Chapter 14 Magellan
Magellan
Magellan could not read anymore. Her brain felt fuzzy, like it was ready to give up and stop thinking altogether.
Right now, she was yearning for the oblivion of her feather bed and down comforter upstairs.
She’d read the diary’s beginning about Gwynedd and Merlin’s birth and finding the ring.
But she had to stop when it began to feel as if Gwynedd was talking to her, because books weren’t supposed to talk to people.
Gwynedd had written she was the captain of an ancient ship, which was something Garesh had told her more than once.
Magellan stared at the ring’s symbols. They were the same symbols Merlin had carved on the standing stone in the center of the labyrinth.
Cathan had said the writing was Atlantean—as in the lost civilization of Atlantis—and meant know the way.
Right now, in a moment of weakness, she wanted to tell Rhys everything, to have him share in her shock at what she was reading.
To show him her ring matched the standing stone.
But who knew what he might do? He’d think she was crazy.
No, she could not confide in Rhys. Tears welled in her eyes, and she fought them back.
“Are you all right?” Rhys asked.
Magellan blinked, trying to mask her emotions. “I’m afraid I have a headache.”
She and Rhys had been sitting together in the library in quiet solitude with Polly snoring nearby.
Magellan had been reading while Rhys worked on translating.
She still had several pages to get through, but she couldn’t manage any more tonight.
She stood up, feeling overwhelmed. This was all too much.
1829. Gwynedd’s memoir. The earl beside her. And this ridiculous pink dress.
Rhys jumped to his feet. “Shall I have someone bring you a cold compress?”
A cold compress was not an ibuprofen. “No, thank you. I just need to sleep.” Forever maybe.
“Well. Good night, then, Miss Brighton.” He took her hand and gave a polite bow. “Until tomorrow.”
Unless she woke up in the morning back in her time.
Back in her apartment with the world on the brink of destruction.
At this point anything was possible. Rhys was studying her with that intent look of his.
She gave him a wan smile and wished him good night, unable to escape the room fast enough.
Polly escorted her, thankfully, or she would have been lost in the hallways for hours.
“Polly, what is today’s date?”
“November 2nd, miss.” Polly slid her a look. “And the same year as the last time you asked.” Polly was speaking to her as if she was the most clueless person on the planet. Perhaps she was.
“And when is Winter Solstice?”
Polly lit up at the question. “December 21st. Do you celebrate in America with a fire festival too? At Stonehenge the sun sets right between the two largest stones. It’s quite a sight.
Everyone comes from miles to watch it. Have you ever been?
” Polly seemed to remember herself. “Forgive me, the countess said I wasn’t to ask you any questions and tax your feeble mind. ”
Magellan gave a faint laugh, silently thanking Rhys’s mother.
Gwynedd had written she had until Winter Solstice to find a song that could save the world, which sounded completely unbelievable.
What song was Gwynedd even talking about?
Magellan realized Polly was asking her something and tried to focus. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Would you like a bath tomorrow morning?” The simplicity of the question threw her. A warm bath versus the end of the world. She would take the bath.
With Polly’s help, she changed out of her dress into a soft nightgown and freed her hair from its hundred pins. Mentally exhausted, Magellan crawled into bed and slept without dreaming.
The next morning she woke up and blinked at the same sunlight streaming through the same windows in 1829.
The light was blinding. She looked out at the labyrinth, an emerald fortress in the distance bathed in serene silence, and wondered if Gwynedd was actually writing to her in a magical diary that was following her through time.
Was there really a song that could save the world, and how insane was she to even be considering it?
Magellan looked down at her hand to the ring Garesh had gifted to her. Was he somehow a part of the story?
Today she would sequester herself in the library to read more of the diary, and she’d try to find the right time to ask Rhys about the symbols on the standing stone.
Fortified by her plan, she waited for Polly to arrive.
A crew of maids came with her, carrying a large metal tub and buckets of steaming water.
Magellan felt guilty they were literally lugging a bathtub for her, but she was also desperate for a shower.
After the bath and a breakfast tray, she felt like a new person and ready to face 1829.
Then Polly returned with the horrible news the house party was going riding to the lake for a picnic and she was to join them.
