And perhaps that was for the best, she thought on many occasions. For what if the circumstances of William's conception were more than she could bear?
Washing his face and hands, Iliana carried him upstairs, then let him play for a time on the bed furs as she sat on the bed. Tears came to her eyes as she saw the small wooden animals Agnes had brought to their chamber only the other day. They were scattered across the bed surface, and William clutched them in his chubby fingers, a sheep and a horse, as he crawled with them in his hands. A knight and a dragon lay on the bed furs since William had not yet noticed those.
"Time for a nap, young man," she said softly. He looked at her with those pure green eyes, most seriously, then he sat back and held the wooden sheep out to her. Iliana took it, holding it to her breast, overcome with such love for this child. She lay down on the bed and pulled him close, kissed his cheek, inhaling his sweet baby fragrance. He lay still beside her as they faced each other, face to face, until slowly his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep, the horse still clutched in one hand.
Iliana rose, lifting William carefully and placing him in his bed. He was getting quite heavy, and growing taller so quickly, it seemed. Soon, she would have a small bed made for him as he had almost outgrown the large wood cradle.
Once he was settled, she moved to the window, pushed aside the cloth and stared at the yard below. Camdork's men filled the courtyard with their gaming, dice and sword play. The clang of metal filled the air all day. He participated also, stripped to the waist. Wide shoulders, a light dusting of blonde hair, slim hips. Crossing her arms in front of her, Iliana put her back to the window, feeling the breeze move against her hair.
Iliana pondered the chain of events in the last several weeks. She had a new shipment of gems arriving any day now. Her most trusted men at arms went once a month to the seaport to the west, meeting a merchant from the deserts far beyond England's shores. Rare gems were exchanged for the jeweled pieces she had painstakingly created, gems of the highest caliber embedded in silver and the occasional gold piece.
She had to wonder why had the queen sent Camdork to wed her. Thank the saints he had not yet pressed her for the ceremony. How would she hold him off? What excuse could she make? It appeared his men were settled in for a prolonged stay.
Iliana moved to the dressing table which held her comb and mirror. She picked up the hammered silver mirror. Running her fingers over the red garnets embedded in the silver, she thought back to the last fortnight. Had there been a warning the queen was taking an interest in her trade? She always made sure the court received its share of the gem price. What if the queen did try to wrest her trade from her? How then would she or her people survive? Iliana looked into the mirror, holding it up to her face, staring into her own blue eyes, her dark hair. What mask did she wear and who had put it into place?
Something pinched her neck and she twisted, frantically brushing her neck with the back of her hand. Something flew past her nose and she twisted sideways, swinging the mirror and hitting the object so that it smacked onto the stone floor. Quickly, it scuttled to hide behind the bed's wooden foot.
Stepping between William's cradle and where she'd last seen the creature, Iliana backed toward the fireplace. Leaning down, she felt for the iron poker. Moving cautiously forward, she used the poker to lift the bed fur where it draped the floor. She jumped back with a small screech as a fighter dragon scuttled toward her. She swung at it with the poker as it took to the air, flying around her in circles.
Horrified, she realized it was William's wooden dragon, only now its carved surface held a strange green glimmer as if the scales had come alive. Little particles of green glittered at her as the small creature landed on top of the bed.
It had tiny yellow eyes that opened and closed as its tail twitched once and then again, this way and that. Quickly, she backed up closer to William's cradle.
"Mother of Mercy, it is a fighter dragon," she muttered. She held perfectly still as the dragon moved toward her, its black-tipped scales moving with each step, looking razor sharp and deadly.
Iliana turned her head and saw her life tapestry, and she was mesmerized by the swirling colors. As she watched, the picture began to reveal itself, the colored threads swiftly creating the scene with the dragon flying around her. She knew it was impossible to outrun a fighter dragon, it would cut you to ribbons for sport. And William...
The dragon darted toward her, then flew straight up and down toward William's cradle. She hit it with the back of her hand and it extended its neck and hissed at her. She swung the mirror again. "Leave my son alone. Leave this chamber for surely you are spell cast!" Never had she seen one attack without provocation. She feared for their lives. She gained a momentary reprieve as it flew haphazardly, then hit the wall across the room and fell to the floor. Her hand stung, and she saw the scales had ripped open the flesh. Grabbing a fresh linen cloth from the bedside stand, she awkwardly wrapped the hand. The creature was between her and the door -- how could they escape?
There was a rap at her door. She watched the fighter dragon as it skittered back and forth on the stone floor as if daring her to try and run past. The dragon lunged at her once more, this time at her legs. Its strong tiny jaws gripped the hem of her gown and pulled her forward. "Get out!" She swung the poker and managed a glancing blow on its tail.
Suddenly, the door to her chamber burst open. She did not dare to look away from the dragon. "Stay back!" she cried. "The fighter dragon will kill you."
"I knew no good would come of dragons in the sky," she heard Camdork mutter. "Where is it?"
She glanced at him quickly and despite her warning, he stepped into the room.
"That?" he said. She looked askance at him. He sounded on the verge of amusement.
"This is no laughing matter," she said tensely. "It can gut you before you know he is upon you."
