“No, never,” she said, and began to weep. “I never see your face now! We do not kiss in our unions. How do I explain? They are good, lusty and I feel so much pleasure I swear I might die, but I cannot touch or share, only receive… I am not saying it right! Forgive me…”
“Aye, you are a passionate wench and no harm in that. Sssh, Elfrida…” He rocked her, astonished and humbled by her outburst. Feel so much pleasure I swear I might die. He felt the same, but for her it was not enough. I cannot touch or share.
He felt her shiver anew and thought of his book. If we do not mate the same way tonight, you will miss the chance to get her with child.
What of that? Magnus thought. Yes, he wanted children, heirs and so on. He wanted Elfrida pregnant and happy. Children would tie her to him even more.
But tonight she needs me, not my seed. Whether for good or ill, whether it means I miss my chance of mating with her, she needs me.
What if you lose her later because you do not give her a child now?
Magnus dismissed the fear. It was selfish and unloving. Tonight is for her, only her. That is what love is, to give willingly even in the face of loss.
“Hush.” His understanding pierced him. No wonder that harpy Astrid hurt her so much with her arrogance, and made her doubt her place. In a worse, more intimate way I have done the same. Elfrida is a witch, my witch, and a warrior of magic, but in our bed she is a gentle, loving soul. “We shall be slow, yes? Very tender.”
Still a new wife, he thought. They had been married for less than a year. “Will you guide us, sweeting?”
She wiped her eyes and nodded. The sight of her damp lashes tore at his heart. She lifted his hand in both of hers and kissed his fingers before she drew him to their bed of furs.
“Magnus.” She knelt on a wolf skin and he knelt with her so they would be equal. She glanced at the still-open door. By the twilight he saw her blush. “Will you guide us, too?”
“I will,” he said.
He gave himself to her, allowing her to kiss, embrace, fondle, and admire. She nipped and tasted and tongued, at times in places she had never done before. He glowed and burned in the summer night, each scar a wound of trust, courage, and fellowship.
“The greatest wound you cannot see,” he said, when she touched and spoke of them. “In here.” He tapped his ribs and pressed her hand over his heart, his brown eyes gazing into hers. “Whenever I lose you. Whenever you are not with me.”
She shook her head. “I am always with you.”
Emboldened by his loving admiration, she wore her jewels and amulets and nothing else. He cupped her breasts as she mounted him. They made love face to face, staring into each other’s eyes. He was slow and patient, utterly open to her as he begged—Magnus begged!—for her to move a little faster. “Just a little, please, God.”
“I love you,” she whispered, shifting faster, feeling his release fire deep inside her, hearing his strangled cry of her name. Her yielding was so close…
“Always you.” He kissed her, his mouth caressing, his brown eyes still holding her, his body warmer than the furs. She was melting, growing and at the same time fading, flying on a sweet carpet of pleasure.
She sank against him, blissful when he wrapped his arms about her and covered them both with the furs. Coiled over his belly and chest, his body hairs tickling her breasts and stomach, the furs tickling her bottom, she slept.
The world shimmered with sparkling dew when Magnus gently shook her awake.
“Is it time?” she asked.
“Indeed. I have left more coins for the old man.”
Closing the door after them, they stepped out into the pre-dawn freshness. There was no need to speak. They walked through the sleeping town hand in hand, taking a circuitous route by way of the walls to the short alley at the back of Broad Street.
Magnus pointed their joined hands at a handsome two story house with a new jetty and shutters painted purple and white. Elfrida nodded, then stopped as a door in the house opened.
Magnus began to move back into the shadows. She dug her nails into his callused palm. “Keep still,” she hissed.
A small, slim figure, carrying two empty ewers, walked across the cobblestones to a well in the middle of the alley. As the girl put down the ewers and lowered the pail into the well, her hood fell away from her hair. From accounts, and her own dream-vision, Elfrida knew her at once.
It was Rowena.
Chapter 19
Magnus guessed who the girl was from Elfrida’s stiffening. And Rowena was beautiful. She had long black hair, blue eyes, perfect, even features, and a serene expression.