“Horseback riding?” Magellan squeaked. Being forced to ride a horse was not in her plan for today. She tried to get out of it, but Polly said the earl insisted she come.
Polly helped her change into Vivianne’s spare riding habit, boots, and a hat with a feather sticking out. “There.” Polly tilted the hat fashionably. “You look quite the horsewoman.”
Magellan stared at herself in the mirror, trapped in a nightmare. The gown weighed at least twenty pounds and was made of wool. How was she supposed to ride a horse in this? She’d never ridden one before.
Polly escorted her to the stables. Most of the guests were already mounted and heading toward the pasture.
The scene looked straight out of a historic painting with everyone on horseback and all the ladies with feathers on their hats.
Rhys was waiting for her, holding the reins of a magnificent stallion.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Magellan muttered under her breath. His horse was white.
“It is a perfect day for a ride, Miss Brighton,” he said to her, his eyes taking on an appreciative gleam at her attire.
“Yes, truly.” She forced a smile. If she admitted she’d never ridden a horse, it would open up a whole new line of questioning from him.
Rhys would either not believe her or want to know how she had arrived at the labyrinth if she couldn’t ride, and they’d be back to square one.
She decided it was best not to say anything. How hard could it be?
He led her to her horse, a mottled brown mare with a difficult look in its eyes. “This is Mudcake. She’s very gentle.” Mudcake snorted as if to negate the fact.
Magellan hesitated, not sure how to climb aboard. To make matters worse, her saddle didn’t look normal. She glanced over to Vivianne, whose body was twisted to the side with one leg dangling down and the other hitched over the saddle. Magellan realized in horror the women were riding sidesaddle.
“Here. Let me assist you,” Rhys offered. Before she could prepare, he grabbed her waist and lifted her into the air and onto the saddle sideways. Magellan let out a yelp, and her horse took a few agitated steps.
“My apologies.” Rhys held on to the reins and steadied the horse. “I thought you were ready.”
“I’m fine!” she assured him and patted the horse’s neck like a dog. “Good boy—good Mudcake.” She clumsily arranged her legs like Vivianne while Rhys mounted his horse with expert precision.
Rhys’s horse took off in a regal walk, and Magellan tried to prompt Mudcake with her one usable leg in the stirrup, wondering when women got to ride like men. Maybe in a hundred years when they were finally allowed to vote and they all voted against sidesaddle.
Mudcake started walking. Magellan sat rigid in the saddle, trying hard not to fall off.
Soon the gardens and the labyrinth were behind them in the distance.
The wind felt refreshing on her face, and the surrealness hit her hard.
She was on a horse, in England, in 1829 with a feather on her hat, riding sidesaddle while the world might be ending.
Maybe God was really a woman and this was her idea of a twisted joke.
The other riders were well ahead while she and Rhys brought up the rear alone. Now was the perfect time to ask him. “Rhys? In the labyrinth, I noticed symbols carved onto one of the stones. What do they mean?”
Rhys glanced over to her, looking relaxed in the saddle.
“I don’t know. My father swore the symbols were an ancient language known to the Druids and that Merlin himself had carved them there.
He said I had to find out for myself what the symbols meant.
I spent many an hour in the library looking for clues.
Perhaps he didn’t know either, and it was a game for him to watch me try. ”
Magellan glanced down at her hand, her ring encased in a glove. Or perhaps Godwin did know and just didn’t want to tell his son for fear of altering the future—just as he had said in his note to her.
Rhys interrupted her thoughts. “There is something I wish to speak to you about privately. It is clear you feel you must keep your circumstance secret. But you may tell me, in confidence, and I swear I’ll protect you from whatever it is. You have my word.”
Magellan glanced over to him in surprise. He wanted her to confess.
“Miss Brighton?” he prompted.
“You wouldn’t believe my circumstance.” She barely did, and she was living it.
“Magellan,” he bit out, a stormy look now on his face. “I must know. For my own sanity. Who are you? Are you purposefully trying to pretend you’re from the sixth century?”
“What”—she let out a stunned laugh and almost fell off her horse—“are you talking about?”