The cat swiped a paw out from under Onyx’s plaid just then and stuck its head out to see what was going on.
Her mother looked up and pointed and screamed. Then her eyes opened wide as if she were possessed. “It is death itself. He’s come to claim me.”
She wasn’t sure if her mother meant Onyx or the cat, but either way she didn’t like it.
“You brought the plague here with that cat,” said Weldon, “that’s why Lady Erwina has been affected.”
“That’s nonsense,” said Lovelle. “We just got here and had nothing to do with this.”
“I see the dead all around me,” came her mother’s voice from the bed, and Lovelle turned around to see her mother sitting up and looking around the room. She was flushed from fever and very frightened. “They are in here, all the dead. They are coming for me, I tell you.”
“Mother, stop saying that. There is no one here but us.”
“Lady Erwina, I will call for the healer anon,” said the guard.
“Go, quickly. Save me,” said her mother, and the guard did as instructed, leaving Lovelle and Onyx standing there.
Once he left the room, Lovelle took another step forward, but stopped when her mother backed away from her on the bed. The woman’s hand came up and she held it forward like an invisible barrier.
“Don’t come near me. Leave me alone.”
“But mother . . .”
“Death is staring at me with his devil eyes,” she said, making Lovelle feel uncomfortable.
“Mother, this is Onyx,” she explained. “He helped me to find the Book of Hours and now I am going to cure you with the charms that are in the book.”
“No charm can ward away the evil that lurks in these chambers. Do not fool yourself to think it can.”
“But you are a witch. You can do it. There is a charm to ward off the plague in the book, isn’t there, Onyx?”
“There is,” he said, and nodded slowly. “But lassie do ye really believe it can stop something like this?”
“Nay, I’m not a witch,” said her mother, shaking her head furiously. “But give me the book. Tell me what it says and I’ll still banish the demon straight back to hell where he came from.”
“What?” asked Lovelle. “You’re not a witch? Then why did you have those charms put in the book?”
“I did it to protect you,” she answered. “I even tried a love charm on you and your late husband, Hugh, but it didn’t work.”
“Aye, we know aboot that one,” said Onyx.
“How could you know?” the woman asked, still scooting backwards on the bed. “You must be the witch then, not me.”
“He’s not a witch, mother, nor is he a demon of any sort. I stole the charm from your personal things.” Lovelle pulled the parchment out of the pouch at her side. “I tried to make it work on Onyx to make him love me.” She looked over to him and saw him petting the cat held against his chest. He didn’t say a word.
“Burn it!” said her mother. “And do it quickly.”
“Burn it?” she asked. “Why?”
“Because when you try to use spells, bad things happen in return. It always comes with a price. I am being punished now for what I’ve done, and had I known it would bring the Black Death upon me, I never would have paid to have those charms put into the book in the first place. I am evil. I went against the will of God. And now I’ll die because I was only trying to protect the only child I have left. Burn the book as well. Burn it all. Every last thing. I don’t want anything to do with it ever again, and neither will you.”
“Nay, I won’t destroy it,” she said, seeing how her mother’s madness was getting worse. “I know the charms can help you.”
“Do it!”
“It’s an expensive, rare book. I can’t do what you ask.”
Her mother collapsed back onto the bed, and started spouting nonsense, making Lovelle think that her addled mind was taking over again. Then she started laughing hysterically, scaring her. Lovelle reached out and grabbed onto Onyx’s arm, not knowing what to do.
“My lady, the healer is here,” came a guard’s voice from behind her. Lovelle turned and gasped when she saw the healer standing in the doorway. He was dressed in a black robe with a hood pulled up, covered from head to foot. He wore a mask over his face that looked like a bird’s face with a long beak. It completely covered his nose, eyes, and mouth.
“And they say I look like a demon?” mumbled Onyx from beside her.
Her mother saw the man and started screaming out of control.
“Is that mask really necessary?” Lovelle asked.
“It is,” answered the guard. “The healer has filled the beak with dried posies to ward off any vapors of the plague.”
“That’s right,” came the healer’s voice from under the mask. “And you all need to leave now, as you should not be near a victim of the plague or even be breathing the same air.”
“Let’s go,” said Onyx guiding her to the door. “The healer is here now and there is nothin’ we can do te help.”
“Go to your solar and lock yourself inside until this is all over,” Weldon told her. “I’ll send the servants up with food and drink and will let you know when the plague has passed.”
“But my mother . . .”
She looked back to see the healer in his outfit, looking like the grim reaper leaning over her mother’s bed. She knew there was nothing the man could do to stop the plague from spreading. And she also knew her mother would be dead in a few days time if she didn’t do something to help her. She wouldn’t burn the book with the charms, nay she would use it instead. And she could only hope to do some good and that she wouldn’t have to pay the price for using magic as her mother had claimed.
Chapter 15
Onyx paced the floor in Lovelle’s solar, anxious to go see Fenella, yet not wanting to leave Lovelle alone because he didn’t trust she wouldn’t try to sneak back and see her mother as soon as he left.
