A Passionate Magic

by Flora Speer

  “At least that’s good news,” Emma said. “Not because Todd isn’t well, but his wife’s request means the folk here are beginning to trust me and the medicines I make. Do you know where Todd is right now?”

  “He’s in the wardroom, preparing to stand watch on the battlements,” Hawise responded. “His wife is none too pleased about it, either, considering how cloudy the sky is, and how sharp the wind. She’s afraid Todd will be drenched with rain and catch another chill.”

  “He won’t be out of doors today,” Emma said. With Hawise behind her, she set off briskly in the direction of the wardroom, which lay just inside the entrance of the tower keep. Weapons were kept there, and the men-at-arms coming off or going on duty on the castle walls used the wardroom while they donned or removed their chain mail. It was a noisy, thoroughly masculine place, smelling strongly of male sweat and of the oil and sand used to clean weapons and chain mail. The unexpected appearance of the lady of the castle brought a sudden halt to rough conversation. Several men-at-arms reached in haste for a shirt or a chain-mail tunic with which to cover unseemly nakedness.

  “I ask your pardon for interrupting you,” Emma said, making sure she kept her gaze well above the shoulder level of the embarrassed men. “I am looking for Todd.”

  “Here I am, my lady.” Todd was holding his chain-mail shirt, which he was just about to pull over his padded gambeson. His face was flushed and his eyes were fever-bright.

  “You may leave your chain mail behind. My lord Dain has a new assignment for you today,” Emma said to him. “You are to come with me. If one of your comrades will speak to Dain, or with Sloan, they will have decided by now who is to take your place on the walls. Again, good sirs, I beg your pardon for intruding,” she said to the men-at-arms. She flashed her sweetest smile at the men and stepped outside the wardroom to wait for Todd to join her.

  “My lady,” Hawise protested, “you shouldn’t be giving orders to the men-at-arms, not while Dain and Sloan are both within the castle. It’s not a woman’s place to command men.”

  “Dain won’t object. He has already decided to keep Todd indoors. He noticed that young man isn’t well even before Todd’s wife spoke to you,” Emma explained.

  “He’s a considerate lord,” Hawise said. “Sloan tells me Dain is aware of almost everything that happens in Penruan, and in Trevanan village, too.”

  “Sloan, hmm?” Emma was about to make a teasing comment on Hawise’s increasingly frequent references to the knight who was captain of the men-at-arms when Todd appeared wearing a woolen tunic, with sword and knife at his belt. “Come with me to the stillroom, Todd. You, too, Hawise. I may need your assistance.” Emma knew it wasn’t necessary to tell Hawise to report to Todd’s wife on his treatment. Hawise would be certain to provide whatever information was pertinent, and she’d carry additional medicine to Todd’s quarters and explain how it was to be used. The anxious wife would see to it that her husband obeyed the instructions.

  “What is it you want of me, my lady?” Todd stood just inside the stillroom door, looking warily around at the bunches of herbs hanging from the ceiling to dry, and at all the jars and pots of newly prepared medicines lined up on the shelves. Suddenly he gave way to a fit of coughing that bent his sturdy form double. Hearing the way he was gagging, Hawise snatched a small bowl from the table and thrust it into his hands.

  “First,” Emma said, pouring syrup from ajar into a large spoon, “we are going to ease your cough. Swallow this.”

  “What is it?” Todd stopped coughing long enough to take a backward step in the direction of the door.

  “It’s horehound syrup,” Emma told him, offering the spoon. “I promise it won’t harm you, and I’m sure it will help. Didn’t your mother, or your grandmother, ever dose you with horehound?”

  “Sometimes, when I was little.” Todd regarded the spoon doubtfully.

  “If you took it when you were a boy, surely you can do no less now that you are a grown-up man-at-arms,” Emma said.

  With undisguised reluctance Todd opened his mouth and accepted the medicine.

  “It doesn’t taste quite as awful as my grandmother’s syrup used to do,” he admitted.

  “I disguise the taste with other herbs,” Emma said, “and with a bit of honey. Todd, Lord Dain wants you to stand guard at the door to the lord’s chamber. Someone has been sneaking in and out of the room. We want to learn who it is.”

