The Enchantress (Book 1 of The Enchantress Saga)

by Thorne, Nicola

  She grasped the ring and stared up at him. ‘You have only just met me, my lord.’

  ‘I have known you forever, Analee. I knew even when we met on the field ‘twas no ordinary encounter. How you struck me, standing ragged and barefoot as you were among all that death and horror, afflicted and grief stricken and yet ... proud and untouched and invincible. Ah, well I remember that day, Analee. It was destined that we should meet. You are mine and this gift I give you is the symbol of my troth.

  ‘See, the colour of the gold? ‘Tis called Falcon Gold and the story of how this came about is a strange one. One of my ancestors, Sir Beyrick Falconer, was a companion of Sir Francis Drake, a sort of brigand who plundered the Spanish Main in the name of Queen Elizabeth. He was captured by the Spaniards and taken to South America where he contrived to escape and have all manner of adventures among the Indians, so much so that they gave him the name of the Falcon because he was so swift and savage.

  ‘So great were his exploits that he was held in veneration by the Indians. Much of what he did is lost in legend, but he became very wealthy by the discovery of a rich vein of gold that was so fine, so pure, so light that they called it Falcon Gold after my ancestor.

  ‘After that he sailed home, the holds of his ship full of booty and plunder and of course of the rich gold he had found. Much of it he gave to the Queen who made him an Earl in her gratitude (‘twas Beyrick’s son who became a statesman, and the first Marquess of Falconer). But enough of the gold and booty was left to him by the gracious Queen so that he could extend the rough castle on the Scottish border, from which he and his ancestors had also plundered both Scots and English by turn when it suited them.

  ‘It was called Falconer’s Keep because ‘twas but a fortified tower such as were built in olden days by the Marcher Barons from whom my family is descended. Beyrick, now an Earl and become respectable due to the trust placed in him by Her Majesty, tore down the fortress and began the gracious mansion we have here today, and he changed its name to Falcon’s Keep because ‘twas the gold from South America, the Falcon gold, that made his ennoblement, his good fortune possible.

  ‘Much of the gold that was not retained to swell Queen Elizabeth’s coffers was made into our family plate from which we dine on great occasions, and some was made into rings and ornaments. This ring that I wear has descended from father to eldest son since the original Falcon, my ancestor Beyrick.

  ‘And in time my son shall wear it too; but now it is for you. The ring of the Falcon is the symbol of his patronage, that he will protect you and look after you. Your life will never be the same again.’

  Analee slipped the ring on her middle finger, but it was too large for her even though the Marquess had worn it on his little finger. Falcon gold. The word of the Falcon was law; his command was to obey.

  ‘But it is too big for me, my lord.’

  ‘That I know.’ The Falcon held up a chain of fine gold filigree and, taking the ring off Analee’s finger, threaded the chain through it. ‘This chain too is made of Falcon gold and belonged to my mother, see how it matches the ring? ‘Tis almost white, the colour unique. We have it on our crest, on our banners and everyone knows it as Falcon Gold. Now my love let us dally again, and I promise you rest in a fine bed and in a while some sleep to make up for your lack of it last night in the arms of your impatient wooer.

  ‘Never again will you go to the servant’s hall, Analee. From this moment you are my established mistress and the gold of the Falconers is your talisman. Wear it between your breasts because I shall think of them often when I am far from you in the war, and know that my talisman is safe and warm and a symbol of our love.’

  Analee fingered the ring and then tucked it into the deep cleavage of her bosom so that all that was seen was the chain around her neck.

  ‘And when you want it back, sir? For another?’

  ‘I have never given it before. Methinks I never shall again.’

  Analee heard the cry of an owl, or thought she did. Beside her his lordship slept. She gazed at him with regret. She was loath to tear herself away.

  Analee stared into the dark and thought of the owl on the cold snowy branches of the tree and of the gypsies huddled on the hillside; the dead bodies of the Buckland gypsies under the ground. She belonged to the earth, to the soil. She wanted to feel the ground under her bare feet, the feel of grass in the spring.