Tawpie lay stretched out by the hearth, and Lovelle sat on the floor staring into the flames, mindlessly running a hand over the cat’s fur. The room had a large bed in the center and several trunks throughout the room. There were woven wall hangings over the glassless window for added warmth, as well as several tapestries on the walls. An attached wardrobe, or small room used for dressing and to store her clothes was at the opposite side of the room.
“If you want to go see Fenella, I won’t stop you,” she said. “And I will come with you if you want me to.” Lovelle had changed into dry clothes, and while Onyx had not, his cloak had seemed to collect most the rain, and his plaid wasn’t as wet as he’d thought.
“Nay. Ye willna be goin’ te the dungeon, as it is no place fer a lady. Now, I dinna want ye te leave this room while I’m gone. Can I trust ye’ll listen te the healer and stay in here and far away from the plague?”
“I’ve already been near the cart of dead bodies and also in my mother’s chamber. If the plague is going to find me, its already too late to hide.”
He knew she was probably right about that, but he still wanted to take precautions.
There was a knock at the door and he opened it to find a servant with a tray of food and also a flagon of wine.
“Have ye heard anythin’ aboot the prisoners in the dungeon?” he asked, taking the things from the boy.
“I’ve heard that it won’t be long before they’re all dead from the plague,” said the boy. “Some of them are infected and the guards say they will just sit there and rot because they won’t do anything to help them.”
“What are ye sayin’?” he asked. “Why not?” Lovelle looked up at him just then and he realized now exactly how she felt. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to try to do something to save her mother’s life, because now he felt the same way about Fenella. “Thank you,” he told the boy and closed the door.
He brought the food over to Lovelle and sat on the floor at her side.
“I think I know how ye feel, Love.”
“Nothin’ is goin’ te happen,” Onyx assured her.
“How can you say that? Didn’t you see the body of the dead little boy on the gravediggers’ cart? The plague isn’t choosy whom it takes with it. I’m not only afraid of losing my mother, but also my little boy. I’ve already lost my brothers to the plague and I just want this to stop already.”
She’d always been so brave, but this time he saw the tears in her eyes she was trying to hold back. He wanted to do something to comfort her – to help her, but he didn’t know what. He wished Aidan or Ian were here right now so he’d have someone to confide in about all this. Or at least Clarista, as she would know what to say to make Lovelle feel better.
The aching in his bones had been present since he got here, and now it was getting even stronger. He knew he had to go see Fenella quickly if he wanted to talk to her about his true family and his past. If he waited, he may never have the opportunity again, and he would never know the truth as long as he lived.
“I’m goin’ te the dungeon te see me mathair,” he said, running a hand over the cat as he spoke. “And when I return we’ll figure out what we can do te help yer mathair as well.”
“Really?” she asked, looking up to him with all the hope in the world in her eyes. “Do you promise, Onyx?”
He reached out his hand and lifted her chin, rubbing his thumb gently over her cheek. He would do anything to make this lassie happy, as she was starting to be the only thing that mattered in his cold, cruel, crazy world. He bent forward and kissed her gently on the lips, feeling her softness and her determination as well. She wouldn’t stop trying to help her mother, and now he understood why.
She loved the woman. And she loved her son, too. Love made a person do stupid, crazy things, and make promises they knew they couldn’t keep to do things that wouldn’t matter anyway. He looked into her blue eyes and lost himself within them as he thought he glimpsed a spark of her soul.
“I promise,” he said. He grabbed his cloak that had been drying by the fire and put it on and headed from the room, wondering what just happened and why he’d agreed to something that he knew was only going to be trouble.
“Love,” he said, aloud once he’d left the room, not knowing if he was just saying her name or talking about the odd feeling in his chest that he’d never felt before.
He made his way down to the dungeon, finding it exactly where he thought it’d be. He tried his best to avoid the knights and guards, as since he was a Scot he knew they’d give him trouble. And if so, Lovelle wasn’t with him to explain to them he wasn’t sneaking into the castle to kill them, but was rather there as her guest.
He pulled the cloak around him, hiding his plaid and also his weapons. Then he got to the dungeon to thankfully find it only protected by one guard.
“Who are you and what do you want?” asked the man, looking like he was feeling ill.
“I am here te see me mathair,” he said, alerting the guard by his burr that he was Scottish.
The man’s hand wavered over his sword, and Onyx just raised his hands over his head. “I’m no’ here to fight, jest to see one o’ the prisoners, thet’s all.”
He looked at him curiously. “Who is your mother and who let you in here?”
“I am here as a guest o’ the lady o’ the castle, and me mathair is Fenella. I am told ye have her locked inside.”
He didn’t think the guard was going to let him in, until Weldon showed up at the door.
“Let him in,” said Weldon to the other man. “The woman doesn’t have long to live and this may be the last time he sees her.”
“I brought back the book ye asked fer,” said Onyx. “So her life should be spared.”
“Hah!” said the guard. “Why would you think that? Because Lady Lovelle told you what you wanted to hear so you’d do her bidding?”
“But . . . she said me mathair’s sentence would be lighter if I helped ye te find what ye were lookin’ fer, and I did.”
