by Leila Snow
"Where've you been?" he asked.
"Don't ask," muttered Nathaniel.
"I guess I have a right to ask," Gareth answered shortly. "Seeing as I been up all night guarding Lady Madeline and Hugh is doing the same now, whilst you've clearly been out swilling it up and wenching."
Nathaniel turned his head to glare at his friend and growled, "Well, seeing as I'm the captain of this guard I suppose I'm entitled. Now shut your carping, my head's killing me." He turned away from Gareth's look of shocked outrage and grabbed a cup of ale from a passing servant.
"I don't know what's going on with you," Gareth said quietly, lowering his voice so only Nathaniel could hear. "But you need to sort yourself out. We're here to serve her," he gestured to Madeline who sat at the high table with Lord Endle.
Nathaniel raised his bleary eyes to look at her. She was beautiful as always, though he could see the invisible cloak of melancholy that lay heavily on her. She looked up as if sensing his regard, and turned her green eyes to meet his. His gaze didn't waver. He stared at her, not able to turn away, despite knowing what he would read there. Madeline was the first to avert her eyes. He heard Lord Endle enquire of her health, as she had suddenly turned pale. And Nathaniel had his answer.
"She can damn well take care of herself now," he grunted. "After all, she has the earl wrapped around her little finger." He continued watching her, despite the agony that gnawed in his belly. He watched as she answered her husband and the Lord smiled at her, bringing her hand up to his lips. Unable to endure the torture any longer, Nathaniel turned away before the man kissed her hand.
"Another ale," he bellowed.
Gareth observed him with shock and concern. "I'm off to my bed," he said finally. "But a word of advice, Captain, take it easy on the ale. You've had enough," he pointed out in frustration, before he stood from the table and strode away.
"Good riddance," Nathaniel muttered as he picked up his now-full tankard.
* * *
Geoffrey stared down at his trencher. His mind crowded with the details of his plan. He made a point to occasionally look up and give a feigned smile or wink to Muriel who sat at the table below them. She flushed prettily each time and he was quite sure he had her loyalty already. He'd allowed her to remain in his bed until morn, a privilege he never afforded any of the others. He could see no reason to share his warmth after they had served their purpose. But Muriel was different. He needed her. And he couldn't afford to have her getting her maidenly sensibilities in a knot. He'd had his way with her yet again this morning before she'd left to attend Lady Madeline. If she did think of turning the martyr, a hint of the possibility of her carrying his child would bind her to him.
The first part of his plan had gone rather well, he congratulated himself. But this was not the time for complacency. Following breakfast, a trip to the local witch was in order. Of course, she wasn't truly a witch. Geoffrey didn't believe in such drivel. She was merely an old woman who was very skilled with herbs. And a very specific concoction of herbs was what he needed. He grinned at his sheer brilliance.
"You look cheerful this morning nephew," his uncle said, noticing the grin. "Have any special intentions for the day?"
Geoffrey had to restrain his mirth. "No, uncle," he responded carefully. "I am merely overjoyed to see how well marriage agrees with you."
"It does indeed, my boy," Endle beamed, smiling admiringly at Madeline. "She is exquisite, is she not?"
Geoffrey agreed politely. "I have never seen her equal," he answered truthfully, ogling his new aunt's décolletage.
"Uncle," Geoffrey spoke quickly. "I believe I will take a ride down to the village today."
"Ah, ironic you should say so," his uncle turned back to him. "Lady Madeline has just expressed a desire to acquaint herself with her new surrounds and has suggested she also visit the village today. She has some gifts to share with the villagers in celebration of our wedding. Tis a generous and sincere act which I believe will commend her to our folk and help make her an excellent mistress of Marbourne," he extolled. "Perhaps you could ride with her."
Geoffrey was taken off-guard. This would interfere with his agenda. "I have some matters to attend which I believe may prove time consuming and rather dull. I would not wish to return your lady to you having had her countenance downcast," he proffered.
"I will send one of her knights with her, so she needn't be bound by your plans. But it is my desire for you to accompany them along the road and further your acquaintance with your new aunt," Endle said directly.
