The Centaur (11 page)

“It was nothing unusual.”

“The Master says that we are ready to proceed.” Christopher told him. “I was surprised to learn that my mystery held so much about this place.” The youthful looking man waved one hand toward the summit of the mountain. “I didn’t know that Mount Sinai qualified as a Holy City. Perhaps there was more here than the Scriptures allowed. There are ruins up there that seem to bear out the suspicion that there was once a sizable population of people inhabiting this area. The Temple of Jethro was a fairly extensive complex at some point. Very interesting to say the least.”

“I’m sure.” Mark nodded and stopped short of the canopy in front of the tent. “Where’s Edgard?”

Instead of proceeding further, Lucio stepped up on a bench beside a small table and sat down on the top. Mark took a seat on the bench.

“He’s at Simon’s tent with Simon’s boys and Konrad. They are going over the final preparations for the procession,” Christopher told him as he unfolded a canvass stool and sat down.

“Procession.” Mark nodded and repeated the word.

“Should be quite a parade, Brother. I volunteered to be the clown.”

“Ahhh. That should have fit with the Master’s plans.” Mark nodded solemnly. “Has Corrigan been behaving himself?”

“Like a pet schoolboy. You should see them together.” Lucio grumbled. “For two centavos, the Master would throw me out on my ear and replace me with his pretty son. Nothing ever really changes, does it?”

“No, not really, only our perspectives.” Mark looked up Lucio and the Italian looked away from him quickly.

“I am not worried about it. It just seems ironic. Here we are about to die, no doubt, and the same petty quarrels go on and on. I had hoped after my descent things would be different.”

“And so they are. You seem to appreciate the truth of the matter now.” Mark smiled at Christopher. “You are looking well, Christopher.”

“I never had the opportunity to thank you, Brother, for saving my life so many times.” Christopher also looked away from him and his face turned dark with embarrassment. “I realize that I would not even be here if it were not for you. I just wanted you to know I truly appreciate what you did for me.”

“I was always selfish, Christopher.” Mark told him. “It is one of my failings. I like to keep things too long. They either wither and die or turn to stone. Even blood dries into dust.”

“That’s a morbid thought.” Lucio commented and then watched curiously as Mark opened one of the many pockets on his trousers. He pulled out a small wooden box carved with pomegranates and palm trees. “Aha! Solomon’s treasure.”

“Mmm hmm,” Mark frowned and lifted the lid. The sparse remains of the Tree of Life lay in the box like granules of instant coffee. “Not much left.”

Mark Andrew laid the box on the table. “Edgard will be happy to have it back, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Lucio mumbled and ran one finger over the carvings on the box.

Mark stood up and stretched his arms over his head.

“Which way to Simon’s tent?” He asked and raised both eyebrows. “Time to be the consummate party pooper.”

((((((((((((()))))))))))))

“Sophia?” Mark blinked at her face which was only inches away from his.

“Mark?” She did not move back, but continued to look into his face.

“You
are
Sophia?” He asked.

“Of course, don’t be silly.” 

A cold blackness covered his eyes and he tried to get away from her.

“Mark!” She appeared again, this time further away. “What are doing?!” She was clearly frustrated and he could see that the blackness had been caused by a wet cloth compress that she was trying to use to wash his face. He felt hot and cold and sweaty. “Hold still now. You’re shivering. We have to get this cleaned up and see if you need stitches.”

“Stitches?” He frowned and then slowly became aware of pain on his forehead, pain at the back of his head and several pains from the hard surface on which he was lying. “What happened?”

“You apparently fell.” She dabbed at the cut on his forehead and he winced. “It looks superficial.”

“It doesn’t feel superficial.” He tried to push himself up and she protested.

“Hold on a minute, Daddy.” Nicole’s face hovered over him momentarily and then disappeared.

“Meredith?” He jerked his head up, trying to follow her movements, but Sophia pushed him back with too much force. Pain shot through his head.

