“Yes, I suppose tomorrow will be time enough.” Catherine sighed. “I’m sure Seguin will have a simple explanation for everything. But, just for tonight, carissime, would you mind if I slept between you and the wall?”
The next day started normally enough. The first thing Catherine heard was a male voice cursing loudly at an overenthusiastic rooster. There were groans from the passageway as people faced the morning with wine-induced headaches and overstuffed bellies. Even the fresh herbs strewn among the straw on the floor couldn’t disguise the reek of vomit.
Idly, Catherine wondered why no one in the jongleurs’ tales ever had a hangover. All those heroes spent their nights at enormous feasts and the next morning woke up fresh to go jousting or dragon slaying. Of course, perhaps Roland had refused to blow his horn at the battle of Roncevaux not because he was too proud to summon help, but because the noise would have hurt his head more than a Saracen’s blade.
She thought about sharing this interpretation with Edgar, but decided not to bother. Following her literary speculations, it occurred to her that none of the ladies of the chansons de geste had to step over the remains of someone’s meal to get to the privy.
Catherine knew this was the fate that awaited her and it couldn’t be put off much longer. She was reluctant to leave the bed. It was so comforting to lie with Edgar’s back blocking the sight of the unfamiliar room. She didn’t want to disturb the rhythm of his gentle whistle snore by climbing over him. Especially since he often misinterpreted the movement as the prelude to something she wasn’t ready to get involved in.
There was nothing for it. Catherine felt around for her bliaut and pulled it over her head. As expected, the moment she started to slide across his body, Edgar reached for her.
“In a moment,” she promised. “I’ll be right back.”
He grunted sleepily and let her go.
An instant later, she was back. He felt the pressure on the side of the bed and opened his eyes hopefully. Catherine was leaning over him. Her expression didn’t hold the promise of any sex in the near future.
“Edgar, get up!” She tugged at the sheet. “Samonie found me in the passage. She’s been up all night watching over the children. Someone tried to take Agnes’s baby from his cradle. The nurse didn’t wake, but Samonie was sitting by the bed and scared the intruder away. She thinks they would have taken Peter, too.”
“What!” Edgar was up at once, throwing his tunic over his head and reaching for his belt.
They found a haggard Samonie still sitting between the children and the door. On the bed, James, Edana, and Peter were bright-eyed and bouncing to be let out.
Edgar laid his hand on Samonie’s shoulder. He tried to find the words to thank her for her vigilance. She looked up at him and smiled.
“I didn’t see who it was,” she told him. “Someone in a woman’s robes, but it was too dark to see the face. I called out and they ran away. I’d have followed, but I stopped to be sure little Gottfried was safe and Peter still in his cot.”
“Thank you, Samonie. Now get some sleep,” Edgar told her brusquely. “We’ll take the day watch.”
He and Catherine loaded themselves with their progeny and set out to find Seguin.
They ran him down in one of the storehouses, inspecting a delivery of cheese. He gave them a polite smile that changed to a frown as he saw their disheveled state.
“There was no need to bestir yourselves so early,” he said. “Most of the household won’t waken before None.”
Edgar wasted no time with pleasantries.
“We came to Boisvert to help you,” he said. “At great inconvenience. Now you repay us by trying to steal our children! Everyone in this place seems to be either bewitched or mad, and I’m taking my family out of it now!”
Seguin looked from him to Catherine to their rather grubby offspring in total bewilderment.
“Your children? Why should I steal them? What are you talking about?”
Edgar wasn’t to be put off.
“When was the last child born here in Boisvert?”
Seguin grew still.
“Aymon was the last.” He spoke quietly. “He’s twenty now. It was some time before we realized anything was wrong. First Elissent and I thought it was something we had done. Then we realized that no woman living at Boisvert was conceiving. Finally we began to suspect that Andonenn’s protection was failing.
“We were afraid the curse might reach to all her children. It gave us great joy to know that Madeleine’s family has been spared. When I saw you, I felt the first hope I’ve had in months. That’s all. I assure you that your children are precious to us. No one would harm them.”
“Someone would.” Edgar stepped closer to him, forcing the man to meet his eyes. “Our maid says there was an intruder in the nursery last night. She also said that yesterday one of the women made a fuss over Peter, refusing to give him back after his bath.”
“Ah.” Seguin thumped the cheese in embarrassment. “That would be Briaud, Grandfather’s new wife. She’s become extremely melancholic lately. She longs for a child of her own.”
“I see,” Edgar said. “And, of course, the ‘curse’ prevents this, not her aged husband. So, why would that make her steal one of ours? What did she intend to do with him?”
Seguin’s discomfort turned to anger.
“Nothing!” he shouted. “Do you think we’re pagans who sacrifice infants to appease the gods?”
“Are you?” Edgar stared him down.
“Saint Andrew’s flapping fish, man! Of course not!” Seguin stepped up onto the cheese cart to raise himself to the same height as Edgar. “The prophecy is quite clear. All the children of Andonenn must be present if the spring is to flow again. That includes yours.”
“And just how are they to do that?” Edgar was far from mollified.
