough to hurt, but with enough force to get his attention.

"Anton! Anton, tell me what's going on."

"Mom, oh my God, do we have to take him to the hospital?"

"Anton, talk to me!"

He half-pulled himself up, helped by Carl's strong grip, and sat up, blinking in the morning sunlight that poured through the kitchen window.

Brigid pushed her face right into his. "Talk, damn it, or we're going to the ER in Bangor right now."

He waved and gave a weak smile."It's OK. I'm OK. See?"

"What the hell happened there?"

Anton accepted a refill of coffee, and in between sips said, "Look, I'm all right. It was just strong, stronger than I expected."

"What was strong?" Brigid wanted to know.

"You know that piece of the bean plant I told you about, the one I gave Regina? I, well, heard it. I saw what it saw. Regina was talking to Henry, showing it to him, and then Henry got scared, really scared. And angry. After that, everything went black. Not black for me," he said hastily, seeing the alarm on Brigid's face. "But black for the plant. Like she put the plant in a box or something."

"Her purse, Mom," Alex said. "Regina must have put the plant back in her purse. Right after she did whatever she did to Henry."

"So you're feeling better?" Brigid said, focusing more on Anton than on what he was saying. "No headache, not dizzy? Vision normal, not blurred?"

"None of that stuff. Brigid, I'm really OK. It's just never happened that strong before. It's what the plants do, to warn us. Or did." Suddenly it washed over him, that never again would the bean plants call to him as they once did. "Like if crows came to the fields to eat the harvests. The plants would let us know, so we could chase the crows away. Or if the moths laid their eggs. We could pick them off before they turned to caterpillars."

"I don't think I'd want to see giant caterpillars," Alex remarked. "Ugh. The ones we have around here in the summer are bad enough."

"Can you stand?" Brigid asked him.

Anton waved his arms and turned around once, then twice. "See? Whatever it was, it's over. But like I told you, Regina did say that if we were going to leave, we should do it soon."

"I agree," Carl said. "If Anton's all right, and you don't need me, I'm going down to the cannery to give notice, pick up my pay."

Alex added, "I want to go by school and say good-bye to Mr. Gale. Carl can take me."

"I'm keeping an eye on you for the next half-hour or so," Brigid said to Anton.

After Carl and Alex left, Anton hung his robes outside on the back porch, alternately sponging them and brushing off the dried mud. Beneath the solid brown coating, the giant-land robes were ruined, covered with scorch marks and even holes in some places. The long black streaks made the fabric weak and friable, and there was very little which could be saved.

Back in the kitchen, he took Brigid's kitchen shears and carefully snipped off the metal spangles which had decorated his once-rich red robes. Soon there was a pile of gleaming bluish-gray metal on the table, many of the small circles dotted with centers of blue or gray gems.

"Jacques seemed to think they were worth something," Brigid remarked.

"Well, whatever they're worth, they're all of ours now."

"We've got to go to the bank. I need to cash out the account, and in the safe-deposit box I have a few pretty gems of my own."

Anton nodded, standing there in his thin linen chemise and nothing else. Brigid looked him over and said, "You're fetching, but more than a little déshabillé for Storybrooke. Maybe I should run over to the rectory first and get your things—"

Just then the telephone rang.

Brigid went into the living room to answer it, where Anton could hear her murmuring for a moment or two. "Well, speak of the devil… No, no offense intended..." She made a dry laugh, followed by a long pause.

While she talked, he examined his trousers, which he'd hung up to dry by the stove. They were mud-streaked but wearable, and he slipped them on. That, with his shoes, made him as dressed as he was going to be.

Brigid was finishing up her conversation. "All right, we'll be there in a few minutes... I don't care, they can wait… Yes, he can explain everything… No, don't say anything to them. Wait till we get there... OK, good-bye."

As she came back into the room, Anton said, "What now?" He didn't like the skeptical rise of her eyebrows, or the wry, humorless twist of her mouth.

"That was Jacques. He has a house full of dwarves, all back from the bean field, all hopping mad and calling for somebody's head."

(continued)