Part 1 (1/2)
WINDS OF ETERNITY.
by Nancy Eddy.
Author's note
I came up with the name of this series before ever hearing of WINDS OF WAR which Dark Shadows creator and producer Dan Curtis directed. When I did hear of the mini-series, I thought it an - interesting coincidence. Enjoy.
Chapter One.
England, 4th Century, A.D.
The merchant stood at the center of the group of men, his sharp eyes knowing from experience those who looked at his wares intending to buy. He was waiting for a question, one above others, and it was not long in coming.
”What news have you, friend merchant, for those who have known you all of your life?”
Spreading his arms wide for effect, the merchant answered. ”Wondrous news, friends. A new belief. A better one than the Druids offer.”
A few buyers rolled their eyes as if to say, ”Nothing new.” The merchant's dislike of the Druid priests was well known among those in the village. Eighteen summers before, he had asked them for a son and received a daughter. And if that had not been enough, his wife had died in spite of all the magic the priests could work. Since that time, it was not uncommon for the merchant to speak against the Druids. It was also dangerous. There were among the crowd spies who listened and reported back to the priests.
”A belief in one G.o.d instead of many,” the merchant continued. ”A merciful G.o.d who does not force others to accept His edicts as law.” Many in the group began to move cautiously away. If the spies were here, it would not do to be seen listening to such sacrilege. And the spies could be anyone - even one's own neighbors - just as the High Priests could be. Seeing that he had lost part of his audience, the merchant's eyes darted around the smaller crowd. ”There is more, but now is not the time. I must make haste to see my daughter. It has been a long journey and I am weary. My home is open to
any who wish to hear more.” With a deep bow, he packed away his goods and led his mount and pack animal down the dirt lane.
As he approached the large stone house, the merchant paused. His golden-haired daughter was standing with a tall, dark man. Beside them, a black stallion pawed the ground, a black stallion that the merchant easily recognized. There was none other like it in the area. As he watched, his daughter wished the man good-bye and stood beside the road as he mounted and rode away. Walking slowly, the merchant waited until he was very near the girl before speaking. ”Grendl.”
Her blue eyes widened in surprise at his familiar voice, then she turned to look down the path the horse and rider had taken. Smiling nervously, she looked back at her father. ”Father. You have returned early, I did not expect you for another fortnight.”
”What business did Andemus have here, daughter?”
”None. He often comes here when you are away, to make sure I am well and not in need,” she said, slipping her arm through his. ”He is a neighbor, Father. Do not be angry.”
”I am not angry, daughter.” He called for a servant-boy to take the animals, retrieving a cloth-wrapped package from the donkey's back.
”What is that?” Grendl wanted to know.
”Something for you. Let us go inside first.”
In the house, he called for a drink, then gave her the gift. With deft fingers, she unfastened the wrapping and gasped with delight at the small silver box that fit into one well shaped hand. ”It is - beautiful. Is it truly - silver?”
His smile was indulgent. ”It is.” ”Thank you, Father.” She held the silver box up to let it reflect the afternoon sunlight, wondering what Andemus would think of her new treasure.
Andemus dismounted and tossed his horse's reins to a waiting servant without really noticing the boy. His mind was still too full of Grendl's big blue eyes and of their morning meeting in the oak grove. Why would she not marry him, he wondered. He had land, a fine house, and he loved her. Surely she did not suspect the truth. It was only known to the other priests.
A cruel-faced man of his own age stood waiting impatiently in the hall. ”Andemus. Where have you been?”
Andemus sighed, used to such questions, leading him into the study. ”For a ride, Damian.”
”The merchant has returned.” ”Oh?” was Andemus' only response. Would her father's return prevent Grendl from seeing him? he wondered silently.
”He spoke against us in the village.” Andemus sat down. ”That is nothing new, Damian. He makes a habit of doing so. No one listens to him.”
”It is time that he be punished,” Damian insisted.
”He has been warned - ” Andemus reminded the other man.
”But he did not heed the warning. He is a fool, Andemus. A dangerous fool. It must be done without delay.”
Rising, Andemus went to the window. But instead of the green fields beyond the stables, he saw Grendl's trusting blue eyes. ”Do what you must, Damian. But leave me out of it. I must maintain no connection with Druid activity if I am not to be discovered.” Forgive me, Grendl, he thought to himself. I have no choice.
Grendl was admiring the silver box the next morning when she heard a commotion in the stable. Running out onto the cobbled courtyard, she saw the stable boy run from the building, terror in his young eyes. ”What is wrong, Tyan?”