Catherine curtsied. “Your invitation was an honor I could not refuse.”
Gisella took her arm. “Catherine, you are doing me the biggest favor. My husband, when he sends men off and would rather be with them, can be a frightful bore. Our children shall play together and we shall have good companionship for the summer.”
Owen crouched and held his hands out. “Miranda, come give your father a hug.”
The little girl flew into his arms and hugged his neck tightly. He embraced her and could feel her little body throbbing with unvoiced sobs. “It will be fine, Miranda. I love you and I will be back very soon.”
“Don’t go, Papa.”
“Shhhh. Miranda, you’re three and a half years old. Do you know what that means?”
Her hair brushed his hands as she shook her head.
“It means you’re a big girl now. You’re almost four. So, I need you to do big girl things. Can you do that for me?”
The girl pulled back and looked up at him with big eyes brimming with tears. “What?”
“I need you to help Agnes and Madeline to take care of Prince Richard and Princess Rowena. And I need you to be quiet and good in case your mother gets a headache. Can you do that?”
Miranda’s face scrunched up. “Richard plays like a boy.”
“That’s because he is a boy, darling.” Owen kissed her on the top of her head. “You do the best you can.”
“When will you be back?”
Owen held a hand up, fingers splayed. “Five full moons. You can count them. It won’t be long at all.”
The little girl looked at his hand, then touched each of his fingers in turn. “Okay. I will count.”
“I love you, Miranda.”
“I love you, Papa.”
Owen slipped from her embrace and took her hand, walking her over to Catherine. “Five months at the most. Back sooner, I hope.”
Catherine folded her arms over her chest. “As quickly as you can.”
“Of course.”
“Owen, this is another grand adventure for you. You’ve wanted to be off with your friends again since the last time you returned. You have responsibilities.”
“To the Crown, as well as my family. I know that, Catherine.”
“There are times, Owen, when you need to get those responsibilities properly ordered.” She smiled. “Miranda, be a good girl and find Agnes, please.”
“Yes, Mama.”
As the girl departed, Catherine’s eyes narrowed and ice entered her voice. “You may think this is all grand good fun, but I do not appreciate being abandoned. Not in the least. Don’t be surprised if Miranda and I are in Norisle when you return.”
He reached out to caress her cheek, but she turned her face away. “Catherine, do not do anything rash. When I return, I promise you, we will go to Norisle together. As a family.”
“For good?”
“Catherine, let’s not make decisions until we know what is best for us.”
“That’s how it always is with you, Owen. You know what is best for you. You never consider what might be best for me.” She poked a finger against his chest. “Whatever you do, Owen, see to it that no harm comes to Colonel Rathfield.”
“I think he’s quite capable of taking care of himself.”
Her nostrils flared. “You know that is not true, not in this savage land. I shall hold you personally responsible for anything untoward which befalls him. I will not have his death or injury besmirching our name, do you understand me?”
“Yes, Catherine.” Owen forced his right hand open, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. “No matter what you think, Catherine, I love you and I love Miranda, and I would do neither of you any harm. I go because I must, but I return because I wish to be no place else than with my family.”
He turned, and Catherine reached for his hand. She brought it to her cheek and he felt a warm tear against his flesh. “Owen, I am sorry. I worry so.”
“Hush, my dear. See to our daughter and I shall be home soon.” He drew her hands to his and kissed them, then headed down the lawn to the canoes. He listened to the delighted shrieking of children, but didn’t turn to see them at play. He would have lingered and watched them for far too long.
The expedition had been fitted out with three fifteen-foot-long birch-bark canoes of Altashee manufacture. Nathaniel and Kamiskwa had the first one, and filled the middle with cargo. Likewise the third would carry cargo and had Count von Metternin and Hodge crewing it. That left Owen and Makepeace to handle the second one, with Rathfield reduced to the role of self-loading cargo. He helped Makepeace steady the canoe as Rathfield got in, then Owen took up his position in the bow, and Makepeace sat in the stern.
As they moved out onto the water, Owen looked back and waved. The watchers waved back, though his wife less enthusiastically than the others. Quickly riverbank brush stole them from sight. Owen bent to paddling and slid in behind the lead canoe. His muscles protested at first-it had been a while since he’d been out in a canoe-but as he warmed up, the tightness eased.
They left in mid-morning, so only the last tenuous threads of mist clung to the shadows along the riverbanks. The Benjamin River flowed slowly and serenely to the sea, but as broad as it was, the current did not flow fast enough to make them work terribly hard to go upstream. Cattails lined the banks, and tall grasses filled the fields. Yellow, red, and orange wildflowers bloomed here and there. Dragonflies zigzagged above the water and bald eagles perched high in trees surveyed their party as they rowed past.
Owen glanced over his shoulder. “What do you think, Colonel?”
“It is a vast land, Strake, no doubt about it. A farm here and there, but untrammeled otherwise.” He shrugged. “I’m certain poets would be given to excess in describing it, the bucolic beauty, the unspoiled, virginal nature of things. That’s not quite how I see it, I am afraid.”
Makepeace spat over the side. “How would you be seeing it, Colonel?”
“What others see as unspoiled, I see as untamed. As the Good Book tells us, man was given dominion over the world. It is up to us to impose order on the world. The natural order.”
The larger man grunted. “And this natural order is…?”
“Man over animals, greater men over lesser, noble over peasant.” Rathfield smiled in a way that made Owen think it would be a frighteningly long journey. “To bring that order over those who defy the Crown is the soul of my mission. It is one from which I shall not shrink nor surrender.”
Chapter Eight
10 April 1767 Prince Haven, Temperance Bay, Mystria
“Are you certain, Highness, that this is wise?”
Prince Vlad scratched the side of his head, then righted his floppy-brimmed hat again. “I’m more convinced it isn’t entirely stupid. If it works, it will be wise.”
Mugwump, the Prince’s dragon, blinked a golden eye. When Mugwump had arrived in Mystria with Prince Vlad’s father, he’d been a thickly constructed, dull black beast. The wurm’s official portrait confirmed his appearance. As with all wurms, he’d been largely seen as a giant gecko, save for claws, horns, and a mouth full of ivory teeth. As wurms went, he had been unremarkable.
Since living in Mystria he had changed. His skin had become very shiny. Gold and scarlet stripes and spots had risen to make him appear festive. And then, in 1764, he’d undergone a molt and chrysalis which, instead of killing him as the Prince had expected, had transformed him into a dragon. His head had narrowed and his neck grew longer. His tail had similarly slimmed down and lengthened as a counter-balance. He grew ears, which swiveled about freely, suggesting great auditory acuity. Mugwump, while being leaner and lighter than before, had become far more supple and strong.
And then there was the matter of his wings. When he first emerged from the cocoon, the wings appeared underdeveloped and clearly never meant to sustain flight. But stories of old had told of dragons cruising high through the clouds. Over the next three years, the wings had become stronger. Using a long lead, the Prince had tried to encourage Mugwump to hop about or glide-efforts the dragon took with seeming equal parts amusement and disdain.