  ”A thief?” Todd asked. “Here in the castle? How can that be?”

  “I don’t think it is a thief. Nothing has been taken, but Dain and I are both concerned to know it’s possible to get into and out of our chamber unseen.”

  “It shouldn’t be possible,” Todd said, frowning in thought. “There are always people in the great hall, and we have a good view of the staircase from there.”

  “And of the people going up and down the steps,” Hawise added. “Who would notice one among so many?”

  “Are you saying you think it’s one of us?” Todd exclaimed in open disbelief.

  “Neither Dain nor I can imagine who it could be.” Emma spoke very firmly. “We want to disprove any suspicion that one of our own people could be at fault. That’s why we decided you would be a good man for the job. You are honest and intelligent, and we know you’ll be discreet until this mystery is solved.”

  “I will, my lady.” Todd stood a little taller, looking pleased at the trust being reposed in him. “I’ll say nothing to anyone, not even my wife.”

  “I knew we could depend on you. Now, you will need to take the horehound syrup regularly to suppress the cough. You don’t want to begin choking just at a moment when you ought to be quiet.”

  “Quiet for what?” In a rustle of black robes, with Blake directly behind her, Lady Richenda entered the stillroom. “Are you devising some wicked scheme to use your noxious herbal medicines to disable my son so you can turn the castle over to Gavin of Wroxley?”

  “I am obeying Dain’s wishes,” Emma said.

  “What is the evil potion you’ve just fed to this stupid boy?” Lady Richenda demanded, glaring at Todd as if he had done something wrong.

  “It is only a syrup to stop frequent coughing,” Emma explained. “My lady, I have Dain’s permission for everything I am doing in this room.”

  “By gathering herbs and preparing tinctures and ointments from them, you are deliberately contravening the Will of the Lord,” Lady Richenda declared in a loud voice.

  Emma noticed the light of fanaticism in her mother-in-law’s eyes and knew it was useless to try to argue with her. Even so, she wasn’t going to back down. She had to stand up to Lady Richenda, for herself and her hopes for the future, for Dain’s sake, and for the sake of all the folk whom she was certain she could help, if only she could prevent Lady Richenda from constantly interfering.

  “It is cruel of you to allow the people who depend on you to suffer needlessly,” she said.

  “Suffering will cleanse their immortal souls,” Lady Richenda proclaimed, sounding as if she spoke from a pulpit.

  “I disagree,” Emma said with great firmness. “When a person is ill or in pain, it’s often difficult to think of anything but the body. Alleviating discomfort allows the afflicted soul to consider spiritual matters. At Wroxley I knew a man who sustained a dreadful wound to his side. It was clear he was going to die and he knew it, yet all he could think about was his intolerable pain. When he was given a calming herbal infusion mixed with a bit of poppy syrup the pain receded. He was able to make a full confession and receive absolution. He died at peace, clasping the priest’s hand. Will you tell me that medicine did not help his immortal soul?”

  “He was a weakling,” Lady Richenda answered in a voice filled with contempt. “If I do not prevent you, you will turn every man at Penruan into a similar weakling. Then you’ll open the gates to Lord Gavin, which is what you’ve planned all along.”

  “That is untrue,” Emma said, “as I suspect you are well aware. I have no such inte
ntions.”

  “Lady Richenda,’ Blake spoke up, “I can’t believe Lady Emma would work any harm to Penruan, or to the people here. She has been doing nothing but good since she arrived. She treated my gashed leg so it healed without festering, and the drink she gave me took away all the pain, so I slept well that night. I’m sure she was helping Todd just now, the same as she helped me.”

  “How dare you interrupt me?” Lady Richenda whirled on Blake, her right hand whipping out to slap him so hard he stumbled and would have fallen if Emma had not caught him.

  “Enough!” Emma cried, her arms around the boy. “Dain gave Blake to me, to be my page. I make my claim to him here and now. You may no longer abuse him.”

  “What is this infernal racket about?” exclaimed Dain, striding into the stillroom, bringing with him a breath of cool, damp outside air that Emma found very welcome.

