by Flora Speer
“Where do you suppose it was made?” he asked, holding it up for Emma to see.
“Agatha says there are bits and pieces of ancient jewelry to be found all along this coast,” Emma said. “They were left here by folk who sailed to these shores centuries ago, looking for tin.”
“Take it.” Dain put the crescent into her hand and folded her fingers around it. “If you like, I’ll have it fastened on a chain for you to wear, to remind you of the magical hours we’ve spent here.”
Emma took the suggestion as a sign of hope, believing Dain would not have made it if he planned to rid himself of his non-submissive wife. Yet the bitter truth was that their wild and passionate love-making had not resolved the differences between them over what she was, and what he wanted his wife to be.
There was, also, the matter of the newly generated presence that she must keep secret from Dain until she knew with absolute certainty whether he loved her, or merely wanted her. If she told him what he had given her in the last, sweet instant of their joining, the knowledge would influence him in her favor. She wanted Dain to love her for herself, not for what she carried, still unformed, deep within. She had a few months before she must reveal her priceless secret, or he guessed it. She told herself to be patient, and to hope, and to trust in Dain.
***
“Why travel to Tawton?” she said as they walked along the beach toward the pathway up the cliff. The tide had gone out while they were in the cave, so there was no chance of either of them getting wet, but from the lowering clouds and the oily look of the sea the storm would not be long in coming, and then the waves would crash upon the rocks and the beach would be impassable. “Confronting Lady Richenda, knowing what she has done and listening to her vituperations will only upset you.”
“She will never cease to plot against you and Vivienne until I face her down and formally disown her,” Dain said.
“You need not see her, if you’d rather not. I know of an alternative, a way to put an end to her wicked scheming, but I won’t do it without your permission.”
“Permission to do what?” He faced her with a frown.
“To cast a spell on Lady Richenda, to make her sweet and docile.”
“No mere human could achieve such an alteration in her nature,’ Dain scoffed. “Not even by magic.”
“No one human could,” Emma agreed. “However, Vivienne and I, together, can do it. If Agatha will agree to join us, the three of us can create a spell so powerful that no one will be strong enough to break it. Then we will all be permanently safe from Lady Richenda.”
“It’s cowardly of me to dread seeing her again,” Dain said. “She is my mother and I owe her respect and affection, yet she is so wicked that even Father Maynard wants nothing more to do with her. He told me he’s glad she is gone from Penruan.”
“Once the spell is cast, if you want to visit her, she will be kind, and grateful for your presence, and never speak a word against Vivienne, or me. I propose to suppress certain parts of her memory, so Lady Richenda can no longer recall the hatreds that have driven her for so long, or the wicked things she has done out of hatred.”
“All that rage and jealousy, forgotten? There is an odd justice in such a sentence,” Dain mused. “But what of her health?”
“The spell I intend to use will not affect her physical well-being. The illness with which she’s already afflicted will continue its natural progress, for magic cannot alter its course. As I told you once before, Lady Richenda will live for some years yet. If you are concerned about my intentions toward her, if you cannot trust me on this matter, speak to Vivienne, or to Agatha. Either of them will confirm what I have just said. Lady Richenda will not be harmed, though from time to time she may be puzzled to realize there are details of her past that she cannot recall. I suspect those around her will find relief in the change and will comfort her with the explanation that her forgetfulness is the result of her increasing age,” Emma ended dryly.
“I will consider your suggestion, and I will consult Vivienne and Agatha,” Dain said. “Not because I lack trust in you, but because I find myself so eager to accept the simple solution you offer. I fear making a hasty choice that could be unfair to my mother. I, too, would find relief in the opportunity to visit her and hold a pleasant conversation with her, free of her usual ranting. But, however much she appears to change, I will never allow her to return to Penruan. Does my hardness shock you, Emma?”
“Not a bit. Like you, I grew up with a mother who was unpleasant, to say the least. I also understand your reluctance. We are taught from our earliest years to honor our parents. It’s difficult to change.”