Geoffrey nodded petulantly. He'd be happy when the old bastard was dead.
Endle turned to Madeline. "Geoffrey has agreed to accompany you to the village," he explained solicitously.
"There is no need, my Lord," she responded quickly. "I will have Sir Hugh attend me."
"Nay," Endle answered decisively, "I believe you and Geoffrey can use this opportunity to better familiarise yourselves with each other. We are family now and I want no bad blood between us. I ask this of you my dear."
Madeline nodded her understanding. She would have preferred to spend not a single moment in the same company as the sullen man who sat on her husband's other side.
"And Sir Hugh has been attending you since early morn. I believe he could use a rest. I will send Sir Nathaniel with you," he suggested.
"No!" Madeline exclaimed, then bit her tongue.
Endle swung round to her with a look of surprise. "He is the captain of your guard. Is there a reason why he shouldn't attend you?"
"No, no," Madeline stammered. "My apologies my Lord. It is just that he is looking fatigued himself, wouldn't you say?"
Her husband followed her gaze to where the knight sat, his shaggy blonde head in his hands, his face practically in his mug of ale.
"He does look rather worse for wear," he admitted. "I'll have a word with him."
"Don't trouble yourself, my Lord," Madeline said quickly. "I will allow everyone to rest today and will make my visit to the village on the morrow."
"I agree with Lady Madeline," Geoffrey added hastily. "Yesterday was a busy day for all."
"Very well," Endle agreed. "Perhaps a day of rest would do you good as well my dear," he suggested, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "Nevertheless, I would have a word with yon knight," he said as he raised his hand to beckon Nathaniel's attendance.
So engrossed in his tankard of ale was Nathaniel that he didn't notice the Lord's summons. One of Endle's knights leaned over to give Nathaniel an amiable punch in the shoulder to draw his attention. He swung round on the man, his massive fist raised. The other knight backed swiftly away from the enraged captain of the guard. It took Nathaniel a moment to understand what was going on. He raised his eyes to see Madeline's ash white face and Lord Endle's look of displeasure, his hand raised beckoning to him. With a deep sigh, he hauled himself to his feet and forced one before the other until he stood directly before the Lord.
"Yes, my Lord," he said miserably.
"I will not tolerate violence in my hall," Lord Endle said sternly. "Though you look as though you've had a hard night so I will excuse you this once, but it will not happen again. Will it?" he asked authoritatively.
Madeline could see Nathaniel swallow and his fists clench but he nodded submissively. "Nay, my Lord," he intoned.
"Very well. Let us not mention it again," Lord Endle announced magnanimously. "I wished to discuss with you Lady Madeline's plans for the morrow. She has decided to ride down to the village and I would like you to accompany her."
Nathaniel looked up to where Lord Endle sat. "Aye my Lord. As you wish."
"Now for the love of God, man, go and get yourself cleaned up. You smell like you slept in a pigsty. I do not bother to concern myself as to your drinking and womanizing, but when you are performing duties in the service of my Lady, then you shall present in an appropriate manner," the Lord rebuked him.
Nathaniel gave a curt nod, and without being dismissed, turned and strode out of the hall.
Sand turns traitor,
and betrays the footstep
that has passed over it;
water gives back
to the tell-tale surface
the body that has been drowned.
Fire itself leaves
the confession, in ashes,
of the substance consumed in it.
Hate breaks its prison-secrecy
in the thoughts,
through the doorway of the eyes;
and Love finds the Judas
who betrays it by a kiss.
~Wilkie Collins
CHAPTER 13
Geoffrey smirked with satisfaction as he mounted his chestnut gelding in the bailey. All was going according to plan, though he had just narrowly missed having his uncle's bride tag along on his errand. What an inconvenience that would have been. But fate was smiling on him this day. He was certain of it. He dug his spurs into the horse's ribs and cantered through the castle gates.