  “Your cursed wife is determined to weaken every man-at-arms in the castle,” Lady Richenda cried, “so she can turn the place over to Gavin of Wroxley.”

  “I treated Todd’s cough,” Emma explained, responding to Dain’s questioning look in her direction, “and I protested when Blake defended me against Lady Richenda and she slapped him for it.”

  “I can see she slapped him hard.” Dain’s large hand caught the boy’s chin, turning his face to better see the red mark on Blake’s cheek. When he removed his hand from Blake, Dain touched Emma’s arm, pressing it in a reassuring way. Then he turned and seized Lady Richenda’s arm in what was clearly a much tighter grip.

  “Mother,” Dain said, I will escort you to the great hall. You may remain there or retire to your own chamber if you wish. You are not to step within the confines of the stillroom again, unless you are expressly invited by Emma, or by me. Do I make my intention plain, my lady? Henceforth, you are to leave Emma alone to treat the castle inhabitants as she sees fit. I will tolerate no more interference from you.”

  “You are making a grave mistake,” Lady Richenda declared. “This enemy wife of yours will lead you to ruin and debauchery. But you remain my son, and I know my duty to you and to the memory of your father. Whatever restrictions you impose on me, I will do everything in my power to prevent your destruction.”

  Chapter 13

  That day Lady Richenda did not appear in the great hall for the midday meal.

  “She is closeted in her room with Blanche and Father Maynard,” Hawise reported to Emma. “I pity the priest, for he’s not a bad fellow, and I almost feel sorry for Blanche, though I cannot convince myself to like her. Blanche is too sneaky for my taste. Lady Richenda has refused a tray of food, so her companions will miss their largest meal of the day.”

  “Ask Cook to save something for them to eat later. They’ll want more than bread and cheese by the time evening comes,” Emma said.

  The midday meal was a pleasant one, with the calm of the great hall undisturbed by any arguments. Just as the sweets were about to be served, Emma noticed a rather pale and tired-looking Father Maynard approaching his usual seat at the high table. Suddenly, the castle cook erupted around the end of the screened passage to race across the hall. She was moving so rapidly that Father Maynard halted his own progress to gape at her.

  “My lady!” cried the cook, skidding to a halt before the high table. “There’s a dreadful thing happening and I know you won’t like it.”

  “What is it?” Emma asked.

  “I needed a bit of fresh mint for one of the sweets. You did tell me to feel free to help myself from the garden whenever I needed fresh herbs.”

  “So I did,” Emma said. “Pick as much as you require. There’s no cause to worry about overusing the mint. Our plants have sent out so many runners, it would be impossible for you to destroy them.”

  “Not so,” the cook cried, almost in tears. “Lady Richenda is uprooting all the plants, and the sweet I worked on all morning will be spoiled for lack of mint.”

  “What?” For just a moment Emma was so startled and so angry she couldn’t move. She heard Dain’s muttered oath and was aware of him leaping to his feet beside her. For his sake she made what she knew was a futile attempt to smooth over the cook’s accusation. “Perhaps Lady Richenda wants herbs for her own use.”

  “Never,” said Dain. “This is deliberate mischief.”

  “My lord,” the cook said to Dain, confirming his suspicion, “she’s tearing up every plant in the garden, not just the mint. All the new plants Lady Emma put in, and the seedlings, too – all the hard work that she and Blake and Hawise did has gone for naught. When Lady Richenda is finished the herb garden will be completely destroyed.”

  “By heaven, I’ll make her replant the entire garden herself,” Dain exclaimed. He stepped off the dais and headed in the direction of the screened passage. Emma followed on his heels, with the cook, Father Maynard, Blake, Hawise, and Sloan all close behind.

  The herb garden, which was located near the kitchen door for easy access by the cook, and which also contained lettuce, carrots, and a few other vegetables, was in worse condition than Emma expected. Row upon row of plants lay on the ground, uprooted and trampled. Some of the plants had been chopped into pieces with a kitchen knife, which Lady Richenda was still brandishing while she stamped on a row of tiny seedlings. Her shoes and the hem of her black robe were muddy, there were smudges of dirt on her face and her white linen wimple, and her hands were scratched and stained green. Blanche stood off to one side, wringing her hands and weeping. From the cleanliness of the maidservant’s clothing and hands, it was apparent that she hadn’t been helping her mistress.

