The Enchantress (Book 1 of The Enchantress Saga)

by Thorne, Nicola

  ‘And that is where he is?’

  ‘Aye, with the Prince. If not dead. He was wounded at Clifton, but he avoided capture at Carlisle, although my brother Stewart is now imprisoned in the gaol there, awaiting death.’

  Analee saw the tears stealing down Mary’s face and her heart filled with companion. She got up and gently put her arm around the weeping girl.

  ‘May I, Mary? Do you forgive me? I liked you so much when I was here before; you were so good to me, so kind. I lay with Brent but once; ‘twas a circumstance ...’ She faltered. Mary nodded.

  ‘He told me. He said it was magical, the moonlight, the forest. He said you bewitched him.’

  Analee laughed derisively. ‘I am no witch.’

  The memory of Brent, or Randal, or her first faraway love, seemed so remote now. She thought of her latest love, the Falcon. Her heart lurched at the memory of his vigour, the strange power he exercised over her, the compelling, riveting look in his hooded eyes. Truly she was half afraid of him half – dare she think it – in love? Yes she did have a power over men, but it was not sorcery.

  ‘When you and Brent meet again, Mary, I will be far away. I will go south back to where I came from, maybe find my own tribe.’

  ‘Can you not release Brent from your spell?’

  ‘I have no spell, Mary.’

  ‘But Stewart said ...’

  ‘Oh, that was folly.’

  ‘But she did fall in love with him! Emma, our cousin, the one he loved. She said she suddenly seemed to see him with new eyes.’

  Analee was aware that she was cold despite the warmth of the fire. She shivered. The power of the cohani ...

  ‘Well,’ she shrugged, ‘maybe there is something we can try ...’ She stopped at the sound of a footstep and stern-faced John Allonby stood at the door.

  ‘John, this is ...’ Mary stepped forward but John brushed her aside.

  ‘I know who it is. Betty told me. Don’t you think you have done enough harm, you gypsy ...’

  ‘John, do not speak to her like that! She is not to blame if she is beautiful ...’

  ‘’Tis not beauty, ‘tis sorcery. She should be burnt like others of her kind.’

  ‘John, how can you be so cruel? They have not burnt witches for many years in these parts. Analee is my friend.’

  ‘And with the rest of her tribe,’ John said contemptuously. ‘See, more are gathered outside.’

  Analee ran to the window, her eyes scarcely able to believe what they saw.

  ‘Tis Nelly. Oh, Mary, ‘tis Nelly! I thought I would never see her again.’

  Nelly sobbed as soon as she saw Analee, and it was a long time before she could explain why she had come. The stout William who had brought her on his horse eagerly quaffed from the tankard of ale he was offered.

  ‘We were on our way back, having waited at Penrith and scoured the countryside, I asking after you constantly, when someone remembered seeing a gypsy of particular beauty,’ Nelly looked slyly at Analee, ‘on the way towards Keswick. I remembered the house here, and on the chance ... Analee, you are to come back! His lordship is pining for you. He has had to return to the Army ...’

  Mary and John were looking with astonishment at Nelly and Analee, embarrassed and realizing they had no idea what Nelly was talking about, put a hand on her arm saying. ‘Shh, desist.’

  ‘His lordship?’ John said abruptly. ‘Lord who?’

  ‘Lord Falconer, sir,’ Nelly bobbed, ‘he is very smitten with Analee.’

  ‘The Falcon,’ John thundered, ‘the terror of the Jacobites. You and him?’

  Analee met his eye boldly, nodding her head.

  ‘His lordship found me when the gypsy camp had been overrun and despoiled by your soldiers, sir, the Jacobites for sure it was raping our women before killing them. He had me taken to his home as a servant and ... he did me the honour of ...’

  Analee, seldom at a loss for words, couldn’t for once think quite how to put it. Mary felt her hatred for the gypsy woman evaporating. After all, she had suffered much, too. How tired and worn she looked.

  ‘He fell in love with you obviously,’ Mary said with a sad smile, ‘as other men have. My brother Stewart half fell in love with you too.’

  Mary looked at John and saw how, despite his initial hostility, even his face had grown softer after some time in Analee’s company. John, whose heart had turned to stone on the death of his young wife.

