Circe had no trouble convincing herself that it was, indeed, the power of the thin place that had caused the burst of passion with Dante that evening. As soon as the designated courier from Glendower arrived, she sent a note to Cedric informing him they had found the third site.

He was in her sitting room less than a week later, listening anxiously to her.

“It was like nothing I have ever experienced, Arch Derwydd. I was swept away. The power of the place was overwhelming.”

“More so than the other two sites?” he asked, leaning forward.

“Much more.”

“And you are not confusing its natural beauty with an ethereal presence?”

“No, sir. I am not. The strength of it was frightening.”

He jumped up and started to pace. “Did De la Rosa have the same experience?”

Circe looked down at the floor. She was not about to tell Cedric what had occurred. “He did.”

“I must speak with him as well.”

She was surprised when she looked up. Cedric’s eyes usually lackluster and bloodshot with age, appeared bright blue. “What is it, Arch Derwydd?”

He shook his head. “Nothing more right now, my child. We will speak later. I am going to Dr. Lumpkin’s to talk with De la Rosa and have him take me to the site.”

Two weeks later, Cedric came back to Boston and Rhun accompanied him. Circe was overjoyed. Father and daughter chattered all afternoon about home while Cedric made a side trip to New Quay.

She asked about Ruith.

“She is well and content being a wife,” he replied.

“And Bullfrog?”

“I think it has been an adjustment for him; he shares his world now with another. But I can tell he is happy.”

Circe laughed. “And this has been an adjustment for his feathered friends as well. How do they react to Ruith?”

“They seem to sense her goodness and are comfortable with her.”

They dined together and then at sunset Cedric returned. The room was growing dark; Circe began lighting candles.

“Did you speak with Lady Enid?” Rhun asked.

Cedric nodded.

“And she will allow it?”

“Yes, she embraced the idea.”

“Good.”

When Circe sat down, Cedric said, “The reason I am here tonight is to discuss the latest thin place with you. After speaking with De la Rosa, the Derwydd council and Lady Enid, I believe you have found one of the Grand Portals - if not the Grand Portal. I too felt its overwhelming power when I visited.”

Circe looked from Cedric to her father and back again. “Grand Portal?”

Rhun nodded. “We thought it was folklore. Grand Portals are no ordinary thin places. They are the most powerful places on earth. The ancients believed there were six, and only three have been found: one in the Holy Land; another in Ynyes Affallach, now called Glastonbury; and the last near Istanbul. I am guessing there are more in the Far East. ‘Search for a place where old meets new and fire meets shadow,’ the saying goes.”

“The riddle fits for this Grand Portal. It is the meeting of the old world of Europe with the new world of the Americas.”

“And fire meets shadow?”

“Perhaps its physical properties, the light plunging through the darkness of the trees illuminating the lake,” Cedric answered.

“Or,” Rhun added, “Bringing light into the Separatist’s mantle of darkness.”

“But the riddle matters not,” Cedric continued. “It is the power of it that gives us our answer.”

Rhun took Circe’s hand. “Now thanks to you, my daughter, we have found one of the greatest locations on earth to enlighten and enrich our spiritual lives.”

“We will not be using it for a village any longer,” Cedric added. “It must be protected and preserved for use by everyone. All that is needed is a conservator.”

“And Lady Enid has assigned Cedric the responsibility,” Rhun informed her. “He will live there as its guardian. None of us are to return to the spot until Lady Enid can deem it consecrated ground and open it to us all.”

“But where will the flood of new settlers go?” Circe asked.

Rhun sighed. “That is something we need to address. I am afraid that there is no easy answer. And now relations with the Wampanoag Indians have turned sour. They have been raiding inland settlements.”

Circe did not fully understand the meaning of this Grand Portal, but she knew it was of great magnitude. Before her father left the next day, he tried to explain it to her further. He cited Avalon in Glastonbury and the Arthurian legend. “Most Europeans think it is a myth. But I felt the power of the place when I visited. It was overwhelming.”

Trying to comprehend a Grand Portal was not the only thing confusing Circe. She could not stop thinking about Dante, and the voice of the little girl started whispering in her ear once more, saying: “Beware Circe Swinburne. Something is amiss.”

