Breakfast proved a very lengthy affair. Sunlight streamed into the dining room, the French windows stood open, and the scent of coffee, toast, and crisp bacon hung in the air. All eyes were fixed upon Jennifer Avenbury’s portrait. The boys hadn’t been able to offer further suggestions, so it seemed like an impasse.
If only Jenny would come, and say something more, Marigold thought as she stroked Sir Francis. The mallard had wandered in from the terrace, and once again settled on the table beside her. For a while he had added his usual derogatory comments to the discussion, grumbling beneath his bill, and sighing now and then in a long-suffering way. No one paid him any heed, and at last he tucked his head beneath his wing and went to sleep.
The boys had indeed listened at the door for a long time the previous evening, for there was nothing they did not know about the situation. Nor, it had to be said, was there anything they did not take in their stride; but then, apprentice demonologists had to be made of stern stuff, except perhaps when unnamed but frightful fiends might be in the offing.
Marigold eventually felt she had to say something about their calm acceptance of it all. “Aren’t you two in the least dubious about this? After all, it isn’t every day that someone tells you sinister druids are at work, and that a lawyer can transform himself into a large black bird, or that a talking wren is really a sixteenth-century woman.”
Bysshe answered her. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but Celtic mythology is full of birds and shape-shifting. The children of Lir were turned into swans, Branwen trained a starling to speak so she would be rescued, the singing of birds could suspend earthly time, Rhiannon’s birds were harbingers of the Otherworld, ravens were oracles ... Oh, it’s endless.”
“So are stories about fairies and ghosts, but do you believe them?” she asked.
“I don’t disbelieve. Until there is proof that they do not exist, I have an open mind,” Bysshe replied.
Rowan smiled. “That’s fair enough. So tell me, sir, what is your theory concerning this wheel business? We could only think that it was something to do with going around the tree.”
Bysshe thought for a moment. “Well, the wheel is a favorite Celtic symbol. Everything the druids and Celts did was connected with the yearly cycle, which may be viewed as a circle ... or wheel, I suppose.” He glanced around at the others.
Perry sat forward. “So the stones here and at Stonehenge are a circle, but may also represent a wheel? Is that what you’re saying, Bysshe?”
“Well, I’m not exactly saying, I’m just guessing. The druids thought the sun was at its weakest in midwinter, and its strongest in midsummer. That’s why they placed such importance on sunrise at midsummer. Their rites and so on were intended to encourage the sun—and thus also themselves—to be strong for another year. Some people suggest that Stonehenge was built so that the first rays of that sunrise fall exactly on something in particular, perhaps a certain stone.
“When Perry and I were at the tree last night, I noticed that the mistletoe on it grows on the side facing sunrise at this time of the year. I calculate that on midsummer day, the first rays will fall directly onto that mistletoe. If I’m right, it would be regarded as particularly auspicious. You see, mistletoe and oaks were very holy to the druids, so the oak tree on the common would have been particularly venerated.”
“Aquila Randol certainly thought so, and in his form as Falk Arnold, he still does,” Rowan observed.
Perry looked at him. “Sir, do you really think Uncle Falk is Randol?”
“Yes, Perry, I do.”
Bysshe had been deep in thought, but then his eyes cleared and he looked excitedly at them. He held up a hand to tick the items he listed. “Let me sum it all up. Perry’s uncle has only recently started all this, hasn’t he? All of a sudden, after years of failure, legal ventures have begun to go his way. Believing himself unbeatable, he has commenced proceedings to gain your lordship’s title and estate. On top of that, at dawn on midsummer day, he intends to turn Jennifer Avenbury back into a young woman in order to marry her, and finally he means to make certain of your lordship’s death. Forgive me, sir, but I have to say it.”
“That’s quite all right,” Rowan replied.
“Then it can only mean he’s found the lost anguinum,” Bysshe declared emphatically.
They all stirred, for the anguinum had been quite forgotten. Sir Francis took his head from under his wing, and gazed intently at Bysshe. Rowan sat back. “Damn, the druid’s stone had quite slipped my mind,” he breathed.
Bysshe went on. “An anguinum gives its possessor awesome supernatural powers, as well as complete success in all legal matters. I’d stake my life Perry’s uncle has it again.”
Marigold nodded. “You’re right, Bysshe. It explains everything. Mr. Crowe told me Falk was unassailable in court. He also said it was quite impossible for me to win if I challenged Perry’s father’s will.”
“It’s the anguinum all right,” Bysshe declared. “All we have to do is steal it, and his power will be destroyed.”