  ‘The Marquess of Falconer,’ John murmured disbelieving. ‘He swoops on his foe like a falcon, is feared and hated ...’

  ‘He is not as bad as he might appear,’ Analee said defensively. ‘Once you get to know him.’

  ‘He saved me from a flogging,’ Nelly said supportively, ‘mind you he ordered it in the first place, then he changed his mind. Oh, I can see how he could appeal to a woman.’

  Nelly was nevertheless thinking of the lusty McNeath whom she personally preferred. She sighed at the very thought of him away at the war.

  ‘Then, Analee, will you go back since you are sent for?’ Mary said.

  ‘I? No. I will find my baby and maybe take her to the south away from here, to my tribe. His lordship would have me set up in style as his mistress, but I am not that sort. I am a vagabond, and so I shall remain. As for Nelly, what she will do I know not; but if you will give us a day’s rest in your barn we shall be on our way. Eh, Nelly? On the road again?’

  Nelly had become extremely attached to McNeath in the short time she had known him and the thought of not seeing him again was almost more than she could bear to contemplate. She stared in alarm at Analee and then said quietly,

  ‘First I have to discuss something with thee. Something very important.’

  ‘Analee, you and Nelly will have your old room overlooking the lake,’ Mary said. ‘Yes, I insist, and that you dine with us at table. You must tell me what you have seen of the war. I cannot believe the terrible things you speak of our soldiers. Now you and Nelly go upstairs and I will have Betty fetch hot water for the tub and some fresh clothes for you. No, I am adamant ...’

  Analee was overcome by such kindness on the part of someone she had so unwittingly wronged. Despite her protests, though, she and Nelly were taken firmly in hand and ushered up the broad staircase of Furness Grange.

  ***

  That night Analee and Nelly snuggled down together in the large bed in the room overlooking the lake. The moonlight rippled along the water, as though moved by a mysterious current, and Analee had spent a long time at the window looking at the broad sweep of Derwentwater, from Keswick nestling under massive Skiddaw in the east right to the jaws of Borrowdale in the west. It. was a cold night and snow had started to fall again. Analee thought of the Falcon preparing, perhaps, to do battle against Brent, against the people the Allonbys supported and loved.

  Analee sighed and Nelly put her arms around her hugging her, her hand stroking the smooth silky flesh of her back.

  ‘Come, you will not make love to me!’ Analee protested laughingly. Nelly blushed in the dark.

  ‘Nay, it is not like that. I do not love you as a man; but I love you, Analee, you know that. I missed you so much. I feared I would never find you.’

  ‘Aye. I thought we had seen the last of each other.’

  ‘Analee, will you not return to his lordship? He ...’

  ‘No.’ Analee lay on her back, her head resting on her hands. ‘I am a gypsy. I will find Morella and go south. We ...’

  ‘Analee ...’

  Timidly, nervously Nelly put her hand on Analee’s shoulder. She put a hand up to stroke her cheek, tilting Analee’s face towards her.

  ‘What is it, Nell?’ Analee was aware of something troubling her friend.

  ‘Analee, I have found the baby ... Morella.’

  ‘What is it you say?’ Analee sat upright in the bed. ‘You what? Oh Nell, she is ...’

  ‘No, no ... she is alive, she is well. Analee, she was found by Brent on his way to Penrith, he not knowing who she was, si
ck and ailing with Reyora. Being a kindly man he sent her to his mother at Delamain Castle nearby. The mother took a fancy to the baby, not knowing it was her granddaughter, and has kept her. Is it not a miracle? Reyora had just left when we arrived.’

  ‘And you said ...’

  ‘I said nothing, Analee. His lordship, who had gone to the castle, had told everyone that he was seeking a beautiful gypsy girl – see how proud he is of you Analee? He does not hide you at all – and Emma Delamain was reminded of the story of Brent and the gypsy. She asked me if she were the same person. Thank God I did not reply until I had seen the baby and when I had, I said “no”’

  ‘She knew my name?’

  ‘Yes. She had it from Mary Allonby.’

  Analee leaned back against the pillow her eyes full of tears. ‘How is ... Morella?’

  ‘Oh, Analee, she is so beautiful, a big bonny baby. Her hair is golden and her eyes so round and blue, just like her father’s I’ll warrant.’

  ‘Yes they were.’