Try as she might to divert her attention, thoughts of Dante continued to plague her. She remembered how tightly he held her, his hot breath on her skin and the urgency of his kisses. But what confused her the most were her feelings. She felt a connection to him, and it felt right for some reason. It was a bond stronger than anything she had felt for anyone.

The portal has enchanted me in some way. It has given me a supernatural connection to this man that defies reason. Why else would I be so preoccupied with someone so abhorrent to me?

Summer turned to fall and Circe settled back into a familiar but busy routine. She would never like being in Boston, but she reconciled it by reminding herself that she was doing something worthy, offering sanctuary to many. Ships brought more and more followers of the Goddess and with Levi. She escorted them regularly out to Dr. Lumpkin’s property.

It was uncomfortable when Dante was there. Their relationship never affable, had now turned icy. They avoided one another completely, and when they did speak, the conversation was strained.

Staying busy helped Circe with her longing for home, but in October, she received a hastily scribbled note from Saffir saying that she was happy to announce that Ruith was with child.

Circe’s jaw dropped, and tears filled her eyes. Bullfrog and Ruith were going to be parents! How excited they must be! And now she would miss everything.

Walking over to the spinning wheel, she sat down, more homesick than ever. She wiped her eyes impatiently and started to treadle. She couldn’t remember feeling so lonely.

*                   *                  *

Late that autumn, Joseph Duncan, the Witchfinder General, stepped onto the shores of the New World. The city’s atmosphere darkened the moment he walked down the gangplank.

“There he is, Mistress Swinburne,” Levi murmured at market one day. “Odd looking, is he not?”

Circe turned around to look. Although the Witchfinder General was escorted by several prominent Boston citizens, he was not hard to identify. A man in his middle years, he was tall and powerfully built with long, auburn hair. When he took his black hat off to mop his brow, he had a receding hairline with a massive forehead.

“Look how he rocks,” Circe said. When someone spoke with Duncan, he rocked his entire body in a sort of nodding motion. “How unusual.”

But the most unnerving characteristic was his piercing, wide-eyed gaze. He seldom blinked.

“Those eyes are what scare me,” Levi said with a shudder. He turned back to the vendor basket to look for onions for dye. “He must not see us.”

But Circe could not look away.  His dark aura mesmerized her.

“Come, Mistress,” Levi said, taking her arm. “It is not safe. Do not let him lay eyes on you.”

She turned away. “I am glad Ruith is not here. I cannot imagine what his presence would do to her.”

It turned out the Witchfinder General had little work to do in the New World. The inhabitants of the Massachusetts Bay Colony had already done his job for him. From the moment he arrived, a steady stream of townspeople visited the home of Reverend Fawcett where he was staying, making accusations and reporting the suspicious activity of others.

“Boston is positively brimming with witches,” Circe’s neighbor, Mr. Cheeseborough said one Sunday after church. Attending services was a duty Circe and Levi dare not shirk in Boston. Cheeseborough continued, “It chills me to think there are so many covens in our midst.” His broad, ruddy face was flushed with excitement.

“It certainly has caused a frenzy,” Circe replied. “But I believe many are using it as a platform for ax-grinding.”

Levi gave Circe a startled look.

Cheeseborough frowned. “Whatever do you mean, Widow Swinburne?”

“I mean many of these allegations are masking disagreements about something else, such as property disputes or money.”

Cheeseborough frowned. “That is just what the witches are saying.”

“Oh, Aunt,” Levi exclaimed. “Here is the turn for Goodwife Smith’s home. Remember she invited us for tea?”

Circe recognized Levi’s ruse and nodded. “Indeed, it slipped my mind. A good day to you, Mr. Cheeseborough.”

“Good day to you, Widow Swinburne,” he replied.

The moment they stepped away from Cheeseborough, Levi murmured, “Mistress, before I left Glendower, I promised your father that I would watch over you. And I feel obligated to tell you that you must exercise caution giving opinions about the witch hunts. Be wary of Mr. Cheeseborough in particular.”

