Rite of Passage (28 page)

I stole a look at Courtney. She struggled furiously, trying to free herself from the chains that held her. Everyone remained frozen, transfixed as they watched the terrible spectacle of Courtney Phillip’s smoldering body.

Simon lifted his head scanning the low ridges surrounding the ritual circle. Looking, I hoped, for someone or something, but as I scanned the tree-filled landscape there was no sign of anyone.

But as I ran through the flames licking at Courtney’s feet, I glanced back to see a group of men descending from every direction. Like vengeful angels, men wearing the battle dress of the Royal Marines showed on the ridge, weapons poised. The figure standing next to a horrified Duncan threw off his hood and raised his weapon. None other than our companion, Lionel.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you.” He gave me a cheerful nod as he sneered at Duncan. “Robbie.” Lionel nodded and shook his head. “Damn hot under that robe.”

“Save yourselves! Get away from here as quickly as possible,” Wendy screamed. As the Druids ran, they found their escape blocked in every direction. One or two managed to evade the Marines. I quickly turned my attention to the beautiful girl chained to the cross.

Chapter Forty-Five

The sickening smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils. Courtney Phillips’s young acolyte scrambled frantically, trying to find escape. I lost track of her, my attention fixed on the massive pile of dry twigs and logs flaming out of control. They crackled and sent sparks into the moonlit sky.

I shot a look at Courtney. She hung chained and unconscious. Someone had struck her. A large bruise showed on her right cheek and blood ran from a gash over her eye.

“Michael, Gwyn! Help me,” I yelled. Gunfire erupted on the ridge and the entry path. I ran down the hill and up the steps, furiously kicking away the flaming kindling and small logs from the pyre beneath Courtney. Phillips’s remains lay immobile, smoldering below us. Too late for the man who orchestrated this cruel adventure.

Michael retrieved his handgun and ran to join me next to Courtney. He aimed at the tempered steel padlocks but shook his head. “Too dangerous. I’m shaking. I may blow her hand off. Find something to loosen the stake.”

I stood, searched and found two long poles. We dug feverishly around the base of the stake while Marines sprayed the flames with water, bringing the fire under control. Simon and Nigel had thought of everything. How could I have doubted them?

The fire had been extinguished by the time we freed the stake and placed it and Courtney gently on the ground. “Courtney. Courtney, darling, can you hear me?”

She moaned and opened her eyes for a moment. “Robbie,” she whispered. “You did come. You are my Perseus. I knew you would be. Hold me.” And I did, bending over, struggling to put my arms around her. A Marine captain appeared with bolt cutters. In a few seconds, Courtney was free.

Her wrists were bruised, discolored, and cut, as were her lips and arms. She had been no willing captive. I kissed her gently and pulled the Smith and Wesson from my belt, then rose. “Gwyn, watch her. I have something to do.”

“No, Robbie. Please. That’s not our way.” She shook her head violently, grabbing for my handgun. I turned in search of Duncan. “Please, Robbie. You’ll be—” Before I got ten feet several shots rang out. As I looked up, Simon and Michael stood over the twitching remains of Duncan Wellington. Each held their handguns loosely by their sides. As he fell to the ground, a shot rang out from a weapon Duncan had concealed beneath his robe. Simon flinched and grabbed his arm.

Michael approached him but Simon shook his head. “It’s nothing,” I heard him say as he covered the flesh wound with his hand.

Simon looked toward the sky, made almost daytime bright by the light of the full moon. The light Courtney and I were to celebrate our union beneath. Wellington lay lifeless on the blanket of pine needles and leaves. I walked deliberately across the distance that separated us. When I arrived at the scene, I raised the handgun in my belt—a .45 automatic. I cocked it and with hands shaking, threw it away.

It was over.

“Robbie, she’s calling you and Simon.” It was Gwyneth.

I ran back to Courtney. I wanted no more of this. My only concern was Courtney. Her face wore a gray pallor.

“No, no,”
I screamed. “I didn’t travel halfway around the world to lose you.”

As I watched, a young lieutenant wearing the insignia of the medical corps ran up to us. The medic working with him had a bag with plasma and attached it to Courtney’s arm. I clenched my fists as I saw her dark bruises. The doctor began examining her, taking off the cotton sacrificial robe that she wore, covering her with thick woolen blankets.

