As Good as Gold (4 page)

****

Bel strode down the road until it became a trail leading into the woods. He had to return the faerie. “Can’t live like what?” Daywen insisted as she hurried after him. She caught up to him and dragged on his arm.

Bel tugged against her grasp. “This faerie magic is making me lose my senses. And I can’t have you distracting me constantly.” That itch in the back of his head cried out for her. He wanted to kiss her, and so much more. He wanted to stroke her hair, he wanted to feel her skin and hear her voice. He drew her in and kissed her once more.

“Then give me the bag and I’ll walk away,” she gasped when he let her come up for air.

“I can’t let ye do that.” He couldn’t. He really couldn’t. Thoughts of carrying her over to the tall grass beside the road and making sweet love to her flitted through his head. “You wouldn’t get farther than five chains before--”

Bel shook those thoughts from his head. This was the faerie’s magic causing him to lose his senses. He’d come across enough of such magic in his travels, but nothing as strong as this. Before they left, he’d chanted countercharms. He armed himself with cold iron borrowed from Lachlan. He’d even thought about turning his clothes inside out, but feared that if he took them off, he would not want to put them back on for quite some time. Still he was drawn to her.

Daywen protested and dug in her heels, dragging at his grip on her arm. “You’re conceited, Belenus, if you think that this is all about you.”

Bel slowed, but did not stop. “This
is
all about me. I know fae magic when I see it. I will not be trapped this way.”

“This is no trap,” she spat. “Ye can walk away at any time. Give me the faerie and be gone.”

“Oh, you think it that simple, do you? Do you think that this little spell will go away as soon as you do?” Images of his father, generally clueless in his life, yet so deliriously happy with his mother danced in his mind. Did the faerie do that? Bel couldn’t have that in his life. If he gave in to the magic, it would drive him mad every time he left Daywen behind to go searching for fae gold. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his task, and he’d be cursed and sent to his death by unseelie creatures.

“No,” he stated. “The faerie goes back.” He shook her off and backed away.

“Give me back my faerie!”

“No,” he cried.

Then he turned and ran.

****

With a shriek of rage, Daywen lifted her skirts and set off after him.

The man could run. No matter how hard her feet pounded the dust, no matter how much energy her anger gave her, the gap between them widened. Soon he passed out of sight and around a bend.

Daywen did not slow down. While she ran, she thought about his reaction. He’d kissed her in the smithy. When he had, it was like setting a tumbled chair to rights. It was as if every chair around the table had been set back in its place.

He’d kissed her again, and in her mind, this was how things were supposed to be. The faerie had been right.

She wanted him to kiss her again, though her heart had skipped a beat when she thought he was going to carry her off the road and ravish her. A tiny corner of her heart wanted him to. That same tiny corner wanted to goad him into it.

But he had run away, taking the faerie with him.

Oh! If Alishandra discovered that someone else had the faerie...

Fear carried Daywen the rest of the way to the garish wagon.

Sure enough, Bel had beaten her to it. She heard him calling out in the glen before she saw him. Daywen emerged, panting and prickly with sweat a moment before Alishandra slipped through the trees.

The gypsy glanced over Bel before settling her gaze on Daywen. “I see ye have found him.”

“Found nothing!” Bel insisted. He strode up to Alishandra and thrust the velvet back into her hands. “Lift this spell and give me back my gold.”

Alishandra’s hand closed over the bag. “What spell? And no.”

Bel’s hand went to his waist and rested on his dagger. “You tricked her and trapped me.”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

“Then what is this?” he demanded, pointing to his head.

Alishandra came closer to him and sniffed about him. “The real source lies within you. I’d say you’ve been the victim of someone else.”

Daywen felt let down. “Then what has the faerie done?”

“What it was meant to do for ye; show ye the best match for ye, nothing more. For you, she is simply to glow when she senses the presence of an ideal man.” Alishandra lifted the bag to her ear. “And she tells me she has done that.”

Alishandra waved her hand in dismissal, sending her bracelets clattering. “Now off ye go and dance at your wedding. I wish ye both many fat babies.” She turned to leave.

Bel caught her by the arm. “What about my gold?”

“You mean my gold?” Alishandra spat at him.

Bel grabbed her by the front of her shawl and growled in her face when a voice interrupted them.