Circe tossed her head. “He is a fool.”

“I agree, but a dangerous fool. And please, do not be offended if I also speak about something more delicate.”

Circe straightened up and looked at him.

Levi took a breath and said, “Be cautious, Mistress Swinburne, rebuffing his advances. They will come in earnest and soon. You cannot risk his anger, especially now.”

She looked at Levi with a half-smile. “Behind that quiet demeanor beats the heart of a loyal friend. Thank you, Levi. You are wise beyond your years. I promise that I will be prudent.”

They turned down the street toward home. The wind whipped their cloaks and tried several times to take Levi’s hat. When they stepped into the weaving room, Circe asked, “Since we are speaking frankly with one another, there is something that I have been wondering. Do you have someone special back in Glendower?”

Levi blushed, looked at his shoes and murmured, “Yes, the miller’s daughter.”

“Elizabeth Evans? A fine girl from a fine family. Did you know that I come from a family of millers?”

“No, Mistress, I did not know. I thought−”

Circe laughed and took off her gloves. “It is a long, dull story. Sometime I will tell it to you. Does Miss Evans favor you as well?”

“In spite of my skinny frame and pocked countenance, I believe she does.”

“I think she is very lucky to have you, Levi Morgan.”

Circe thought back to her former family. She wondered how many witches her stepfather had implicated by now. In an odd way, it gave her comfort. She may be in Boston, but at least she was no longer under that man’s roof.

*                 *                 *

All Boston was on edge, and Circe knew now that Levi had been right to silence her. The town had gone mad with accusations and the jails were filling.

One evening, after they had closed the weaving room, there was a knock on the back door of the building. Taking a candle, Circe stepped into the hall and opened the door. It was Dante. “Mr. Rose,” she said with surprise. “Is something amiss?”

“Yes and no, Widow Swinburne,” he murmured in Welsh, stepping inside the hall. “Are you alone?”

“Indeed, I am. Come in,” she replied.

Holding her hand in front of the candle, she led him into her sitting room. The night was chilly and Circe had a fire blazing in the hearth. After taking his coat, she swung the kettle around to start tea. Dante sat down, warming his hands.

Circe slid onto the edge of a chair, waiting for him to speak.

He glanced at her and looked away quickly. “I—ah,” he muttered and stopped, clearly tongue-tied.

“Please, Mr. De la Rosa, you are scaring me. Just say it.”

“This Duncan—the witch hunts. You told me once that it frightens you, and I want you to know that you can,” and he stopped. “Dios mio!” he exclaimed. “I told you once that I would not let anything happen to you and I am here to say I meant it.”

Circe stared at him with surprise. “Is that all?”

“That is all,” he mumbled, closing his hands into fists.

Circe examined Dante’s profile for the first time. He had a strong bone structure, finely cut jaw and - in spite of the scar by his ear and on the side of his forehead - he had smooth dark skin shadowed by whiskers. His lashes were long and as black as his hair. Yet, for all of these attributes, his Spanish accent was what captivated her - even though she denied it.

She thought of Mercy. Women find this man attractive. I do not.

When he turned to her, she looked away quickly. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “But Levi is here.”

Dante laughed. “He is but a boy.”

Circe stood up. “I am quite safe. Thank you for coming.”

Jumping to his feet, Dante grabbed her wrist. “Do not dismiss me, Mistress Swinburne. You don’t understand the danger!”

Circe tried to free herself but his grip was like iron. “Let go of me.”

“You must return to Glendower. You have done enough good here. It is only a matter of time before this monster comes for you. Go back home and tell your family to flee the colony. Go to the Indies; go anywhere, but if they come for you then it will be too late.”

Dante’s black eyes were on fire.

“You are exaggerating the dangers, Mr. De la Rosa,” she replied with a chuckle. “I know what they did to your mother and your perceptions are skewed. This is not the Spanish Inquisition.”

“You know nothing of my past or what I have seen,” he hissed.

His grip tightened on her wrist, and she winced. “Ouch, you’re hurting me.”

Suddenly he released her, put his hand on her cheek and murmured, “Your father will come for you, but it will be too late. Run away with me. Run away with me tonight, little one.”

