The next morning was spent in fashionable idleness, talking in the library, strolling in the grounds, inspecting the gardens, and taking a leisurely luncheon in a summerhouse by a delightful lily pond. It was hard to appear so nonchalant and unconcerned, but it had to be done ... and done well. As the hours ticked relentlessly away, Anthea’s resolve faltered now and then, but Jovian’s support was always to hand, his words of encouragement and love renewing her strength.
Late in the afternoon, the Lavender Lady made another progress through the lines, this time culminating in a sham attempt by Obed Dennis to force her into the wicker cage. The crowds shouted encouragement to him and then aped great wrath when he was forced to let her go again.
But her second escape was what the rites demanded, and it would only be on her third appearance that she would actually be shut in the cage. If all went as Sir Erebus intended, she would walk alone to the rites across the lavender field as the full moon rose and be taken as she approached the neck of wheat. On the other hand, if all went as Jovian planned, it would be Sir Erebus himself in the cage.
They returned to the castle as the evening’s shadows grew long and the sky golden, but Jovian parted from her in the courtyard because he and Huw had matters to attend to. As far as any listening ears were concerned, the matters in question pertained to estate business, but in fact they concerned the plan to bring down Sir Erebus Lethe and his accursed rites.
Anthea entered the castle alone to prepare for her final and most important appearance as the Lavender Lady. She found Abigail waiting in the great hall, where candles were being lit.
“Good evening, my lady,” the woman said, although through gritted teeth, Anthea thought.
“Good evening. I wish some honey cakes to be brought to my rooms directly.”
“Honey cakes, my lady?” Abigail looked surprised, to say the least.
“Yes, the ones of which the duke tells me he is so fond. I understand he requested some to be baked today?”
“I... believe so, my lady.”
“Don’t you know?” Anthea looked inquiringly. “You are aware of the cakes I’m referring to, aren’t you?”
Abigail recovered. “Yes, my lady, and if His Grace requested them, then they will have been prepared.”
“Good. He wishes them to be taken to his rooms directly, and I would like some as well.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“And some kykeon, if you please,” Anthea prompted.
“My lady.”
“Now, if you please.”
“My lady.” Pure loathing shaded Abigail’s brown eyes as she inclined her head, then walked away to attend to the honey cakes. The swish of her brown gown made the candles flicker.
Anthea gazed after her and murmured, “Believe me, my dear, you are more than welcome to Sir Erebus Lethe.”
Cynthia was waiting in the King Hal suite and immediately began to attend Anthea. A warm bath scented with a little lavender oil had been prepared, and as soon as Anthea had undressed, another maid took the gown of flowers away to be refreshed in readiness for the evening ceremony.
A little later, her dark hair tumbling loose about the shoulders of her robe, Anthea sat on a window seat to enjoy the cakes and kykeon Abigail brought. She was careful to show approval of the honeyed delicacies, which she declared to be the most exceptional she had ever tasted.
Outside it was now getting quite dark. The sunset was fading, and the fiery shades had turned to deep azure. Occasionally she heard music drifting from the green by the church, and the jingle of bells as morrismen danced. Once, much nearer, maybe even down in the torchlit courtyard, she heard a girl singing “Lavender Blue.” The atmosphere was so intense that the air seemed to crackle with danger and suppressed excitement. She was conscious of the last sands of the great nineteen-year cycle draining away. Soon the full moon would rise. Anthea gazed past the old gatehouse at the shadowy, suddenly mysterious park. Please let them rescue poor Corinna and consign Sir Erebus Lethe to perdition!
Abigail remained in the suite to make certain Cynthia understood the important details that must not be overlooked if everything were to proceed smoothly. Certain herbs had to be applied to Anthea’s forehead, the locket must be worn in an exact position around her neck, and her hair had to be brushed a set number of times, then combed very precisely. Lastly, the coronet of fresh lavender had to be placed on the Lady’s head at the proper time, neither too soon nor too late. The rules had been laid down over the centuries, and nothing must be overlooked or changed.
Anthea appeared to be preoccupied with the honey cakes and kykeon while all this was being discussed, but in fact she was waiting for an opportune moment to empty the contents of the laudanum vial over the cakes she had not eaten. She pretended not to be taking any notice of what was going on around her, but the moment Abigail and Cynthia were diverted by the return of the other maid with the gown of flowers, she applied the laudanum. No one saw, and the trap was set.
With a satisfied sigh, Anthea licked her fingers and got up from the window seat. “Those cakes are absolutely exquisite,” she declared, as she washed her hands in a silver bowl of aromatic water. “Why don’t you finish them?” she said to the three others in the room.
Abigail hesitated, but then went to take one. Cynthia and the other maid followed her example, and Anthea took great pleasure in watching them eat every last crumb. They began to dress her but were soon stifling yawns. They all succumbed to sleep at the same time.
Abigail had just put the last touch to the Lavender Lady’s hair when she sank to the floor, and Anthea was intrigued to note that the laudanum appeared to have had an unfortunate side effect. The woman’s ears grew long and brown, and two long buckteeth protruded over her lower lip; it was almost certain that she now had a scut as well, but Anthea had no intention of looking to see. The two maids collapsed into chairs, arms dangling, mouths open.
Anthea was relieved that the stratagem had worked well and prayed that Jovian’s similar sleight of hand with Sebbriz had been as successful.
“It has indeed, my darling, for the old dog now snores it to raise the castle roof. But take no chances with your three graces. Tie them up with ribbons, and put handkerchiefs in their mouths. That will keep them completely out of mischief until it is all over and done with.”
Over and done with? Oh, please let that be the outcome.
