She pointed to the bright blue sky dusted with thick white clouds and a bright sun that was sure to help spring growth.
He commented on what she could not. “A beautiful day.”
She nodded, her smile strong. She motioned with her fingers to demonstrate that she had not eaten yet and would he care to join her.
“You resisted Glenda’s delicious cooking to wait for me? You must be insane.” He attempted to tease, though his gruff tone made him sound surprised.
She nodded and held her hand out to him while she patted her stomach.
“You cannot wait another moment?”
Her expression turned serious and she shook her head, though there was a twinkle in her blue eyes.
“Then we must hurry and feed you.”
She nodded, eagerly agreeing, and they walked toward Glenda’s cottage.
After the morning meal Michael excused himself, letting Mary know that there were matters that needed his attention and he would return by early evening.
She knew those matters concerned her and she wished she could go with him, learn more about her fate. Was he meeting Magnus? Would they discuss her future? Were plans being made that she should be aware of? She disliked being left out of decisions that concerned her. Perhaps it was because she had no choice when she was younger, forced to leave the only home she had ever known.
“I have chores to see to,” Glenda said, grabbing the handle of a basket brimming with dried herbs and covered crocks.
Mary pointed to herself then to Glenda, offering her help.
“Nay, you enjoy the sunny day. Rest in the sunshine and heal.”
Mary shook her head and fumbled in her attempt to make Glenda understand that she felt strong and rested after last night’s sleep. She had thought she would sleep much later than she had but woke with the dawn and felt remarkably refreshed. Her one insistent thought was to chase away the hellish memories of her capture, confinement, and escape and live a normal day. She wanted to smile and laugh and share her momentary joy with Michael. Where the desire had come from she did not know. She only knew that she felt it strongly and that was why she had gone in search of Michael to share the morning meal with him.
Glenda’s full pink cheeks puffed as she chuckled and her worn features took on a youthful glow. “Want to live do you?”
Mary sighed with relief that she understood.
“Come on with me, then,” Glenda said and Mary walked along beside her. “I understand how you feel, felt the same myself. Doing daily chores, baking bread, washing clothes, the feel of the sun on my face assured me, left not a doubt in my mind, that I was free. And with each chore I did I grew more and more thankful for my freedom. I have never taken a single day for granted since. I am grateful for every loaf of bread I bake and every garment I wash and the sun . . .
She paused a moment and turned her face up to the bright yellow circle in the sky. “I cherish the feel of it on my skin. It assures me that I am free.”
They continued walking.
“Everyone is grateful to the Dark One, known to us as to you as Michael. His rescues have allowed us all a chance to live a near normal life.”
Mary listened, wishing she could ask questions, but then silence usually proved useful in gathering information. She did wish to discover as many clues as possible. She hoped to piece them together and perhaps learn his true identity.
“We all understand the risks we take in helping him. And we have seen the results of what happens to someone believed to have helped the Dark One.” Glenda shivered.
Mary glared at her anxiously, wishing to hear more.
“One night the Dark One had brought a man to the village.” Glenda hesitated and shook her head. “It was terrible. We all knew the man would not survive the night. The only thing we could do for him was pray for a quick death to end his suffering. He had been accused of helping the Dark One and he suffered a horrible torture.” Another shiver racked Glenda’s body. “He had been a simple farmer, ignorant of the Dark One until the day Decimus’s men arrived on his land. At least he died surrounded by people who cared.”
The more Mary learned of Decimus the more fearful she grew.
“Michael offered us passage to safer land after that night, but our blood is Irish and our home forever Ireland. We could not leave here or those in need. And if, or when, necessary we have no doubt that Michael will make certain we are moved to safer territory.”
A tremendous burden for the Dark One, Mary thought, with so many depending on him for help. He forever lived in the darkness for others.
Glenda continued. “We do not know his true identity and that is fine with us. He keeps it that way for our own good, but if we did know there is not a one here who would betray him.”
The Dark One was truly loved here in this tiny remote village, and Mary thought it would not be a bad place to remain and offer her help. But she knew in her heart that was not possible. Decimus hunted her and he would not stop until he caught her. If she remained, the village would be in danger. And neither she nor Michael could let that happen.
Glenda stopped at a small cottage. A well-tended patch of budding flowers and a bright yellow sun painted on the wooden door welcomed visitors.
Glenda lowered her voice as they approached the closed door. “This is Agnes’s home. She has been here three months and continues to heal. She keeps much to herself and only allows me to visit and tend her since I was the one who cared for her when she was first brought here.”
Mary nodded and motioned that perhaps she should wait outside.
Glenda knocked. “Nay, I think it fate that you and Agnes meet.”
Mary wondered over her words as she followed behind Glenda and entered the cottage.
A small, thin woman with white hair, her back to them, stood by the fireplace warming her hands. “I want no visitors.”
Her voice was clear and sharp and her stance straight, no curve or hunch to her shoulders to add to her advanced years.
“I think you are expecting this visitor,” Glenda said to Mary’s surprise.
The woman turned and Mary was stunned by her lovely face and shocked by her blindness. It was not torture that had caused her blindness but an affliction at birth, for her eyes were creamy white.
“It is you,” Agnes said anxiously and hurried to Mary’s side, reaching out and grasping her hand.
Mary stared at Agnes wondering how a blind woman moved as easily as one with sight.
“I see without seeing,” Agnes answered as if hearing Mary’s thoughts.
Mary understood instantly. The woman was a seer; she predicted forthcoming events good or bad. And while seers were often sought and respected, the Church had different ideas and branded them cohorts of Satan. She had heard they suffered the most when tortured, for it was believed they needed to be banished of their evil ways and suffering, and death was the only way to be certain they were cleansed.
Yet this woman looked as though torture had not touched her. Had Michael rescued her before any suffering befell her?
“Leave us, Glenda, I must speak with Mary alone.”
“Mary cannot speak,” Glenda said as she walked to the door.
“I know,” Agnes said.
Mary nodded to let Glenda know she was fine.
“I will be at Brenda’s cottage two doors down,” Glenda said and closed the door behind her.
“Your mind is clear and aware of much, this is good.” Agnes said. “You wonder about me, particularly about the sun painted on my front door. You assumed I painted it when you first saw it. But now you wonder, How does a blind woman paint a sun on her door?”