Chapter Nine
The days of the May celebrations were coming to
a close. The guests made
their way onto the castle grounds as the time for the lighting of the bonfires
approached. Servants milled about the castle preparing to dampen the fires in
the hearths that would be relit, come morning, using the feast fires from the
night’s celebrations. The time-honoured ritual celebrated new life and the hope
for a prosperous year.
Dwynwen’s
thoughts, however, were consumed by Maelon’s plan to ask for her hand. She
could not contain her excitement, her movements restless and rife with
anticipation.
Not only would the
traditions be honoured symbolically but if all went well with Maelon and her
father the King, they would also be a true celebration of new beginnings.
Anxious to see her
prince before the lighting of the fires, she parted from the company of her
sisters to seek him out from among the guests.
After searching
for some time through halls and chambers, and being unsuccessful, she made her
way back toward her group of young companions, her step slow with
disappointment.
She wended through
the castle corridor, her eyes on the stone floor when large hands slipped about
her waist, pulling her into a small dark alcove.
Dwynwen gasped,
but the hand clamped over her mouth stifled her cries.
“Hush Dwynwen,”
Maelon growled, his voice deep and seductive. She felt his breath on her neck, melting
her back into his embrace.
“I count the
moments until we are together, my love,” he whispered into her ear, his kisses
trailing down the side of her neck, “my Dwynwen.”
“My heart beats for
you, my prince,” she said, trembling and breathless.
“Look for me
across the glow of the feast fires. I will be admiring your beauty from there,”
Maelon turned her around in his arms, and
even in the dark his gem-like blue eyes pierced through her. “And imagining
your lips on... mine.”
The prince leased Dwynwen
and she fell to her knees. She looked up, only to see that he had disappeared
from the dark corridor. Righting herself against the wall, she steadied her
breath before she crossed the great hall and joined the crowd forming outside,
around the great wooden structure, set to burn throughout the night.
Chapter Ten
Gwen awoke the
next morning exhausted from a restless night. Tossing and turning into the wee
hours of the morning, she’d dreamt about people and places she’d never seen
before. A jumble of images, she couldn’t remember much of what she’d dreamt
except for the chapel. When she closed her eyes she could still see every
detail.
Shoving the
journal into her satchel on the way out the door, she raced to the side of the
house, pulling her bicycle from the garden shed. To reach the inn she’d have to
ride clear across Angel’s Cove and into the neighbouring town but it would be
worth the time and effort.
She wasn’t through
with Mr. Pryce, not just yet.
Slinging her
satchel over her shoulder she mounted her bicycle and headed to Placentia
* *
* *
The rich aroma of
chocolate wafted from the kitchen window greeting Gwen when she arrived at the
Traveller’s Inn . Her mouth watered as she
stood by the gate and realized, in her haste, she hadn't eaten breakfast.
Surrounded by budding
bushes and a little white fence, the two-storied, red-bricked inn boasted a
wishing well on the front lawn where a hand-painted sign informed passers-by of
the Breakfast Nook’s business hours. Picturesque, the property was just the
sort of place you’d expect to find when visiting the Cape Shore of Newfoundland.
Although lovely,
Mr. Pryce seemed a little above this quaint type of inn. Then again, perhaps he
appreciated simplicity.
Gwen leaned her
bicycle by the gate, walked up the paved path, and entered the inn. Her stomach
grumbled as she neared the source of the delicious aroma. She tapped the silver
bell sitting on the desk in the empty foyer and a moment later, a woman poked
her head out from behind the kitchen door.
“Miss Evans!” Mrs.
Barter pushed back the kerchief slipping from her hair and stepped out into the
foyer. “What a pleasure it is to see you. What brings you all this way this
fine morning?”
The friendly Mrs.
Barter along with her husband owned and operated the Traveller’s Inn. They
recently celebrated their fortieth wedding anniversary. Gwen remembered seeing
the announcement in the church bulletin.
