by Lisa Hendrix
“No.” Tom’s slender body flew across the cave like a spear. He hit Cwen straight on, driving his knife into her chest with a shout as her lightning seared him. They fell back, slamming into the rear wall. Tom rolled away, and Brand surged to his feet, swinging for Cwen’s neck.
His blade found only air and smoke. Snarling in frustration, he whirled, seeking the witch. “Where is she?”
Tom came up in a fighting stance, Ivo’s discarded sword in his fist, searching, too. “Vanished.”
The earth began to tremble around them. Dust and pebbles rained from the ceiling.
“Get out,” yelled Ivo. “Alaida. Get out!”
She ran for the entrance with Ivo hard behind her, once more sheltering Beatrice with his body. Behind them, Brand tossed his sword to Tom. “Run, boy.” He scooped up Merewyn and dashed out, narrowly escaping as the cavern collapsed around them. The rumbling and shaking continued as the standing stone shifted, dancing, to fill the hole where the entrance had been. The tremors faded away, and the night grew still. It was as if the cave had never existed.
“Meri? Ah, no. No.” Brand hugged the healer’s shattered body to his chest. “Meri.”
Ivo pushed Beatrice into Alaida’s arms and ripped off his cloak to spread it on the tufted grass. “Brand, here.”
As Alaida clung to her child, repeating her name over and over in sobs of relief, Brand knelt to lay Merewyn on the cloak. Gently, he covered her with his own. “You’ll be all right,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “I’ll take care of you.”
Her chest rose in a shudder, and she slowly opened her eyes. A soft smile touched her lips. “You are safe.”
“Aye,” said Brand.
“Lady Beatrice?”
“Aye. She’s safe, too.”
Weeping, Alaida knelt to show Merewyn the dusty but sound babe who wailed in her arms. “You saved her, Merewyn. You saved us all.”
“Love saved you.” She shuddered again, and her breath rattled in her lungs. “My lord?”
“Here, Merewyn.” Ivo knelt beside Alaida. “My thanks can never be enough.”
“Love her,” she said simply, then, “Tom knows. Ask him.”
“I will. Peace be with you, Healer.” Ivo helped Alaida up and led her to one side. She sobbed against his chest, guilty at the great joy she took in having him and Beatrice alive and well when so much had been lost.
“It is beautiful,” whispered Merewyn. The fog had vanished with Cwen, leaving a night so clear the stars seemed to hang in the branches just out of reach. Merewyn’s eyes found the streak of milky white overhead. “Woden’s Way. I walk it tonight.”
“No, Meri. Don’t leave me. Hang on. I’ll take you home.”
“The Mother calls me.” She struggled to raise her hand to touch Brand’s cheek. “Do not mourn, my love.”
“Merewyn, please.”
“When it is our time, I will find you.” Her hand fell away, and as the breath sighed from her, she whispered, “Watch for me.”
Then she was gone, her eyes still fixed on the heavens. With a moan, Brand gathered her in his arms. Tears glittered on his cheeks, bright as the stars, as he closed her eyes and kissed her good-bye.
CHAPTER 30
THEY MADE THEIR way home through the silent night, Brand carrying Merewyn every step of the way. Ivo put Alaida up on Fax with Beatrice and led them, walking at Brand’s side. Tom brought up the rear with the other two horses, and the raven circled high overhead.
A mile before the bridge, Brand stopped. “I’m turning here. She should go home, not to their church, and if I go through the village, there will be questions.”
Ivo nodded, knowing what Brand must do to honor Merewyn. “I will come with you.”
“No, see to your family.” Brand swallowed hard, his jaw ridged with self-control.
“Will you move on?” asked Ivo.
“No. Cwen’s not dead. If she comes back, you will need us. I will be there tonight, after I …” He stopped, unable to say the words. “Ari can ride Tom’s horse and bring Kraken back to me tonight.”
He turned and walked away, his back straight and determined as he carried Merewyn home, the raven following silently behind.
Ivo watched till the darkness swallowed them, then turned to look up at Alaida. “How is she?”
“Fine.” She peeked under her cloak to check Beatrice. “Sleeping.”