“Yes.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “But change we must, if we are not to be doomed by past mistakes.”
They separated when they reached the castle gate, Dain excusing himself to climb the stair to the battlements and a conference with Todd. Emma strolled contentedly toward the keep, a smile curving her lips and hope warming her heart, while in the deepest recess of her woman’s body the miracle that, thanks to her magic, she had been aware of from the very instant of its generation settled safely into its appointed place and began to grow.
***
The storm broke suddenly in late afternoon, bringing with it howling wind and heavy rain. The inhabitants of Penruan huddled indoors, with only a minimal guard sent to man the walls, for only madmen would choose to attack on such a night. Dain never appeared in the lord’s chamber, though Emma doubted if the storm was keeping him away. She thought it more likely he was using the nighttime hours to consider the suggestion she had made about his mother. In the morning, the shadows under his eyes and the haggard lines of his face told her how torn he was between facing down Lady Richenda at Tawton Abbey to accuse her of conspiring to have murder done and ordering her into stricter confinement there, against handing her future well-being over to three sorceresses, every one of whom had compelling reasons for disliking the lady. Dain being Dain, he’d want to do what was right and just and fair, and the decision was a terrible one for any son to have to make.
In mid-morning the rain stopped and the skies began to clear. At the first beams of sunshine Agatha presented herself in the great hall.
“I’ve come to check on Hermit’s condition,” she said to Emma, “and on the other wounded men.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Emma responded. “I rather think Dain will want to speak with you in private.” She then told her friend about the suggestion she had made, and Agatha nodded with satisfaction.
“It would provide an admirable solution. Otherwise, Lady Richenda will continue to attempt to destroy you, and Vivienne, too. I will be happy to assure Dain that the greatest harm his mother will experience will be the quashing of her murderous impulses. Now, let me see Hermit.”
As soon as the midday meal was over, Dain met with Agatha in the lord’s chamber. A short time later he sent Hawise to ask Emma and Vivienne to join them.
“Agatha has banished the last traces of my reluctance,” Dain said to Emma. “I spoke with Vivienne earlier and she has agreed to seek no other redress from my mother than the spell. You may work it whenever you wish. Is there anything you require of me beyond my approval?”
“You may stay,” Vivienne said, “provided you promise not to interrupt once we have begun.”
“You are going to do it now?” Dain sounded startled.
“Why wait?” asked Agatha. “All three of us are together, in private. Let us have an end to Lady Richenda’s wickedness.”
”A fine punishment,” Dain said. ”A woman who hates magic, to be held fast by magic and never know why she has changed her ways, or even that she has changed. Well, she prevented me from knowing my own sister, and from recalling several years of my life. Yes, let it be done immediately.”
“Before we can begin,” Emma said, “where is Wade’s talisman? As I recall, Dain, you put it in your tunic after he threw it at you.”
“I gave it to Father
Maynard, to keep or to do with it whatever he wants,” Dain answered.
“Good,” Agatha said. “If it were in this room, it could act as an antidote against the working of the spell. But not if it’s safe with a priest who will guard it carefully. Now, Dain, stand back and remain silent.”
“I will,” Dain promised, and put his shoulders against the door to keep it closed, in case anyone should interrupt. No one except the four of them knew what they were doing, so it was always possible for someone to seek him out with a problem or a request.
All of the women looked hard at him for a moment before setting about their magical business. Dain assumed they had noted and approved his serious mood, which well befitted a lord who was allowing just punishment to be administered. Secretly, he was filled with trepidation. It struck him as a peculiar time and place for magical incantations; not midnight, but during a clear afternoon; not on a foggy moor or deep in a chilly and hidden cave, but in the lord’s chamber with the windows wide open to the warm air of an early autumn day and the golden sunlight streaming in to soften the gray stone walls.
