by April Taylor
She saw Katelyn glance at the door as if afraid that the hated priest would once more burst in, but gradually the pinched look on the girl’s white face faded. Better get her back to her mundane tasks and hope that domestic routine would eradicate the remainder of her fear.
“You have been very brave, but now you are safe. We are all safe. Go back to the kitchen, Katelyn, and carry on with your duties. I will sit here for a few moments and then join you.”
Left to herself, she let out a long, slow breath. There were things here beyond her understanding and they concerned the new friend who even now was upstairs with her father. At the realization, she jumped to her feet and ran lightly up the steps.
As she entered her father’s room, Roland Dufay, eyes closed, held his hands above the apothecary’s head. Corbin sighed and the stiffness of his body relaxed. When Dufay opened his eyes, he looked directly at Bertila.
“Sir, what goes on here?”
“There is no need to be afraid.”
“I am not afraid. I will never be afraid of you.”
He walked around the bed, took her hand and kissed it. “We must talk, Mistress Bertila. For the moment, though, let us both enjoy a goblet of wine. I think we have seen the last of the priest. He will not threaten you again.”
“Mayhap,” replied Bertila. “But what about the threat to Luke?”
* * *
“So, what do we do now?” Rob asked.
Luke stared into the fire and shook his head. “Think. Plan,” he said after a pause.
Byram had left after promising to return later in the afternoon. Knowing the identity of their enemy, it stood to reason that it would be easier to plan his defeat. At least, that was the theory. Luke had three strands in the air, all connected, all needing resolution. The first and most important had to be the safety of the Queen.
The defeat of Custodes Tenebris was next and with good fortune, that would decide Alys’s fate. Luke had sworn a private oath that, for the sake of his kinsman, he would bring the girl safely home. It took a little time before he accepted that it would not be for Rob alone, but also to assuage some of the guilt he carried that she had disappeared whilst under his protection.
Bertila and Corbin, the third strand, should be safe with Roland Dufay looking after them. Whatever he guessed about Frayner’s abilities, the one thing Luke was sure of was that Dufay would protect them with his life. Luke hoped the Elemagus did not find himself confronting more than he had bargained for.
That thought made Luke sit up. If his deductions were true, then the sunderer’s attention would be split between his desire to harm Luke and those he loved and the continuation of his attacks on the Queen. Could Luke use that? One thing was certain and that was that the demon had had Luke on the back foot from the first day of this investigation. He had done little save react to events and was heartily sick of it. Time for a change to strike the first blow
Luke grabbed the paper on which Rob had written his notes. He read the words plague and priest and then frowned as the writing had tailed off. Of course, that was when Gwenette had pressed the ouch and he had almost collapsed under the pain of it.
Rob’s notion of writing down the course of events had been a sound one, sadly interrupted. But that did not mean that Luke should not add to the notes. He fetched a large piece of cleaned paper from his shop.
“We have several points in this matter that need clarifying, lad. First of all, the threat to the Queen and the heir.”
Rob sighed and nodded. “I accept that the Queen’s well-being must be your main concern, but it is hard all the same. What are the others?”
“Rescuing Alys, defeating Nimrod and ensuring the safety of the Quaynes.”
“But now we know who the enemy is, why can we not defeat him first and then the rest will fall into place?”
“Because we cannot be certain of his intentions or the timing of his plans. We must safeguard the Queen and Alys in order to defeat him, but if we lose him protecting them, then so be it.”
“And if we lose our lives in the process, Alys will be left in outer darkness or wherever that bastard chooses to send her.”
Luke pursed his lips and stared at his kinsman.
“If we lose our lives, boy, the Queen, the heir and Alys will be someone else’s problem.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I need to stay here, try to make sense of everything and form some plan that will resolve the investigation. You go and keep watch on Frayner. If he moves out of the house, come back here at once.”
“He might see me.”
“I dare not put a perception spell on you, Rob. He would detect it. Make sure he does not see you. For all our sakes.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Now I have you, apothecary. You will not escape me this time.”
Keeping watch from behind the shutters of his window, Gerard Frayner watched the cloaked man walk past his house towards the village. He looked again at the scrap of paper he had found on his return. In a rough, almost illegible scrawl, he made out the words Ballard. Church. Tonight.
His first reaction had been to run down the steps to the cellar. He was not at all surprised to find Rob Panton gone. The boy had taken his threats seriously, left him the message and fled to save his own skin. Outwitted again by that interfering knave at the Quaynes’s house, Frayner’s thoughts on his walk home revolved around plans to trap Ballard first and then the witch and her father. He would not be deprived of his prey.
Seizing a cloak and with his hat pulled down over his face, Frayner hurried out of his door. Keeping close to the bushes that lined the road, the priest scurried after his target, his determination strengthening. His opportunity had come to be revenged on the man who had made him look so foolish.
This was what dark sorcerers did. They ridiculed those of the Catholic faith, even more than the adherents of the new, upstart religion. And why? Because they feared the strength of the true religion. Only dark forces could have wrenched England away from the pope and given that sacred authority to the monarch, a mere mortal and in no way God’s advocate on earth.