She saw him glance at her bleeding hand. William stirred and pulled himself to the side of his bed. The dragon turned toward him, skittered across the floor and under his cradle. "William!"
Before she could get back to his cradle, Camdork was there, lifting her son up out of the bed and into his arms. He pushed the cradle back until it hit the wall and then Iliana moved in with the iron poker.
The fighter dragon crawled up the side of the cradle and then flew straight up toward Iliana's face. She dropped the poker and protected her eyes.
Camdork grabbed the dragon out of the air with one hand, two fingers around its throat. The dragon twisted and writhed, but Camdork squeezed it tight.
Amazed, Iliana watched as her son, held in the crook of Camdork's arm, pressed his chubby hands around the man's throat.
Camdork turned towards her, let her take William, still holding the dragon at arm's length.
As Iliana watched in stunned amazement, he lifted the dragon to eye level. "I saw your counterpart, you know, when I first arrived. A wer-dragon they called it, half as big as my ship. And now here you are -- a tiny replica."
"It is deadly," she warned just as the dragon stretched its neck and tried to snap at him.
He moved toward the fire in the grate, kicked at the logs until the flames roared fully to life. "I will roast you like an ear of corn." He tossed the fighter dragon into the fire and immediately it burst with a big puff of white powder that sifted down into the fire.
"Are you demented?" she snapped, fear still riding her as she watched the dragon disappear. "You do not realize how dangerous they are." Even as William reached up toward the man, she half turned away from him. "Do you know that fighter dragon could have disemboweled and killed you?"
He lifted a brow. "Surely you jest -- disemboweled me? I've had bigger rats aboard my ship. Come, show me your hand," he said, holding out his palm.
"You have saved my son," she said stiffly, "but make no mistake, they are killers. They need little provocation to attack, but never have we been plagued inside the castle by those demons."
"Where did it come
from?"
"Agnes had brought carved wooden play toys for William the day before -- before she died. The carved dragon was one of them." Quickly, she bent over William's bed and removed the carved horse from his bed linen. She turned it over, relieved to find it had not been spell cast. "One of the witches must have cast a spell. Or Mandrak," she muttered. "But why? Why put a spell of magic over a wooden toy and make it come alive?"
"You are telling me a toy dragon came to life through magic?"
She nodded.
"And why am I not surprised?" he asked, sighing. "Like many things in this world it does not have a reasonable explanation."
"Dragons are well known here," she said with a frown. "Although it is unusual for a fighter dragon to attack without provocation."
Iliana walked over to her life tapestry, seeing the crimson stains on her hand, and now included in her tapestry was the figure of Camdork. She leaned closer, gently touched the woven cloth and the scene became much clearer.
She looked back at him, frowning. In the tapestry he stood beside her, the dragon writhing in his hand and behind him there appeared a shadow, a second man.
Iliana drew in a startled breath, suddenly understanding what she was seeing. He had two faces. She was reminded she could not trust him, no matter what he showed on the surface.
"I am thankful for your assistance in keeping William safe," she said stiffly, "but you must leave now." How could she have forgotten even for a moment he was her enemy?
Camdork moved over to the door, closed it and leaned back against it. "I think not."
Chapter Seven
Iliana placed William on the bed furs, then stood with her feet braced between Camdork and her son.
"Iliana, there is no need to hover over that child. He is quite safe. I do not eat babies."
"I have heard otherwise," she muttered, maintaining her stance.
Erik sighed. "My name is Erik Marcus Remington but I used to go by the name Rufus LaTour." He waited, as if he expected her to recognize his name.
"I am not of this time. My ship was caught in a storm and sailed into a harbor where I was forced to come here by Weinroof of Camdork."
She continued to watch him.
"Camdork and I bear a similar appearance and I suppose that's how he got the idea to send me here in his stead. He's up to something, I sense it. Even some of his men think I am really him. There's a strange mix of what is real and what is magic in this world." He shook his head, fearing he wasted his breath, but he had to try. "I have begun an investigation into Agnes' death. I would see whoever killed her brought to justice." He put his hand up when she opened her mouth. "Yes, I know you suspect me."
"It is said she was meeting with you," Iliana said fiercely. "Why continue with this farce? Surely," she added sarcastically, "you are so highly favored by the queen there will be no punishment in the killing of a mere servant girl."
"But I did not kill her because I am not Camdork. I can see your mind is set. When was the last time you saw Agnes?"
Reluctantly, it seemed, she answered, "Last night after the evening meal. Agnes put William to bed for the night. She was meeting someone and I admonished her that it was late already, but she swore she would be on time for her duties in the morning." She lifted her chin. "Sadly, that did not happen."
Iliana moved to sit on the bench beside her window embrasure, her attention focused on the scene below. Her window faced to the west, she could see clearly the small entourage making its way to the village. Word of Agnes' death had passed quickly, as news was wont to do. "Poor, dead Agnes." Iliana could not help but wonder what the villagers would say now that Mandrak's prophesy had been fulfilled. Another innocent dead. He had warned the people about such an occurrence; indeed, his dire warnings had stirred the people for some months now. Iliana feared Mandrak's scheme to stir unrest was working. If he succeeded in bringing everyone under his power, she didn't know what she could do. The people might flee or disappear in the night. Surely her seventy-five men at arms could not be expected to till the fields, see to the grain, and cut the hay?