Seguin folded his arms. “That will only be revealed when the last ones arrive tomorrow.”
Edgar backed away from him. Catherine and the children clustered around, making a tight family unit. Edgar held Edana closer.
“We won’t be here tomorrow,” he told Seguin. “Catherine, how soon can we be ready to depart?”
“Within the hour,” she answered. “Instantly, if need be.”
“No!” Seguin’s expression changed to panic. “You can’t go. Don’t you understand? You’d be condemning us all!”
Edgar started herding the family back to the keep. “That’s no concern of mine,” he said over his shoulder. “Catherine, go find Margaret and let her know we’re leaving. I won’t have her trapped in this place, either.”
“Of course,” she said. “With any luck, we’ll meet Guillaume on the road in time to tell him to turn around.”
“No! Please!” Seguin followed them, wishing he could just call the guard and force them to stay. If it hadn’t been for Margaret, he might have tried it. However, holding the granddaughter of one’s lord captive was to guarantee swift and terrible retribution.
“Please!” he called again. “My lord Edgar, I beg you to stay. I swear on Andonenn’s treasure that we intend no harm to your children. They are our future, too. If you only understood. . .”
Catherine paused and looked back. She touched Edgar’s arm. Reluctantly, he turned to face Seguin.
“I have brought my family here against all logic and sense,” he said. “I did this for love of my wife and respect for her people. You will need to give me much more in the way of explanation and reassurance before I’ll even consider staying here another hour.”
Seguin looked pleadingly at them. His bald head glistened with sweat that rolled down his face and into his eyes. He blinked, not noticing the sting.
“I can’t tell you.” The words were choked from him. “There are rules. Rules from before Grandfather’s time, even. All I know is that we must all be together when the box is opened or we are doomed.”
Edgar gave a snort of disbelief.
“What box?” Catherine asked.
&n
bsp; “The one Andonenn gave to her eldest child.” Seguin glanced about to be sure no one was in earshot. “It’s so old that the silver lock has turned black as ebony. It is only to be opened in our most dire need.”
Edgar rolled his eyes. “And this is it? What makes you think so? There’s no sign of danger here, not from outside, at least. I see huge amounts of food stockpiled and no lack of water. Do you know the famine they’re suffering in the north? That is dire.”
Seguin shook his head. “You still don’t understand. Follow me.”
He led them to a low stone building. The walls had been piled up any which way from pieces of rock and old buildings. Catherine thought she spied the pale marble hand of an ancient statue stuck between two irregular pieces of granite. The mortar had fallen out and been replaced countless times over the centuries. Seguin opened the door.
The building had no windows. Seguin left the door wide, so that the sun fell on the circle of rocks that rimmed the well in the center of the room. They were bone-dry.
“You see?” he said. “A year ago, this was nearly overflowing, as it has been all my life. We never needed a windlass before to draw the water. Now every month we have to add a new length to the rope.”
“Wells run dry,” Edgar said. “Have you tried digging a new one?”
Seguin stared at him without comprehension.
“A new well won’t save us,” he said. “It’s drying up at the source. And our family with it.”
Catherine had been peering into the well. Beside her, James picked up a pebble and dropped it in. There was a long wait before they heard the plop. Catherine stepped back, dragging James with her.
“The legend says this comes from a spring under the castle, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes, deep beneath the hill, where Andonenn still lives,” Seguin answered. “But she must have grown too weak to fight off the curse of Empress Judith any longer. You must see that it’s our duty to save her as well as ourselves.”
“No,” Edgar answered. “I only see why I want to be far away from this place at once. It’s all very well to have a fairy, or even a demon, on the family tree, but everyone else keeps them firmly in the distant past. They don’t go trying to dig them up. If you people really believe some immortal water sprite lives beneath Boisvert then you’re all mad.”
A movement caught his eye. “Catherine! What are you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself?”
She had knelt down and was leaning over the edge of the well, her head tilted as if listening.
“Catherine,” Edgar repeated. “This is not a good example for James and Edana.”
Slowly, she stood. She faced Seguin, her face puzzled.
“I thought I heard a voice,” she said, trying not to look at Edgar.
“I hear it, too,” Seguin said. “She’s calling us. Begging us to save her. How can you turn your back on her, cousin?”
“Catherine,” Edgar said quietly. “It’s only an echo of the voices from the keep. You know how water and pipes distort normal sounds. Don’t let Seguin confuse you.”
Catherine now looked at Edgar. “I don’t know,” she said miserably. “It may have been only a twisting of the sound of someone speaking in the keep, but it was so sad. It wrung my heart. Edgar, I must be sure. What if it’s all true? I don’t think that Seguin will let anyone harm the children. Perhaps we could at least wait until Guillaume arrives?”
Seguin’s head fell to his chest. “Thank you, bless you, Catherine,” he breathed. “My lord?”
Edgar’s jaw tightened. “Catherine. Come with me.”
Sequin waited, glancing nervously from one to the other.
Edgar’s anger hit Catherine like a blow. She knew at once what she had done. But how could she repair it? She thought frantically. Of course! Once in a while those jongleurs’ tales came in useful.
