Golden Braids and Dragon Blades: Steampunk Rapunzel

Chapter 21: Vortigern’s Castle

Ewan and I headed back to the library. Motioning for me to follow, he led me to the massive grandfather clock that sat along the wall.

“Remember what Agent Hunter said?” he asked.

I nodded, recalling Ewan’s boss handing the key to him.

Ewan opened the glass face of the grandfather clock. On the moon dial at the top of the clock was the image of a moon with a face, its mouth open in a wide yawn. Ewan stuck the key inside. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but when Ewan turned the key, a latch unlocked. To my surprise, the back panel of the grandfather clock, which was flat against the wall, swung open to reveal a narrow passage on the other side.

“False wall,” Ewan said. “The agency has loads of hidden places like this all over the country. Feeling brave?”

“I’m a Pendragon, remember?” I asked with a wink.

Ewan grinned. He snatched his goggles off his belt and pulled them on. When he activated a lever on the side, a green glow surrounded his eyes. Ducking, he stepped inside and through the clock.

“Mind your hair on the pendulum and cables,” Ewan said.

Gently pushing the pendulum aside, I followed Ewan within then closed the clock behind me.

The space that Ewan and I entered appeared to be a narrow space between two walls. Our path lit by Ewan’s goggles, we headed down the narrow passage to a door. Ewan opened it to reveal a flight of stairs that led below the manor.

He looked back at me.

I giggled at the sight of his face illuminated green, remembering that this was how I’d first seen him. I nodded for him to go ahead.

We headed down the stone stairwell. The stairs were crudely made. The stone appeared to be carved out of the foundation of the house, the earth itself, not set by a mason. We wove further and further down. Soon, I was met by the familiar smells of minerals and earth. As we traveled, the walls had shifted from wood to stone to earth and rock. We were deep underneath the manor house now.

The light from Ewan’s goggles revealed the bottom of the stairwell ahead. As we neared the end of the stairs, Ewan stopped to lift a torch from a wall sconce. Digging in his pockets, he pulled out a small device. When he clicked it, I caught the distinct scents of sulfur and flint, and the device ignited a small flame. He lit the torch then closed his machine once more, blowing on it to cool it down before he slipped it back into his pocket.

“Forgot to cool it off once,” he whispered. “Caught my shirt on fire.”

I giggled.

Taking my hand, he led me forward.

I knew my mind should have been fixed on whatever surprise awaited me, but all I could do was stare at Ewan, to relish the feeling of my hand in Ewan’s, my skin upon his. While my life in my cave had been safe, it had been so very lonely. If not for the girls, I would have sunk into a terrible melancholy. But now… Well, now I knew what it felt like to live.

“Wow,” Ewan said, lifting the torch.

Pulling myself away from my thoughts, I looked around me.

I gasped.

We were standing in the center of what appeared to be the remains of a Roman temple. Ewan lit the other torches on the walls. The room was bathed in orange light.

The temple was long, a narrow stone path down the center. On either side was a shallow pool, rectangular in shape, and only a few inches deep. Water ran down the walls of the underground temple, into the pools, and out the other end, leaving the water perpetually fresh. The walls had been carved with reliefs of a muscular man slaying a bull. All around, I saw unusual imagery intermixed with images of the same hero: discs, suns, hammers, animals. The designs were not Celtic. They barely even looked Roman. There was a strange feeling in the air. At the other end of the temple was a tall statue with the head of a lion, the body of a man, and wrapped around the figure was a dragon.

“What is this place?” I whispered.

“It’s a mithraeum,” Ewan said. “A temple to the Roman god Mithras.”

“Why is there a mithraeum under Agent Hunter’s ancestral home?”

“That, Princess Pendragon, is a very good question. The cults of Mithras were very secret, underground. The Society has some records on them, but not much,” Ewan said then shook his head. “When the Romans left, they took their gods with them. The teachings of Christ came into fashion not long after, and all the old gods were nearly forgotten.”

“Nearly forgotten.”

Ewan nodded. “Some of the Celts reverted to the old religion. Some converted to Christianity. But others had converted to the Roman gods whose cults are still alive and well. The Cult of Mithras,” Ewan said then let out a long whistle. “Very secret.”

I glanced around the room. “Look,” I said, pointing to one of the reliefs on the wall. On it was a crumbling castle tower. Men stood looking at the tower, gesturing at its failing state. At the front of the crowd was a man and a boy. And under the tower were two dragons. Though the paint on the relief had faded, I still spotted the faint glow of red on one dragon, white on the other.

