SONS OF THE FATHERS

Chapter 10: Somewhere In Time

"We'll find her," Jack was saying to Maximus.  "You were only gone a moment. He can't have taken her far.  She's got to be somewhere here in Sydney, somewhere near."  

 

How right the good Captain was.  She was, indeed, near.  Very, very near. She still lay, in fact, upon the chair.  
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"Joseph! We'll have to go back!"

"It's too late, Ma'am.  The Governor will have my hide if I get you home any later."

"I left my journal on my chair, Joseph.  I HAVE to go back! Turn the carriage around now!"

With a heavy sigh, Joseph Big guided Ajax and General in a gentle curve, heading them back along the road that ran to the far tip of the Botanic Gardens.  He was well aware of how Mrs. Macquarie valued that journal of hers.  But he was equally well aware of how the Governor valued his wife.  Despite the darkness, he urged the two horses into a fast trot, hoping to shave some minutes off the return trip. He knew this road well, having brought Mrs. M. out to her chair countless times.  They hadn't got all that far around the curve of the cove before she'd remembered she'd left it, so it didn't take long to cover the ground again. It musta been that sunset this evening.  Mrs. M. really got into the sunsets.  Sometimes she even sketched them when she couldn't find words descriptive enough.  

 

With a loud, "Whoa!" he pulled the horses up near the large sandstone outcropping where the Governor had had the special seat carved out of the living rock for his wife.  "I'll get it, Ma'am," he said, hopping out of the carriage and striding quickly toward the complex of ridges, niches, and steps.  

Elizabeth Macquarie sat quietly in the carriage, tucking in a loose strand of dark hair from where the evening breeze off the harbor had blown it free.  She shook her head, impatient with her forgetfulness. What if she'd not remembered the journal and it had been left out all night?  If the expected rain didn't ruin it, anyone at all might just have walked off with it! Then she smiled, remembering the sunset.  No wonder she'd been distracted! The sky had turned all glorious peach and pink with bright yellow highlights over the far western stretches of the harbor.  Her dear Mr. M. would be concerned at her lateness, this she knew for a certainty, but he kept his journals himself, putting a value on them quite equal to her own.

She heard a sudden startled exclamation from Joseph and caught her breath, fearful that her journal was missing.  "Joseph!" she called toward the dark shapes of the outcropping. "Is my journal not there?"  

 

He appeared beside the carriage, her journal in his hand, but kept turning his head back toward the long bench that had been carved as part of the complex. “There's a woman there, Ma'am," he said.  

 

"A woman?" she repeated.  "Is it one of the convict women?"  

 

"I don't think so, Ma'am," he said, frowning in puzzlement.  "She's dressed fair strange.  Not like a convict at all.  And she appears to be in some great distress."
 

"What?" Elizabeth cried, taking her journal and putting it on the seat as she stood. "Here, Joseph, help me down."  

 

He handed her carefully to the path and followed her back to the outcropping.  She stopped a few paces out from the stone bench.  Indeed there was a lady lying there, moaning softly, one arm flung over her face whilst her other hand gripped the edge of the bench.  

 

"Perhaps we should leave her be?" Joseph ventured hopefully as ever more minutes ticked by in his getting Mrs. M. safely home.  

 

"Leave her BE?" Elizabeth snorted.  "Why, Joseph, it is quite obvious the poor woman is suffering and in very great need of assistance."  She took a few more steps toward the bench, gasping when she saw that the woman was great with child.  

Joimus had never in her life experienced the kind of nausea that had her in its grip, waves of it washing relentlessly through her as the world continued to spin wildly out of control.  Only vaguely was she aware that someone had knelt beside her, had reached out to touch her brow.

 

"M...ma...," she tried to form the syllables of her husband's name, but ceased when she knew she must keep her lips clamped firmly shut or her liver and kidneys would hurl themselves forth onto the ground.  She felt only vaguely herself being lifted and carried, placed awkwardly into some conveyance that proceeded to bump her roughly as it moved.  She kept her eyes tightly shut, unable to bear the sight of the tortured gyrations of the trees and sky.  

"Breathe," someone was saying.  "Breathe the night air, my dear, and you will feel better."  