“Meine Goldmünzen?” it said.

Both Bel and Alishandra turned to face the newest arrival.

The Germanic gnome stood in the clearing. “Sie sind schnell, Sohn von Adam, aber nicht schnell genug,” it said. “Wo sind meine Goldmünzen?”

Daywen had no clue what he said, but she recognized the word “Gold”. She drew in a deep breath and put her hand over her mouth.

Alishandra’s eyes narrowed.

Bel drew in a breath as he faced off the gnome. “Sie hat sie,” he said, pointing to Alishandra. “She’s got your gold, you wretched creature.”

The gnome looked at him, then at her. He stepped closer and held out his hand. “Ich habe meine Goldmünzen zurück jetzt.”

Daywen’s gaze rested on the velvet bag of the faerie which Alishandra clutched in her hand as she faced down the gnome, shrieking at the fey creature in a language Daywen didn’t understand. She had a sinking feeling that she would never get it back, nor would she ever get another.

When she turned around, Bel had gone.

****

“Belenus, back so soon?” His mother’s smile faded as she looked upon the angry countenance of her son.

“What did you do to me, Mother?” He stared down at this frail old woman. He’d never expected such interference from her.

Her eyes shifted in a way that reminded him of the gypsy woman. “What do you mean?”

He threw his arms out. “You’re interfering in my life. Where did ye get magic like that?”

His mother gave up her pretenses. She steepled her fingers before her and tapped them against her lips. “I am disappointed in you, Belenus. I will not tell you what I have done, for I see I wasted such a precious gift on you.” Then she turned her face from him.

“Now, Mother...” If anyone could get to him, it was her. He knew how much she loved him, how much she’d sacrificed for him growing up. He knelt by her chair. “Please, Mother. Tell me what you’ve done.”

She drew a deep breath before turning to him. “Your grandmother gave me a gift. She’d gotten it from her mother, and so on. I have no daughters--only you.” She made a small sound that could have been a sob. “And now my line will end with you.”

He pointed to his forehead. His voice was gentler, but he still needed answers. “What did you do?”

A knock sounded on the door.

His mother looked at him, and Bel sighed. He answered the door, sparing his mother’s poor, arthritic joints.

A punch to the face sent him reeling back.

“I hope you’re happy!” said a furious Daywen, striding after the retreating Bel. “Thanks to you, I have an empty heart, an empty future, and an empty purse.”

Was he bleeding? He checked his nose, but his fingers didn’t come away tinged with red. It hurt, but not as bad as the words she spoke.

“I am not paying ye back a single groat, Belenus MacEuros. Not in coin, not in favor, not in anything!” She shook her finger in his face. “You’re a greedy, selfish, ignorant lout, and I hope ye die as miserable and alone as I am!” she shouted at him.

“How did ye find me?” he asked.

“Lachlan. He seemed quite amused at the prospect of the likes of me catching up with ye.”

His mother sat up straight. “Belenus? What’s this?” Bel tore his attention from Daywen to his mother when he heard the tone of warning in her voice. “She’s the one, isn’t she? Oh, I’m disappointed in ye, boy. Ye went and asked for your gold back.”

For the first time since her assault on Bel, Daywen seemed to notice Bel’s mother in the room. “Oh. My apologies, goodwife.”

Bel’s mother waved her hand dismissively. “Not goodwife any longer. Widow MacEuros now, but I wager you knew that. Forgive me if I don’t rise and greet you properly. My old bones are not what they once were.”

Daywen looked from mother to son and back again. “Oh...” She looked like she was going to cry.

“Belenus,” his mother warned. “Have you done ill by this young lass?”

“I...” His eyes on Daywen, he felt the lingering effects of magic spread warmth across his forehead and tickle the back of his mind. A tiny corner of his heart irked at having done her ill. He couldn’t lie to his mother.

So he changed the subject. “We are not discussing what I did to her, but rather what ye did to me, Mother.”

Daywen folded her arms. “Oh, I think we should discuss what ye have done to me.”

His mother studied Bel and Daywen. “If I understand this correctly, this is the lass that stole the gold from ye to get the faerie?”

“Yes,” affirmed Daywen, her voice unsure.

“And where is the faerie now?”

Daywen’s eyes narrowed. “He stole it from me and returned it to Alishandra,” she spat.