“Good. I …” He hesitated. “Perhaps I should go with him. I don’t know what will happen at sunrise.”
“I do.” She reached down to touch his hair, a blessing more precious than any priest could give. “The sky will turn rose and gold, and then blue, and the sun will touch this pale hair of yours, and I’ll cry, first for joy, and then for Merewyn’s passing. It will be all right, my love. You’re free of it. Merewyn said so. Even Bô … Even Cwen said so.”
Merewyn said so. In the sadness that had followed them across the moors, he hadn’t troubled to ask Tom, but now he motioned the boy forward. “Merewyn said you’d know. What did she mean?”
“She told me all as we rode after you, my lord, what I must do. And why. She said I must remember, but I didn’t know why until …” Tom swallowed hard, then looked to Alaida. “Do you still have it, my lady. What I gave you?”
Alaida looked startled, then glanced down at her fist, clenched tight around something. “I didn’t even realize I still had it.” She opened her hand slowly, and Ivo blinked back tears as he saw what it was she clung to so tightly that her palm bore its mark.
Ivo looked down at the bit of silver Cwen had ripped from his neck so long ago. “You’ve had this all along?”
“It came from the well, my lord,” said Tom. “Aelfwine found it when he cleaned it. Merewyn said Aelfwine didn’t know it, but he only gave it to me for safekeeping. I didn’t know ’twas yours, my lord, until she told me.”
“No. No, there’s no way you would.” He gave Tom’s shoulder a squeeze. “But you guarded it for me, nonetheless.” He took his eagle from Alaida and pulled the chain over his head. The weight felt right, there against his chest, as though it had never been gone.
“Why was there such magic in it?” asked Alaida.
“It is my fylgja. My …” Ivo searched for a word in French. “My guardian spirit. My father put this on me the day I was born, and Cwen stole it, all those years ago.”
“Merewyn—” Tom’s voice caught, and he had to clear his throat. “She said Cwen used it to turn him beast, and that the magic could be undone with it, so long as there was also love. Love that knew the truth, she said. She bid me put it in your hand, my lady, saying it would give you the strength to say what was in your heart. And my lord, she said to tell you that all of the others must find their charms.”
“There are others, then, besides Brand and Ari?” asked Alaida.
“Nine of us altogether. All the creatures Cwen named.” Ivo stared into the night, thinking of the others. “Good men. I will tell you of them, one day soon.” One day, he thought. He was going to have day after day …
“Perhaps we should clean the well again, to see if Brand’s fil—guardian is there.”
“Fylgja.” It wouldn’t be, Ivo sensed, but he nodded. “We’ll do that. And we’ll search the cavern, if we can dig it out, and the hill fort and any other place I can think of she might have hidden them. And we’ll send word to the others to search. With luck, perhaps some will even find them.”
“They all must, my lord,” said Tom. “Merewyn said that Cwen’s magic binds Sir Brand more tightly because he led you that night, that all of you must break the curse before he can be free.”
All of them? When it had taken twelve score years to stumble on this single one? Impossible.
“Then we will find them all,” said Alaida firmly, and her determination flowed into Ivo the same way her love had, washing away the doubt.
“We will not stop until we do,” he vowed. “But for now, we must get you and Beatrice home. We can ride, now that Brand’s
gone with …” He couldn’t say her name. “I’ll take Kraken.”
Tom handed him Kraken’s reins, then mounted Ari’s bay, wincing as he pulled himself up.
“Show me that hand,” ordered Ivo. Tom held out his hand, and even by the fading moonlight, Ivo could see his palm was scored nearly to the bone.
“Thomas, you should have said something,” said Alaida.
“It only hurts a little, my lady. There were more important things.”
“Aye. There were.” So far as Ivo was concerned, the boy had already earned his spurs, even if he had to wait to come of age to get them. But there would be time later to tell him that, to thank him again, to reward his courage. A lifetime—but only one. He would have to remember that now, and cherish every moment of it. Every day.
“Come, let’s get you and my ladies home.”
THE ROOSTERS WERE already crowing as they crossed the bridge and rode up the hill into Alnwick. A shout went up on the wall, and the gates opened wide in welcome. With a sense of relief, Ivo led Alaida into the yard. Safe.