  ‘She chuckles and laughs, she has that dimple on each cheek, do you remember, Analee?’

  ‘I remember. I shall fetch her, Nelly, and ...’

  Nelly pressed Analee’s shoulder trying to comfort her. ‘Analee, what I have to say is this. Is it right that you should take Morella? She was so ill on the road, nearly died of cold and hunger, and now she is so pampered and cosseted. She has her own room and a soft crib and fine linen, beautiful lawn night dresses and her very own nursemaid. She smells of sweet oils and unguents and a fire glows in the grate to warm her.’

  ‘You’re saying, Nelly ...’ Analee gripped Nelly’s hand. ‘You’re saying I should leave Morella?’

  ‘Yes, Analee; she is with her family, her own grandmother. In time, especially if you went back to his lordship, you may have the means to claim Morella. But as a wandering gypsy ... Is it right, Analee?’

  ‘But I am her mother.’

  ‘What can you give her except hardship and maybe death? She will grow to be a fine lady, and you, too, Analee. As his lordship’s favourite ... in time, who knows? But I think now you must give up thoughts of claiming Morella, leave her where she is. You owe it to her, Analee.’

  Analee threw herself on Nelly weeping copiously. Nelly stroked her long hair and her back, hugging her in her arms.

  ‘Analee, you are a young woman. You will have other babies. With his lordship’s protection ...’

  ‘I am not going back to his lordship!’ Analee thumped the bed. ‘I am a gypsy, a vagabond. I want no jewels and silks.’

  ‘But you loved him didn’t you?’ Nelly murmured softly. ‘Was your love not as instant as his own; just as urgent? Even that day on the field when you met?’

  ‘Aye, his lordship has a powerful attraction. He is a fine strong handsome man. Whether ‘tis love ... No, Nelly. My mind is made up. Tomorrow, whatever you decide, I will go from hence and make my way south to where I came from.’

  ‘And Morella? Will you take her, too?’

  Analee was silent, the tears still flowing quietly in the dark.

  19

  To the surprise of everyone – most people having considered them defeated – the Jacobite fortunes improved despite the persistent bickering that still dogged the commanders, and the many desertions as disillusioned Highlanders made their way to their homes. Reinforcements had arrived to swell the Jacobite army to about 8,000 men and a new mood of confidence swept through the Prince’s followers.

  But the Hanoverians had regrouped too, and sent for reinforcements from the South. These began to foregather in large numbers in Scotland under General Handyside and General Hawley.

  Lord Falconer, not yet gazetted lieutenant-general, was sent to join General Hawley’s command and arrived in Edinburgh just as his troops were leaving to march to Linlithgow.

  Hawley was a severe, unpopular man rumoured to be a natural son of George II and thus half-brother to the Duke of Cumberland. However, he and Angus Falconer found much in common. They were both tough disciplinarians and the Marquess did not share the men’s opinion that Hawley was a poor military strategist. Hawley was pleased to see Falconer and immediately drew him into his counsel with his second-in-command General Huske.

  The objective was to relieve Stirling, which was being besieged by the Jacobites. An advance party, however, under Lord George Murray came upon the government army, and the Prince’s soldiers were thus withdrawn from Stirling and drawn up around Bannockburn in anticipation of an attack being made.

  But the attack never came. Hawley spent much time in council with his commanders and decided to wait for the Jacobites to expend themselves. He was convinced that the rebel army was a contemptible bunch of rascals, and could never withstand well trained and disciplined soldiers such as his own, the victors of Dettigen and Fontenoy. He did, however, warn his men about the Highlanders’ barbarian tactics in order to prepare them and allay their fears.

  As the Falcon – eyes hooded, ready to pounce on the foe – waited at the head of his men for the Jacobite charge that they knew must come he was possessed by an unaccustomed feeling of unease. He didn’t like the fact that the Jacobite army had formed a superior position on the barren moorland ahead of him known as the hill of Falkirk. Moreover, part of the government army had unexpectedly taken off under the impression that the Jacobites were moving south, and now that it had been reported as a false alarm, manoeuvred by Lord John Drummond, Falconer realized how clever the Jacobite reasoning was. Half the government army was still absent, including its commander Hawley who was last seen dining well as a guest of Lady Kilmarnock at Callender House. Falconer had refused the invitation to accompany his commander. He knew Lady Kilmarnock supported her husband who was with the Prince’s troops and suspected her motives in offering such lavish entertainment to a government commander.