Emma, Vivienne, and Agatha stood in a circle, their eyes closed, holding hands. They were silent for a time, and Dain was careful not to move or make a sound that might disturb their concentration. Agatha began the spell by speaking in a language Dain could not understand, though he believed it was the same tongue she had used to call Vivienne forth from her hiding place inside the cave. Next, Vivienne spoke, using a different language, this one totally alien to Dain.
Finally, it was Emma’s turn. Dain could not understand a word she said, but he marveled at the rich, poetic sound of her voice, pitched to a deeper note than he was used to hearing from her. Emma’s face was intent, and he knew she had moved deep inside herself, to a place where she and Vivienne and Agatha were joined in their trancelike state, a place where he could never venture.
Demanding, primitive, masculine need clamored inside him, urging him to seize his wife and shake her hard, to bring her back from her mystical trance to recognition of her duty to him and to their marriage. He reminded himself forcefully that what Emma was doing she was doing for his sake, and for his sister’s safety, and he set aside his selfish male pride and tried to understand and appreciate Emma’s inborn calling. She could not help what she was, and she used her ability for good. Agatha had told him so, and he knew Agatha would not lie to him about something so important. Perhaps, Dain reasoned, he ought to have trusted Emma from the beginning, and not required someone else to confirm her honesty.
Suddenly, Emma was speaking in words Dain could understand, and he knew a prickling of very un-masculine tears behind his eyelids as he realized what she was saying.
“Bind Richenda of Penruan to peace and contentment, to forgetfulness of all hatreds, and to a quiet happiness in her holy retirement,” Emma intoned. “For the rest of her life, let her do no more harm.”
“No more harm,” Vivienne echoed Emma’s words, “for the rest of her life.”
“Peace and contentment,” Agatha chanted softly.
“Happiness and peace,” Emma whispered.
It’s more than my mother would have granted any of them, Dain thought, and swallowed hard to force down the lump in his throat.
The three women bowed their heads, and silence filled the lord’s chamber for a while. Then Emma sighed and opened her eyes and looked at Dain. Looked at him, before anyone or anything else, as if he had been with her, in the back of her mind, through all the long conjuring. When she smiled at him, he ached to embrace her. He did not move, not being certain whether the spell was fully cast, or if there was still more to come.
“It is done,’ Agatha said. “The spell is made and cannot now be broken.”
Dain did not know what to say or how to react. He had half expected smoke, or lightning and crashing thunder, or leaping tongues of flame. The quiet, almost gentle working of magic left him awed. He stared at his wife, his sister, and his elderly friend, and was hard put not to go to his knees before them.
Vivienne swayed a little, and Emma put a hand to her forehead.
”Are you – tired?” Dain asked, and then cursed himself for his stupidity.
“Always, after I work a spell,” Emma said. “Agatha, I expect you to stay at the castle tonight. I should have said something before this. We will all sleep well, Dain, but in the morning we will be our usual selves. Have no fear for us.”
”Agatha, come with me,” Vivienne said. “You may sleep in my room.” She put an arm around Agatha and they left the lord’s chamber.
Emma went to the bed and sat down, moving slowly, as if she was exhausted. Dain stared at her, wanting to embrace her and not sure if he should.
”Is there anything you need?” he asked. “Food? Drink? Would you like wine?”
“Nothing, except to rest. Will you stay with me for a while?”
She began to remove her clothes. When she fumbled with the knot of her sash Dain set aside forbearance and went to assist her. He thought how different this undressing was from their passionate interlude in the cave. He saw Emma beneath the covers and drew up the quilt for her, tucking it in as if she were a sleepy child. Then he pulled the chair she had brought from Wroxley to the bedside and sat there, holding her hand till the sun set and the sky was dark and the stars began to shine.
Chapter 18
Two days after the working of the spell on Lady Richenda, Sloan and Hawise were married. Dain proclaimed a day of celebration, and Emma supervised the preparation and serving of a hearty feast.