It was a bit of a trek to the witch's cottage. Once upon a time, she had lived in the village at the base of the bluff on which Marbourne sat. Geoffrey had never visited her himself but he had heard rumours that she sold potions that could rid a woman of an unwanted birth. Unfortunately for the witch, Marbourne's priest had also heard the rumours and had petitioned Lord Endle to have this evil, witchcraft-practicing woman, banished. Lord Endle, being a religiously devout man, had agreed wholeheartedly with the priest and had sent his knights to burn down her cottage in the village and threatened her with death should she ever return.
With a small amount of enquiry, Geoffrey soon found the whereabouts of the old woman. She hadn't gone far, moving only to the nearby forest where she lived furtively in a small shack. A potion typically cost one silver shilling, according to his sources. This was an exorbitant amount for the average peasant. But then again, desperate times called for desperate measures. Fortunately it was nothing to Geoffrey, who had an entire sack of silver shillings jangling against his saddle as he rode.
It took several hours of wandering through the forest before he stumbled upon the witch's shack. The mud and wattle cottage was situated in a small grove of trees that camouflaged it successfully against the casual eye. Geoffrey let out a whoop and spurred his horse enthusiastically forward. There was no movement about the cottage when he reached it, but he was certain he'd found the correct place. Herbal bouquets hung drying underneath the protected overhang of the thatched roof and a thin whisper of smoke snaked from the stone chimney.
Geoffrey dismounted and stepped eagerly to the door, banging loudly upon it. There was no response. He formed a fist and pounded at the flimsy wood, unwilling to be deterred from his purpose.
"Eh there! Ye'll break down me bloody door!" he heard a dry, grating voice grumble.
He turned to see the stooped old woman as she rounded the corner of the cottage, a basket over one arm filled with green leaves and plants. She wore a tattered grey cap over her white hair, but lank strands escaped to fly wildly about her face. The muddy grey of her cap was matched in her threadbare dress and she wore no shoes on her grimy feet.
Geoffrey forced himself not to recoil in disgust from the grizzled relic. Instead he turned up his lips in his most ingratiating smile.
"I know who ye are," the ancient one muttered. "Ye are the heir. Come to take what little I have left?" she glared bitterly at him through black eyes that twinkled malevolently.
"Nay, I come asking for help," he pacified her.
"Never will I help the likes of you. A pox on Marbourne and its residents," she sneered and entered the shack.
Geoffrey followed her in without waiting for invitation. The low ceilings were hung with yet more drying herbs and surprisingly the air, though smoky from the open fire, was fragrant with them. Jars stood in rows on shelves against the wall, though he couldn't see the murky contents. The one-roomed cottage was dimly lit. There were no windows, only the orange flickering light from the fire. He turned his attention back to the old hag.
"I understand your feelings on the matter," he soothed. "I was opposed to my uncle's decision. In fact, I believe we may have much in common."
She gave a hoarse bark of laughter. "I doubt that my Lord," she rasped sarcastically.
"If I'm not mistaken," he continued smoothly, "You have a dislike for the earl that is matched by my own. Different reasons of course," he added. "But perhaps we can work together for a common end."
The sage turned and pinned him with those black eyes. Geoffrey stood firm and stared back. Eventually she released him from her scrutiny.
"We know how my cooperation would benefit ye," she stated plainly. "But what good is it to me?"
Geoffrey tossed the pouch of silver shillings on the pitted table. "That's a start," he said. "Further, when I am earl, I will rescind the order of your banishment and you will be free to return to the village, if you so choose. I will also double that," he tipped his chin to the bag of coin. "What say you?"
The old woman's gnarled fingers shot out to snatch the coin from the table. She held it close to her chest and her greedy eyes sparkled. "Let it be as you said," she concurred. "Though I would have conspired with ye for the simple return of satisfaction. Lord Endle is due his sorrow for what he has inflicted upon me," she confessed as she hid the coins in a small wooden coffer.
Geoffrey shrugged.
"Ye want it to act quickly or by degrees?" the witch asked as she started pulling jars off the shelves and setting them out onto the table.
"It must be by degrees, unfortunately," Geoffrey answered. "I can't afford to raise suspicion. However," he added. "I need him to be gone before his new wife is with child."
The grizzled old woman nodded knowingly. She cackled and began pouring foul smelling liquids into a darkly stained wooden bowl. "This isna an exact art ye ken. How quickly he succumbs depends on a great number of factors. The one thing I can promise ye though. He will succumb."