“
Oww! Look, lassie, I’m foine. Let me up now before ye kill me.”

“What did you say?” Two worried female faces appeared over him.

He waved them away and pushed himself up on one elbow. He was lying in the hallway and they were kneeling beside him.

Nicole and Sophia helped him to his feet, both of them plying him with questions. What had happened? Where had he been? Why had he been there? Where was he going? Why didn’t he call them? Was there an intruder? And so and so forth as he stumbled into the kitchen and sat down at the long table.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea, Daddy,” Nicole told him and busied herself at the stove.

“Now tell me what happened.” Sophia sat down across from him and took his hands in hers, staring intently into his face.

“I fell.” He said carefully as the memories of what had happened in the lab returned. “Tripped over something, I think.”

“Then you’re not sick? Do you feel dizzy?”

“No. Just pain.” He looked past her, watching curiously as Nicole put the kettle on the stove and set about making a pot of tea.

“Nicole.” He repeated her name softly and Sophia leaned slightly to the left to block his view.

“Mark? Are you sure you are all right?” She had heard him say Meredith’s name distinctly. Mark did not know Meredith except as the Queen of the Britons. Sometimes he frightened her with the things that seemed to come out of the blue. Somewhere inside that skull were memories she really wished that he would never regain.

“The Queen.” He nodded and smiled at her and she sighed in relief. “Meredith is the Queen. Nicole is not her daughter. Meredith… Merry Ramsay is Luke Matthew Ramsay’s wife. Luke Matthew Ramsay is the King of the Britons.”

“Yes, Mark. That’s right. The Queen is upstairs and so is Queen Oriel of the Franks. They are upstairs talking. Do you want to see them? Is there something you would like to tell them? Anything?” Sophia felt that the bump on his forehead and the one on the back of his head were more severe than she had first believed. “Can you see clearly? How many fingers am I holding up?”

She held up three fingers and he counted them, touching the tip of each one as he said the number out loud, but when he came to the end, he kept going and folded her fingers down.

“I’m fine,” he said more convincingly. “Really. Just give me a moment or two. That tea smells good, Nicole.”

The blonde woman dressed in jeans and a bulky sweater set three cups, honey and cream on the table.

“You were fooling about in the cellar again, weren’t you, Daddy?” Nicole asked as she went back for the pot. She brought the ceramic teapot to the table and then went back to urge the kettle to boil.

“A watched pot never boils,” Mark answered her, but kept smiling at Sophia.

“Yes they do,” Nicole objected. “You just have to watch long enough. I don’t think you should go down there alone, Daddy. Something’s weird down there. Wacko. I thought I heard someone screaming down there last night.”

“Oh?” Mark’s eyebrows went up and then down quickly as the movement caused pain.

“You need a bandage.” Sophia got up. “I’m going to get the first aid box.”

Mark watched as the dark-haired woman headed off toward the front of the house.

“Nicole!” He was up instantly.

“What, Daddy?” She looked at him in surprise when he took her hands.

“You heard screams down in the cellar? Last night?”

“I said I thought I did. It was probably just a dream.”

“Where is Luke Matthew?”

“He’s in Egypt or Arabia or somewhere.”  She frowned at him. “Look, Daddy. Go sit down, please. You’re not well. I don’t care what you say. You are not well. Luke Matthew could give a rat’s ass about you and you should know that. He was deplorable.” She turned back to watching the kettle as he stood looking about the kitchen in confusion. “I wanted to slap his face, I swear. He could have at least acknowledged your presence. He should realize that any improvement over the
Chevalier du Morte
is an improvement. It must be sort of like what happened when Luke Andrew fell off in the Abyss with King Ramsay. That’s when his attitude toward dear, old Father started to change. I’m afraid I never got to know him, but look at me, rambling on like this. Here we go, look out, now.” She swung around with the kettle and took it to the table to fill the teapot. He followed her and sat down again.