I grabbed his arm. “She seemed so strong, so defiant only a few minutes ago,” I pleaded. “She’s going to be all right isn’t she?”

“They”—he gestured toward the remnants of the Druids now being herded like sheep by the company of Royal Marines—“mistreated her badly. How long was she their prisoner?”

“Four days, maybe more,” Michael answered.

“Doesn’t look like they gave her much to eat or drink. They wanted to keep her docile and weak. She’s suffering from severe dehydration and—”

“They kept my angel in a dark cell with no food, water, or clothing.” It was Mrs. Mac. She lay on a stretcher with an IV in her arm. “When they thought she was trying to communicate with one of you, they beat her—
those animals
.” She raised her head and spat the words as she scanned the area for the Druids that remained alive. I crossed the few feet and squeezed her hand. “Will she be all right, Mr. Robert?”

I looked back at Courtney, lying on the stretcher, her breathing shallow and labored. “I know she will,” I answered, swallowing deeply. “She has to be.”

“Let’s get her to the hospital. She’ll need all the help we can give her.” With that they carried her up the low ridge to an ambulance waiting on the access road we had followed in. I got in and rode the few miles to the estate where a helicopter waited. She remained unconscious for most of the trip, opening her soft, dark eyes twice. I dabbed her swollen lips with a moist towel.

“I knew you’d come, Robbie,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “Always knew. Never doubted.” Then she lost consciousness.

****

Courtney lay in her room. The Royal Marine medical officer had relinquished her care to a team of specialists. Simon explained they were family members—experts at dealing with the special characteristics of witches.

“Remember, Courtney had not become a goddess. That would have happened on the night…” Simon turned away, unable to complete his thought. “Courtney was so powerful and so good.” He shook his head. “But in so many ways, Robert, she was still a young woman, innocent, a child really. Using her powers to heal and communicate took a great deal of energy. It sapped her life force.”

I remembered the day—had it only been a week ago—when she communicated with the animals at the petting zoo. In no time, she fell asleep as we rode toward Naples.

“I understand. It all makes sense now,” I said as a frightening thought crossed my mind. “She tried so hard to communicate with us.”

Simon held up his hand. “Not with us, Robbie.” He took my hand, squeezing it. I realized he had never called me “Robbie” before. “With you.”

“And yes, she was trying so desperately to reach you it took so much of her strength.”

I looked at her, ghostly pale, lying quietly, breathing still shallow and labored. Michael entered the room, his arm around Gwyneth. Behind them, Jonathan, Gretchen, and several other family members from the States crowded in.

Jon raised his eyes, then backed away hesitantly. I walked to him and held out my arms. “I’m so sorry, Robbie. I had no idea how this would turn out, about Duncan, any of it.” He broke down, sobs wracking his body. I found myself patting his thick gray hair, consoling him, trying to ease his guilt.

“I know, Jon. I know,” I assured him as Gretchen joined in, hugging us both. I realized what the import of this powerful gathering implied. Courtney, my beautiful angel, the soul mate with whom I hoped to spend eternity was very, very weak, hovering near death. It would take a miracle for her to survive the night.

I asked the others to leave. They balked, but Simon smiled kindly and herded the others from Courtney’s room, adding, “Do your best, son.” It was a gamble worth taking. I covered her with blankets, gave her sips of water and ice chips, then lay down beside her, cradling her slender frame, sharing the warmth and energy from my body. I did my best to transmit my thoughts, constantly telling her how much I loved her, that she was safe, and that I would never leave her again. I willed her strength and life force to return.

Sometime in the middle of the night, the effort overcame me. I lost consciousness. The next thing I remember was Michael and Gwynny gently shaking me as the sun streamed in through the curtains. A gentle breeze brought the familiar scent of jasmine to the hospital room.

“She looks wonderful,” Gwynny said beaming as she watched Courtney. “You’re good medicine.”

“Very good medicine.” Michael nodded and smiled.

I sat up and looked over at Courtney. She was breathing deeply and regularly. Her color had returned. As I stood up, she let out a groan and opened her eyes. She looked briefly at Mike and Gwynneth, giving them a warm smile. But she reserved her special smile for me.