For all that she lacks fire, Magnus decided, when he could breathe again.
Beside him Elfrida said something in her own dialect. A chaffinch flitted from a cherry tree onto the ground in front of the girl, tilting its head up as if to admire.
My witch did that. Magnus did not know how he knew that, but he did. For an instant the flesh on his bones chilled to ice as his wife’s casual command of magic disconcerted him afresh. Only for a moment, for Rowena released the pail and spoke to the bright, bobbing little bird.
Elfrida whistled—Magnus had thought he was the whistler—and the chaffinch pecked its way over a cart rut toward them, with Rowena following. Step by step she came, soundless as the bird. He wondered how long it would be before she spotted them and screamed at him.
“What then?” he thought, realizing too late he had spoken aloud.
It broke both spells. The bird flew off and Rowena stopped, her blue eyes bright with surprise. She stared at him, then Elfrida.
“I know you,” she said to Elfrida in Norman French, her voice childish and sweet. “Did you send my bird back to me just now? My finch?”
“Rowena.” Elfrida had no French and would not understand her question. “Pax,” she added, using the Latin to try to convince they came in peace. “Tancred.”
Rowena’s slim black eyebrows came together in puzzlement, but Magnus thought that she even frowned prettily. More astonishing still, she had not called him monster or beast, or made the sign of the evil eye against him. Brave then, or simple?
“Tancred.” Elfrida said again, and she glanced at him.
“We know your betrothed,” Magnus said softly in Norman French, and braced himself. Do I snatch her away if she shrieks?
Rowena looked back toward the house with the purple and white shutters. It remained quiet, but for how long? If Silvester has men with him, there may be trouble. Was the girl signaling to someone inside?
Elfrida made the sign of the cross with her free hand. Rowena turned and faced them again. Her color had not changed, nor her countenance. She was still calm.
“Sir.” She spoke to him directly. “My father had a knight like you, much scarred. Were you a crusader?”
Not simple at all. Amazed by this strange beginning, by their whole encounter, Magnus found himself answering. “Yes, demoiselle.”
“I would like to travel to Jerusalem one day. Why is Tancred not with you?”
Elfrida did not understand what Rowena said, but she clearly heard the question in the girl’s voice. “Tancred waits for you at our house,” she said in English. “I have your head-rail, too. The one you embroidered with daisies.”
Magnus translated, adding, “Father Jerome advised him to wait for you at our house.” He hoped his mention of the priest would make the partial truth convincing.
Not by a flicker of expression did the child react in any way. Wary. With her family who can blame her?
“Rowena?” Magnus tried softly. “We should not linger here.”
“Tancred should be here.” Rowena turned to go back but Elfrida moved first, releasing his hand and slipping across to the girl in a swirl of green and black.
“Did Silvester tell you that Tancred would come for you?” she asked, glancing at Magnus. Her words, translated into Norman French, sounded harsh to him, but Rowena shook her head.
“Ruth i
s safe,” Elfrida said, trying another way to gain the girl’s trust. Magnus again translated.
“She has brown hair,” said Rowena.
When she understood what the girl had said, Elfrida laughed softly and tugged on her own flame-colored locks. “This is the color of Ruth’s hair, and you know it,” she said. “You need not set traps for us. Ruth is with her mother now, safe and well.”
Magnus wondered if they were reaching the girl. It might have been wiser to lie, tell her Tancred was waiting for her in the town. But what then? She would want to see the lad at once and then they would need to lie again, more and more. Elfrida is right. Honesty is the only way. These girls have already been deceived by Silvester.
Rowena pointed to Elfrida, then him. Elfrida held up her hand, showed off her wedding ring. Rowena raised her eyebrows. “But you are—”
Do not call Elfrida a peasant! Sick of these Percivals and Giffords, Magnus stormed across the street. “Elfrida is my lady wife,” he said, through gritted teeth. “We came to find you and the other girls, to restore you to your kindred.”