  It was cold and the Falcon shivered in the wind as the storm clouds gathered. Suddenly a bugle sounded and the Jacobite army was observed not a mile and a half away, moving up in the direction of Falkirk Muir.

  There was still no sign of Hawley, and Falconer and his fellow commanders began making agitated signals to disperse their troops in order to confront the enemy. Suddenly Hawley, red faced, his jacket still undone, appeared at the gallop and ordered the dragoon regiments to march up the hill before the Highlanders got there; but as the command was given the clouds broke and rain lashed down in the face of the government army, almost obscuring their sight of the enemy.

  Lord Falconer’s foreboding increased as he ordered his men to draw their swords and advance slowly. Ahead he could see the government forces with their cannon struggling up the hill right in the face of the gale which the Jacobites had to their backs. The cannon stuck in the mud and Angus urged his men forwards to assist the foot soldiers. An order came from Hawley, however, for Lord Falconer’s dragoons to break into a trot and as the run towards the enemy began the Marquess forgot his foreboding and plunged into the thick of the fight, swirling his sword about his head regardless of the onslaught of enemy fire.

  But the fire took others by surprise and two regiments of dragoons on their right flank wheeled about and fled the field. The Falcon shouted to his men and, spurring his horse, dived regardless into the line of Highlanders confronting him. Savagely he began trampling them underfoot, his sword flaying to right and left.

  The storm gathered momentum and dusk began to fall but, impelled by a new savagery, even for him, Falconer penetrated the heart of the enemy line relishing the crunch of bones as the men fell under his horse’s hooves. Even the wild cries of the Highlanders did not disturb him, and he was well into the enemy ranks when suddenly his horse trembled and fell, and a huge Scot, looming out of the gloom, struck Lord Falconer a blow with his broadsword that felled him. As his head crashed to the ground his lordship’s last thoughts were that this was the end.

  McNeath, perceiving what had happened to his master, rushed to him just as the large Highlander was about to administer a mortal blow, and p
ractically severed the man’s head from his shoulders. From under the Falcon’s horse another Highlander crawled out and McNeath, in white fury at seeing his lord so badly injured, despatched him to hell as well. By this time more of Falconer’s officers had come to McNeath’s assistance and, even though they thought their commander was dead, they removed him from the height of battle to the side of a nearby stream. Then they returned to the fray while McNeath tried to unloose his lordship’s tight clothes and see whether he breathed or not.

  His lordship breathed, but erratically. McNeath saw, to his consternation, that the Jacobite army was triumphant in the field and that many of the dragoons were fleeing in terror at the bloody frenzy of the Highlanders. Even now some of the Jacobite troops were stripping the bodies of the enemy dead for loot. McNeath thought that if he left his master as he was, he was as good as dead, so he heaved him onto his back and lumbered with him into the shelter of the neighbouring forest. There he remained until nightfall when he was able to emerge and seek fresh help.

  Both sides claimed victory at Falkirk, but for Hawley it was a bitter blow and he was to wreak vengeance on his own men by the savagery of his actions to those whom he thought had been guilty of cowardice.

  The Marquess of Falconer meanwhile knew nothing of this. He remained unconscious and only came to the following day in the bed of a government sympathizer who lived nearby. He had a terrible pain in his head and difficulty in focusing his eyes, and he could hardly move his body. McNeath and his hostess hovered anxiously by and General Hawley, who had personally observed Falconer’s bravery, sent word to enquire after him.

  ‘Those beggardly Highlanders pierced the belly of your horse from under you, your lordship, as you passed overhead,’ McNeath muttered. ‘They did the same to a number of officers, most of whom are dead. Their dirks dug in the animal’s belly. Many of them that did it were crushed beneath, but they cared not.’

  The Falcon nodded, scarcely able to reply. He looked towards the window and everything blurred. He thought he was done for. He was going to die as he had seen many men do; despatched from the world and forgotten. And who would remember him? His brother James would succeed to his title. His family would mourn for him for a while, but what had he really achieved? What had he to leave behind? No family of his own, no loving wife to mourn his passing, no children.