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Highlander characters are not mine, I've just taken them out to play
in the park for a while and I'll send them in when it's teatime. People
who know Glastonbury well will spot familiar venues. I apologise to His
Majesty in advance for putting him in without advance permission. I hope
you will understand, sire, why Duncan HAD to meet you.
Jim; any time you come to Glastonbury, I'll gladly buy you a beer and
a meal in The Blue Note Cafe.
Adrian; a similar invite pertains to the Italian restaurant. A
conducted tour of the Abbey ruins and the Tor to follow.
'In my silent sanctuary, a whisper of eternity still echoes through
the years.....' Carolyn Stilwell, "Back to Avalon".
This story was published in 'Friends and Lovers III' (early 2000), an American fanzine.
Duncan MacLeod stood on the windswept tarmac below the
aeroplane and waited graciously for Joe to navigate the last few steps
down on his own. Joe planted his cane on the ground and smiled slightly.
"See. Told you I could manage them on my own."
Duncan gave him a look, "I would have helped you surreptitiously, you
know," Joe's eyes spoke volumes, "Well, yes, I suppose I'd have
wanted to do it all by myself if it was me. Sorry."
"Got myself a cute stewardess to carry my hand luggage, too."
The blonde lady in question smiled indulgently and politely, then handed
over the item and glided back up the metal stairs. Duncan flashed a rare
grin.
"If you'd tried a little harder, she would have held your
arm." Joe chuckled.
"She's young enough to be my grand...my daughter." Duncan lifted
an eyebrow and delivered the coup de grace with an otherwise straight
face.
"You think you've got problems...."
Joe's laughter joined his as they walked over to Customs and the way out
of the airport.
Duncan fastened his seat-belt in the hire car, which was an
anonymous blue Vauxhall Astra.
"So, you've dragged me all the way over to England and the jet-lag
will set in, at least for you, some time tonight. Why are we here and where
are we going?"
"What you already know; a nasty Immortal in cahoots with an evil
Watcher. We need to work together on this one."
"Aren't there any good Immortals left in England?!"
"I couldn't answer that one, even if I knew. I'm afraid you're simply
the best Immortal for the job and I'm damned certain I know who
the Watcher is." Joe rubbed his beard speculatively. Duncan's mouth
narrowed and his brows lowered.
"Very well. That'll do for now, but this is raising all sorts of
questions in my head that I'm going to want answers for in due course. If
you're going to be Tonto, then this Lone Ranger needs to know where to
point his trusty steed." Joe managed a smile.
"Sure. South, through Cheddar, then Wedmore. We're heading for
Glastonbury." The hair on Duncan's neck trembled and a strange
frisson ran up his spine.
"There's something deep at the bottom of all this, isn't there?"
Joe's face was a bland mask. He affected an easy smile that Duncan
suspected immediately, but kept his thoughts to himself.
"You get us there in good time and I'll treat you to Italian food and
some good live blues." Duncan eased the car down the hill towards
Cheddar.
"Been there before, eh?" Joe smiled.
"I was a hippy the first time around, plus I have an e-mail contact
there." There was a certain warmth in Joe's voice that Duncan
detected.
"A woman." Joe laughed softly.
"Yeah, you got me. It was the Summer of love. It got pretty intense
for a while before my visa ran out. We never survived the distance between
us, she married a folk singer and I got these..." He indicated his
false legs and shrugged, "You win some, you lose some. She's just a
friend now." Duncan nodded and admired the beauty of Cheddar gorge.
"Yes. I know that story. Too well. Part of me has wanted it
to last for always in a lot of my relationships, but even with an Immortal
woman there are no guarantees."
Joe smiled mischievously, "Not even Amanda?"
Duncan laughed heartily, "Especially not Amanda! She's smart
and extremely sexy, but as devious as hell. I would never be entirely sure
that I could trust her. What we have is the old attraction of opposites;
it'd never work long-term. You'll have to find another candidate,"
Duncan took the turn to Wedmore, "She'd have to be an Immortal,
beautiful, sexy, emotionally strong, basically good, within ten years or
so of my physical age ideally, plus willing to risk falling in love. If
any of your Watching turns up a gem like that, send her to my door first,
please?" Joe heard the undercurrent of yearning in Duncan's voice and
saw the brief mistiness in the brown eyes. Joe looked away, out of the
window.
'Yes, Duncan. I promise. If she exists, we'll find her for you.'
Duncan drove across the moors with their willow-lined roads and lush
fields separated by drainage ditches.
"If there was a windmill every so often, this could pass for the
Netherlands."