  She fingered the heavy gold ring that lay on her breast; it seemed to thud against her chest like a second heart. It was the symbol of his love, his desire, his possession. It was his yoke. She had to wear it always. Falcon gold.

  But she did not belong to the Falcon, nor in fine salons, gracing the arm of a nobleman. Analee gently moved and his lordship murmured in his sleep, reaching for her, as though to keep her with him. In the dying embers of the fire she could see his face and the glow of his limbs, the strong chest, the long muscular legs. The periwig was cast aside now and the dark hair lay loosely on the pillow. He was like a falcon with his aquiline nose and proud forehead.

  How well he suited her, as a lover and as a man. She gently kissed the forehead of the Falcon and he murmured again, but he was deeply asleep. She got carefully out of the huge bed so as not to disturb him and covered his nakedness with the bedclothes.

  She dressed quietly and quickly. Then she stood before the fire to warm herself and yet again fingered the gold ring round her neck. Reluctantly she unfastened the chain and put it with the ring on the table where they had supped. He would know what she meant when he awoke. She was his no longer.

  Analee swiftly made her way upstairs to the attic she shared with Nelly. She paused at the door and opened it softly. To her consternation she heard loud masculine snores and saw that Nelly had a companion in the narrow bed with her, mostly obscuring her ... the great bulk of McNeath.

  But Nelly, used to the open life, where danger often lurked, was a light sleeper and as soon as Analee crept into the room she peered out from under the form of her comatose lover.

  ‘Analee,’ Nelly whispered and Analee ran lightly to her side, ‘are you all right?’

  ‘Nelly? Will he wake?’

  ‘No, he is drunk as well as fuddled with love. Hear how he snores. But I cannot move. He has wedged me. What is it, Analee?’

  ‘Nelly, I am going from here.’

  ‘Has his lordship ...’

  ‘No, it is nothing his lordship has done. It is what he wants to do.’

  ‘Oh!’ Nelly said with alarm.

  ‘Nothing unpleasant,’ Analee smiled in the dark. ‘He is not a monster ... on the contrary. I feel I perhaps could love him, and he wants me, Nelly. He wants to set me up and give me a fine home. But, Nelly, ‘tis not what I want. I must find Morella. I must know if she is all right. Nelly, I must.’

  ‘But surely his lordship ...’

  ‘His lordship is thinking of romance, not babies! He would not help me find her. I must know what has happened to my baby, Nelly. You must see that! If he takes me to London as he says he will I shall never return again. Besides ...’

  McNeath gave a loud snore and embedded himself more deeply on top of poor Nelly who felt as if she were being slowly stifled to death.

  ‘I am not meant to be a lady, Nelly. It is not the life for me and while I am with him I cannot make his lordship see it. I am going now, Nelly. Farewell ...’

  ‘Oh, Analee. Let me come with you.’

  ‘Not this time, Nelly. It is too cold, too dangerous. Whether or not we shall meet again I know not. But it is something I must do. Tell my lord ... say it was not that I did not care ...’

  McNeath snorted again and appeared to be waking up. Nelly felt divided between her own lustful longings and her love for Analee. But even if she wanted to move she could not.

  ‘I think he is waking,’ she whispered timorously.

  Analee smiled in the dark. ‘His lordship will protect you. He is a good man; he knows about Mrs Ardoine so do not let her touch you. Farewell, Nell.’ />
  Analee swiftly implanted a kiss on the cheek of her friend, and brushed it gently with her hand.

  Then once more she put her few things together in the familiar bundle and, clasping her cloak firmly about her to ward off the cold, made her way to the stairs.

  18

  Nelly cowered before the Marquess of Falconer, her head hung abjectly on her chest. She had scarcely had time to recover from the delights of her night with McNeath when she was unceremoniously torn from her bed and rushed before his angry lordship. Fully dressed, striding up and down the Falcon fulminated with wrath.

  ‘Just went out into the night in this weather!’ his lordship howled looking out of the window where snow had turned to sleet and dashed against the window panes. ‘I believe it not! There was a reason. Tell it me!’

