“My teeth are better for that, Elfrida! I will bite out his heart and take pleasure in it.” Magnus took her face between his warm hands and kissed her eyelids. “Sweeting, you won over him. You fought to the last and won. It is not in you to stop fighting! I know—who else knows better?”
His fierce love for her and utter pride in her were both sweeter than balm, and more warming. He had not scolded her for yelling, nor berated her for her horror, and now he kept his arms wrapped snugly around her.
Around them, the men busied themselves by passing round the flasks of ale and mead. Elfrida sat for a moment longer in quiet, watching the fire and waiting for her heartbeat to grow steady.
“He does not truly know me, Magnus,” she said at length.
“Or me, and that will work for us.” He signed the sign of the cross gently over her breast and then firmly over his heart. “I promise you now, he shall never hurt you again. He shall never touch you again, be he one or a thousand.”
She believed him.
* * * *
When he was a squire, Magnus had called the waiting, watchful time before any attack, charge, or battle “graveyard time.” Just before a battle, he felt like a corpse on the point of burial—everything was over but the final rites. He would check his weapons and horse, listen for danger, feel the wind on his face, and know that for the moment he could do nothing.
As a knight, his attitude had changed. His graveyard time had become “the enemy’s,” with the opposition fluttering and lost before he dispatched them into hell. He felt an iron certainty and savored the brief peace before the tumult.
Now matters had changed again, because of Elfrida. In any forthcoming strife, her safety was paramount. And she would insist on riding with him. She would never stay behind, not with her sister in danger. Once, he might have knocked her out, as he had done with Walter, and let her scold after, when he had returned with Christina. He had learned better since their first meeting.
If I do that, I will lose her afterwards. She would never trust me again, and with good reason. I promised her she would be my equal, and here is where I must make good that vow. She expects to come, as is her right—it is her sister who is captive! She would say I need her, too, and maybe she is right there, for I am no necromancer.
But it is so hard!
She was so brave and loyal and knightly in all her ways. He adored her for her courage and loved her for her caring. The gruesome dread of her being harmed in any way burned in his guts.
I cannot lose her. Nothing will matter if I lose her.
He looked down at her, half dozing on his lap. He traced the small veins on her throat, watching the tender pulse in her neck. He relished the way her small, supple body fitted against his. Her youth’s clothes amused him, since he had heard tales of lasses running to war after their soldier sweethearts, and here in his arms was his own girl-warrior, sleeping. No, he was mistaken, she was praying, her words a whisper, meant for the saints and spirits.
Her battle preparation. Is it not time for you to do yours, Magnus?
He kissed the top of her head and began to check his weapons.
Sharpening his knives, he heard a single shout and knew the scout had returned. The young man, a squire, was spurring his horse and leaning low over its neck, eager to share his news.
“Pie,” said Elfrida incomprehensibly, clicking her tongue in apparent satisfaction. With her eyes wide and her head held high, she looked as excited as the rapidly closing squire.
Pie? I suppose she means Baldwin.
As one, he and Elfrida rose together to hear what Baldwin had to say.
Chapter 29
Pie, revealed as Baldwin, was an excellent spy, Elfrida realized with a good deal of surprise. Having known him only as a young man intent on food, she was startled to find he was an able rider and a careful watcher. He described the stone tower he had ridden to in great detail, all the while assuring Magnus that he had not been spotted.
“There were rooks and ravens roosting in the trees about the tower, and none of them raised any warning cries,” Baldwin said, speaking slowly when he realized that Magnus was translating for her. “I dismounted over a bowshot’s length back from the tower and crept closer on foot to make certain no man or beast saw me. I would swear on a wall of bibles that no one saw me come or go.”
“Any tracks leading out of there going south to the wooden tower?” Magnus asked, guessing that question would be foremost in her mind.
“None recent for sure, my lord. The place is hip deep in snow, and no rider or man seems to have set foot in it.”