“I suppose I was a bit jealous of Andy…” she stopped and laughed softly before setting the kettle back on a trivet. “I haven’t called him that in years. It was our little secret. He wanted to have a special name that didn’t belong to anyone else, you know? He asked me to call him Andy. Of course, Paddy called father Andy and then Simon’s little boy was called Andy. You know, I don’t think I ever heard our father call him anything other than ‘lad’ or ‘
boyo’. What is that anyway? I thought it was Irish.”

Nicole rambled on while Mark listened carefully. She came back to the table and sat down. As she prepared three cups of tea with honey and cream, she talked on. “Anyway I guess I was jealous of Andy. He had the opportunity to know our father or, at least, a facsimile of him different from the one we knew as children. You are nothing like him, Daddy. You are the daddy I always wanted. You’re fun and you like me, don’t you?”

“Of course, I like you, Nicole.” He told her solemnly.

“And mother.
Shhhh.” Nicole shook her head. “She was always worried that Daddy would find out this or Daddy would find out that. I think Meredith was afraid of Mark Andrew. I really do. She tried to hide everything we did from him like she thought he would kill us or something and maybe he would have. I understand more now than then. I just thought he was a grumpy old man at the time, but now I know he wasn’t a man at all.” She looked at him with wonder in her eyes. “And dear old mum? Wasn’t even a woman. How nice. What does that make me? What does that make Andy?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head slowly. “What does it make you?”

“It makes me very sad to think the only good memory I have of my real father is when we danced together at someone’s wedding or birthday or something. I was so proud that he was paying attention to me… just me! Not Meredith, not Lucio Dambretti, but me. And then, when he came to America and told me I had to come home and marry Lucio, I thought that something had changed. Something had changed all right, but it wasn’t his feelings for me. It was his feelings for the Golden Eagle.”

“You know I could really have gotten into that… being a wife and all. I sort of liked the Italian. He had a lot of spunk. You know? He liked to do things. Travel and stuff. I remember mother used to show me pictures of her travels with him when they were married. I find it hard to believe that she could have left him for Mr.
Icewater. Lucio had everything a woman dreams of… looks, money, looks and more money.” She laughed and Mark laughed slightly. “I mean you should have seen how he lavished his affection and his money on that woman… what was her name? Yasmin? Jasmine? The one that hangs out with my dear half-brother, the Mighty Djinni!” She held up both of her arms and made a sour face. “The Mighty Djinn! A cream puff. I should find him right now and cast him in a pit. I could, you know. I could best him now. He had me mullygrubbed, I’ll say! But I could lick him with one finger!” She reached across the table and poked Mark’s ribs. “Cheer up, Daddy. You and me, eh? You and me against the world?”

“Sounds great. You and me against the world,” he agreed and looked up as Sophia returned with the little white box. “What day is it?” He asked suddenly as Sophia plopped the box on the table. A low, moaning wail indicated that the wind was picking up outside.

“October 15.” Nicole answered his question.

“The fifteenth?” He looked about in panic as Sophia pushed him down in order to put antiseptic on the cut. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Why? It’s not your birthday. I know that. You were born in December. We’re not sure of the day, but we celebrate it on the 21st, the Winter Solstice. I used to think that it was a cheat to have your birthday on the shortest day of the year. I wanted mine on the longest day, June 21st. Just like it is, the longest day. But then, I found out what the Solstice meant. The Oak King and the Holly King. Daddy was like that. A king. Always a king. He could be killed, but he would always come back…” her voice trailed off and even Sophia looked at her suspiciously. “Well, not always. The death blow.” She drew one perfectly manicured fingernail across her throat.

“Nicole!” Sophia finished making a bandage for Mark’s forehead. “You’re scaring Mark. Stop it.”

“She’s not scaring me, Sophia.” Mark countered. “I find her… story most interesting. You really loved your father, didn’t you, Nicole?”