  Nelly looked even more abject, were that possible, and gazed at her feet. Suddenly a hefty blow sent her spinning to the floor. She looked up and saw his lordship, his fist raised against her, about to strike her again. The sight of his glowering face, the brooding menace in his eyes struck fear into the girl and she knelt before him, her hands raised in prayer.

  ‘I beg your lordship ...’

  The Falcon’s fist trembled and then he went to the tassel by the fireplace and pulled it so sharply it nearly came away from its fastening.

  ‘I am not one to hit a woman in anger, God help me. But I know one who will. I will fetch Mrs Ardoine to administer such a beating that you ...’

  The thought of Mrs Ardoine’s terrible birch struck fear into the trembling girl and she fell on her face.

  ‘I beseech your lordship. I know nothing.’

  The footman summoned to the door was despatched to fetch the housekeeper and her birch while Nelly wept wildly protesting her innocence.

  ‘I only want to know where she is gone girl! I will not harm her.’ The Falcon looked out of the window and thought of his misery on waking, of moving a hand across the bed to embrace his beloved, of finding it empty. And then of the evidence that she had left him ... the gold ring with the head of the falcon beside the chain on the table where the remnants of their dinner still stood.

  Why, why had Analee done this to him? His emotions were torn between anger and misery as the door opened and the housekeeper, clutching the evil looking bundle of thin sticks, came in and curtsied before her master.

  ‘Madam, I want you to administer a punishing to this young woman,’ his lordship snarled pointing to the grovelling Nelly. ‘Whip her until she begs for mercy.’

  ‘With pleasure, my lord.’

  His lordship strolled to the window, his hands behind his back while, with a smile of anticipation on her face, Mrs Ardoine flexed her cane and applied it sharply to Nelly’s legs.

  ‘That is a foretaste my girl. Now get across that chair and pull up your skirts.’

  ‘Oh, ma’am, I beg ...’

  Mrs Ardoine seized Nelly by the shoulder and pulled her to her, feet, thrusting her across a chair.

  Sobbing wildly Nelly covered her face with her hands begging for mercy her whole body taut, waiting for the sharp sting across her buttocks.

  ‘Stop!’ His lordship strode up to Nelly. ‘I cannot see it done, not to a woman, not even to a snivelling lying wench like this.’

  Mrs Ardoine stepped back, her face a picture of frustration. She liked nothing better than administering a good beating, of seeing flesh wobble and bleed under her cane.

  ‘Pray leave us,’ his lordship said sharply to his housekeeper. ‘Methinks you are too enamoured of the birch, ma’am. One day someone will apply it to you.’

  She grovelled at the menace in Lord Falconer’s tone and backed out of the room while Nelly looked apprehensively about her. She was wiping her nose on the back of her hand when his lordship came up to her and surprised her by the expression on his face. Gone was the menace, the threat; instead it was replaced by a look of yearning and sorrow that drew pity from Nelly’s heart.

  ‘Nelly, will you not tell me where my Analee has gone? Only a few days did I know her, Nelly, and yet she has a place in my heart none has had before. What is it about Analee? Is she a witch?’

  Nelly smiled and looked timorously up at his lordship.

  ‘Nay, sir, she is no witch. But she does have a powerful effect on the hearts of men.’

  ‘Ah, I thought so,’ his lordship turned away and looked into the fire. ‘By her art alone I know I am by no means the first, but I thought I was an important one. How could she leave me, having captured my heart?’

  Moved by the sight of the arrogant nobleman reduced to such misery, Nelly was more prone to confide in him than if she had been beaten to pulp. The gypsy in Nelly was used to hardship; kindness was something else.

  ‘I will tell you, your worship, for I see you are much moved. It is not that Analee does not love you, my lord. She asked me to say it was not that she did not care.’

  ‘She said that?’ The Falcon looked up eagerly grasping at any hope.

  ‘Yes, my lord, when she came to take leave of me. “Tell him it is not that I did not care,” she said. My lord, there is something else that occupies Analee’s heart, a great sorrow.’

  ‘Tell it me. What is it?’

  Nelly sighed and wondered if she was doing the right thing. Analee had not told the Marquess, so why should she? Would it destroy his love forever?