Elfrida let out a long breath, daring to hope more strongly for Christina. Joseph Denzil’s tools of magic seemed to be within the wooden tower, and he would surely need to take her sister there for any final ritual. Unless I am mistaken and he has another plan entirely.
“How are you certain it is Joseph’s tower?” Magnus asked, translating his question to her, so she would know everything.
Baldwin smiled broadly, showing a chipped tooth. “The entrance door is of stout oak and strong, new, bronze nails—”
“Bronze?” Magnus interrupted in tones of deep suspicion.
“I believe so.”
Magnus turned to her. “Why bronze?”
“It is not iron,” Elfrida said simply. “Remember what I told you, that iron is for Christ?”
Magnus nodded once, sharply, then motioned to Baldwin to continue. “Is there more?”
“Indeed there is more, my lord—my lady,” he added, bowing to her.
“Say on, Baldwin,” said Magnus, clearly impatient with all this courtesy.
“Ah, yes, my lord, well, truth to tell, the door was painted over with several knightly devices and symbols, all very bright.” He counted off on his gloved fingers. “The letters J and D. A golden circle and flower on the right-hand side of the door, a silver circle and a pearl depicted on the left-hand side of the door, and above all a five-pointed star.”
Elfrida saw the painted door in the eye of her mind, and the roosting rooks, the squat stone tower hung about with ice and moss. She saw the great door opening in answer to her wishes, the snow spilling to either side.
“We have him,” Magnus hissed, breaking the spell of her thoughts. “Who else could it be?”
He clapped Baldwin so hard on the shoulder that the lad swayed, and then he beckoned to the others. Seeing him energized, ready to move, Elfrida sent a heartfelt wish that he look at her. When he did so, she drew him aside from the busy throng of squires and soldiers, some brushing down their horses, some stamping out the fire, others sinking a last draft of mead.
“Yes, lass?” Magnus asked, leaning against a fallen oak.
“I have a suggestion.” Elfrida stopped, hesitating. She did not want to say “plan” in case Magnus thought she was taking over the attack, but she was encouraged when he nodded.
“If we go like Baldwin and travel carefully, without alarming man or beast—”
“Or bird,” Magnus put in, grinning. “Aye, go on, Elfrida, I am listening.”
“If we reach the stone tower, then you could go on alone, right to the main entrance.” She stopped when Magnus raised his black eyebrows, but he still smiled and listened, so after a breath she went on, “You could be a traveler, lost in the forest, who collapses within sight of possible shelter.”
“I ride almost to his doorway and pitch off into the snow? And why should a man like Joseph care? Would he not leave me to freeze?”
“But if he thinks you are worth a ransom?”
She waited, her fingernails clawing into her own palms, as Magnus assessed the risks. “We know he is arrogant,” she added. “And the spices he has are all costly, so you as a rich traveler might prove a tempting prize.”
Magnus glanced at her shrewdly. “There is more to this, Elfrida. Your idea has worth, but I sense you are keeping something back.”
“But you think that would draw him out, as you yourself suggested?”
He gave a rumble of laughter. “Yes, I think it could, but come, Elfrida, spit out the rest! You are trying too hard to ease me.”
She clasped her hands to stop herself wildly gesturing. She gulped in a long breath, praying her voice would not crack. She had to be calm, focused as a burning lens. Feeling her amulet for luck rocking gently between her breasts, she began.
“If, as you say, it would work for you, Magnus, would it not also work for me? I could be a traveler, lost in the forest. A female, red-haired traveler.”
She lowered her head and braced herself for his reaction.
* * * *
She undoes me by my own arguments! Magnus thought. I have already partly agreed to this wild plan with me as the stricken traveler, so why is it worse if she takes my place? If I say, “You are a woman,” she will answer that it makes the plan more perfect, or something like it.
“It will be dangerous,” he said, then regretted the weak response. When had danger put her off?