In the next instant, that relief faded, strangled by the knot of noblemen clustered around the door to the hall. Ivo quickly scanned the faces, recognizing Flambard, Brainard, de Jeune, and others of the king’s council. Ranulf Flambard lifted his hand, and a score of armed knights fanned out across the yard, making a loose circle around the riders. The Alnwick men grumbled, but did nothing—apparently, they’d been warned.
Tom moved up on the other side of Alaida, and his hand drifted toward to Ari’s sword, hanging from the saddle.
“Easy, Tom,” said Ivo.
A moment later, King William strolled out the door, and Ivo relaxed. He could deal with William. Then he saw the man who walked out beside him.
“Fitz Hubert, you’ve been warned off my land twice already.” Ivo swung off Kraken, giving Neville a steely stare before helping Alaida down with Beatrice. He made sure the babe was well settled in her mother’s arms and gave them each a kiss.
“Why is the king here?” whispered Alaida urgently.
“We shall see. Behave yourself.” He pressed another kiss to her cheek and led her forward to kneel before the king. “Sire. Welcome to Alnwick.”
“Up,” said William impatiently. “Is this your lady?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Lady Alaida, who you gave me as bride, and our daughter, Beatrice.”
Alaida dipped in courtesy—not as low as she might, but low enough, if William allowed for the child—and voiced a neutral, “Your Grace.”
“My lady. Your marshal said you were stolen away by outlaws.”
“We were, Your Grace.”
“I retrieved them without harm to either,” said Ivo.
“And where are your men?”
“Burying bodies, including that of my wife’s old nurse, who was part of the vile scheme.” He let the Alnwick men absorb that before he looked pointedly at Fitz Hubert. “And speaking of vile, Your Grace …”
“Take care, my lord. Sir Neville rides with me this time.” William motioned, and Neville stepped forward wearing a smug smile. “He has brought me word of foul deeds at Alnwick. He accuses you of practicing dark magic and consorting with devils. In fact, of being a devil yourself.”
“Foulness, indeed … if it were true.”
“Neville, what lies are you telling now?” demanded Alaida indignantly.
Neville’s smile only broadened. “None, my lady. Have you never wondered why your husband disappears into the woods every dawn and only returns after dark?”
Alaida shook her head like a disbelieving mother over a child’s fancy and turned to William. “If the love of hunting is a sign of devilry, Your Grace, the forests of England are full of noble incubi.”
The laughter that rocked the yard twisted Neville’s face into a poisonous sneer. “He does not hunt, Lady Alaida. He is a demon, and he turns into an eagle with the rising of the sun and back to a man again at nightfall. I have seen him do it with my own eyes. Truly the Devil’s work.”
“An eagle?” said Ivo, forcing a smile as his newfound life slipped away. “Surely, Your Grace, you cannot believe such nonsense.”
“I do not know whether I believe him or not,” said William. “That is why I am here.”
Alaida cleared her throat delicately. “I assure you, Your Grace, day or night, my husband is fully a man.”
Laughter again, most of all from William. Her quick tongue might prove a boon in this, Ivo thought, grateful he’d never tried to tame it. Only the tightness at the corners of her eyes and mouth gave away how it must be costing her to fight the dregs of Cwen’s vileness.
William wiped the grin off his face with his hand. “Nonetheless, Lady Alaida, I will know for myself whether fitz Hubert speaks truth. I have enough trouble with devils in the north without leaving a real one sitting in a strong castle. It will be easy enough to settle.” William glanced up at the brightening sky, the scattered clouds touched with the rose and gold Alaida had predicted. “The sun rises soon. We shall see what happens. Take him.”
Two burly knights stepped forward, jostling Alaida aside as they grabbed Ivo’s arms. Ivo fought the urge to struggle, instead giving Alaida an encouraging smile. “Your Grace, my wife has had a difficult day and a more difficult night. Will you let her retire so she is not subject to this?”
William nodded. “Lord Robert, escort Lady Alaida and her daughter to the solar.”