Rowan gave him a wry look. “Is that all there is to it? Why, it’s so easy, I’ll toddle off to Romans right now, knock on the door, and ask him if he’ll kindly hand it over. I fancy pigs would fly as well as birds before he obliged!”
Marigold sat back. “But Aquila lost it here at Avenbury, so when on earth did Falk find it? He’s been at Castell Arnold for months and months, certainly since well before his first success in the courts.”
Bysshe grinned. “Maybe he flew down here one night,” he said. But somehow no one thought it was funny, not even Perry. Indeed it was such a disagreeable thought that Bysshe himself stopped grinning, and lowered his eyes.
Marigold had been thinking. “Bysshe, you just said ‘an’ anguinum. Does that mean there’s more than one?”
“Oh, yes. Not all that many, but certainly more than one. One folktale has it there were six.”
“And this is something Falk is bound to know,” Marigold murmured thoughtfully.
Rowan glanced at her. “What are you thinking?”
“Just that he may wonder if I have one, or part of one. I haven’t, of course, but something certainly happens when I touch one of the standing stones.” Her gaze went to Jenny’s portrait again. “Is the anguinum depicted somewhere?” she wondered aloud.
Sir Francis gave a disgusted snort, and got up. Then, after stretching one wing then the other, he flew down from the table.
Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Our drake friend doesn’t seem to think it is,” he said, watching as Sir Francis waddled to the French windows, then flew away.
Marigold sighed. “He never agrees with anything we say,” she complained.
Perry buttered himself another slice of toast. “I say, Bysshe, what on earth does an anguinum look like? It’s all very well to say we have to steal it, but first we have to know what we’re looking for.”
“Well, it’s about the size of a billiard ball, and is bright red in color.”
Marigold gasped. “Yes, Falk does have such a thing! I’ve seen it!” She described those moments after the reading of Merlin’s will, when Robin had pulled Falk’s handkerchief from his pocket in order to dislodge the round red ball.
Bysshe’s eyes shone. “It will be at Romans right now.”
“Which brings us back to the tricky point of how exactly we’re going to lay our hands on it,” Rowan observed, toying with a table knife.
Perry sighed, and Bysshe looked thoughtful.
Marigold felt so helpless. “There has to be a way.”
Bysshe nodded. “And it must be achieved before dawn on midsummer day. Everything will happen then. We have eight days.” He glanced at Rowan, and then quickly away again.
No one said anything for a few moments, then Perry took a huge bite of toast. “Bysshe and I will think of something,” he said with his mouth full.
Marigold frowned at him. “Aren’t manners required at Eton?”
“Sorry, Mama,” he said, swallowing hastily and then exchanging a meaningful glance with Bysshe.
* * *
Late that night, when all was quiet the two boys again slipped stealthily from their rooms, and down through the house. They had given up waiting for Rowan and Marigold to retire for the night, and had decided to commence a very risky venture anyway. Bysshe carried a rather battered old canvas shoulder bag with something heavy inside, and Perry a bundle of white robes made from their bedsheets. Keeping their eyes peeled for Beech, they paused at the bottom of the main staircase, then tiptoed to the great parlor door, which stood ajar, in order to peep inside.
Marigold was seated on a sofa in the silver-spangled silk gown she’d worn for dinner. Her red-gold hair was pinned in a knot, and her earrings sparkled in the candlelight as she looked up at Rowan, who leaned over her from behind. He wore a navy blue velvet coat, gray waistcoat, and cream breeches, and was smiling tenderly into her eyes. The boys drew back to a discreet distance. “Gosh, they’re very, er, dewy,” Bysshe whispered.
“Immensely,” Perry agreed.
“Do you think we’ll ever be that soppy?”
“About each other?” asked Perry with a wicked grin.
“No, stupid, about a woman!”
“Of course not, we’re too sensible,” Perry replied. “Come on, let’s get on with this.”
They hurried to the main door, and then out into the moonlit night. Their steps rustled on the gravel as they ran down through the gardens. They glanced back constantly to see if anyone had noticed them, but there was no one at any of the windows. At last they reached the bridge and then paused.
“I think we’ve escaped unnoticed,” Bysshe breathed, putting down his heavy bag and then gazing intently back along the path.
“I think so too,” answered Perry, thrusting one of the makeshift druid robes into his friend’s hands.
They both dressed hastily, then pulled their cowls over their heads. Bysshe gave a nervous smile. “As we were going downstairs, I felt as if old Beech would jump out from the shadows at any moment.”
“Well, he didn’t. Come on, it’s rather open between here and the boathouse, so we’ll have to make a dash for it.”