  ‘Analee has a child, your lordship. A small baby who was taken from her soon after it was born. She was looking for the baby when she found the Buckland camp so cruelly destroyed. The child was not there.’

  ‘Analee has a baby? But why did she not tell me?’

  Nelly hung her head. ‘I know not, my lord. It was the child of her husband, Randal Buckland, and Analee never found favour with the Buckland tribe.’

  ‘Ah, I see it now.’

  ‘The baby was brought up by the cohani, Reyora, and Analee fled from the camp.’

  ‘So. It is clear to me now. Oh poor girl, if only she had confided in me.’

  ‘Analee was honoured by the attention paid to her by your lordship. She felt that if ...’

  ‘I knew about the baby I would not love her. Foolish girl! I would have helped her to find it. I think Analee did not apprehend how much she has moved my heart, Nelly.’

  ‘No, your lordship.’

  ‘And I will find her. I will go after her, with your aid, and fetch her back here. Then I will help her find her baby. Now, my girl, there is no time to lose. She cannot have gone far in this weather. Where would she go?’

  ‘She thought the gypsies fled south, my lord, away from the fighting.’

  ‘True, they would – those who survived. Towards Penrith?’

  ‘Aye, my lord.’

  ‘Can you ride a horse, Nelly?’

  ‘Not well, my lord ...’

  ‘Then you can mount behind McNeath. We will go after Analee this instant. Fetch your cloak and be quick!’

  His lordship strode to the fireplace and jerked the tassel again, this time so strongly that it did come away in his hands; but the effect produced a bevy of servants swarming about, and quickly he gave orders.

  ***

  The snow had begun to melt in the early dawn as Analee set out from Falcon’s Keep, careful to stay in the shadow of the hedgerows. She knew by the way the light was breaking in the eastern sky which direction she should take and, despite the cold, she felt exhilaration at being on the road again, even with the sleet beating in her face, the wet earth squelching under her bare feet.

  But as she trudged her thoughts became a confusion of emotions. On the one hand she thought of the strapping body and warm lips of the Falcon, on the other the blond hair and blue eyes of her baby Morella. What would she do with Morella when she found her? What life was it for a wandering gypsy and her child?

  The rapturous hours she and Lord Falconer had spent together were something Analee had never known before. The ease and comfort of a large feather bed, and the abundance of wine and good things to eat.
For one who had always tossed on the ground or, at best, in a loft of hay, such comfort had enhanced the delights of lovemaking and introduced her to a dimension that was new and wholly pleasurable.

  But it was an episode in her life. It was over. As the grey, wintry day grew brighter, Analee sighed and, keeping the low mountain range of the Pennine chain to her left, moved steadily south through the valleys and byways of the border country towards Carlisle.

  She encountered no wandering bands as she had before, no straggling soldiers. The armies had moved into Scotland where doubtless Lord Falconer would soon join them and forget all about her.

  But Lord Falconer had not forgotten. All day he rode hard south with McNeath and another servant William behind him keeping a sharp eye for that figure that had come to mean so much to him. But the weather was against any hopes he had of success. A mist rose from the fells battling with the steady rain and hung about them all day. Soon the mountains became invisible and he was hard put to keep his bearings and those of his companions.

  In the early afternoon he stopped and alighted from his panting horse. He bade McNeath and Nelly dismount with William and wipe down the sweating beasts.

  ‘Curse this mist. We have lost her. She is miles behind. We will return the way we came and look more closely, scouring every path.’

  ‘Would it not be better, my lord, to await her in Penrith?’ McNeath ventured, stepping forward. ‘We know she will be bound thither, and it is a small town. It grows dark, my lord.’

  ‘Aye,’ the Falcon looked about him, ‘and I am hungry. You are right, McNeath. We shall lodge with my cousin Lady Delamain, and then set forth tomorrow for Penrith. William you will go back to Falcon’s Keep and report my whereabouts, for I am daily expecting a summons to rejoin the army.’

  ‘Aye, my lord.’

  William’s stomach was rumbling, but an empty belly was part of the price one frequently had to pay in the employ of the Falcon, who rarely thought of himself or others when engaged on service, and this was service of a kind.