“It’s so nice to
see you again, Mrs. Barter.” Gwen said. “I came by to see one of your guests.
Mr. Pryce.”
“Mr. Pryce?” Mrs. Barter looked surprised. “I’m sorry but he’s
not in at the moment. He went out early this morning.”
“Oh, I see.” Gwen
replied, unable to hide her disappointment.
“Well now, he did
say he’d be back, only he didn’t say when.”
“Perhaps I could
leave him a note?”
“You could. But I
have a wonderful idea.” she said, untying her white apron from her waist. “I
was just taking out muffins from the oven. It’s a new recipe. Why don’t you
sample one with me. Maybe he’ll return by the time we’re done having a cup of
tea. If not, you can leave that note.”
“It does smell
wonderful, Mrs. Barter,” Gwen noticed a smear of flour on the woman’s rosy
cheek. She couldn’t help but smile. It reminded her of her own mother covered
from head to toe in flour and batter when she lost herself to a baking spree.
The woman smiled
back. “Lots of chunks of chocolate, with bananas and walnuts.” She laughed. “I
love anything with nuts!”
“And I love
anything with chocolate. It sounds delicious.” She thought better of seeing Mr.
Pryce on an empty stomach. She’d need all the energy she could muster. “I’d
love to.”
“Come and join me
in the Nook.” Mrs. Barter said leading the way into the room off the entrance.
She turned in the doorway, taking Gwen’s hands, “Such sad news about your dear
mum. My condolences, dear.”
“Thank you, Mrs.
Barter.” Gwen smiled, imagining the grey-haired woman cuddling her
grandchildren, of which she had many, giving every single one of them the
softest caresses.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, you’re all grown up
now. I insist you call me Bea. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” Mrs. Barter
disappeared into the kitchen.
Gwen took a seat by the window overlooking the
little brook flowing behind the inn. Mr. Barter didn’t see her sitting by the
window as he tending some Boxwood bushes.
She’d been here
before with her grandmother. The room was as cozy and warm as she remembered
with upholstered chairs in a deep burgundy fabric and small wooden tables set
under the windows. A fireplace graced the middle of the main wall, where a fire
burned.
Bea returned
carrying a large wooden tray.
“Oh, it looks so
good.” Gwen’s eyes lit up at the sight of the plate of warm muffins on the tray.
“I think you’ve
worked up an appetite peddling from such a distance on that fine bicycle of
yours,” Bea winked.
“I have.” Gwen
smiled as she spread a little butter on her muffin. “You know, I haven’t been
here in such a long time, Mrs., er… Bea. I’m happy my business brought me by
the Inn .”
“So am I. Now, is
Mr. Pryce a friend of yours, dear?” Bea
asked sipping her tea, with what Gwen though was a twinkle in her eye. “Definitely
a handsome lad with a good head on his shoulders.”
“He’s a friend of my mother’s family,” she
replied matter-of-factly, trying not to react to Bea’s observation of Mr.
Pryce. She continued to drink her tea, hoping there’d be no more questions
about him.
“Really? I wondered if he knew anyone in Angel’s Cove,
he sure was curious about the place. Well-mannered and pleasant, though,
despite the sadness in him. I gather he came in for the funeral?”
Bea’s innocent
question rekindled Gwen’s fragile emotions. “Yes,” she said, swallowing her tea
while she tried to stop the tears from forming.
“Oh my, Gwen, I’m
so sorry for prying. I really do have to learn to control my curiosity.” She
reached over and put her hand on Gwen’s. “Why don’t you take a little walk around
the gardens out back? It’s lovely out
there. I’m sure it’ll help you change your mind a little while you wait for Mr.
Pryce. I’m sure he won’t be very long; he’s checking out this afternoon. You’d
probably like to say goodbye before he leaves.”
Bea began clearing
up their plates, stacking them on the tray.