"Yes; even those ditches are called rhynes and pronounced 'reens' by
the locals. It's too low-lying between the hills for much wind power,
though." Duncan drove faster down the long straight road towards the
soft, rounded hills that enfolded the town of Glastonbury.
"Which way do we go?" Duncan paused at a recent-looking
roundabout.
"Straight on, first left. Sheila's got a bed and breakfast place and
she offers preferential rates to old friends."
"Does she know....?" Joe shook his head. Duncan nodded and drove
on. He made the turning and parked against the kerb outside one of the
Victorian houses on the left of the road.
Joe went to ring the door-bell while Duncan got the bags and locked the
car. The door was opened by a very attractive blonde lady in her mid to
late forties. She smiled warmly at Joe and folded him in her arms.
"It's good to see you again, Joseph." Duncan's mouth twitched in
amusement.
"It's great to see you, too, Sheila. This is my friend Duncan
MacLeod, the guy I told you about." Duncan put down the bags and
extended his hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Sheila," He took in the warm green eyes
and the bright smile. As she turned her back and led the way into the
house, he caught Joe's eye, "You sly old...." Joe's mouth
couldn't decide whether to smile or be disapproving.
"Less of the 'old', please. I may be going gray - rapidly, but I'm
not ready for retirement yet."
"I never said that you were. I was just....very pleasantly surprised
by Sheila. She must have been even more stunning thirty years ago."
Joe smiled, "Took my breath away, MacLeod."
Duncan and Joe settled into their twin bedroom upstairs. The furnishings
were a tasteful blend of green with dashes of lemon yellow. Duncan scowled
slightly as he folded his spare polo necked sweaters into the pine chest
of drawers.
"You could at least have booked separate rooms."
"Not at this time of year; with the twin Pilgrimages and the
pop festival over the same weekend."
"Tourists...." Duncan's mouth turned downwards in disgust.
"Yeah, and some buying into the deadly scam our friends are
running."
Duncan pinned Joe with an intense look.
"I need to hear the whole tale right now."
Joe held up a hand, "I know. Come with me, we'll eat a plate of some
of the best pasta outside Italy and I promise you'll learn
everything I can tell you," Joe smiled and shrugged disarmingly, "A
guy needs to eat, too." Duncan's stomach rumbled right on cue and he
fought the urge to smile with moderate success.
Duncan and Joe walked together to the picturesque High
Street. Joe pointed straight on and slightly left. They entered the
restaurant and sat down. One of the waiters approached and left two menus.
"This meal's on me.....well, on the Watchers. It's the least I can do
after dragging you all the way over here." Duncan considered, then
nodded.
"Okay. What are Italians doing in rural Somerset?"
"Some were kept near here during the War. The kindness they received
- in spite of everything - persuaded many to stay put. Some brought their
families over and some married local ladies. They even erected a couple of
monuments out of gratitude." The waiter glided back. Duncan ordered
tortellini, then got a surprise at Joe's flawless pronunciation of
'fusilli alla salmone'.
"I've had Italian women as lovers.....what's your excuse?"
Joe smiled, "I've had my moments......and you'd be surprised at the
translation work we have to do sometimes."
While they were waiting, Joe told Duncan what he needed to hear.
"We understand that this concerns another rogue Watcher, Jon Harold.
He was doing his job perfectly until he got assigned the job of Watching
Karen DuBois."
Duncan shivered, "I've heard about her. Grew up in Louisiana in the
late Seventeenth century. Likes seducing male Immortals, then taking their
heads when they're asleep afterwards. From all I've heard, she's extremely
beautiful, voluptuous and without a heart. Fitz called her the Black
Widow, for obvious reasons." Joe nodded.
"Yes, well she has one secret weakness; guys of African descent. Jon
Harold fits the bill perfectly. She seduced him and kept him until he has
now become as bad as she is. They've hatched a scam masquerading as New
Age teaching. Needless to say, ritual sex is involved, along with their
'disciples' parting with large amounts of money and, occasionally, heads."
Duncan's mouth narrowed to an angry line and his brows lowered.
"Just tell me where and when."
"Soon, Duncan.....Ahhh, here comes our pasta....." The two men
ate in silence.
After their meal, Joe ushered Duncan across the street and up the hill.
"Where are we going now?" Joe smiled.
"In search of some good beans and, if we're lucky, live blues."
Duncan smiled.
"Almost home from home for you, then." Joe laughed softly.
"Something like that. This place wasn't serving blues the last time I
was here. Sheila told me about the change some time ago and I decided to
mix business with a little pleasure....if you don't mind."
"There's no chance of going after them tonight?"
"Sorry. They have booked themselves into the pop festival alongside
all the other therapists. 80,000 people makes a lot of potential willing
victims."