The breath caught in Circe’s throat. She tried to say something, but words would not come. She swayed toward him and Dante yanked her into his arms.

Just like the evening by the lake, the enchantment was upon Circe. She was spirited away once more. She allowed him to kiss her mouth, run his hands down her back and over her breasts feverishly. Grabbing her hips, he brought her body firmly to his own and ran his lips down her neck.

“Circe,” he whispered in her ear. “I must have you.”

A yearning flooded her, and it was more than lust for the first time in her life. It was a desire far beyond carnal liaison. She hungered for a connection with this man, a connection which she did not fully understand. She uttered protests but they were soon forgotten as Dante scooped her up and carried her into the bedchamber.

*                  *                    *

It was late and candle wax was melting on the bedside table. When Circe tried to get up to light a new taper, Dante pulled her back into his arms. “No,” he said.

“But look,” she argued, pointing at the flame. “We will burn the house down.”

“I will light a fresh candle. I am afraid you will leave and not come back,” he replied, climbing out of bed.

Circe giggled. “Where would I go? I live here.”

“You are that unpredictable.”

“The candles are on the shelf by the door,” she instructed, running her eyes over his naked body as he reached up for a taper.

After lighting a candle, he snuffed the old one and jumped back into bed, pulling Circe into his arms.

“Now it is your turn,” she said, snuggling up next to him. “I told you about my life before Glendower; you must tell me about yours. I know your father was a Welsh merchant spending most of his time at sea. You were raised by your mother who was an ovate in Granada. Was it just the two of you?”

“Yes, but I was far from lonely. There were many boys in our neighborhood and we managed to get into lots of trouble.”

“Is that how you received these?” she asked, touching one of his scars.

Circe could feel him grow tense.

“No.”

“How did you get them?”

He sighed. “That is what I was trying to tell you earlier. In Spain, I was part of an underground organization that opposed the inquisition. These are the results of encounters that turned violent. There is nothing more dangerous than fanatics acting in the name of God. That is why you and your family must leave. Your Celtic communities will be discovered and burned to the ground. Your people must try to assimilate themselves into the Separatist communities before it is too late.”

“Not this again, Dante. You know they will never give up their villages. Besides, the witch hunters are in the towns too. They are everywhere.”

“Not in the Indies.”

“It is outrageous to think we would go there. Besides, they have dangers of a different kind in the islands: freebooters, disease and cutthroats. No, Dante, we will not leave. We have resigned ourselves to that fact that where ever we go we must hide. We are realizing now that not even the interior can hide us,” and she sighed. “There is one thing that we have in common with the Separatists. We are all outcasts.”

He lifted her chin and kissed her. “Then I will stay as well, Circe Swinburne.”

Dante dressed and went home just before sunrise. Circe had not slept a wink all night, but she was alive with energy. Why had this man so completely captivated her? Was it the enchantment of the Grand Portal, the work of pixies or silly infatuation? She didn’t care. Dante De la Rosa awakened something in her she had never felt. She barely heard the voice that whispered, “Beware Circe Swinburne.”

*                   *                   *

As he rode home, Dante realized that bedding Circe had been a mistake. He had hoped the conquest would quell his desire for her; but instead, he wanted more. He missed the smell of her hair, her soft skin and those damned freckles. God’s bones, I’m ready for her all over again, he thought shifting uncomfortably in the saddle.

Just outside of town, in the dim light of sunrise, he could see workmen constructing a gallows. Like an icy bath, it pulled him out of his lusty reverie. He kicked his horse and headed quickly for home. He needed time to collect his thoughts before starting work for the day, and he had to try to find a way to keep that red-headed weaver out of harm’s way.

*                  *                  *

At the shop, Levi was completely confused. For days, his mistress had been quiet and withdrawn, but now she was humming again. Only last night she had held up a bodkin and told him witch hunters used these tools to prick the accused. She had grown so angry that she almost threw it, but today she was happily treadling and tossing her shuttle back and forth.

He shook his head and put it down to his ignorance of women. Either way, he was glad to see that she was joyful.