“Surely there will be less danger,” she gabbled, still staring down at her feet. “He is obsessed with finding a redhead, and there I will be.”
“Will he not find that too convenient?”
“Not if I allow him to discover what I am.”
“We have no women’s garb.” He snatched at the excuse, pleased with it.
“Surely that is better, my lord? If I am a lone traveler, would I not dress as a man?”
“And if he sticks an arrow in you before he realizes you are a girl?” Magnus growled.
“When I pretend to swoon, I will allow my hair to tumble loose.”
“Always an answer,” Magnus muttered, wondering why he was even entertaining this ridiculous notion. “He may assault you.”
He felt her shiver and knew she was thinking of her nightmare. “I am not helpless,” she said stiffly.
“No you are not, and I will move against him, but the threat is there.”
“He will want to take me inside first.”
“And if he does not? Would you risk rape?” he asked gently.
She shuddered but spoke strongly, “You say yourself it will not come to that, and we must get in! I must find Christina!”
“How long will you have to lie upon the snow?” Magnus demanded, knowing it was impossible to persuade Elfrida against her sister’s welfare. “An hour, two, a day?”
She shook her head impatiently. “Why should it be for long? He will not consider me a threat, and we shall draw him out.”
“Why is that important, drawing him out? If he is one man, I can take him down easily, and if he has men, it is still no great matter.”
“Yes, sir, but within his castle, his home?”
Magnus clamped his teeth together on the obvious retort that why should that matter? He was remembering the last time he had disregarded Elfrida’s warnings and lumbered into an attack of the wooden tower. His hasty charge had made more problems, which his witch had been forced to work hard to solve.
And Joseph is another just like her.
He was aware of a strange, new idea, hovering slightly out of reach of his thoughts. As a warrior he relied on his wits, strength, horse, and weapons. Places were important as refuges and shelters, to be defended or attacked, but no castle ever slid off its own motte and lurched into the fray.
A man-built tower can have traps within it, but its walls are not riddled with malice. Yet does the same hold true for a necromancer’s house? Think of a church, a building yet also a house of God. You would not go lightly into a church, Magnus.
“Do you feel strongest as a witch in your house?”
“Yes, yes!” As she answered she lifted her head. Relief shone in her face, showing him that he was finally thinking right.
“And you think the same will be true for him?”
“I do. So if we take your plan and draw him out of his home, it will go well. And we are still before the solstice, within three days, as my magic promised.”
“My plan, eh? Yes, that may be safer for your sister and the others, too,” Magnus conceded, amused to catch her blushing. “What? Had you forgotten the rest of the missing brides?”
“Not a bit! Well, perhaps a little of late.” She blushed more fiercely, and he liked and loved her for that frailty and for admitting her all-too-human forgetfulness.
“We shall get them all out,” he promised.
He disliked the plan but could tell her heart was set on it. And if he was to show Elfrida he loved her, he had to prove to her that he respected her.
She has always respected me. As much as her love, he wanted to keep her respect, for one flowed into the other and back. If she were a man I would not question it.
All said, she was the witch, not him. Anything that weakened Joseph Denzil was good, and they would have the element of surprise.
Remember those ambushes that you and Peter would spring out on the roads and tracks in Outremer, when one would play the wounded soldier and the other and our men would lie in wait? We won a few skirmishes by that ploy.
“I will be very close,” he vowed. “Very close, but I have one condition.”
She flashed him a look, as if she wanted to ask, “Only one?” but wisely said nothing. She gave a vast yawn and mumbled, “Forgive me, I am paying attention.”
“Then you will heed me when I say that I will choose the place where you pretend to swoon. I know the tactics of land fights and ambushes.”
She nodded quickly, her amber eyes brightening. “Yes, Magnus, I understand. I will do as you suggest.”
She gasped as Magnus swung her into his arms. “Elfling! Pretending to be good now you have your own way.”
“But I will obey you, sir.”