Iliana looked away from the village, her eyes resting on the sea in the far distance. Was this to be the end? Was Mandrak and his clutch of witches destined to win? The Holy Mother protect them all if such an occurrence were to happen. Her mission would be in vain if Mandrak were to win.
She turned to him, found him staring at William as he dozed once more on the bed furs, a frown on his face.
"Whose child?" he asked gruffly.
Iliana lifted her chin. "Mine."
"The father?"
"There is no father." She looked back out the window, her fists clenched. "Surely it is not your business."
A knock at the door was a welcome interruption. The man's presence in her chamber made her too uncomfortable. His green eyes, his size. If he chose to harm her, there was only so much she could do, even with her small dagger.
Camdork opened the door and a dark garbed figure sidled inside.
"Sorenta." Iliana hurried past Camdork to lead the old woman inside. She looked outside the corridor, then pushed the door closed.
"What do you know?" she asked.
The old woman's blind eyes stared into Iliana's as if she could actually see her.
"'Tis not glad tidings I bear, my lady Iliana."
"I would hear them." Iliana urged the woman to a stool. She looked over her shoulder at Camdork. "You may leave."
"I would stay," he said, moving to settle himself against the window, crossing his feet.
Impatiently, she returned her attention to Sorenta, pressing the thin, claw-like hands. "Tell me."
"The village buzzes with unrest, people stand idle in the fields, the laundry sits unwashed in vats, what food there is rots on the tables. With the death of Agnes, they fear the curse of Mandrak is truly upon them. Some have already packed up their families."
"How can one man wield so much power? There is no proof he is other than a mortal man."
"Tell me what is happening," Camdork said.
Sorenta closed her eyes. "The sorcerer Mandrak seeks control. He has put fear into the countryside with his talk of curses and plagues. The people fear his powers. He is greedy. He wants all," Sorenta added. "I have seen the end as it can unfold. Darkness, death, time-weaving under Mandrak's rule."
"What does he want to control?" Camdork asked.
Sorenta turned her attention to him. "All power over the realms, this one and beyond."
"Camdork mentioned Mandrak when we first met," he said.
"I know you claim not to be him," Iliana said, "but to keep referring to him as if he were another person..."
Camdork turned his attention to Sorenta. "You know who I am. Tell her."
The old woman smiled, one thin brow lifted. "It is not for me to convince Iliana of anything. Words sometimes have less meaning than deeds. The sorcerer twists time and magic, my lady Iliana, and dons a clever mask, as do we all. Though some would call it divine power, I see his black magic as it is, pure evil. He easily instills fear in those who cannot look beyond the surface."
"And now he wields that black magic toward my son's playthings," Iliana said grimly. "If he would show his face, I could fight him. But he plays with my son's wooden toys and makes of them a deadly weapon."
"Caution, my lady Iliana. Caution."
Iliana darted Camdork a glare. "And he says he is not Camdork," she said with disgust.
"Perhaps you should listen," Sorenta said dryly. "Did he not save your child? Has he shown you evil?"
Iliana shook her head. "No." She stared at Sorenta's ageless eyes. "How can I know he speaks the truth?"
"We need to eliminate the threat of this sorcerer," Camdork said, a glint in green eyes. "I shall have to find him and disarm him."
"This is no game."
"Ah, but my lady Iliana, it is a game, one I have played many times."
She put up her hands as if to shoo a fly. "Be off. This is serious, sir. How can you
find amusement in any of this unless you too are in league with Mandrak?" She glared at him. "If you are careless and get killed, no doubt the queen will come for my head."
His eyes were suddenly intense. "We shall make sure you keep your head with its glorious dark curls."
Startled, Iliana said, "W-what?"
He dropped his idle pose by the window, came to stand beside her. "Dark curls that I have seen splayed across your shoulders as you slept." His eyes looked deeply into hers and for an instant of time, she felt mesmerized.
"No!" she shook her head. "No -- I --" Something in his eyes pulled at her. She wanted to fall deeply into them and the emotion she glimpsed hidden inside. She drew back.
"I hope that one day you will remember," he said solemnly. He nodded at Sorenta, opened the door and left, closing it behind him.
Iliana stared in front of her, her breath at an uneven pace, her mind unsettled.
She looked at Sorenta. "You have told me that he --" she stumbled to a halt, "-- that Camdork, carries the secret of the green gem."
"He has the ability to help you retrieve it or lose it forever."
"I saw him on my life tapestry, and a shadow lurks behind him. Surely it is an indication he shows the world two faces."
Sorenta seemed to shrug. "There are twins of emotion involved, one so different than the other. I agree he is not as he seems."
"Nothing is as it seems," muttered Iliana. "We have a murderer in our midst, perhaps in this very keep." Distressed, she beseeched the old woman. "What am I to do? This man who would be my husband is capable of foul deeds, all in the name of his queen. And yet at times..." She shook her head. "What am I thinking?"
Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy) Page 8