“He’s leaving today?” This news was
unexpected. Didn’t they have things to talk about? Didn’t he say she was the only one who could
help him?
“It’s what he said
yesterday.” Bea took the tray back into the kitchen, returning a moment later. “When
he gets back, I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” An anxious feeling came over her at the thought
of his leaving without having a chance to clear things up.
“Not at all.” Bea
nodded toward her husband still out in the garden. “You can see if old Mr.
Barter is doing a good job cleaning up the brush out there.”
Gwen chuckled. “He
seems to be doing a fine job.”
“That’s what he’d
like us to believe.” Her eyes softened as she looked at her husband. “He’ll be
in soon enough, on the hunt for something to fill his belly.”
“Well, he’s in for
a treat.” Gwen stood up and took out her change purse from her satchel. “Thank
you very much for the delicious breakfast.”
“Oh, no you
don’t!” Bea clasped her hand around Gwen’s wrist. “You were my official taste
tester, and such wonderful company. Breakfast’s on me.”
“How kind of you,
thank you.”
“Now, go and enjoy
the sunshine. It’s a beautiful day.”
Gwen picked up her bag and slipped out into
the garden as Mr. Barter lumbered up the path, making his way back into the
inn.
“Good morning Mr. Barter.” Gwen held the door
open for him.
“Oh, Miss Evans,
what a lovely surprise.” He smiled, lifting his nose in the air. “My, it smells
good in here.”
“Tastes good, too.”
Gwen smiled.
“I’m sure it does.”
He patted his belly, a big grin stretched across his face. “Didn’t get this manly
figure from eating lettuce.”
Gwen laughed.
Mr. Barter paused
in the doorway.
“We’re so sorry to
hear about your mother. You let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.”
Gwen nodded.
* *
* *
She wandered from
the inn to the garden. The pea-gravelled
path was lined with bushes ready to flower and show off their colours. A
birdbath stood in the center of a circle of red tulips, where a few sparrows splashed
about without a care in the world.
Gwen breathed in
the fresh spring air. She loved this time of year.
Walking along the
path she followed the brook trickling over multicoloured rocks scattered along
its banks. A perfect spot awaited her by a large Maple tree where the morning
sun warmed a patch of soft grass at its base. Gwen sat down, drawing her knees
to her chest.
She slipped the
pendant from around her neck and laid it in the palm of her hand. Turning it
over, she brushed the pad of her thumb across the inscription, lingering on the
name.
Liam.
Reaching into her
satchel she took out the journal and pulled out the condolence card marking her
page. She stared at the bold elegant signature.
Liam Pryce.
She leaned back
against the tree, looking up at the cloudless sky. Holding the condolence card
in one hand and the pendant in the other she listened to the peaceful sound of
the brook babbling a stone’s throw away and closed her eyes.
The screech of a crow in the branches of the
oak tree jolted her.
She looked around knowing there was only one
place to go.
Following the dirt path under her feet, she
ran toward the safe haven awaiting her in the clearing.
No one followed her but somehow it didn’t
make a difference in the dense forest—a place where you didn’t want to linger.
As she pushed aside a heavy branch blocking
her way at the forest’s edge, the clearing appeared like salvation before her.
The chapel’s soft warm glow sent a wave of relief through her, as though she
was returning home from a long journey.
She ran to the chapel and opened the door. A
single candle flickered in the dark where a man kneeled by the wooden altar in
prayer.
Without warning, a gust of wind blew the
door open with such force it knocked over the vigil light as it carried her
inside the chapel.
Startled, the man turned toward the door
looking past her into the night. The expression on his shadowed face made her
look behind her. Outside, a dark and ominous storm loomed, completely
enveloping the chapel. From out of the storm’s center, a large, black hole
opened and a deafening, thunderous roar shook the walls.