 

Elizabeth studied  the woman whose head and shoulders rested across her lap.  How strangely she was clothed.  Her fingers picked up a fold of the garment.  It was thin and delicate...almost like...gossamer.  "Hurry, Joseph!" she said.  "I want to get her back to Government House before Dr. Redfern leaves tonight."  

At the sound of the clatter of the carriage arriving, a tall, distinguished-looking man opened the door hurriedly.  "Elizabeth!" he cried.  "Are you all right?"

 

"I am in a most excellent condition of health, my dear husband," she replied, "but I fear the same cannot be said for this lady in my company."  

 

"Lady?" he repeated, looking into the carriage.  "What lady is this?"

 

"I know not at all," she explained.  "I but found her in great distress lying on the bench near my chair."  

 

Dr. Thomas Redfern had come out the door behind the Governor. "What have we here?" he asked, his eyes opening in some surprise upon apprising himself of the expectant condition of the unknown lady.  "Best we get her inside," he announced, getting up into the carriage to help hand her down to Joseph's waiting arms.  

 

 

Maximus passed the night sitting on the ground beside the bench, the end of the yellow scarf held tight in his hand.  Jack wouldn't leave him and so settled himself, his back against a nearby tree.  

 

"I'll be back at first light with Zack and Bud," Terry had said as he and Himself left to return to Woolloomooloo, needing to make some explanation to the others as to what was going on and to make arrangements for repair to the door and window of Bunny's room.  

 

In the wee hours of the night, Maximus finally lay his head forward on the bench, his fingers still curled into the scarf.  He slept and in his dreams his fingers curled into the soil of two mounds of Spanish dirt. Hewoke suddenly, tipping his head to look at the moon floating through high wispy clouds.  His throat choked with tight emotion.  Were wives and sons always to be just beyond his reach?  Resting his elbows on the bench, he buried his face in his hands.  

A bit earlier, Himself and Terry had come back into the Northern Apartments. Tiredly, Himself lay the gladius on the coffee table.  

 

"You have Maximus' sword?" Phyllis said, looking surprised.  

 

He sighed, letting himself sit heavily into the deep cushioning of the couch.  "It was either that or let him kill Sid," he said.  

 

Franki lay aside the book she'd been reading.  "What did Sid do now?" she asked.  

 

"I'm not sure he did anything," Himself replied, wiping a palm across his face.  Phyllis handed him a cold beer.  "Thanks," he smiled gratefully.  

 

"What's going on?" she asked as she sat beside him.  

 

He shook his head.  "I have no idea.  None."  

 

Terry, who had been leaning on the kitchen counter, walked back into the living area. "Joimus is missing," he said.

 

 

"Not again?" Franki frowned.  

 

"I'm afraid so," he continued. "She was waiting for Maximus at Mrs. Macquairie's Chair and when he got there, she was gone."  

 

"What makes you think it wasn't Sid this time?" Nash inquired.  

 

"The scarf," Terry explained.  "Her scarf is half-embedded in the stone seat."  

 

"What?" annsmac gasped.  

 

"Yeah," he said, "strangest thing I ever saw.  Don't think even Sid could manage that one."  

 

Himself hung up the phone.  He'd called both Bud and Zack, giving them some of the details, and asking them to meet Terry at the chair come dawn.   "Just check for every possible clue," Himself said.  

 

"You know we will," Terry affirmed.

 

"Where's Maximus now?" annsmac asked.  

 

"He stayed out at the chair," Himself said.  "Didn't want to leave...just in case."  

 

"Aubrey, he stayed with him?" Rose asked softly.  

 

Terry nodded.  "I am not surprised," she murmured, smiling slightly.  

First light found Zack, Bud, and Terry walking along the pathway to the Point, accompanied by Susan, Berti, annsmac and Rose.  

 

"Right out the window?" Bud was asking Terry.  

 

"Yeah," Terry replied, "two stories down onto the apron of the Wharf."  

 

Bud narrowed his eyes.  "I'm not sure Sid's not behind it. His mind's so twisted he could come up with almost anything."  

 

"Wait till you see the bench," Terry added.  "I don't think it's humanly possible to do what's been done to that scarf."  

 

"He's NOT human," Bud growled.

