~Order of the Dragon~
Percilla, a hidden heir to a European barony, secreted among the Gypsies! And all this time! The year was 1883 - that was over fifty years ago!"
"But, what about this 'Order of the Dragon', eh?" Thurgood said. "In all my university study, I've not heard of such a thing. Percilla, if you really are part Romanian, did not your parents tell you much? I mean, you speak and read it well enough, we see, but what of any stories at all?"
Percilla, her arms crossed over her brest, hugging her arms as if chilled, was pacing up and down the room, framed against the light of the hearth. Her face was a mask of expressionless plaster, no emotion showing through. It was easy, now that her heritage was revealed, to see the dusky heat in her eyes, and where the jet-black mane of hair came from. But the mind behind those eyes betrayed nothing.
"Percilla," Eason asked, almost pleading, "Can you not give us any more, any clue that might help resolve this mystery - "
"Mystery! What mystery, and what clues, Eason?" Percilla suddenly rounded on him, her voice rising in venom. "My raving uncle falls dead on my floor - we find a key in my mother's locket - we dig up a box with a note in it - and what, pray, do you expect to happen? Nothing! I am Percilla St. Cyr, heiress to this manor, and I am NOT some wandering Gypsy-witch!!!" And she punctuated her words with the smash of a chair to the floor.
"Percilla, please, calm yourself!" Thurgood said, moving to her side, and touching her arm; Percilla wrenched away from his grip.
"No, Thurgood! Don't you see! Everything I've been told, and been taught, and everything you know about me, is a lie! That's what this parchment is telling you!"
"Percilla that's quite some leap of logic," Eason came in defending Thurgood. "This means you're not telling us something more, now please, be open and honest with your two closest friends, for if not us, then who?"
Percilla, still puffing hard in her anger, slowly mastered herself and, with effort, began.
"Both of you know the St. Cyr's, an old family dating back several generations in this community? Well, they're everything you've heard - upstanding, charitable, and generous. Until Mommy came into the family, so they told me. Chelsea Westerfield - whose real name was Francesca - was a foundling, adopted by Lord Westerfield, my grandfather.
"Edgar was Grandpapa's son - Mommy and he were half-brother and sister. I know that he knew something about this and how they argued about the "blood awakening" and "the return of the Order" -
"'The blood awakening'. Just like in the scroll?" Eason said.
"Yes, that must be what they were talking about that night," Percilla said.
"Well, there's your answer, isn't it?" Thurgood exclaimed. Edgar knew of your mother's heritage, obviously, and with them dead, it would fall to YOU to claim the inheritance. So he came here to wring the secrets out of you, so he could claim it falsely!"
"He did say, that he wanted to be here at the awakening," Percilla said.
"So," Eason reasoned, "with Edgar's pursuit of you, he thought the time to claim it had arrived. But what is involved in the claim?
"I couldn't begin to tell you, Eason," Percilla said, "because this was all a forbidden subject. I haven't thought much about it. Mommy and Papa both died years ago, during the influenza outbreak. Papa was weaker, you know - The war weakened his constitution."
"Did they keep no diaries, no journals, Percilla?" Thurgood thought. "After all, a person's thoughts are properly set down in writing..."
"Thoughts in writing... well DONE, Thurgood, once again!" Eason exclaimed. "We need thoughts in writing - information! What do we have? We know there is an knightly Order of the Dragon, and it's based in a region of Europe, the continent, obviously - and there are no more direct heirs to the title, but we have an illegitimate connexion - no, Percilla, I will not apologize for the proper term - with a legal claim, which is obviously what this document was meant to establish! This isn't so much a contract - it's a title, a deed, even a will! Percilla, you might just have claim to be The Baroness Sibiu'! Can't you just imagine!"
bttt
This is getting good!!
~Order of the Dragon~
Percilla, a hidden heir to a European barony, secreted among the Gypsies! And all this time! The year was 1883 - that was over fifty years ago!"
“I, - I-” Percilla visibly shuddered. “Cannot. Not - “
“Try, my sweet, TRY,” Thurgood insisted. “It is thoughts in writing-information we need! journals, diaries, even memories-”
“Stop it!” she shouted, her voice rising in a fatigued anger. “Stop it all!”
The slow seconds of silence that followed unmasked a palpable tension within the room, mixed with a seemingly visible up welling of conflicting emotions.
“It has,” Eason said finally, breaking the stiffening mood, “been a very - long day.”
“Yes,” Percilla said, almost as a sob, “it has.”