The force of it threw Gwen to the floor,
holding her down against the stone, making it impossible for her to move. The
storm raged as crosses, candles and benches flew through the air crashing against
all four walls. She was certain she would be buried alive under the rubble sure
to crumble at any moment.
She summoned all of her strength, turning
her head as she remembered the man at the altar. The sound of his laboured
breathing came from somewhere to the right of her.
Pinned to the floor, he lay face down with
an arm outstretched, reaching for her.
She forced her arm to move up from her side.
It scraped along the cold damp stone floor. The man did the same. Both were
determined to defeat the invisible force holding them against their will.
They were strangers seeking the reassurance
of one another’s presence in the face of danger. As their hands touched a
thunderous crash resounded and the storm began to diminish.
Their fingers entwined and the rage died
completely. The darkness lifted and the force no longer crushed them, freed
from its hold.
The
man lifted his head and turned his gaze toward her. Gwen met the stranger’s
eyes and was taken aback by the pain filling them. Only, she’d seen the man
before, his name was Liam Pryce!
“Good morning,
Miss Evans.” Gwen’s eyes flew open as she heard his voice. Mr. Pryce stood by
the brook, a few feet away from her.
“Where am I?” she asked, startled.
“You’re in the garden
of the Traveller’s Inn , and I must admit, I am
a little surprised to see you.” He closed the distance between them.
“How long have you
been standing there?” She felt
uncomfortable knowing that in her dream only a moment ago, their hands had been
entwined.
“A few minutes,”
he said. “Are you all right? You seem upset.”
“Yes,
I…I’m fine now,” she stammered, avoiding his eyes while hoping he didn’t
possess the ability to read her mind.
“May
I ask why you’re here?”
“I came to show
you something.” She stood up, brushing off bits of grass from her skirt. “It’s
my mother’s journal. I found it while I was looking through some of her
things.”
The condolence
card fluttered out of Gwen’s hand and as she handed Mr. Pryce the leather-bound
journal, he bent down to retrieve the card from where it had landed at his
feet. He rose, examined the card, and handed it back to her.
“And obviously, I also found your condolence card.
That’s how I knew where you were staying,” she said. “Thank you for the flowers.
They’re our favourite.”
“I know,” he replied,
opening the journal.
“How—” Gwen didn’t even want to ask how he knew.
She was baffled enough as it was. “Never mind. I think I came across one of the
names you mentioned yesterday.” She stepped closer to Mr. Pryce, pointing to
the page where she’d found the origin her family’s surname.
“Brycheiniog. Yes,”
he said, thumbing through the pages of the book. “But it’s of royal origin and
not commonly used today. Brecon is the popular version of the surname.”
His voice seemed
to be coming from far away. “That’s what is says in the journal.” Gwen shook her head trying to clear the foggy
feeling overcoming her.
“I thought you
said you didn’t know anything about your family?”
“I don’t. It belonged
to my mother. I didn’t even know she kept a journal.” She stepped back to lean
against the tree, then took a deep breath. “You were right.”
“Right about what?”
She held out the
pendant letting it dangle from her hand. “My mother left this to me. It belonged
to my grandmother.”
“I knew it.” Liam slowly
moved toward Gwen who placed the pendant into his trembling hand. He took out
his pendant from beneath his shirt. “Do you realize, Miss Evans, these two
pendants have not been together since the fifth century?”
“The Fifth
century? How is that even possible?”
“Liam Rhys had
them commissioned as a gift to Dwynwen in the fifth century.”
“How do you know
this?”
“We know that Liam
Rhys loved Dwynwen Brycheiniog.” Mr. Pryce was as white as a ghost, gasping for
air, he could barely speak. “The twin pendants…were a token…of his love for
her.”
“Mr. Pryce, you should sit down. You don’t
look well.”
“I don’t
understand…” He steadied himself against the tree. “Do you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“That sound. It’s
like music…” He held his head in his hands.
“I thought I was
the only one who heard it.”