Duncan opened the dark turquoise door so that Joe could enter first. The
inside was a smart mixture of black and deep turquoise. On the floor, the
'Blue Note' logo was picked out in the same shade of blue. Duncan nodded
admiringly.
"Nii....ice." Joe sat down at a table. Large, moody black and
white photos of several classic blues stars adorned the walls. There was
even a small blackboard on one wall with the day's 'specials' chalked on
it. Duncan strolled over to the counter and ordered the coffees. Smoke
rose lazily from a few cigarettes. Duncan sniffed the air surreptitiously
as he came back with the drinks. Joe was almost beaming.
"There is going to be live music; that waitress just told me."
Duncan sat down and adopted a stage whisper.
"Yes, well, someone in here is smoking more than tobacco, if
you get my drift."
Joe whispered back.
"That's only a herbal mixture and you must have tried the stronger
stuff."
"Certainly, once, but it doesn't intoxicate Immortals; at least not
in quite the same way." Joe's mouth twitched, "Shame. You could
almost do with getting stoned now and then." Duncan let out a short
laugh, "You should try a Quickening some time."
"I think I'll pass. Something that shatters windows and blows fuses
seems a bit dangerous to me."
At that moment, the promised musician arrived with his guitar, sat on the
raised area and launched into his acoustic set without further ado. Joe
and Duncan sat back and relaxed into the music.
After breakfast the next morning, Sheila pulled a chair over to Joe and
Duncan's table and sat with them. She smiled warmly at Joe.
"I've got the tickets and the camper-van you asked for, Joseph. I'll
see to the hire car." Duncan glanced at her wrist. No tattoo. He
frowned, wondering.
"Thanks, Sheila. The money came through okay?"
"Yes, fine. I didn't realise you'd gone into crystal healing."
Joe smiled disarmingly.
"It's a recent addition to my skills. Plus I wanted to revisit some
old haunts." His eyes glowed at Sheila. She blushed slightly.
"I hope you'll forgive me; I got you a special pass that'll enable
you to camp right on the Healing field. If it rains, the mud becomes very
difficult for walking." Joe gently covered her hand with his.
"Thanks." Duncan watched the renewing of romantic attraction
with some interest.
"The van is packed with everything the two of you might need."
"Sheila, you're a honey. I almost wish that you could come too."
Joe kissed her cheek.
"Sorry, Joseph. I've got my house full with pilgrims this weekend."
Duncan re-packed his bag with practised speed and drove the Volkswagon
camper from the back around to the front of the house near the Astra. He
checked the contents of the vehicle. Bedding, food, water, a small fridge
and stove and even a bottle of good single malt whisky. Duncan looked up
in time to see Joe and Sheila indulging in a long, sensual kiss. He smiled
to himself and decided that he wouldn't admit to being a voyeur. Joe
climbed slowly and carefully into the van.
"Up to the top of the road and turn right."
"Alright." Duncan took another look at the gear lever and set
off towards the village of Pilton.
The traffic on the picturesque country roads became heavier as they
approached the festival site. The marshals waved them through the vehicle
access gate and they drove down the rough road towards the Healing field.
Duncan willingly took on most of the work setting up the tent extensions
on the camper van while Joe prepared the crystals and brochures which
would be their temporary cover. When Duncan paused for a welcome beer, he
looked at Joe.
"Why crystals?" Joe shrugged.
"I'm told they're very popular now, plus it introduces us to the kind
of people who might also be interested in DuBois and Harold's set-up. Of
course, many genuine New Agers will see through their sales pitch, but
some won't. Immortals will have died trying for her head."
"I just want to know where they are."
"I know. Just be careful where you pick to confront Karen. A
lot of this site is considered holy ground."
"Hmmm.... I'll bear that in mind."
The rest of the day was filled with meeting the other arrivals in the
Healing field before the Festival proper started the next day. As dusk
fell, a long-haired fiddle player ducked under the canvas. Duncan caught
the flash of a Watcher tattoo as the man handed a slip of paper to Dawson.
"Good news?"
"Well; yes and no. Our targets have camped in another part of the
alternative therapy section. The bad news is that the whole of this area
and the field up the hill is considered by many to be holy ground. Down
the hill is full with traders and food outlets. You've got your work cut
out for you to find somewhere....appropriate for your showdown."
"Let's have another look at the site map. Alright. When do we
confront them? Now?" Joe took a deep breath.
"Better now than when the paying public get let in."