Geoffrey felt a shiver go down his spine.
It was only a few minutes later that the old woman strained the concoction through a sieve and then poured it into a small pewter flask. She handed it to him.
"Ye must give the earl two drops, each day. Best mixed with a bit o' wine. Tis bitter on the tongue," she chortled sinisterly.
Geoffrey nodded his understanding. "How long?' he asked.
"As I said, it isna exact, but he has mayhap one moon," she uttered prophetically.
"That will do," Geoffrey granted. "I will let you know when it is done." He turned and left the shack. The sound of her gleeful crowing echoed in his ears.
He mounted his horse as quickly as possible and, without a backwards glance, kicked it to a gallop.
* * *
He was sitting on his bed turning the pewter flask around in his hands when he heard the knock at his chamber door. He grinned and set the flask on the table then moved to open it. As he had expected the maidservant stood before him, her head down, staring at her hands that were clutched before her.
"Oh my love," he exclaimed with false elation. "You came!"
Muriel raised her face to him and gave a coy smile. He grasped her hands and pulled her into the room.
"I have been praying you would come," he said joyously. "We have much to discuss."
He lowered his head to her mouth and claimed it. He felt a rush of accomplishment when she sighed and leaned into him. She allowed him to remove her kirtle and chemise and didn't protest when he carried her to his bed. He knew then that he had her willing submission.
Geoffrey took extra time wooing her and teasing those small moans of pleasure from her. It was exhausting but he needed her satisfied and compliant this night. When eventually they had both reached completion he rolled off, though he kept his arms about her as he whispered words of love in her ear. When their breathing had calmed, he rose. He considerately pulled the blankets over her rapidly cooling flesh, and fetched the goblets of wine from the table. He sat down on the edge of the bed and handed
one to her.
"You are spectacular my love," he praised, rewarded by the womanly pride that shone on her countenance. "My utmost wish would be to spend every night, from this point forward, with you in my bed and my life. He saw her eyes widen. "Unfortunately," he continued, drawing her slowly in, "Though having you as my wife would be the grandest desire of my heart, alas my uncle would never allow it." He sighed theatrically and schooled his features into a sorrowful expression.
The maid reached her hand out to clasp his. "Is there nothing we can do to persuade him?" she asked quietly.
Geoffrey shook his head. "There is no chance of him ever agreeing," he mourned. "He is old, and had I remained heir I could have married whomever I chose when I became earl. You would have made a beautiful countess, my love," he lured her. "But we must put it from our minds as I will never be earl once my uncle's new bride begets a child." He hung his head and Muriel scrambled out of the bedcovers to comfort him. "There is only one possibility, though I am loath to even put it into words," he uttered hesitantly. From the corner of his eye he saw her brighten.
"Yes! Anything..." she breathed, images of extravagant gowns and riches flooding her mind.
"I have procured a potion that will prevent my uncle from being able to bed his wife. If he can't bed her then there will be no heir, besides myself." He looked over at her to judge her reaction. She looked surprised but not horrified by the idea.
"Of course I would never do anything to hurt my dear uncle," he added. "But he does already have an heir in myself, and it is the only way we could be together."
The maidservant nodded slowly. "We must do, what we must do," she finally agreed. Geoffrey bit back his shout of triumph.
* * *
Madeline awoke the following morning next to Endle. He snored softly as he slept. He had consummated their marriage again last night, grunting atop her briefly before he finished and rolled off. He was considerate and gentle but there was no pleasure in it for her. She tried to summon images of Nathaniel to help her endure it but he seemed far from her now. She recalled with concern his drunken dishevelment of the previous day. Nathaniel had never been one to drink to excess as the other knights often did. Once her closest friend and confidant, he now seemed a stranger. With a selfish guilt, she longed not only for his companionship but also for those terrifyingly wondrous feelings he had revealed to her heart and her body. She sighed and rolled over to see Endle awake, his eyes adoringly on her. Swiftly she arose before he decided to make another attempt for an heir, and flung a robe about herself.