Perry turned to run again, but Bysshe suddenly caught his arm. “No! W-wait a moment...”
“What’s up?”
“Oh, it’s stupid really, but I’m a bit afraid of water at night. I used to frighten my sisters by telling them a giant tortoise lived in our lake.”
“A giant what?”
“Tortoise.”
“Is that the most fearsome thing you could think of?” Perry scoffed.
Bysshe blushed in the darkness. “I know it sounds silly, but, yes, it was.”
“Wouldn’t a ten-legged lake monster with a taste for tender little girls be better? Or a hundred-foot-long water snake that comes up the drainpipe to swallow them whole while they’re asleep?”
Bysshe looked at him in horror. “Oh, don’t...”
Perry grinned, and put a fond arm around his friend’s thin shoulders. “I say, you really are frightened of water, aren’t you?”
“I—I believe that one day I will drown.”
“Stuff and nonsense. Look, are you coming with me or not? We went to a lot of trouble making these robes, and pumping the servants about Romans, but if you’re scared to come, I’ll go alone.”
“I—I’ll come.”
“Good. So let’s get on with it.”
They ran as fast as they could down the gentle slope toward the lake, and at last reached the shelter of the weeping willows and the boathouse. Out of breath, they leaned thankfully against the boathouse. Perry grinned. “We must be quite mad!”
“Totally.”
“But if we manage to steal the anguinum from Uncle Falk ...”
“We’ll be heroes indeed. Come on, let’s get the skiff.”
They ran to the jetty, and hurriedly undid the mooring rope. Within a minute or so they had begun to pole themselves away from the shore, but it wasn’t long before they realized how very visible they were in the moonlight, so they maneuvered the skiff into the reeds at the water’s edge. It was much more difficult to make progress now, but at least they weren’t so easy to see, either from Avenbury Park, or from Romans when they reached that end of the lake.
Back at the house, Beech hurried unannounced into the great parlor. “Forgive the intrusion, my lord, but the young gentlemen have gone out again!” he said breathlessly.
“Out? Where?” Rowan came around the sofa, and Marigold sat forward in concern.
“One of the maids was just drawing curtains at an upper window when she saw them on the garden bridge, although she wasn’t sure it was them at first.”
“Wasn’t sure? Why on earth not?” Marigold was uneasy.
The butler was reluctant to respond, because he knew she would be upset by the answer. “Well, my lady, they were wearing white robes.”
She stared at him in dismay.
“Where are they now?” Rowan demanded.
“They’ve taken the skiff onto the lake, sir.”
“Oh, no ...” Marigold pressed her fingers to her mouth.
Beech shuffled awkwardly. “One of the footmen says that Master Bysshe questioned him most particularly about Romans earlier this evening. I fear that is where they are going. The maid said they started out on open water, but then suddenly made for the reeds near the shore. She thinks they realized how the moonlight was shining on them.”
Marigold rose agitatedly. “They’ve gone to get the anguinum.”
Rowan sighed. “Oh, wouldn’t they, just,” he murmured.
“We must stop them, Rowan!”
He glanced at Beech. “Have my horse saddled. I’ll bring them back.”
“My lord.” The butler turned to hurry away again, but Marigold called him back.
“Wait a moment, Beech.”
“My lady?”
Rowan turned to her. “My darling, they have to be stopped and brought back.”
“I know, it’s just—”
“Each minute counts, Marigold. The reeds will hamper them, and the skiff can’t be poled very swiftly anyway, so if I go by road, I should reach the jetty at Romans before they do.”
“Won’t you be seen?” she asked anxiously, remembering how the open lawns in front of Romans afforded a clear view down to the eastern shore of the lake.
“That’s a chance I’ll have to take. Which is more important? The risk of the iniquitous ornithological den catching the boys or spotting me?”
She looked swiftly at the butler. “Two horses, Beech.”
Rowan shook his head. “No, Marigold.”
“I won’t stay behind.”
“Marigold—”
“You’ll have to lock me up,” she warned.
“Don’t tempt me,” he replied, but nodded resignedly at the butler. “Two horses,” he said.
“My lord.” Beech hurried out.
Rowan glanced down at his evening clothes. “These won’t do for riding, nor will your gown. We must change.”
“But my riding habit is being attended to after I got it in a mess the other day.”
His glance moved over her jewelry and silver gown. “Well, diamonds and spangles might be a little eye-catching in moonlight, so either you stay here, or you must change. Don’t you have a gown that isn’t too costly?”
“I have a green lawn chemise gown that was in my traveling portmanteau when we met.”
“It will have to do. Come.” He held out his hand, and together they hurried from the room.