He looked up and
his eyes met hers. “The sound has been with me for as long as I’ve worn the
pendant, but right now it’s stronger…louder.”
“Please.” He thrust out his arm. “Take it.”
Gwen took her
pendant from him.
“Were you wearing
the pendant yesterday when we spoke?”
His heart raced as he watched her fastened the pendant around her neck.
“Yes.” She
admitted “I should have told you…”
Leaning against
the tree, the colour returned to his face.
“When you fainted
I thought it was because I had upset you. Now, after what I just experienced,
I’m not sure that’s the only reason.”
“What do you think
happened?”
“I don’t know, but
perhaps holding both pendants causes some kind of… reaction.” He stared out
pensively into the garden. “Maybe they hold some kind of a power.”
Her hand went to
the burn mark on her chest. “Have you ever felt anything… strange aside from the
humming noise?”
"Why, have
you?” He pushed away from the tree, no
longer needing it for support.
“I’m having more
dreams than ever before,” she said. “Last night, when I awoke from one, the pendant
was glowing.”
Mr. Pryce didn’t
respond.
“You think I’m
crazy.”
“No, I don’t,” he replied. “I’ve felt some
very strange things myself. It’s the reason I’m here”
“What do you
mean?”
“I came to find
you because of my dreams. They’ve
haunted me and finally, led me to you.”
“What dreams?”
His gaze locked on
Gwen. “A young woman runs from out of a dark forest. Her clothes are bloodied
and torn and she’s crying. She enters a chapel in a clearing.”
“A chapel?” Gwen
whispered.
“ Yes, but each
time I attempt to follow her in, the doors are barred shut. I can hear her but
I can’t get to her. She doesn’t answer when I call out offering my help. I know
she’s in danger and my only thought is to save her.”
“You’re trying to
save her?”
“Yes, the woman’s
running from something and she’s trying to get to it. In the dark of the forest, the chapel seems to—”
“Glow?” Gwen finished
Mr. Pryce’s sentence, a chill running through her.
“Yes.” He looked astounded.
“How did you know?”
“I’ve seen it.” She shook with disbelief. “I
saw the chapel, the woman, the blood, all in a dream. We dreamt the same dream?”
“I don’t-” Mr.
Pryce let out a slow laboured breath and grimaced, rubbing his chest. “I had no
idea it could be possible.”
“Are you all
right?” At the sight of the pain in his
face Gwen’s instincts sparked, making her reach out to him.
“I’m fine. It’s
nothing.” He straightened up and continued. “I’m convinced everything is connected
to these pendants.”
“Why?” Gwen asked.
“I
have my theories,” he replied, looking away. “How many times have you had these
dreams Gwen?”
“Every day since I
put the pendant on.”
Mr. Pryce’s eyes
narrowed. “Are you-”
“Is it true,
you’re leaving today?” Gwen asked.
His jaw clenched. “I am.”
“Why?
“I shouldn’t have
come.”
“You said we
needed each other, it was a matter of life and death. Now, you’re just
leaving?”
“You don’t
understand. Yesterday, I doubted everything those messages led me to believe. I’m
not sure what I expected to find, but I didn’t feel you…”
“I was an ass.” She
interrupted. “I didn’t know how to react. I was scared, confused.”
“You were right to
be wary. You are grieving. And, you don’t even know me.”
“I could have
handled things differently.” Gwen said.
Mr. Pryce shook
his head. “I should have.”
“Well, things are different
today.” Gwen smiled.
Mr. Pryce studied
Gwen’s face, and his expression softened. “It would appear so.” He returned the
smile as he handed the journal back to her.
A warm rush of relief
flooded Gwen’s body as she slipped the journal into her satchel.
“To be clear, I
can’t pretend to understand all of this.”
“God knows I can’t
either Gwen, but you are the woman in those dreams. You are the one.”
When Mr. Pryce spoke
those words, something stirred in her soul.
No comments:
Post a Comment