13. ROWDIE

Rowdie Guthrie Flynn was a tall figure, magnificent in maroon doublet and kidskin leggings. Fashionable slashed sleeves revealed insets of the McGonagall blue that matched his fierce eyes. They were Da’s eyes too, but Rowdie’s hair was coal black, a contribution of his Irish father. His broad chest was protected by a cuirass of polished steel, inlaid with swirls of some goldish metal. His legs were planted wide apart in loose, nappy leather boots, and he wore a brimmed cap with a short white plume, held in place by a cameo brooch with a profile of perhaps a woman's face. In powerful contrast, a long plain claymore hung at his belt. No jewels or scrollwork decorated its hilt, leaving room enough there for two strong brown hands to grasp and swing the blade in a deadly arc. He was reading a scroll, but now looked up, showing a modest beard, not cut and shaped in the Court style of the day, but natural-looking like her father’s.

“Ah, here’s a bawcock and a fine juvenal to beg audience! Welcome, young Jupiter! You’ve been standing afront me in lengthy converse. I ken the portent of your words to run on the true ownership of the wand in yon child’s hand there. Contest it no longer! The fag is truly mine, Cousin, the very one I abandoned when I left home to sail the wide seas with my well-loved Rory MacNeil.”

“Forgive us, noble kinsman, we were indeed struck with surprise by your appearance in the Glass, but we are well and truly gratified that your wand has blessed my daughter…” Minerva stole a quick glance at her father. She had never heard him talk in this swanky way before.

“Daughter, say you? Odds bodikins, ‘tis a rare thing that a wizard’s wand favors a witchling. Forgive me, but I had taken your daughter for a boy-child, slight in build, but mettlesome. Methinks I see the fiery spirit of the Flynns in her eyes. The judgment was well taken.”

“Thank you, my lord. Her name is Minerva.”

“Ah, the goddess of wisdom. Another happy choice. I alas have not been known for my wit, but it doth seem there was no other path I could honorably choose...” He hesitated, looking wistful.

“Please go on, my Lord. We would be honored by any tale that comes from your lips.”

Da was just being polite, but Minerva, who could not resist a good story, especially one about her wizarding relatives, chimed in: “Oh do, please!”

“I cannot say thee nay, fair lady.” He moved closer to them, so that he took up almost the entirety of the glass. And Minerva could better observe the detail of his dress. He had, in addition to the fearsome claymore, a sharp dirk and a curious, blunt, curved rod of wood and metal stuck in his belt. And the jewel in his cap was indeed etched with the face of a woman, a very beautiful woman.

“Let me ask first, Lass, will you be attending the Hogwarts School betimes?”

“Indeed she will,” boomed Jupiter, his chest puffed out with pride. “This very year.”

“Prithee, does that august institution retain the honor of being haunted by one Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington?”

Minerva looked bewildered. She had a list of current Hogwarts teachers, but didn’t recognize the name. Her father answered, “Aye, cousin. He’s the official Gryffindor House ghost. Has been since old Godric retired about four hundred years ago.”

“In faith, I am glad to hear on’t. He deserved a more seemly end.”

“Did you know him?” This from Minerva once again, who was now bristling to hear more.

“Why, dear lady, we were at Hogwarts together�”Gryffindors, of course. Poor fellow, he was afflicted with what we called in those days ‘mage-fright’. You’ve not heard of it? Perhaps a cure has been effected since my time.”

“Actually,” said Jupiter, “the condition still exists. Minerva, your friend, Gilliain Gwynn, has it--actually a variant called Spoonerismus, I beleve.”

“Oh--so this ghost�”Sir Nicholas--mixes up his words?”

“Only Spell-words,” said Rowdie, “and only under great duress. In any case, it proved his ultimate undoing. He was trying to help out a very influential witch�”her name escapes me at the moment�”and he botched the spell badly. It wouldn’t have mattered so much except that the help was unsolicited.”

“Ah yes,” said Jupiter, remembering his school days. “Sir Nick has always been rather impulsive as I recall.”

“Indeed, and sadly not the brightest of lads. A few Knuts short of a Sickle, we used to say. Now, the mishap involved a facial abnormality in the lady�”crooked teeth, I ween-- and unfortunately Nick’s mistake occurred in a very public place. And rather than straighten the teeth, he caused them to grow."

"Let me guess: he said Dens Augeo instead of Dens Rectio," said Da.

" Aye, When it was all over, the lady resembled nothing so much as an enraged walrus.”

"Och!" Da winced.

“What happened to Sir Nicholas?” asked Minerva.

“He got the ax for his trouble.” Rowdie drew his dagger and passed it across his throat. “C-c-cackkkkk!”

“Oh dear.”