“The book was stolen by your mother in the first place, and she killed one of the king’s barons,” spat Weldon. “She’s not getting a lighter sentence, and you are a fool if you believe otherwise”
“Jest let me in,” he said through gritted teeth, his bones aching with every word.
“Leave your weapons here and the guard will let you in,” ordered Weldon.
“Fine.” He pulled his sword from the scabbard as well as his dagger and laid them on the table next to the guard. He didn’t give them the dirk hiding in his boot, but they didn’t need to know about that. He needed to protect himself if they should decide to give him trouble.
“All right,” said the first guard unlocking the cell door. “But I don’t know why you want to go in there. They all have the plague. We’re just waiting for them to die so we can free up the cells. Actually, the gravediggers will be here any minute to collect the dead ones.”
“Ye bastard!” he spat, rushing forward. There was only one lit torch on the wall, and he had to look into the cells to try to find his mother.
He almost gagged from the smell of feces and urine, not to mention the man in the first cell looked as if he had been dead for quite some time now. He slowly made his way forward, already feeling as if he couldn’t breathe, anxious at what he might find.
“Mathair?” he called out. “Are ye in here?”
He heard several moans from the prisoners and a rat scurried over his feet, startling him. One man banged on the bars just next to his head.
“Let me out,” said the man. Onyx could see black spots behind the man’s ears and down the side of his neck. He stepped away quickly, not wanting the prisoner’s condemned breath upon him.
“Where’s the lassie?” he asked.
“If you mean the woman, she’s down at the end. But I haven’t heard her bitching now in days, so I don’t know if she’s even still alive.”
Onyx hurried to the last cell, seeing his mother inside, lying huddled in a heap on the cold floor.
“Mathair?” he said, but she didn’t answer. He looked back to the door where the guards were stationed and when he knew they weren’t watching, he pulled the dirk from his boot and used it to pick the lock to her cell. He opened it slowly and slipped inside without a sound.
“Mathair, what have they done te ye?” He put his hand on her shoulder and gently moved her, and she looked up to him with hollowed eyes, the plague evident on her body. Her limbs were already starting to turn black.
“God’s teeth, nay!” he whispered, feeling the tears welling within his eyes.
“Onyx, ye came fer me,” she said with a slight smile. “I kent ye would.”
“Mathair, I’m goin’ te get ye out of here.” He went to pick her up, but she stopped him.
“Dinna touch me ye fool, or are ye blind? I have the Black Death upon me and ye’ll get it too if ye dinna leave now.”
“I canna leave ye. Ye are me mathair.”
“Nay,” she said, shaking her head slowly, her eyes closing in the process. “I am no’ yer mathair, Onyx. I lied te ye all these years.”
Her words were like a stab to his heart. And though he’d already known this, he didn’t want to believe it. But now that she’d told him, he knew it really was true.
“Who are me parents then, Fenella?” he asked, no longer able to call her mother. “Tell me . . . I need te ken what happened.”
“I will tell ye,” she said, her voice weak and faint, the fever raging within her making her face flushed. “I am dyin’ and this is me last confession.”
If he wasn’t so distraught he might have laughed just then. He knew his mother had never went to church or confessed a single sin her entire life.
“It was after I poisoned that bastard baron for killin’
me husband. I was spotted pilfering a few things on me way out o’ the castle.”
“Like the ring and the Book of Hours?” he asked.
“Aye, thet’s right. Well, I needed te get back te Scotland and . . .” she tried to swallow, and Onyx wished he had some mountain magic to give her right now to help ease her pain. “Me only way back was on a ship. I saw a guard tryin’ te pay the captain te take a chest aboard . . . but he wouldn’t.”
“Go on,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Never had he thought it would be so hard to hear this story coming from his mother’s lips.
“I took it fer him, and was told te dump it overboard. I had no idea you were in it, I swear.”
When she said the words, he felt as if he were trapped in that small box again and having trouble trying to find air. His head spun, and he felt one of his death spells caused from anxiety coming on. He bit his lip and tried to will it away and continued listening to his mother’s confession.
“I was told by the captain that the earl of Blackpool wanted to dump his baby inte the sea. I was told ye were deid, but when I opened the box, ye were smilin’ at me instead. And ye had thet dagger wit’ ye fer some reason. Thet’s why I named ye Onyx.”
“Why couldna ye tell me this years ago?” he asked. “Instead ye made me believe I was someone thet I wasna.”
“I saved ye from dying thet day, Onyx and ye should be thankin’ me instead.”
“I am thankful,” he said, seeing the blood now trickling out of not only her buboes, but also the corners of her eyes. Then he realized there were also tears. It was something he had never seen on his mother before. She was actually crying, and he knew now that she was sorry for betraying him.
“I wanted te keep ye as me own, Son.”
“Dinna call me that, please.” His eyes closed in the process and he felt his throat tightening, the air around him getting thinner.
“I wanted te tell ye, many times, but I was afeared ye’d leave me.”
“What would it matter?” he asked. “After all, I was nothin’ more te ye than one more treasure that ye’d pilfered.”
Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection Page 54