Sloan was so well respected that even the elders of Trevanan came to his wedding, bringing their wives with them. So far as Emma could tell, everyone in the castle rejoiced with the bride and groom. Even Hermit insisted on leaving his chamber for the occasion. Wearing borrowed clothing and leaning on Agatha’s arm, he came to the hall to join the celebration and to watch while Vivienne acted as the bride’s maiden attendant.
Hawise was dewy-eyed but composed in a new gown of fine blue wool that Emma had provided for her, with a wreath of moorland flowers made by Vivienne upon her unbound hair. Sloan looked appropriately nervous in a freshly washed tunic, with Todd and Blake as his groomsmen.
At the feast after the ceremony Dain bestowed upon the newlyweds a manor that lay within his holdings.
”A knight ought to have land on which to raise his children,” Dain said. “You have earned this honor, Sir Sloan.”
“But I’ll still spend most of my time here at the castle,” Hawise whispered to Emma, “for Sloan has important duties here, too, and he will never shirk them just because he has taken a wife.”
For their use while they were at the castle the couple was given one of the guest rooms. When evening came their friends escorted them to the chamber with much laughter and more than a few naughty jokes. Hawise blushed bright red to hear them. Sloan grinned sheepishly. Then Dain closed the bedroom door with lordly firmness and ordered everyone back to the great hall.
“Eat and drink all you want,” he said, “but grant the lovers privacy.”
Before Emma could retreat to the hall with the rest of the crowd Dain caught her hand to stop her from leaving.
“As for you, my lady,” he murmured, his eyes shining, “I would very much like to enact the bridal night we never enjoyed. I was rude to you when you came to Penruan, and the first time ever I took you to bed I was intoxicated by Agatha’s herbal potion. I owe you a proper wedding night.”
”Whatever you wish, my lord.” She smiled into his eyes, touched and warmed by the tenderness she saw there.
He led her to the lord’s chamber and barred the door. Then he made love to her, slowly and gently, yet with a. burning need that told her far more surely than words could ever have done that her magic presented no barrier to him. Dain knew her and knew what she could do, for he had observed her while she worked a spell, and still he wanted her. And he trusted her. He had said so.
As she shimmered into sweet ecstasy Emma d
ared to hope that in time – and, perhaps, not much time, either – Dain would begin to love her.
The wedding celebration continued well into the night but, while the newlyweds were allowed to linger in their chamber, everyone else was expected to be awake and at work at the usual early morning hour.
Dain had ordered a tray of bread and cheese and a pitcher of ale brought to the lord’s chamber so he and Emma could break their fast. They were dressed and Dain was buckling on his sword in preparation for a ride to inspect one of his outlying farms, when Blake pounded on the door, yelling incoherently.
“What’s wrong?” Emma pulled the door wide, exposing the white-faced, excited boy. “Blake, take a deep breath before you try to speak.”
“My lord, my lady.” Blake paused to gulp air. “I ran all the way from the gatehouse and up the tower steps.”
“For what reason?” Dain asked.
In outward appearance he was calm, but Emma knew her husband well enough to see how carefully he attended to Blake’s panting response.
“Todd sent me,” Blake said. “I am to tell you there’s a large, armed party coming this way, along the road from Trevanan. The fishermen were up before dawn and noticed the movement, so they sent a rider here to give warning before the army even reached Trevanan. Todd said to tell you that he can see their dust, and they are certainly headed to Penruan. He cannot make out their banners as yet and they have sent no herald to announce their arrival, so he is assuming they are enemies who mean to surprise us.” He paused to take a breath.
“You will want your armor,” Emma said to Dain. She knelt to open the wooden chest in which his chain mail was stored. “There’s no need to call for assistance. Blake and I can act as your squires.”
Dain was already unbuckling his belt and pulling up his tunic. Emma lifted the mail hose from the chest and handed them to him, while Blake pulled out the padded gambeson.