They heard the children in the entrance hall, voices high and excited, even Barnaby’s.
Douglas’s voice boomed out, “Children, come here.”
Pip immediately ran to his father. “I forgot to tell you, Papa. When Mr. Ramsey woke us up, he told us we were going to visit a stud farm today, if Barnaby felt all right, and Barnaby swears he’s in the pink. What’s a stud farm, Papa?”
After a beat of silence, Miss Elphinstone said, “It’s a lovely place where boy horses meet girl horses and perhaps they get married.”
Barnaby frowned, turned to Grayson. “But horses don’t get married, do they, sir?”
“I understand there is the occasional ceremony. Let’s ask Miss Elphinstone if horses get married in Belgium. Ah, where is your tutor?”
“Not exactly in the way we humans get married, Barnaby, but horses fall in love and they have children—colts and fillies. You’ll see beautiful horses today at Bowlin’s stud farm. Sir Thomas is renowned for his, ah, horse facilities.”
Barnaby said, “Sir, Mr. Ramsey will be down in a moment.” He paused, frowned. “I ain’t niver seen no happily married horses, have you, P.C.?”
P.C. scowled at him. She was seated too far away from him to punch him for his bad grammar. She also realized, Grayson saw, she couldn’t very well hit him because she might hurt him.
Barnaby cleared his throat, said slowly, with great precision, “Forgive me. I have never seen a happily married stallion. In my barn, they sometimes bite each other.” He shot P.C. a look. She beamed at him.
Miss Elphinstone cocked her head at him. “Your barn, Barnaby?”
“Yes, ma’am. I was a barn cat, but P.C. does not like that since she will leg-shackle me.” He raised his chin, and Grayson saw the bruise on his forehead. “It’s still my barn.”
They turned when Mr. Ramsey came into the room, bowed to the earl and countess, and said, “Children, we will go to the stables and give the horses carrots until Mr. Sherbrooke is ready.” Before they all trooped out, he looked toward Miss Elphinstone, who now stood facing the fireplace.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Later that night
Grayson was on the edge of sleep when the Virgin Bride appeared at the foot of his bed. He was aware of her even before he awoke. He heard her voice, quite loud in his head.
Grayson, I told you Mr. Ramsey isn’t what he seems. He is lovely to me, but he will not tell me the truth, and I know there is a truth he is not telling. What have you found out?
That was to the point, after a fashion. “I haven’t found out anything, Mathilde. To me, he seems exactly what he is, a young man finely educated, born into a good family.”
He wants Arthur, but not Arthur my little dog. Now I know it is the other Arthur, the king who lived so long ago. I visited Tintagel when he spoke of the Round Table to the children. It was in ruins then as it is now, and there were no piskies there to talk to me, not even ancient Aeron, the leader of the piskies, said to have been at the famous Round Table. He loves to talk, but he was visiting Paris, I was told. Grayson, have you dealt with piskies? With Aeron?
Grayson said, “I know they’re a Celtic fairy race, settled in Cornwall and Devon, a very long time ago. I believe I saw one once when I visited a friend in St. Ives. He was a shriveled old man wearing a coat that look like green lichen. Oh yes, he had a huge crop of bright-red hair on his head. He didn’t speak to me, only stared at me from a hedgerow. Then he nodded and disappeared. I called to him, but he didn’t come back. Is it true, Mathilde, piskies hate Englishmen and bedevil them whenever they can?”
Was that a laugh he heard? She thought to him, Oh yes, indeed. Piskies like to steal their horses and give them terrifying dreams. But you’re an Englishman, Grayson, and yet they did nothing to you.
Suddenly, the white veils seemed to fade, then brighten again, and there was movement.
“Mathilde, what is wrong? You are distressed. Talk to me.”
She fluttered, agitated, he could tell, and then she settled again. I believe Olafar took the children somewhere. Not their bodies, but he took their spirits. He must need them somehow, but I do not know why. If he is doing this, is it dangerous? I do not know.
Grayson’s heart sped up, and a flash of fear hit deep. “What do you mean, he took their spirits? You believe Olafar is some kind of otherworldly being, Mathilde? But how could he use the children’s spirits? How could he take their spirits anywhere, Mathilde?”
I do not know, but I know he is. I do not think he would hurt them, but still— You must do something.
I visited Pearlin’ Jane today. Aye, your aunt Sinjun and uncle Colin are healthy as stoats. Do not worry about them. I told her about Olafar, told her I was worried about the children at night. Jane said if I never again told her she had gained flesh, she would speak to Barrie, her kelpie friend at Loch Ness, see if Barrie could help me. I feel something, Grayson. It is the children.
She was gone. Grayson threw back the covers, pulled on his dressing gown, lit a candle, and ran to the schoolroom. He quietly opened the door and listened. All was quiet. He went to Pip’s small chamber, looked in. Pip was on his stomach, one arm dangling over the side of the bed. Grayson walked to him, set the candle on the floor, and gently turned him over. “Pip,” he whispered against his cheek as he lightly rubbed his arms.
Pip didn’t respond. His breathing was smooth and even, but he didn’t awaken. Grayson was so scared he couldn’t get spit in his mouth. “Pip, wake up. Now, Pip.” Grayson lightly shook him.
Pip’s eyes flew open. “Papa? What’s the matter? What’s wrong? Is Barnaby all right?”
He pulled Pip into his arms, rocked him, and whispered against his ear, “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s all right. Barnaby is all right. I’m sorry I woke you, Pip. I was worried about you.”
Pip yawned and nestled against his father’s chest. “I’m all right, but I had a strange dream, Papa.”
Grayson felt his heart begin to pound. He knew he had to keep calm, but it was difficult. “What did you dream, Pip?”
“I was riding, Papa, on a big beautiful black horse, but I wasn’t scared. We were galloping so fast, and his black mane was flying, and I could hear him breathing. Then, Papa, he stopped and turned his big head to me. Papa, I could tell he was excited.”
Grayson’s heart was pounding harder, but he knew he had to keep calm, not let Pip see his fear. “Did he speak to you, Pip?”
Pip yawned and snuggled close. “He said we were nearly where he wanted to go, and then—I was here with you.” Grayson kissed him, aware Pip’s head lolled against his arm. He drew in a deep breath and kissed his son’s soft cheek again. “Go back to sleep, Pip.”
Grayson looked in on Barnaby and P.C., heard their easy breathing. Then he went to Olafar Ramsey’s chamber. It was much larger than the children’s small rooms, nicely furnished with a sofa and a comfortable chair, a desk, and bookshelves. The bed was behind a curtain. Grayson slowly walked to that curtain, his hand cupping the candle. He pulled it back.
CHAPTER NINE
Olafar shook off his silver reins and bridle, and once again he was a human man. He was here, finally, he was here at Camelot. Camelot, how the very name sang on his tongue. Would he be able to remain here this time and not be whisked back in but moments from now? No, he would stay. He knew Pip’s spirit was extraordinary. Pip’s spirit would tether him here until he was ready to return. He quickly stuffed his reins and bridle into his jacket pocket and walked to the huge double wooden gates. Wait—where were the soldiers ready to fire arrows down on him? Where were the people and animals and children? Where was the porter demanding his name? If, that is, the porter could see him. After all, he was a man over a thousand years in the past. The gates weren’t even closed. What was going on? Maybe it wasn’t Camelot. Maybe he’d failed, yet again.