A feeling of fatigued relief swept over the trio. Eason, with effort, took a deep breath and said slowly, “May I suggest - that we retire for the night.”
Percilla looked as though a weight had been lifted from her soul. “Yes,” she gasped, “yes.”
“Thurgood nodded in a slow motion, then interjected, “Perhaps we should meet the day after the morrow. That will give us all time - to collect our thoughts - to regroup.”
“Excellent idea cousin,” Eason replied in a voice wearied by the days events.
“Yes,” Percilla repeated, in almost a whisper.
The cousins bade Percilla a good evening and rest, and after Thurgood stole a quick brush of Percilla’s cheek with his lips and whispered something to which she ignored, they both ventured outside toward the waiting carriage.
They sat in silence, each clocked in their private thoughts as the driver snapped the reins to motioned the horses to task.
Thurgood’s thoughts were first that it had, indeed, been a very long day. However there were encouraging prospects for an enormous profitable one.
Though he had rather deep ingrained emotions and prejudice toward the lower classes, so long as the dear Percilla maintained secrecy, what was it to matter?
For he well knew, as did his cousin, that though they were both of moderate wealth, Percilla’s estate was vastly superior in terms of overall assets, of which she shall receive in it’s entirety in a few short years. And adding to his rising elation was this latest episode. of the seemingly distinct possibility of her being this Baroness of whatever. And of course with it would be even more affluence. And one, as he so often stated, can never be too rich.
Thurgood, basking in this potential windfall, yet succumbing to an attrition in strength, closed his eyes and listened to the rhythmic clip-clop of hoofs upon cobbles. Yes, it had been a very long day.
Eason too had thoughts of his own but of a different nature: that of the personal commitment he had made to see this thing through, more for his own state of mind than for the others, and what his path would take after said task is completed. Then fleetingly to Percilla, to whom he furtively hoped would be even a gossamer glimmer of change, of connection to what he aspired to be her true nature. And that, he reflected with much regret, has been once again been dashed.
As Thurgood melded into the seat, head slowly bobbing in a state of stupor, Eason gave a long, slow yawn.
For it had been a very, very long day.
After bading the pair a good night, Percilla quickly retired to her bedroom. Undressing herself, she foregoed her night clothing and with movements reminiscent of one much older than she, climbed into bed.
The coolness of the sheets against her base flesh, normally a refreshing sensuality, did nothing to diminish her mood. As she attempted to grasp the starting of slumber, words, emotions and memories came flooding back.
I am NOT some wandering Gypsy-witch!
I am NOT!
I am not . . ..
As the fatigue of her body overcame her senses, she drifted off with those words cling to her mind like vines upon an ancient wall.
Soon she was asleep.
For her, it had been a very, very long day.
However the trident of partners were not unique in this.
There was another who shared their primary thought.
One who, though a vast world apart from these three of high station, the day was as just as long. And whose pursuant actions of this period was to bring to those who discovered the parchment an element of depth, danger and discovery to which they could have never imagined.
Who had started out this day, as he had on all days, up before first light, then after a beggarly meal, off to his sustenance producing labor.
As a small child, he, along with others of his kind to whom certain specific abnormalities in appearance occurred, were placed within this foreign community, given names that would accommodate the deception, along with essential language, manner and custom training.
And taught in great detail and depth of the prophecy.
Which, along with specific instructions, were long since buried in his memory under years of mundane toil and hardship.
So it was that when approached in the late morning by a well dressed Gentleman who requested his services, these were the last things on his simple mind.
At first, when the Gentleman recited his request, the impact did not register due to the abstract way in which he addressed these classified words.
However as he witnessed the reaction of the Gentleman to his answers, long hibernating remembrances came flooding back.
First of which was on how silly these words were. Then, as the Squire offered payment for his information, the impact and ramifications of such hit him full force.
It was the prophecy. The Prophecy!
And when the Gentlemen’s demeanor took an abrupt change toward his person, it not only stirred additional theophanic memories, but gave him a further confirmation as to the validity of the teachings.
He then departing from the Squire, hid his handcart and made his way to a ridge to observe the activities below. As he watched and listened to snatches of conversations, including names, that emanated from the rather improbable group, Mircea recalled two proverbs, one in English, the other in his native tongue:
The Lord works in mysterious ways
Devlesa araklam tume
And so it was that when the cousins arrived at their adjacent estates, a small group of dark featured men, perched on a bluff, observed their movements with intent eyes. After the pair had departed into their homes, one of the men mounted a horse and with a fast gallop took off toward the north.