“I know.” He kissed her, feeling her excitement and also her overtaut weariness. Later, when they had Christina safe, he would also deal with Elfrida in his own way, he thought, feeling his backache and aching left leg eased by that pleasant prospect. He knew, though, that everyone was short of sleep and prone to make mistakes.
“You will do exactly as I say.” Still uneasy with the plan, still wishing Elfrida were not so blessedly independent, still hoping he could think of an alternative to get Joseph Denzil out of his lair, he began to outline how they would proceed.
It was midday when they reached the stone keep and Elfrida saw the great entrance door for herself, with its telling symbols and letters. There had been no more falling snow and no alarms, and when she closed her eyes and concentrated, she had no sense of any malevolence. For a heart-stopping instant she was afraid that their enemy and Christina were not here, but then two new voices sounded like small bells within her mind, young, scared voices, begging for help.
He has brought his other victims to this tower, his securest place, before he takes them on to the final wooden tower. Surely he lacks only the fourth maid, the redheaded maiden?
The idea swept the weariness from her spirits and limbs like an elixir, and as Magnus asked, rather tersely, “All quiet?” she was smiling.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, aware he was finding this whole plan difficult. She was not sure if she asked too much of him, but she was grateful he was willing to stand back, if only for a little.
“Good. Quiet here as well.” Magnus nodded his handsome-but-scarred head at the clearing in which the tower was set. “The snow has helped us, for men and beasts linger indoors, and sounds do not travel in this weather.”
He had ensured their approach was quiet, too, instructing each man to check his weapons and disguise or tie down anything loose or metal that might clash or reflect the pale sunlight. He had done the same with the ponies and horses, clumping moss or strips of cloth around stirrups, saddles and bridles. They had moved cautiously for the last half mile, keeping off the smooth, straight road and winding through the woodland.
And it had worked. Elfrida wanted to fling her arms around Magnus as far as they would go and tell him how proud she was of him, how resourceful and patient she found him. But the hour
s were edging away, and Joseph had to be tempted from his tower.
Magnus made a downward sign with his arm, and she dismounted, lying flat on the crisp snow. The other men had also dismounted and were hiding in the trees. Only she and Magnus worked their way closer. She followed his swift yet measured progress, dipping between trees and bushes and banks of snow, working to remain hidden from the tower. Crawling and worming sideways and forwards, they came within a spear’s cast distance of the entrance, and even she could faintly make out the symbols on the door.
Had her belly not been numb with cold and her mind burning with fear for Christina, Elfrida might have cheered.
Magnus rolled across a bare section of rock and flung himself beneath the cover of a blackberry bush. The bush rocked slightly, and snow drifted, then all was still. He turned and motioned ahead of them both, and she knew what he meant.
Their eyes met. His were dark with strain. “I will go gladly in your place,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “I must do this.” However strange her plan, however unnatural, she knew it was their best chance to trick Joseph Denzil, to catch him off-guard. “I must, for Christina.”
She must, too, not only for her sister. Danger hovered like a miasma in this seemingly peaceful clearing, and above all she wanted Magnus safe. In any battle using magic, he would have only the advantage of surprise and strength against their enemy, who might summon a demon on the spot to devour him. Again she understood how hard it must be for him to let her go. His steadfastness awed her.
She smiled for him alone, the moment theirs, inviolate, and then she rose off her knees and tottered out into the clear, clean snow.
She had chosen to walk and not ride these final steps because then she did not need to worry about the horse, and she could “faint” and fall exactly how and where she chose.
Unless Denzil is suspicious and shoots an arrow into me.
She dragged the rough woolen cap off her head, deliberately spilling her loosened hair. No youth she knew wore his hair so long— that is what she had confidentially assured Magnus. Now, easing her already cooling feet through the thick coverlets of snow before the stone tower, she felt very small and exposed.
Townsend, Lindsay - The Snow Bride (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 25