“Yes, he was convicted of gross stupidity and willful destruction of a witch’s good name and dentition, and, as he couldn’t pay the fines, he was handed over to a beef-witted codpiece of an executioner. It took forty-five blows of a blunt ax to finish Sir Nicholas. Certes, he bore it like a gentleman, nor blenched nor cried out.”

Minerva was stunned to silence, imagining Sir Nicholas’s painful end.

Da hastened to change the subject to a more pleasant theme. “You have yourself escaped the chopping block several times, have you not, Cousin?”

“Indeed, young Jupiter, I once was arrested with my captain MacNeil and brought before the King of Scots to answer charges of piracy against English ships. But we explained that we were only paying Elizabeth Tudor back for beheading his mother Mary, so he let us off with but a warning.”

“But that didn’t stop you from--adventuring, did it?” said Jupiter with a wink.

“We did place a wee bit more emphasis on the gold ships of Spain after that. And actually, it paid rather better. But enough about me. Young Minerva, I believe you have been having some adventures of your own in this very place.”

“What do you mean?” asked her father.

“I mean, we ghosts were watching when your daughter entered the cave with her friends.”

Minerva held her breath. Would Da notice Rowdie’s use of the word ‘friends’? She had told the Macnairs only she and Petey had explored the cave, not Gig.

“You needs must know that the young varlet who tried to steal a wand out of the Crypt a fortnight ago returned recently to make the attempt again.”

Minerva was shocked into reluctant speech. “You mean Petey? Petey came back?”

“He can’t have done that,” said Jupiter.

“Why not, Da?”

“Because that hole you found--the one you entered by--Duncan Macnair magically sealed it after he finished his search.” He strode over to the corner and gestured. Minerva saw a faintly glowing mass, plugging up the hole.

“That means�”he never left here.” Horrified, she thought back to the story she'd heard of the man who had wandered for days in a black, endless cavern, catching bats and eating them raw, sucking rocks for moisture, wearing his knife down to its hilt scratching at cracks in the rock, finally going mad with despair. Petey must be rotting somewhere in the Crypt, starved to death.

“I know not his fate,” said Rowdie, “I only know he returned to the tombs two nights ago and tried to steal the wand of our progenitor Auld Fearghas...”

How could Petey do such a thing? Why would he? And where would he get the courage? Minerva’s last memory of him had been a face in utter terror. What power on earth could have persuaded him to go back?

“…and I ken that he has been punished for it and lies in yon chamber even as we speak.”

And with that, Ralph “Rowdie” Flynn drew his claymore and saluted the new owner of his wand. “Fare thee well, brave youth! May your end be braver than your friend’s.” And the glass went dark.

Minerva and her father stood stunned, then, as one, they ran for the Crypt, not stopping, even when Minerva accidentally snagged a shelf full of scrolls with the sleeve of her robe and sent them scattering about the Library floor. Jupiter did curtail his long strides somewhat so that she could keep up and waited at each door, so that they were never more than a room apart. She was surprised he didn't just gather her up and carry her over his shoulder the rest of the way.

Now in the Crypt, he led her to the center, to Auld Fearhas's tomb, marked with a thick, unadorned monolith of obsidian. At its foot, she saw a great wad of plaid kilting wool, and protruding from it a foot�”no--two feet.

The sett was clan Macnair’s, gray and green with a thin yellow stripe. It could only be Petey.

~*~

After ascertaining that he was not dead, Jupiter had carried him out into the fresh air, and he revived almost immediately. Jupiter Accio-ed a bit water and a stale bannock to hold Petey until they got back home. He was ravenous, though still very frightened. In fact, he hadn’t recognized them at first and cried out at Jupiter McGonagall’s fierce, sweating face and bristling beard. The food calmed him down a bit, but he still couldn’t bring himself to speak. Jupiter Summoned the family carpet to the Crypt entrance and sent the children on ahead to the Keep. He said he wanted to make sure nothing else was disturbed in the Crypt�”and probably to make peace with its denizens.

In the warm kitchen, Goodie fed Petey hot soup and fresh bread. When the color was back in his cheeks, and, quickly, before Da got back, Minerva filled him in on the story she’d told Lord Macnair. He nodded.

“How long was I in�”was I missing?” He passed his hand over his face, like he was sweating, though he wasn’t.

“Over a week. Petey, we were so worried.”

“A week…”

“How did you last that long, Petey? I mean, did you make food�”with your wand?”

“No, I…don’t know how to do that.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating. “I remember I left you and Gig in the flag room, and I went in where all those old tombs are. I never saw so many neat wands. But then I started picking them up, and this awful cloudy gas came rising out of the ground. Cold too, colder and thicker than the mist off Loch Tay. Then they were all around me, ghosts and banshees and such, wailing and muttering horrible threats. I mean those things were so creepy. I thought I was cursed, I did. I’m sorry ‘Nerva, I don’t know what happened to me. I went off my rocker I think. I started running like a scaredy-cat and just kept on running. I didn’t even see you. Then I hit something. A wall I think. I didn’t see it…”

“I think Giggie heard you later�”groaning�”when we passed through.”

