Emerald Magic_ Great Tales of Irish Fantasy - Andrew M. Greeley [88]
“It would hurt him!”
“It would hurt you.”
The retort was as cutting as a blade.
“It would destroy your myth. Maud Gonne, the Joan of Arc of Ireland, pure and passionate, giving herself and her small fortune to the Cause would be transformed into pathetic Maud Gonne, mistress to a second-rate French journalist, bedmate to a man who would pimp her for his revolutionary cause, yet is so weak he collapses into whining misery if she leaves him.”
“That isn’t how it is between us.”
“You lie if you deny it. I speak only the truth. I am the truth. You, for all your pretensions of fiery honesty and righteous passion are the lie. You are cold with the chill of fearlessness. Only those who fear are brave. You do not fear—not even death. Or so you say . . . Is that lack of fear why you did not hesitate to barter away your father’s life? Since death is something not to fear, did you fool yourself that you were doing your Tommy no harm?”
“No!”
Maud’s scream of anguish was so intense that it ripped through the veil that separated her from Willie. She saw him move toward her, felt him touch her arm, heard the sound of his words but could make no sense of them. Only the words of the Lady in Grey reached her ears, though she raised her fists to cover them.
“You cannot have forgotten, have you?”th e Lady taunted. “Have you forgotten the young girl chafing under the restrictions set by her indulgent father—that same father who gave you and your sister free dom to play wild when others would have bundled you off to some boarding school? That father who taught you not to fear anything—even death.”
“I don’t want to hear this!”
“Why?”cam e the mocking reply. “Is there then something you fear?”
Maud could not manage the slightest sound. Her sense of herself was dissolving into minute fragments. The Lady in Grey spoke on relentlessly.
“You called your father ‘Tommy,’ as if he were a boy your own age. When you were reaching womanhood, you felt strange, perverse pride when Tommy escorted you on some outing. Together you laughed when you—father and daughter—were mistaken for newlywed man and wife. Yet when Tommy asserted his father’s role, when he insisted that you not encourage flirtations, you were angered. Or was it something else that angered you? Something else that made you act against him?”
“No! No! No!”
“Had you learned that your Tommy had a lover?”c ontinued the relentless interrogation.“Had you learned that this woman was heavy with his child? I think you did know this, and that you resented how your Tommy went to this woman to ease his needs. You were angered that he sought to command you when he was not even in command of himself. You were jealous that he could care for another. So what did you do?”
“No! Say nothing more. I demand it.”
The Lady in Grey’s lips shaped a mocking smile; her words flowed unceasing. “On a night full of storm, storms you did not fear, for you fear nothing, you lingered over the fire, brooding over the restrictions Tommy had placed on you—and on other things. There was a book among your father’s belongings, one of those he had collected for its beauty—for he had an eye for beauty in all things . . .”
“No!”
Protest had become plea, and with a cruel smile the Lady in Grey interrupted her narration.
“I will tell it or you will, Fearless,”said the Lady in Grey.
“I will tell,”M aud said, drawing on the private strength that had always been her own. She saw the Lady in Grey grow taller as she did so, and knew the link between them. But she had promised, so she spoke.
“There was a book of occult writings among my father’s treasures. It contained incantations and bits of lore, but he had not purchased it for these.He had bought the book because of the richness of its illuminated engravings and the gilt edge of its bindings. Always interested in building my resources, I had read the book and knew