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Setting up a 'bender' 
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A bender in use at the festival  |
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These 2 pictures courtesy of the Quest community |
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Duncan and Joe walked purposefully across the open green space in the
centre of the Healing field and past the tree in the middle, which was
festooned with dream catchers. A group of young men passed them. Every
last one had long hair in a variety of colours, tied back with leather,
ribbons or string. Duncan's eyes widened when they had past.
"Does every man in Somerset have long hair?" Joe smiled
broadly.
"You could almost blend in with the crowd, MacLeod." Duncan shot
Joe a sly glance.
"Maybe we should both move over here, eh?" Joe was
studiously ignoring him. They crossed a central walkway and over into the
next field. Joe pointed out a large grouping of blue tents with a yellow
flag waving from the top. Duncan's face became a study in concentration
and alertness.
"Jon Harold is mine, Duncan."
"Very well, but if you run into problems......"
Rhythmic chanting backed by ambient music floated out of the tent. A small
group of people sat inside. Duncan and Joe ducked under the flap and
entered the tent complex. Duncan's eyes narrowed as he finally felt the
buzz of another Immortal. He scanned the first tent, then headed, as if
attracted by a magnet, into the next tent. Some of the people looked as
Duncan moved past them, then they turned to look at Joe.
"I'm looking for Jon Harold."
Karen DuBois stood up as Duncan entered her inner sanctum. Duncan
swallowed. Fitz hadn't exaggerated third-hand tales of her beauty. Huge
tumbles of red curls surrounded a heart-shaped face, large violet eyes and
generous carmined lips. A green, frilled dress that looked like something
Scarlett O'Hara would have worn accentuated her creamy skin and stunning
cleavage. Duncan's eyes took in her incredible voluptuous curves, then he
realised that her eyes were dead and cold. Karen tilted her hips and
breasts towards him provocatively. She trailed a long fingernail down
Duncan's shirt.
"You can't fight me here, Duncan MacLeod. Why don't we talk this
over; maybe make a deal." Her voice still bore the marks of its
Southern origin, and something more. There was great power in that voice,
seductive power. Duncan recognised it as something more than natural. He
tried to regain control. His stepped backwards and his face became grim.
"I'd rather make a deal with the Devil."
"And I'd heard you were a gentleman, Duncan......and a
phenomenal lover. Are you sure we can't get better acquainted?" She
shrugged her shoulder out of the flounced strap of her dress.
Duncan couldn't move; could scarcely breathe. He felt like a fly trapped
in a web. She wrapped her arms around his neck. His voice came out in a
squeak.
"What are you doing to me?" He tried to recall his
martial arts' skills. It was useless. He was pinned down by that damned
hypnotic voice.
"I didn't spend several years in the Haiti without picking up a few
helpful skills. It's amazing what their witch doctors can do."
Karen's hands were becoming far too bold for comfort. Duncan didn't want
to give in and knew it would be fatal if he did, but she knew exactly what
she was doing. He closed his eyes and tried to move his arms. He forced
his voice through his lips.
"Please.....stop that." Karen kissed his mouth. Duncan managed
to clamp his lips shut.
"Honey.....you know you want to. It would be so good.
My voice is irresistible; you have to give in." Duncan tried
to clutch onto control, to his objective.
"It'd be fatal." Karen laughed softly and pulled him closer. She
nibbled his neck.
"My siren voice is calling you, Duncan. It's never failed yet."
Duncan closed his eyes again and swallowed slowly. He knew that his
control would break before long and then Karen would have won. He searched
deep inside his mind for anything that would help him disregard that
seductive, hypnotic voice. And those hands. He had to try to ignore what
they were doing. His memory dragged up what he'd said to Dawson in
the car. His long dreamed-for ideal mate. Goodness knows, Tessa had fitted
the bill very well, even if she'd been tragically mortal. Anne was
history. His heart ached suddenly for something more that just the basic
meeting of bodies, more than he'd had with any of the women he'd known and
loved. His arms moved and pinned Karen's hands still. Her violet eyes were
stunned by his sudden withdrawal and regaining of control.
"Out. Now. This scam ends right here." Karen's mouth dropped
open.
"What did you do? No man's managed what you just did. You
were within seconds of surrender." Duncan's face was an enigmatic
mask.
"Something you never knew about suddenly meant a whole lot
more than what you had in mind. You forgot about love." He pulled her
out of the tent and pointed up the hill. Karen smiled triumphantly.
"That's holy ground, honey."
"Not over the perimeter fence." Karen pouted.
"I can't climb the fence in this dress." She made to take it
off. Duncan grabbed her arm, suddenly angry.
"Don't even think of it. If you've examined your map, you'll
know there's a temporary gate up there - at least until the festival
starts."
Duncan and Karen slipped out of the gate easily now that it was fully
dark.