She came over to Edgar. He held out his hand to her, but to the astonishment of everyone, instead of taking it, she knelt before him, and placed her hand, palm up, below his as a vassal would to his lord.
“My husband,” she said, head bowed. “I beg that you allow us to remain until my brother joins us, and my cousin Seguin is permitted to reveal the mystery. I ask this humbly for myself and in the name of my mother’s family.”
Edgar gaped at her in horror. Who was this woman and what had she done with his wife? Then Catherine looked up. He exhaled in relief. She wasn’t insane or possessed. She was simply showing him a way to save face. If she felt that it was safe for them to stay, he would agree, at least for another day.
“Very well,” he said in that haughty voice Catherine normally hated. “We shall remain here. But if I am not satisfied with Seguin’s explanation, there will be no argument. We will leave at once.”
“As you wish.” Catherine smiled at him. He was startled and sickened to see fear, as well as apology, in her eyes.
What was this place doing to them?
Even as Seguin thanked him vociferously, Edgar had begun to regret his decision.
Nine
Boisvert; Saturday, 3 nones September (September 3) 1149. Feast of Saint Ayou, native of Blois, abbot of Saint-Benoît and master relic thief. 21 Elul 4909.
La vielle Matabrune ki en Jhesu ne croit
La dame se livre a duel et a destroit
L’un enfent aprés l’autre. . ..
The old woman, Matabrune, who had no faith in Jesus
Aided the woman in her pain of delivery And then destroyed them, One child after the other. . ..
—Beatrix, II. 101–103
Catherine was shaking by the time they returned to the keep. She and Edgar had always kept their differences private, where they could fight as equals. After this public display she had no idea of what he was thinking or how he’d react when they were alone together. For the moment, he seemed involved with the children. She let him take them back up to the nursery while she slipped away.
She needed some time alone, to contemplate the consequences of their decision to stay. The noise around her rasped her soul. She remembered that somewhere in the keep, there was a chapel.
When she finally found it, she was surprised to find Agnes standing at the door.
“You can’t go in,” she said. “Mother’s in there. You shouldn’t try to see her.”
Catherine felt something inside her snap.
“I came to pray,” she said angrily. “But what right have you to keep me from our mother? You’ve just seen her, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Agnes said. “Elissent introduced me to her as a German countess.”
“How impressive,” Catherine said sourly. “And did that keep her from recognizing you?”
“Yes.” Agnes looked away, blinking rapidly.
Catherine’s anger ebbed.
“I’m sorry, Agnes, truly I am,” she whispered. “But then what difference would it make if I saw her, too? You were closer to her than I. I’ll be a stranger, as well. I just want to see her again. It’s been so long!”
Agnes turned back to her sister. Catherine saw the tears glistening in the lamp light.
“You’ve changed less than I have,” she answered. “And her feelings about you are stronger. You were the holy one, the gift to pay for her sins. We can’t risk it. The nuns were right not to try to bring her to her senses.”
She clasped her hands together in supplication.
“Please, Catherine,” she begged. “I’m not doing this out of malice, I swear! Ask Margaret. Mother is happy now. Would you risk forcing her back into miserable reality?”
Catherine’s lip trembled. She felt as if she were the child Madeleine believed her to be. All she wanted was to have her mother hold her and just for a moment, to be a child again. She gazed around Agnes to the chapel door. She couldn’t stop herself. She took a step forward.
“Mama?” she called softly. “I’m so sorry.”
Agnes threw out her arms to block the way, but Catherine didn’t try to pass. Instead she turned around an
d stumbled back to her room. When Margaret found her sometime later, she had cried herself empty.
“Shall I come back?” she asked.
Catherine sat up, sniffing.
“No, of course not.” She sighed. “When all this began, I thought that something here was calling to me. I wanted to see Boisvert again to be connected to the rest of the family. But it was a mistake. If our family isn’t cursed, then the castle must be. I hate every stone.”
“It’s a strange place,” Margaret agreed. “But not evil. I know what that feels like. There’s a sadness here instead. Perhaps in your grief for your mother, you can’t sense it. It’s not in the people although they are affected by it. The soul of Boisvert itself is weeping.”
“It’s just the darkness of the rooms and all the hallways without windows that give you that impression,” Catherine said as she wiped her face.
Margaret shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Catherine never contradicted Margaret the way she did Agnes. If Edgar’s sister said that a castle could be sad, then it was.
“Perhaps it’s because it’s been so long since there was a birth here,” she suggested. “Do you believe it’s true that our ancestress can no longer protect us from Judith’s curse?”
“It seems as good an explanation as any,” Margaret answered. “I only know that I wish I could help make everyone happy again.”
Catherine smiled and hugged her.
“Then you don’t think we were mad to come?”
Margaret laughed. “I didn’t say that. But if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have lasted long here by myself.”
Catherine hugged her again. “Oh, Margaret, even though awful things happened to us in England, it was worth it all to get you. I wish we could keep you with us forever.”
“So do I.” Margaret’s laughter stopped. “Now, is there anything we can do besides wait for your brother to arrive so that Seguin may preside over the grand opening of this mysterious box?”
The Witch in the Well: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery Page 14