“It will, sweeting, it will.”
Following his advice about the ribbons and handkerchiefs, Anthea soon made certain her three victims would not be able to move or raise the alarm if they awakened. Then, looking as the Lavender Lady should, but with the sprig of mistletoe pushed into the tight bodice of her gown, she left her suite.
Before going down to the great hall, where Jovian would now be waiting for her, she went first to Lady Letitia’s rooms.
Her aunt was sleeping comfortably, a faint smile of contentment on her lips. Reassured, Anthea withdrew again and then went down to Jovian. There were servants in attendance in the great hall, but they were now as Anthea had never seen them before, wearing masks and antlers, animal skins, and primitive costumes. Such things she had seen at May Day festivities, when all had been lighthearted and enjoyable; like this, they were frightening.
Her mouth had gone dry as she embarked upon the brief conversation she and Jovian had practiced during their night of conspiracy. “Where is Sebbriz, Jovian? I thought he would be here to be sure we left on time.”
“Oh, he h-had things to do—hic—so I told him I would not need him again t-tonight.”
“What a coincidence,” Anthea replied, “for I have just said the selfsame thing to Abigail, and I told the maids their duties were at an end for today as well. They worked so hard to prepare me and dress my hair that I thought it was the least I could do.”
“My—hic—thoughts exactly.” “Have you remembered the mistletoe?”
She nodded, and he offered her his arm to go out into the torchlit courtyard, where the remaining servants waited, all garbed like those in the great hall. As soon as the Lavender Lady appeared, the courtyard erupted into shouts, whistles, and animal noises, and the servants streamed out of the castle to run noisily across the park toward the Scotch pines.
Anthea’s heart pounded as Jovian conducted her beneath the gatehouse and along the drive to the ha-ha. The servants’ racket could now be heard from the lavender field and was suddenly joined by a great roar from the wheat field, where the people of Cathness had assembled.
“Courage, my darling,” Jovian said quietly, as they followed the path that led to the pines.
“I’m so afraid that we may have overlooked something, a tiny detail that will make all the difference.”
“We haven’t overlooked anything, and in a short while now we will be victorious.”
Huw was waiting at the edge of the lavender field with two horses, having hidden in the trees until the castle servants had passed. The moon was about to peep above the horizon, and already there was a touch of blue across the far-off clouds of night. By now Anthea’s heart was pounding so hard that she felt almost faint. Her skin felt cold, even though the night was warm, and she trembled visibly. She was painfully aware that Corinna’s very life now depended upon her.
Jovian led her past the Scotch pines until they were halfway along the lavender field, then he drew her warmly into his arms, and kissed her passionately on the lips. “You can do it, my love, and Huw and I will be ready to do what is necessary.”
“But if I fail...”
“You won’t,” he said firmly, taking her by the shoulders and looking urgently into her eyes. “You have all the strength that is needed, and you have my unending love. We are doing this together, Anthea, and as one we are invincible.”
A timid smile crept to her lips. “Invincible?”
“Of course,” he whispered, then drew her close to kiss her again. “Huw and I will be near you throughout, so do not be afraid. Soon it will all be over, and we will have Corinna safely with us again.”
As the moon’s rim appeared at last, the bell of Cathness parish church sounded once, to signal that the time was exactly twenty-five past ten. As the full moon’s uncanny blue light began to slant over the countryside, Anthea heard a rustle of anticipation from the wheat field. Jovian kissed her forehead. “Go now, it is the moment to begin your walk,” he said softly.
Almost in a dream, she turned and stepped into the lavender. The scent of the blooms filled her nostrils, and she was aware that she was not in contact with the ground as she walked slowly toward the scene of the rites. Her gown felt more and more like real flowers, cool and gentle against her legs as the train dragged behind her. This was the vision of herself that she had seen when first going to the castle.
When she was halfway across the field, she ripped the locket from around her neck and tossed it away. It fell somewhere with a slight chinking sound, but she neither knew nor cared where. Almost immediately, she felt as if a great weight had been lifted and replaced by a new strength. She could do this; she really could!
The crowds in the wheat field waited expectantly as the moon’s light fingered further and further above the horizon, the ghostly blue beams stretching until at last they touched the neck of wheat. A sigh went up, and almost immediately the slow clip-clop of hooves carried from along the lane. Two riders came into view, Hades and his Persephone.
Sir Erebus, unaware that things had begun to go very wrong, was again dressed in his black robes. He had no idea that Abigail, his eyes and—literally—ears, was tied up and insensible, as was his guard dog, Sebbriz. The fact that they had not come to him assured him that all was well as he led Corinna’s palfrey. The Harvest Maiden was in her flowing white gown, her golden hair, so completely the opposite of Anthea’s raven curls, cascaded loose over her shoulders, and she again carried the bunches of wheat and wildflowers.
Anthea reached the edge of the lane and halted to watch her lovely stepsister. “We’ll save you, Corinna, I promise,” she breathed.
As Persephone and her dark lord entered the suddenly silent field, Anthea stepped into the lane to approach the field entrance. Suddenly Obed Dennis barred her way. The burly innkeeper stood arms akimbo, and for a terrible moment, Anthea thought she had been found out, but then she remembered that he was supposed to be here like this, in order to succumb to Demeter’s will.
The only things that might go wrong at this point were that he might perceive that Jovian and Huw were following at a distance on their horses, or that she was not wearing the locket. She met his eyes squarely, challengingly almost, and after a moment he stepped aside and bowed low to let her pass. His heavy tread was just behind as he followed her into the wheat field. Further behind still, unheard but there all the same, were Jovian and Huw.