Spurred on by this revelation, he hastened to the church gate. He would take the heretic apothecary in the act of performing his evil work. He would catch them all. In his mind’s eye, he could see the fires cleansing and punishing God’s enemies; himself as savior of the church, lauded, the hero of England, redeemer of the faith. Mayhap he would end up with a cardinal’s hat.
Putting his hand on the catch, he steadied himself and then threw the door open and leapt down onto the stone flags, his left hand already pointing in accusation, his staff ready in his right to mete out justice and retribution.
“At last, Ballard, I have caught you in the midst of your evil.”
* * *
Rob, hidden behind a wall, watched a cloaked shape creep past Frayner’s gate in the direction of Hampton. Looking at a downstairs window, he saw a faint movement against the light and crouched deeper into shadow. He had long ago eaten the hunk of bread and cheese he had brought with him from home, and Rob’s main concern now was that his rumbling stomach did not betray his position.
At the sound of a door opening, he froze. Frayner passed within an arm’s length of him. Rob held his breath and only let it out slowly and silently when the priest had passed through the gate in pursuit. Surely the great Nimrod had not been taken in by his tale of dark doings in the church?
Forgetting Luke’s orders, Rob slithered through the gate after Frayner. The first figure was by now out-of-sight in the darkness, but when the moon came out from behind a cloud the priest was on his trail. Why else would he adopt that crouching, half-running motion? Rob kept to the shadows but he had few fears that his quarry would see him. The man seemed far too intent on his pursuit.
Rob wondered if he would have the opportunity to catch up with Frayner and witness his mortification when he confronted the individual. He began to pray that the first man went into the ch
urch, although why anyone should do that in the darkness of an April night lit only by the intermittent appearance of the moon, Rob could not begin to imagine.
Just as they reached the black fastness of the church, the moon obligingly slid out from behind a cloud. Rob almost hugged himself with glee. It looked as if the man the priest followed was indeed going into the church through the main door. He must either have a key or have broken in, thought Rob. Had it been someone wanting sanctuary, he would have rung the bell. The lad waited until Frayner’s dark swooping shape disappeared inside before Rob approached the church.
After a few moments consideration, he decided to risk opening the door, but stopped when he saw several glimmerings of light from burning candles. Rob hissed in frustration. It was doubtful if he would be able to enter the church unobserved. The light was at the east end, though, which meant that the west end would be in darkness. Mayhap it was worth a tilt.
His quick ears heard the low buzz of conversation and then, nearer to him, the slap of boots on stone. Someone was coming out. He bolted around the edge of the church porch and hid in the deep shadows. By the time he looked out, a dark figure was scurrying through the gate. Rob turned his head fully expecting to see Frayner rush out in hot pursuit, but nothing happened. He waited for a few minutes before standing up and creeping towards the door. He looked up at one of the windows. The church was in darkness once more, but where was the priest?
* * *
Luke spent a few quiet hours putting his thoughts in order and committing to paper everything he knew about his investigation. He had to force himself to keep his mind from wandering, and only once did he falter, when he felt the cosmic balance shift.
Springing to his feet, he tried to home in on the center of the disturbance, but it had been fleeting and he could sense nothing now. Please God it was not Alys. How could he face Rob if he had failed to save her? Tamping down his agitation, he pulled his mind back to the matter in hand.
He had written “Thou hast been weighed in the balance and found wanting.” Belshazzar, the king who had worshipped false gods and paid the penalty. Was that supposed to be an allusion to King Henry and the new religion? Or had it been done merely to sidetrack any inquiry into focusing on the King when it was the Queen they sought to harm? He would let that simmer in his mind.
Next was the quotation from Exodus on the wall by the chapel at Hampton Court. “Let my people go.” Which people? Was this a further reference to the Catholics? God alone knew how many of them still plotted to bring the country back to the fold and have the Bishop of Rome once more telling Englishmen what they could and could not do.
At face value, it looked very much as if this was one more Catholic plot. But the Queen was a Catholic. Luke frowned and then a wry smile spread itself over his face. Aye, but the King was not. The Catholics must be dancing up and down with anxiety wondering if the Queen would convert.
Knowing Henry and his determination once he had set his mind on something, Luke did not doubt that Madeleine would soon be taking instruction from Archbishop Cranmer. Was that at the heart of this puzzle? Trying to prevent the Queen from converting? That thought, too, he would allow to simmer.
Now to consider the plagues. And with them, the first solid threat to the life of the heir and the first real problem for Luke. Sarah Rivers had been one of Queen Madeleine’s ladies and should have been on duty the night of Edith Brook’s death, but illness had prevented that, and the demon had been forced to use the other girl. That led to the unmistakable conclusion that both Edith and Sarah had been under Frayner’s influence.
Had the one merely been a substitute in case something went awry with his plans? Luke found that difficult to believe. Nimrod’s arrogance would never admit that any plan he made could go amiss. That meant he had taken Edith for a specific purpose, and Luke’s experience a few evenings before when he had confronted his enemy made that supposition appear a near certainty. The evidence of the sang-tireur spell and the use of Edith’s blood proved that the sunderer’s plans had been long in the making. So what did Frayner plan now, apart from the destruction of Corbin, Bertila and himself?