The seven of them rounded the final curve and came up by the outcropping that overlooked the harbor.  Exhausted, Maximus had finally slept again, his head resting on his arms atop the bench.  Jack awoke instantly at the crunch of their footsteps on the pathway, standing quickly and straightening his vest.  

 

He smiled when he saw Rose had come, but then his gaze turned quickly toward the General who had not awakened yet.  He pressed his lips together, blinking rapidly at the sight of the fingers curled through the scarf. Rose came up beside him and he curved his arm around her small form, pulling her close, treasuring her presence even more because of what his friend was enduring.  

 

"We must get her back for him...quickly," he whispered into her hair.  

 

"Yes," she said, "the baby coming so soon...it is...necessary."

A flight of five steps was carved into the stone just to the left of the bench and Zack went up them.  "I think THIS is the actual chair," he called softly toTerry, who joined him.  

 

"Looks like you're right," Terry agreed, noting themuch more chair-like appearance of the smaller seat carved into the rock of a large niche. He looked down to the side at the bench.  "That must've been carved in case she had other people with her."

 

"Likely," Zack nodded.

Though they kept their voices low, the sound of it finally penetrated Maximus' slumbers and he jerked awake, his hand going to his empty scabbard.  

 

Jack walked quickly to his side.  "It's all right, Maximus.  They've come to look for clues."  

 

The General looked up at him wryly.  "It is not all right, Jack.  My wife...my son...they were waiting for me."  He closed his eyes.  "I was not in time."  

 

"It is not your fault, Maximus," Jack offered comfortingly.

"If the fault is not mine," Maximus replied, "whose is it?"  

 

The Captain looked back toward Woolloomooloo.  "Sid's," he said, his voice almost a growl.  

 

"Always...Sid," Maximus whispered barely audibly as he stood. "Yet...I left her.  I gave him the opening he needed."  

 

"We don't know that, Maximus," Terry said, coming down the steps to show Zack and Bud the strange positioning of the scarf.  Maximus turned away wearily, looking at the white sails skimming the harbor waters.  "I know that," he said to himself.

Bud whistled when he saw he scarf.  "Now THAT'S a strange one!" he said, giving the scarf a light tug.  

 

"Don't tear it!" Maximus cried, turning back toward the bench.
"It is already...damaged...enough."  That, too, was his fault.  

Terry and Zack went up a longer, curving flight of steps that led up from the right-hand end of the bench to the top of the outcropping. Carefully they looked for any sort of clue, any sign of what had happened.  Bud went down another long flight of steps to the wide, paved way that ran around the curve near the water's edge.  They explored every ledge, every surface of the outcropping.  Nothing.  Not a thing.  Only the scarf.

Finally Terry looked at annsmac and said, "Want to go with me to the library?"  

"Of course," she replied, "but why the library?"  

 

"I want to check on the history of this place," he explained.  "Perhaps there'll be some clue hidden in its history."

A morning sunbeam came through the window, waking Joimus.  She looked at the white curtains, the unfamiliar flowered wallpaper, then down at the soft, thick quilt that covered her in the high bed.  She pushed the covers back a bit, her eyes widening when she discovered she was wearing a long white cotton nightgown. Then she saw her "bump" and patted it affectionately.  

 

"At least you're still the same, Dess," she murmured.  

 

Just then the door opened and a servant walked in with a tray of tea and toast. Setting it on a small side table, she smiled at Joimus and said, "For you, Ma'am.  Good mornin', Ma'am." Then she hurried out the door, closing it after herself.  

 

Joimus stared at the tray then back at the window.  Where WAS she? How had she gotten here?  Remembering suddenly the violent nausea and spinning, she had a moment's gratitude that that seemed to completely have passed.  What had caused that anyway?  She slid her feet over the side of the bed.  Maximus would be frantic with worry. She'd told him she would wait for him at the chair, not budge from the chair, yet here she was...well, wherever it was, it was certainly NOT the chair!  She had to get back there right away!

The door opened again and a dark-haired woman poked her head in.  "Better this morning?" she asked.  

 

Joimus gaped at her.  It was the face on the brooch.  She stared silently a long moment and then stammered, "E...e...elizabeth?"