"Jon will come after you if you manage to kill me, you know."
Duncan smiled humourlessly.
"I don't think so." Karen's eyes flashed.
"You bastard! You killed my baby...." Duncan decided not
to disagree. His Katana was already busy.
The blades flashed and caught together in furious thrust and parry.
Karen's face radiated anger and malice as she tried her hardest to seek
vengeance. Her dress ripped as she jumped backwards, exposing a black,
lacy underwired basque that would have made a monk sweat. Duncan couldn't
help certain of his basic male hormones getting interested. He fought
harder, focussing on his deadly objective. At last his Katana flashed
across and Karen lay dead on the ground. He hid her body and head under a
nearby hedge just before the Quickening hit. Blue and white lightning
raced through him and the branch of the bush he was clutching burst into
flames. He yelled convulsively, lost to the sensations that hovered
somewhere between pleasure and agony. He shook his head slowly to clear it
as he picked his Katana back up.
"It's a good thing I don't work for the electricity board...."
Duncan walked slowly and a little stiffly back to the blue tents. Joe was
standing outside, but there was a team rapidly dismantling and picking
through everything behind him.
"Jon?" Joe nodded grimly and they began to move away, "All
those people yours?"
"Not exactly. Just friends, plus those who saw the evidence of
embezzlement and murder. To say they're pissed is putting it mildly. The
policeman there is one of ours; he understands. I saw the firework show."
Joe gestured up the hill. Duncan nodded.
"I saw it from the inside. What do we do now?" Joe managed a
smile.
"Stay for the festival weekend, then go back to Glastonbury."
Duncan stopped the hire car at the bottom of the steep side of
Glastonbury's famous landmark, the Tor. Joe nodded.
"Go on, MacLeod. I saw the view thirty years ago, and there's no way
I'll manage those steps, not without a handrail." Duncan gave Joe a
deep glance. He climbed the steep incline with reasonable ease. Joe was
right. The view was worth the diversion. Green fields, divided into
squares by narrow streams, the town of Street, the distant Mendip and
Polden hills and even the smudge of Wales across the River Severn. Duncan
looked at the old tower that stood on the summit, marking this hill out
from all the other hills in the area.
Duncan noticed a crowd gathered on the other side of the tower. There was
a long-haired man in their midst. As Duncan approached, he turned. Duncan
nearly gasped. Breeches, cross-gartered with leather. An off-white tunic
with a red Celtic symbol on the front. The man had ancient, warm eyes,
long greying hair and beard and a simple gold band rested on his brow.
Duncan felt a frisson pass up his body and he dropped slowly to his knees.
The man smiled.
"Your name?"
"Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod."
"Ahh, a Highlander. You must meet Lot of Orkney one day." The
man drew his sword. Duncan flinched backwards and his hand went towards
his hidden Katana.
"I don't carry a sharpened blade. My Excalibur is for ceremonial use
only." Duncan relaxed very slightly.
"I, King Arthur Uther Pendragon, by the power vested in me do
proclaim thee Knight of the Round Table." The blade touched both of
Duncan's shoulders and retreated. Duncan swayed with shock and looked up.
King Arthur's smile widened.
"We know what you did at Pilton. False shamans are not welcome here.
This is holy ground, Sir Duncan."
"Are you really....? I mean, you are Immortal...."
King Arthur's smile warmed, "I retired hurt from the Game a long,
long time ago. I've taken a vow of non-violence, living here on holy
ground until the time is right for my return. One day, I will sit on my
seat in Camelot again. You are welcome to join me if you survive till
then."
Duncan stood up slowly and bowed graciously.
"The once and future king. Of course. Your majesty."
Duncan climbed back into the car.
"You knew didn't you?" Joe smiled.
"Yes.....Sir Duncan." He grinned. Duncan smiled in
wonder.
"I'm a real knight....." Joe shrugged.
"As real as it gets, short of pleasing Her Majesty in London. I've
got another bonus for you." Joe pulled out a photograph. Duncan took
it and his eyes flashed in masculine interest. She was stunningly
beautiful.
"Why haven't I come across her before?" Duncan tried to sound
nonchalant. Joe understood.
"She's been in a Carmelite nunnery, then down in Brazil helping the
street children and going after those evil Immortals who are helping
plunder the rain forest. She was born a few years before you and has taken
some Watching. Always behind the scenes until recently. Her Watcher says
that she was Darius' lover for quite a while." Duncan smiled.
"Lucky old Darius. He never said."
"Well, he was a Catholic priest at the time..."
"So, do I get to meet the lovely lady?"
"Soon, Duncan. Very soon...."
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