“However did you do it? I mean, the place was black as pitch.”

“We managed,” said Minerva grimly.

“When I woke up, my face was sticky and my head hurt and there were these two people staring at me. One was a little runt of a thing, like a goblin, only not so ugly. It looked sort of familiar�”I don’t know�”like a picture I've seen or something. And the other was a man�”a wizard. He had gray hair and a beard. And he had my wand. They took me down this hole�”that one we had to go round�”you remember? It’s really deep. And they gave me some food and water. The little runty fellow didn’t speak English so good, but he told the greatest stories and he had a funny laugh. It was sort of comforting, you know.” Petey looked like he was on the verge of tears. After a moment he went on.

“Later for a while, they told me I had to be quiet. There were strangers in the cave, they said, evil monsters who were going to hurt us. Well, I knew that. The place was full of ghosts and banshees after all. The wizard--he told me his name, but I can’t remember--put a glamour over us so that we looked like part of a wall. We fooled them good.” Then Petey frowned. “But then they wanted me to go back in the Crypt. Something about I was the only one who could do it. See, I had told them about us, what we were doing in the cave, and what we found. That wizard fellow was most interested in the wands. He wanted me to go in and take the one right in the center. He said it was the best one of all and it would make me really powerful. He couldn’t do it himself…the curse you know. But I’m a McNair…But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

He bowed his head, and covered his face with his hands. It seemed for a long while as if he wouldn’t ever start up again. Minerva sat as still as a stone. This would be her one chance to hear the whole story. Soon Milady and his Lordship would come and take Petey away. It was likely they’d forbid him to ever see her again. But she silenced the urge to hurry him along. He was tired and ashamed. She knew the feeling. Her patience was rewarded, as he cleared his throat.

“Then the little guy started talking in that way of his and I don’t know how but he convinced me to do it. I tell you, it took him a long time. I just…” Again the hesitation, a welling of moisture at the corners of his eyes. “…didn’t want to. But the more he talked the more it sounded like the easiest, funnest thing in the world. I don’t know how I did it, but finally I went back in the Crypt. And all the time I was in there, that wizard guy was telling me through the door what to do, where to go.”

“How did he talk?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did he have an accent or anything?”

“No, it sounded normal, not exactly Scots, but not London either. The little guy, he had a really thick accent, sounding his double-yous like vees, like he was Russian or something. But�”oh�”his voice. It made me feel so good�”all warm inside, you ken?” He paused again, remembering that voice. Minerva shuddered. Best not mention the insidious side of the creature and its true intent. “So what happened next?”

“So I made it to the center, even though my knees were shaking so I had to concentrate on just putting one foot in front of the other, you ken? There was this great black stone and a thick crooked wand on a shelf . I touched it and that mist came up out of the ground again. I felt this cold come over me. Worse, much worse than before. And then I heard a voice inside my head. It was a different language�”Gaelic I think�”and it was mad�”worse than my Da when he catches me playing with his stuff. But it didn’t shout or anything. I just felt this queer vibration pass through my body. Then I just dropped down like my legs�”no, my whole body-- turned to jelly and…and I don’t remember any more. Until you came.”

Just then Da came in the door. “All right now, Petey? I’ve sent word to your parents. They’ll be here directly.” He stared hard at Petey, but Petey just looked down. Minerva could see he had his eyes squeezed tight shut.

Lord and Lady Macnair arrived almost immediately after, with fur-lined robes hastily thrown over their bed clothes. They brought with them their personal Healer, who examined Petey from top to toe and pronounced him fit to travel. They whisked him away in a carriage pulled by winged horses without a word of thanks. Minerva’s last glimpse of his face showed him sitting, wan and silent, propped up between his parents with pillows at his back and a lap-robe over his knees.

~*~

Word would go out by owl next day of the miraculous discovery to all the mages of the area. Petey Macnair, youngest son of the Wizard-Thane of Perth had been found not far from where he had been last seen. Found by the girl who had been with him when he disappeared, a highly suspicious circumstance indeed.

No one was allowed to visit him, but family and neighbors sent daily gifts of fruit and flowers and toys with notes wishing the poor child well. They enclosed recipes for favorite nostrums, charms or periapts to speed his recovery. Minerva longed to see Petey, to know how he was doing, but she knew that his mother’s ire and distrust still ran deep against both her and Gig. So she was surprised to learn through Magnus that the Gwynns had been invited to a celebration of Petey’s return to strength and health, since she and Da had not heard word one about it. She longed to talk to Gig, but she was out visiting Gwynn relatives all week and Minerva hadn’t even had a chance to tell her about Petey’s confession.