Alaida backed away from Robert. “Please, Your Grace, I prefer to stay. It will be most amusing watching Neville’s downfall at last.”
“Are you certain, my lady? It may be your husband’s downfall you witness.”
“No, Your Grace, it will not be.” Her easy certainty buttressed Ivo’s confidence. “I could never love a man who was evil.”
“I hope not, my lady. Come, stand by me, and we will discover the truth together.”
The rose faded away as the sky lightened and turned blue. Light painted the tops of distant hills. Ivo steeled himself, as he had each dawn for the last twelve score years, waiting for the pain.
“Be ready,” ordered William. “If he does turn eagle, I don’t want him escaping before the bishops have a chance at him.”
Neville’s face was going to split if he grinned more broadly. “I really should let Brand gut you,” said Ivo softly, savoring the fear that widened his eyes.
The sun broke the horizon and the first rays of light fell across the yard. The men holding Ivo tensed; their fingers bit into his arms. The great barons crowded forward, avidly searching for the first sign of beak or talon.
The moment passed with no pain, and Ivo’s heart began to race with hope. Disappointment filled the barons’ faces. Neville shifted uneasily. The sunlight crept toward Ivo, touched him, made him dizzy with the warmth and brightness.
“You see, Your Grace.” Alaida pushed through the barons to bring Beatrice to Ivo, and the sun traced her cheek and then the babe’s, and it was all he could do to breathe. “There is no eagle except in Neville’s foul imagination. This is the third time he has made trouble here, all because I refused his suit and waited for you to give my hand as was your right.”
“Is that what this is about, fitz Hubert?”
“No, Sire. No. I saw him change. I swear I did. This is some trick. He’s an eagle. An eagle, I tell you.”
“An eagle. God’s wounds, man, I cannot believe I let you waste my time on this. Get him out of here,” snapped William. Oswald and Penda rushed forward to oblige. “In fact, get him out of England. That traitorous brother of mine needs more men to go with him to Jerusalem. With luck the Saracens will rid us of both of them. Sir Neville, you are taking the Cross this very morning. Take him to the chapel so he may make his vow.”
A cheer rose from where the Alnwick men were gathered. The two knights released Ivo and took charge of Neville, dragging him off toward the chapel.
“You’re a fortunate man, de Vassy,” said William, “to have a wife with such faith in you an
d such a tongue to use on your behalf.”
“I have been grateful for both every day since you chose her for me, Your Grace.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind if I reward her for it. What would you have, Lady Alaida?”
“You know what I want, Your Grace, from the petitions I have sent you. One each month for the last year?”
“Aye. You pester me worse than the pope. I will send word to Windsor, and if your grandfather and uncle will swear homage and convince me they mean it this time, you may have their freedom.”
Glowing, she dropped in deep courtesy. “Thank you, my liege.”
“Yes. Well.” William turned to go inside. “I’ll want to look at that tower I paid for, de Vassy, after I break my fast.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Geoffrey summoned the Alnwick men to see to the king and his men, and with a sigh, Ivo wrapped his arms around his wife and daughter. Half sobbing, half laughing, Alaida reached up and ruffled his hair. “See? I told you. I told you.”
They stood there a long while, just holding each other, while men and animals moved around them. After a time, Tom cleared his throat. “Look, my lord.”
Above the distant woods, gray smoke billowed into the morning sky. Alaida’s voice caught. “Merewyn’s cottage.”
“Her funeral pyre,” murmured Ivo. “They will think she died in the flames. Never say otherwise.”
“No, my lord,” said Tom, then, “Look. Sir Ari.”
Ari came whipping across the field and through the gate at full gallop, threw himself off Tom’s horse, and ran for Ivo. He skidded to a stop, staring as if he didn’t believe what he saw, his eyes brimming with tears.
“You did it,” he said. “You did it. We can break it.”
“Aye,” said Ivo. “We can.”
“There’s so much … The visions. I’m sorry …”
“They were Cwen’s doing, my friend. Part of her plan.” Ivo gripped Ari’s shoulders and gave him a hard look, then pulled him close for a quick hug. “The king’s here, and all his men. We’ll have to talk later.”