“Magnus,” said Elfrida warningly.
“We cannot give you any proof, demoiselle, only that Tancred is about this high and this sturdy, has fair hair and an older brother who likes relics. Your Lady Astrid and Father Jerome set us on this chase. If you have any complaint, speak to them.”
“Magnus, please,” Elfrida beseeched, but he had not finished yet.
“We should move,” he said. Surely they must be spotted soon. He looked about to scoop both up, one under each arm, and bear them off. Clearly sensing his intent, Elfrida shook her head.
Throughout his rant Rowena had stood her ground, looking up at him through long, silken eyelashes. She smiled now and said, in perfect English, “She is too young to wear a black veil.”
She laughed at his surprise. “You are so like my father’s knight. I could goad him into marvelous indiscretions.”
Before Magnus could react, Rowena addressed Elfrida. “I remember you from my dreams. I knew you would help me.”
Elfrida smiled and held out her hands. When Rowena clasped them she walked with the girl to Silvester’s house, halting with her back to a wall timber. Magnus joined them, relieved to be away from the middle of the street.
So far so good? he wondered, but he could not say, not yet.
For one so young, the girl had remarkable self-possession, Elfrida decided. Rowena is placid, not volatile, but I sense she will do little she does not truly want to. So why had she remained with Silvester? Time to find out.
First, she rested her fingertips lightly against the door and detected nothing behind it but sleepers. She mimed this to Magnus, then turned to Rowena. “Is Silvester here with you?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
“What time does he rise?”
“We danced for him last night. Usually he sleeps late after that, him and the others.” Rowena glanced at the ewers she had left beside the well. “I never sleep so long, so Silvester said I might go out and fetch water for everyone. He is pleased when I do.”
“You like to please him?”
Rowena smiled. “If it does not harm me, or others, I like to please everyone. Why not? Is that not how a Christian lady should act?”
She strives to be gracious, Elfrida thought, struck by how this young woman knew her own worth. She is kind and Christian, but Rowena will not work against her own advantage.
“Why have you stayed with him?” Elfrida hesitated, then said, “Is it because you love him?”
Rowena shrugged. “Where else would I go? So many of the townsfolk love and help him. They would give me back to him in a heartbeat if I tried to escape.”
Elfrida said nothing. Coloring slightly, Rowena said, “My fifth cousin, Silvester Percival, he is not a sinful man.”
Elfrida forced herself to smile, though this whole matter was dark. A cousin. She is a Gifford and this Silvester Percival is a distant cousin. No wonder Tancred was concerned about consanguinity. These two families are tightly linked.
“My kinsman brought me here by a feint but he has not treated me badly since. The other maids and I are content for the moment.”
The words were brave but Elfrida sensed a certain loss, especially in the final, gloomy, “for the moment.” Did Rowena hope for more from Silvester, once she realized he was not going to deliver her to Tancred? Maybe for a while she did, but she knows better now.
“For the moment,” she agreed. “Will he marry all of you? If he chooses you as his wife, will they be his mistresses?”
Rowena sighed. Peeping into her still face, Elfrida glimpsed resignation and patience, disappointment and discouragement, but no real anger or grief. No real shock, either. Why should I be surprised? This is a nobleman’s daughter. Young as she is, Rowena is practical about betrothal and marriage.
The girl’s next words confirmed this. “It is true. Silvester does speak a great deal of love, knightly love. He gave us rings and says we are his wives.”
Wives. Heart-sick at the idea, Elfrida suppressed a shudder. Beside her she heard Magnus curse softly in Arabic. At her back she sensed the sleepers in the house. We cannot linger here too long, though. Time passes.
“You share his bed?” Elfrida said steadily, fighting down an inner sickness. She felt herself sway and stars blinked in front of her eyes—tiny flashes of sheer, blessed relief—when Rowena answered easily, “Not yet. Not until after the midsummer.”
An ancient festival and bridal time. Silvester wants to cloak his sin in a summer fragrance but he is still evil, a despoiler.