Rob erupting through the door as if all the demons in hell were pursuing him stopped Luke’s musings in their tracks. So sudden and violent was his entry that Luke put up an immobility spell before he had even thought about it. Rob ceased all movement in the midst of the act of running. Luke took one look at the boy’s ashen face and wild eyes and then with a wave of his hand, removed the spell and caught him before he fell.
“Take your time, lad. Gather your thoughts. Sit here and wait.”
Luke ran through to the shop and with a shaking hand, mixed a strong calming potion to counter shock. He did not trust Rob to hold the beaker so fed him the first few mouthfuls. Quickly the color returned to his cheeks and his ragged breathing eased.
Luke could read the turmoil of thoughts rushing through the boy’s head. He leaned over him and threw calming gold stars into his hair, then sat with his hand resting on Rob’s shoulder.
“Tell me quickly, with no embroidery.”
“It is the priest, sir.”
“Frayner?”
“Aye.”
“What has he done to you? Has he threatened Corbin and Bertila again?”
Rob looked up at him, the terror returning to his face, his lips trying and failing to form words. Luke wasted no time. He grabbed his scrip and caught hold of the boy by the shoulder.
“Show me. Now.”
Half-running, they made their way to the church. Rob had not uttered another word, but as they passed through the gate, his steps slowed and then stopped. Luke looked back at him, but the boy shook his head and pointed.
For one moment, Luke wondered if Rob really had delivered him to Frayner in return for Alys. No. He would have read it on the lad, especially after he had given him the potion.
Luke swallowed, speculating on what he would find in the church. No point in delaying the inevitable. Muttering a protection spell, he lifted the latch on the door and for the first time, took Joss with him into a house of God.
A misshapen mass lay on the chancel steps. Luke sent out mental tendrils to discover if anyone else was in the building, but he was alone. He edged towards the bundle, muttering preservation spells and entreaties for God’s help. For some moments, he looked down on the suit of clothes that lay there, but the heap did not consist solely of clothes. They were wrapped around something Luke could not identify. A pig? If so, all the blood had been drained from it. Was this some jest? Joss howled and huddled behind him, making him jump. What on earth was it?
The realization smote him, making him stagger backward, almost falling over his dog, unable to stifle a shriek of fear. This was no pig. His gaze moved to the wooden staff lying a few feet away. No, neither pig nor jest. This was all that was left of Gerard Frayner.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Luke turned and fled. Now he understood the depths of Rob’s horror. Indeed, it was as much as he could do not to deposit his last meal on the nearest piece of grass. They must reach home without anyone seeing them. He threw a shimmer spell at Joss, grabbed Rob and enclosed them both in a cloaking spell.
They could not risk passing close to the sentries, so they took the river path, Luke praying that they could cross the Outer Green and reach the shop undetected. After what seemed hours they regained the kitchen, almost collapsing with relief that they had not been seen. Even Joss trembled, her tail between her legs.
“What do we do now, master? We cannot leave it—him—there. If one of the village women goes in tomorrow morning, it will send her out of her wits.”
Luke gnawed his finger, trying to calm his fear and banish the vision of that corpse seared into his brain. The shake he had felt had been Frayner’s soul fleeing its body. Alys was not dead and Corbin and Bertila were safe at last.
“Byram,” he said at last. “We must get a message to Byram. He will know what to do.”
“Yo
u will have to prepare him.”
Luke pursed his lips. “Rob, go to the main gate and ask for the captain. Tell him you have an urgent message for his ears alone. Once you find him, bring him back here and we will decide what is best.”
Whilst Rob was gone, Luke cleansed and calmed himself and his greyspring. He picked up the paper with his notes on it, shaking his head when he read the word priest. How wrong he had been. That would teach him to look at all things dispassionately. Because Frayner had persecuted the Quaynes in the hope of trapping him, he had allowed his prejudice to lead him by the nose. Luke snatched up the quill and with an angry stroke, put a line through the word.
Frayner had been just what he appeared to be. A rabid priest whose sole focus was the detection, capture and execution of witches. He saw witchcraft everywhere. But how had his attention become so focused on Luke? He knew he had not betrayed his gift. But he had publicly humiliated the man by forcing him to accept Edith’s body in the churchyard. Then he remembered Bertila’s description of Frayner’s eyes gloating at her nakedness. But the man was a cleric. He was not supposed to have feelings of that kind.
All the same, Luke would have wagered much of his stock that the priest’s twisted mind had not just worked along routes of witchcraft. Frayner had appeared to see all women as whores, and as such, they would be ripe pickings for his particular brand of justice. Luke suppressed a shudder thinking of the horrors Bertila had so narrowly escaped.
Only now, when Bertila and Corbin were safe, did Luke recognize that his need to rescue Alys and destroy Nimrod overwhelmed everything else. This yearning was so strong he could almost taste it. Queen Anne’s words about not understanding ambition echoed in his mind. “Until you do experience it, you can never hope to fight it effectively,” she had said. Luke had believed desire so intense only existed in the minds of those craving power and riches. He had been wrong. Now he understood.