“Thank you, darling. I heard every thought you sent. They helped more than you’ll ever know. Now.” She looked up at me. “If our friends will give us a private moment, I want to kiss you.”

****

Courtney lay sleeping peacefully. I kissed her softly and left the room. Gwynny, Michael, and other family members would join me in taking turns sitting by her bedside while she regained her strength.

Simon stood at a long window, his regal features posed in a pensive expression. His look caught me by surprise. “Simon?”

“Yes, son. You’ve done wonders with Courtney. She seems much stronger,” he said as he turned and gave me a curious smile. “But you must have questions.”

I nodded. “We defeated the Druids, but Courtney and I were never joined in the ceremony. What will happen to the world, to mankind? Does this mean chaos and anarchy will have free rein?”

“Walk with me.” He put his arm around my shoulder.

We went down the steps and out into the sunny dampness of the English dawn as light filtered through the tall maples and oaks. He led me to a small garden and a marble bench. He motioned and we sat down.

“I’ve been meditating on that all night.” He wore a serene look. “Are you familiar with Edmund Burke, Robbie?”

“An Irish statesman and philosopher from the late eighteenth century, if I remember my history correctly.”

“Very good. Yes, Burke was a sage intellect.” He nodded and paused. “As I was meditating his most famous quote came to mind.”

I searched my memory but came up empty.

He saw I didn’t understand. “Burke said ‘All that is necessary for evil to triumph is that good men do nothing.’”

“I still don’t understand, sir.”

“For generations—hundreds, perhaps thousands of years—we who practice the craft have been using our special powers to help mankind. But as I meditated, it suddenly struck me that whatever force created this planet and those who inhabit it, also gave them free will.” Simon searched the morning sky and sighed deeply. “Mankind has a great capacity for evil, but it’s my hope that it has a greater capacity for good. We’ve done enough, Robert. It’s time for the Burke’s ‘good men’ to stand on their own.”

Epilogue

Late August, 1947

Wendy Wilkins would spend the rest of her life in a facility for the criminally insane. Duncan Wellington and Courtney Phillips had paid the ultimate price for their greed, hatred, and treachery. Once Phillips’s spell was broken, the Druids of his group were stunned and ashamed. They returned to their peaceful ways, angered and chagrined that they had almost destroyed a beautiful young witch. Despite their regrets, they would still face the wrath of the pagan council. That secretive, somber body of venerable shamans would decide their fate.

Another chapter was added to the growing book that formed my education about my pagan peers and the world we inhabited. Simon explained, “When you have people with the kind of awesome power and abilities that we do, you can’t allow them to go through the world wreaking havoc. So during the Renaissance, after the terror of the Inquisition, and the Burning Times, our ancestors established a ruling body to assure that none of us used our powers for evil. Witches, Druids, shamans from all pagan beliefs comprise the council. I’m a member but will recuse myself from this tribunal because of my personal involvement.”

“How many will go before the council?” I asked.

“Fewer than a dozen were actually complicit in my son’s wild scheme. Most of them were under his spell, so their punishment may be light. Three escaped—including the girl Brighid. She was very close to him.” Simon shrugged. “Our brothers and sisters will search for them but no one knows where they’ve gone.” He patted my shoulder. “Have no fear. You and Courtney are safe. I guarantee it.”

****

Courtney and I galloped across the luxuriant high meadow we had ridden in June. Courtney rode her splendid gelding, as I followed gamely on Pumpkin Patch. Courtney now lived with Jon and Gretchen, managing Wendy’s stable and giving riding lessons. Thanks to some help from Michael, she was enrolling in Dartmouth’s new equestrienne program in the fall. By another strange coincidence I chose to transfer from the Crimson to the Big Green myself.

The grass in the meadow was taller and wore a dark, golden hue. It smelled sweet and warm. Courtney and I dismounted. She took the small urn from her saddlebags and walked past the beautiful lake vista and waterfall toward the natural altar where Ellen’s ashes were buried.

“I do
not
understand why you’re doing this. He was a cruel, vicious man who wanted to see you burned at the stake. To make you suffer to pay Simon back for what he imagined was an injustice.”