“The mother be thanked!” grunted Magnus alongside her, but Elfrida pressed her foot down sharply on his. Rowena was still talking.
“We wear the gowns he has made for us and we call him lord. But he never mentions marriage, real marriage when we are of age, at the church door, with a priest. As you say, how can he marry us all?”
“And you wish to be married,” Elfrida said, “as I am to Magnus.”
“Yes, I do.” Rowena considered this with unblinking eyes. “I love God and the church, but I freely agreed to be betrothed to Tancred. When I am old enough, I want a family and a home of my own. I know Tancred likes me a lot. He can be unkind and rude but I can manage him.”
Of that I have no doubt.
Magnus cleared his throat. “Why not come with us, Rowena? We can take you away from here and no one will stop me.”
No. No one would dare.
“You can be your own mistress. You do not have to do anything, choose anyone for a while, unless it pleases you.”
Bless you, husband!
Rowena tugged at her left ear, a rare sign of disquiet. “But Tancred—”
“You do not have to choose right now. Tancred will wait for you, believe me. He brought your horse with him for you to ride.”
Speaking, Magnus smiled so warmly that Elfrida felt pierced by a tiny elf dart of jealousy. Telling herself to be ashamed, she schooled her face, glad when Magnus offered Rowena his arm, glad when Rowena took it. She does not fear him. I am pleased for Magnus’s sake that she does not fear him. And Rowena was beautiful. Even Elfrida was not immune to the girl’s charm.
Rowena finally smiled again and asked, in a young, more child-like way, “You say Tancred brought my horse?”
“Your pony, Apple,” Elfrida confirmed. “They are both safe at our manor.”
Rowena clasped her hands together, her poise shattering in a flood of excited chatter. “My little horse! It will be so good to see Apple again! I have missed him so much.” She flushed, as if that girlish confession was too revealing, and added quickly, to Magnus, “Are your horses very big? I love high horses, too.”
“Come and see,” Magnus said, tipping Elfrida a wink.
Rowena took a step forward, then stopped. “But the others…”
Her selfless generosity, so unlike the mean spiritedness of the rest of her kin, touched Elfrida deeply. “We shall not leave them,
either. Walk with me,” she said quickly, aware, as doubtless Magnus was aware, that the sun was boiling up the heaven and the town was rapidly stirring. “Magnus, we can go back to the widower’s,” she said.
“Aye, he will be glad to see you, especially if you make him breakfast.” Magnus clasped her shoulder. “Hurry along. I shall catch you up.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
“Magnus?” Rowena was tugging on her ear.
“I shall accompany you and Elfrida. Then you stay with the old man. His name is Alfric and he is a carpenter, like Jesus.” He kissed Rowena gently on the cheek. “Elfrida and I will return here and bring the other maids to you at Alfric’s, I promise. We shall not take long.”
Rowena glanced at Elfrida, who reassured her. “It is the safest way, believe me, Rowena, for you and the girls.”
Elfrida smiled as she spoke, though she was thinking hard. We cannot take too long or someone may suspect us and get word to Silvester or to some of his sympathetic townsfolk to detain us. We have to return to Norton Mayfield soon, as well, or we shall have more trouble there. Does Rowena know her parents and brothers are dead? If she does not, when should she be told? Not yet.
Rowena’s next question interrupted her hasty thoughts. “You will not hurt Silvester?”
“No,” said Elfrida confidentially. “I vow I will not hurt him.”
I speak true, she thought, as she drew Rowena away and Magnus stalked behind them, protecting their backs. I do not seek to injure Silvester. I intend to destroy him.
Chapter 20
Alfric was still snoring upstairs when Magnus guided Rowena into the carpenter’s cottage. Elfrida had raced ahead and had built up the fire. Now she was scouring out a pot to make porridge for all of them.
“The gold I have already left for him will cover that and our breakfasts,” Magnus said steadily, when his wife shot him a keen glance after finding Alfric’s store of oats.
Knight and the Witch 02 - A Summer Bewitchment Page 12