“Oh, Belenus,” his mother cried. “I am disappointed in ye. No amount of money can compensate for shattering someone’s dreams.”

“I didn’t get me money back from the gypsy, if that’s what ye mean.”

“No, that is not what I mean.” She slapped her arthritic hand against the arm of her rocking chair. “I am sorry I gave ye that gift and if I could take it back, I would, because I am ashamed of ye, lad.”

That stung. Between Daywen’s tearful, angry countenance and his mother’s disappointment, Bel felt smaller than a rat.

He gave in. “All right, Mother. At least tell me what it was ye gave me. What was it that was so important that you passed it down from generation to generation?”

His mother closed her eyes. “I tell ye this only if ye will set things to rights.”

“Mother...”

“Promise! On your father’s grave.”

Bel didn’t know what to say. But if he didn’t find out what it was, how was he to rid himself of it? How was he to free himself from the distraction that was Daywen? Even now his heart ached to take her into his arms and make everything better. “I promise,” he finally said.

His mother nodded. “What I gave ye was a family gift, that ye would know true happiness when you found it.” She inclined her head. “How do you think I found ye father?”

Bel raised a hand to his forehead. “But I thought the faerie...”

“No,” said his mother. “The faerie was for the convincing of him in the end. The gift was for the convincing of me in the beginning.”

Bel wasn’t sure he had this right. “You mean, ye loved Father because of the gift?”

“What? Was he not worthy to be loved?” Her eyes turned from his to the memories of the past. “He was all that was good and wonderful in a husband. I chose well.”

She turned to Daywen. “I’m sorry ye never found ye sweetheart. Ye would have seen something quite amazing. The faerie glows in beautiful colors when her task is done--”

“But she did that,” interrupted Daywen. Her gaze rose to Bel, then back to Bel’s mother. “Does that mean...?”

Bel’s mother nodded. “Who was it, lass?”

One glance from Daywen in Bel’s direction answered that question.

Bel’s mother put her hands on her chair’s arms and pushed herself to standing with much effort. Bel hastened to help his mother.

“You are unwise to go against the fates, Belenus Doran Eamonn MacEuros. You would never ha’ known about the gift if it hadn’t worked on ye.” She shook a finger at him. “Aye, I know it did, by the look on ye face. Is gold more important than happiness?”

Bel sighed. Yes, gold was important. Money was important. Most of all, comfort was important. “I don’t want to be poor.”

“Well, you are,” said his mother. “You’re the best-dressed, best-fed, poorest man I know, Belenus. I am sorry that I gave ye the gift.” Her scowl softened. “I am also sorry that I impoverished myself, for I see it affected ye more than I thought.

“I was a fool to think that our love was enough for ye, as it was for ye father and me. Perhaps we loved ye too much, and, not wanting for it, ye fail to realize just how valuable love is.”

Bel’s mother shook her head. “But I made my choice, and for that I am not sorry. But it pains me to see ye make a worse choice than I by not choosing at all.”

“Mother...” Bel did not like the place she was putting him in. Why did his heart have to ache?

“But I don’t even know her!” he complained, gesturing towards Daywen with an open hand. “I only met her today.”

“Ye cannot love someone until after you’ve met them.” She lowered herself back into her rocking chair by the fire. “Now ye have met her -- what are you going to do next?”

Bel folded his arms. “I’m not going to do anything.” He frowned at his mother.

They both turned to the sound of a slammed door. Daywen had fled.

“Go after her, ye great dolt!” his mother insisted.

Bel shook his head, trying to dislodge the aroused itch. “Why should I?”

“Oh, ye are a fool, my son, to risk the wrath of a woman.”

****

Daywen couldn’t make it to the garden gate before she collapsed to the ground amid her shattered dreams. “How stupid am I?” she berated herself. Why did she ever put her trust in Alishandra? She was a gypsy and gypsies were outcasts for a reason. She had made a fool of herself at least twice today, three times, if one counted Widow MacEuros.

She curled herself around her broken heart and gave herself over to grief. When night came, the day would not be over. It would never be over, because Lachlan would no doubt blather about her foolishness in the pub over a pint, and the name of Daywen Athalia would be penned down next to the name of her sister Lannyn as a woman driven bitter and mad, and the whole family would have to hang their heads in shame.