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onto the interstate.
“The food on the plane was appalling; it is amazing the staff has not perished of bleeding ulcers,” said Malory. He slapped Gansey’s arm so suddenly that both Gansey and the Dog jumped in surprise. “Do you know anything about the drapery that was lost to the English in Mawddwy?”
“Drapery? Oh. Oh. It had women with red hands on it? I thought they’d decided it was a flag,” Gansey said.
“Yes, yes, that’s the very one. You are good!”
Gansey thought he was no better than one would expect after seven years of fairly single-minded study, but he appreciated the sentiment. He raised his voice so as to include the backseat in the conversation. “It’s actually very interesting. The English pursued some of Glendower’s men, and though they got away, the English got ahold of this ancient drapery. Flag, whatever. The red hands are interesting because red hands are associated with the Mab Darogan , a mythic title. It was given to people like King Arthur and Llewellyn the Great and of course Owain Lawgoch —”
“Of course,” echoed Ronan sarcastically. “Of course Owain Lawgoch.”
“Don’t be such a shitbag,” Adam murmured.
“This lane ends,” Blue said.
“So it does,” Gansey said, merging. “Anyway, the Mab Darogan was a kind of Welsh ‘Son of Destiny.’”
Malory broke in, “Blame the poets. It’s easier to stir people to rebellion if they think they’re on the side of a demigod or some chosen one. Never trust a poet. They —”
Gansey interrupted, “The flag was destroyed, right? Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off.”
“It’s quite all right,” Malory said, and sounded as if it was more than all right. This — plucking threads from the tight weave of history— was their common ground. Gansey was relieved to realize their relationship was still intact, just built upon a very different foundation than his relationship with the people currently in the backseat. As a Honda blew past them, its occupants giving Gansey the finger, the professor continued, “It was indeed thought destroyed. Repurposed, really. Skidmore wrote that it was made into nightgowns for Henry IV, though I couldn’t find his sources.”
“Nightgowns!” repeated Blue. “Why nightgowns ?”
Gansey said, “For maximum ignominy.”
“No one knows what ignominy means, Gansey,” Adam muttered.
“Disgrace,” supplied Malory. “Destruction of dignity. Much like airplane travel. But the drapery was, in fact, just rediscovered this past week.”
Gansey swerved. “You’re joking!”
“It’s in terrible shape — textiles don’t preserve nicely, as you well know. And it took them forever to suss out what it was. Now, now, get off at this exit, Gansey, so I can show you this. By curious accident, the drapery was found under a barn in Kirtling. Flooding cut a deep path through the topsoil, which revealed the edge of an older foundation. Meters and meters of dirt were dislodged.”
Adam asked, “All that water didn’t destroy the flag?”
The professor swiveled. “Exactly the question! By a trick of physics, the water didn’t fill the foundation but instead managed to cut a separate course slightly uphill! And in answer to your unasked question, yes! The barn was located on a ley line.”
“That was the very question I was about to ask,” Ronan said.
“Ronan,” Blue said, “don’t be such a shitbag.”
Gansey caught a corner of Adam’s laugh in the rearview mirror as he pulled into a parking spot at a bedraggled gas station. Malory had produced an old digital camera from some place on his person and was now clicking back through the photos on it. “They’re now blaming the flooding on a flash thunderstorm or somesuch. But people who were there say it was because the walls of the barn were weeping.”
“Weeping!” exclaimed Blue. It was impossible to tell if she was horrified or delighted.
“What do you believe?” Gansey asked.
In response, Malory simply handed him the camera.