  ”Mother,” Dain shouted at Lady Richenda, “what do you mean by this act of vandalism? You’ve done as much damage here as any barbarian.”

  ”I mean to prevent that unwholesome creature you’ve been bedding from working her vile magic on you and your people,” Lady Richenda exclaimed, facing him with an unholy fire in her eyes. “So, Emma will help you to exorcise your demons, will she? She is the demon!”

  “I see,” Dain said. Fists planted on his hips, he glared from his mother to Blanche. “Your maidservant reported a private conversation that she overheard while eavesdropping, and you misinterpreted a kindly meant remark, spoken half in jest, to mean something dire and evil.”

  “It’s your wife who’s evil,” Lady Richenda cried. “Why can’t you see what she’s doing? She is trying to lure you into caring about her, so you’ll give up the feud with Wroxley. Then, when you are weak, she’ll strike. She will hand you, and Penruan, over to Lord Gavin.”

  “You are talking nonsense,” Dain told her. “I am sad to have to say this to you, but since you cannot accept my wife, or even ignore her presence at Penruan, perhaps you ought to return to your beloved convent.”

  “Not just yet.” Refusing to back down, Lady Richenda glared at Dain with unabated rage. “I have one last duty to my lord Halard. On his deathbed I gave him my solemn oath that I’d see our son victorious in the feud against the lords of Wroxley. And so I will, by whatever means I can find.”

  “But not today,” Dain said. He removed the knife from her fingers and took hold of her arm. “Your work is finished for this day. Come along, Blanche. I will see you and your mistress to your chamber. Sloan, I want a guard posted outside my mother’s door. Neither she nor Blanche is to leave that room without my permission.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Sloan responded. “I’ll see to it.” After a disgusted look in Lady Richenda’s direction, he turned his attention to the ruined garden, shaking his head at its sorry state.

  Lady Richenda wasn’t ready to depart from the garden. She wrenched her arm out of Dain’s grasp and stood defiantly, looking from him to Emma, while she spoke with deliberate malice.

  “Did you know, my son,” said Lady Richenda, “that your wife’s mother was a notable sorceress? And a notorious whore, too. In a packet of messages that arrived here this morning from court there was a letter to me from an old acquaintance of mine. In answer to a note I sent to her w
eeks ago she provided all the details of the wicked life and scandalous death of Lady Alda of Wroxley. I have no doubt that Alda’s daughter is following in her mother’s footsteps. It’s a well-known fact that magical ability can be inherited.”

  “Sloan,” said Dain, speaking through tight lips, “see that this damage is cleaned up. Call in house servants and men-at-arms if you must. Replant what can be replanted. Father Maynard, if you will kindly come with me, I believe my mother has need of you.”

  “Dain, we must talk,” Emma said, stepping toward him.

  “Not now, my lady.” Dain’s handsome face was every bit as cold and remote as it had been on the day of Emma’s unwelcome arrival at Penruan. “I will deal with you later.”

  ***

  “Is my mother’s accusation true?” Dain asked that evening. “Was your mother a sorceress?”

  “I’m sorry you had to learn it in such an unkind way.”

  “Answer me.” Dain remained on the opposite side of the lord’s chamber from Emma, making no move to come closer, no attempt to touch her. “I will hear it from your own lips, and I warn you, my lady, you had better tell me the truth.”

  ”Yes,” Emma said, “my mother was born with magical ability. Unfortunately for her, no adult recognized her for what she was, so she grew up unschooled in the methods of controlling such power, until she met an evil man who encouraged her to join his wicked schemes. The two of them planned to take over Wroxley, and they almost succeeded.”

  “Was this during Baron Udo’s time? Did Alda use her magic to help Udo get the disputed land away from my father?”

  “So far as I am aware, my mother had no connection with the feud. From all reports she and my grandfather detested each other. She’d have been unlikely to help him in anything.”

  “I see. Go on. Tell me the rest.”