“Vortigern’s castle,” Ewan and I said at once.

I smiled at him. “You know the story?”

He nodded. “Of course. Vortigern’s new castle kept falling apart as they attempted to build it, so he called for the most powerful magician in the land to come and determine why. Merlin was just a boy then, but everyone knew he was a gifted seer. It was Merlin who revealed that two dragons—one white, one red—were at war under the castle. Only once the dragons were set free could the castle construction continue.”

“Set free or killed,” I said, “depending on who’s telling the tale.”

Ewan nodded.

“Why this image here? In a temple of Mithras?” I asked.

Ewan shook his head. “Vortigern was Roman, perhaps a follower of Mithras. I don’t know. Maybe the story was just a metaphor.”

“Or maybe…” I said then took the torch from Ewan’s hand. I approached the lion-headed statue. I eyed it over, paying close attention to the depiction of the dragon. The man. The lion. The dragon. They were in symbiosis. The three together. One. What did it mean?

A soft breeze blew in from one of the side corridors. And along with it, I heard a faint voice sing that same melody: I’m the spirit of them all.

“Let’s see what’s down there,” Ewan said, turning toward the cavern. He pulled another torch from the wall, and we followed the narrow passage to the next chamber.

It felt strange to be in a cave once more. It was like being at home, yet the sense of confinement was frightening. My hands trembled as I considered my future. After all this, I could never survive being shut away again.

The passage let out into another chamber with a tall domed ceiling. At the center of the room was a round altar. I looked up. The stone overhead glimmered in the torchlight.

“Altar or table?” Ewan asked.

I touched the surface of the stone then shook my head. “I don’t know.”

Ewan shrugged. “Mithras was known for feasting rituals. And we all know that round tables lead to good things, right? I mean, no one makes human sacrifices on a round table. That’s just uncouth. And certainly not in Britain.”

I chuckled then nodded.

“Shall we?” Ewan said, motioning toward the exit.

Ewan and I left the table chamber then crossed the temple to the other side, where we entered the second corridor. As we walked, it soon became apparent that this passage led away from the temple. As we went, we passed seven different mosaics. Each had different symbols. Spades, moons, crowns, and sickles, amongst other items were depicted. Though I didn’t understand their meaning, I could feel the weight of the magic on me. The worship of Mithras had become part of the realm’s history, part of what made up Britannia. I felt its energy. We followed the narrow passageway until we reached yet another flight of stairs carved from the bedrock. As we ascended, we discovered a stone covering the exit. Ewan scanned the wall until he spotted a lever. He pulled it then motioned for me to step back. A moment later, the stone slid away. Fresh, night air poured in from outside. Extinguishing our torches and leaving them behind, Ewan and I headed outside.

We found ourselves standing in a Roman-style domed gazebo in the rose garden. Heady red roses covered the edifice. Once we were both safely out, Ewan and I scanned around, looking for a means to close the grate. Rather than vertical Roman columns, the gazebo dome was held aloft by statues of the Roman gods. Under the light of the moon, I studied them all until I found the lion-headed figure from the temple once more.

“Here,” I said, pointing to the statue.

Ewan eyed it over then reached out and touched the key that the statue held in its hand. Moving carefully, he turned the key.

There was a scrape as the stone grate closed.

Ewan turned and looked at me. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“And what did you expect to find down there?”

Ewan shrugged. “Guns? Gold? Not sure, but not a secret temple of Mithras.”

I chuckled. “Never know what you’ll find in a cave.”

He stepped closer to me and set his hand on my waist. “No. Indeed not,” he said then very slowly pulled me toward him. “Rapunzel,” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“I have something I have to tell you,” he whispered, staring into my eyes.

“O-okay.”

“I… I love bacon too.”

I grinned. “I know.”

Ewan leaned toward me, setting his other hand on my cheek. I closed my eyes. Kissed in the rose garden of my own, personal Pemberley. Could there be anything more perfect?

Then a massive explosion erupted, rocking the ground around us. I heard the glass in the windows of the manor house shatter. My eyes snapped open, and I turned in time to see a whoosh of orange light shoot up into the sky from the front of the house.

I turned back to Ewan. “The girls. I need to get to the girls. The egg! I left the egg behind.”

Without saying another word, Ewan and I raced back toward the house.