Forbidden Magic

by Catherine Emm

  A vague smile sparkled in Amery's green eyes. "Thou hast the wisdom and understanding meant for a king," he said. "When England is freed, remind me to warn him about you, lest he find himself with more trouble than he has today."

  Gunther laughed heartily. "Nay. Never that. I wish only to rule Burchard and grow old playing with the children of my sons and daughter." He jerked his head toward the door. "Now go. Take thy destrier and ride until ye both have sweat upon your brows."

  * * *

  An hour later found Amery in his room again. Disrobing, he washed, then donned only the garments that would see him to his tent on the field. There he would assume full armor and await the trumpets' blare that would mark the beginning of combat. His practice with Conan had been invigorating, and that, along with Gunther's words of encouragement, had prepared him to prove once and for all that he was the rightful lord of Wellington, and, he mused confidently, any who doubted it would soon know otherwise. Strapping on his sword, he tossed the heavy mantle over his wide shoulders, then crossed to the bed where he gathered up his mail and shield. With his helm cradled in the crook of his arm, he left the room to meet Gunther and Rickward in the commons, then journey on to his tent where Stafford awaited them.

  * * *

  The field had been readied days in advance and a special pavilion erected in which the dowager queen and her honored guests could sit and view the battle in relative comfort. On the right and left, smaller edifices had been constructed, and all along the opposite side of the field were crude beaches where those of lesser rank would sit. At opposing ends, each knight had been assigned a tent, so marked with a flag bearing his colors, which flew atop the highest peak. Around the edges of the entire field multihued banners had been hung on high poles, both to shield the spectators from any chilling breezes that might arise and to confine the event within their perimeter. Only those of noble birth had been invited to witness the contest, for this was an affair of honor.

  As Amery and his group entered the field, he noticed that Queen Eleanor's pavilion was still closed, which meant she and her party had yet to arrive. Mild discomfort showed briefly on his face, for he had hoped to catch a glimpse of Jewel before the joust began. Steering Conan to the tent that bore his colors, he dismounted and glanced back at the one on the opposite end, his green eyes darkening to an emerald shade once he saw that Radolf had already arrived and was standing near his charger glaring back at his half brother,

  "Before the sun sets upon this day, all of England will know you as true lord of Wellington," Edlyn spat as she stood beside her son, her hate-filled glare affixed upon the one who watched them. "And I shall dance upon his grave."

  Radolf 's lip curled into a snarl. "Perhaps 'twill be he who dances, Mother," he pointed out.

  "Nay! Never!" she snapped. "He boasts and brags and fills his head with dreams. They blind him, and thou wilt strike him dead before he blinks to question who it is that holds the sword."

  "How confident you are when 'tis I who must mount the destrier and meet this_ warrior on open ground. Tell me, Mother," he added, tucking an axe within his belt, "hast thou decided where thou shalt reside on the morrow? For no matter who wins this day, the gates of Wellington will be closed to you." He smiled evilly at her rapid intake of breath. "Doth the truth surprise you?" he asked, looking at her.

  Before she could answer, a commotion near the dowager queen's pavilion drew everyone's attention, and Radolf turned to view the one he had waited weeks to see again. The cloth flap was pulled away, and, to his delight, he spotted Jewel almost immediately among the group that quickly filled the seats. The hood of her mantle covered most of her flowing hair except for the thick locks that spilled out from the sides and fell softly against her bosom. His pulse quickened as he watched her, and he longed to go to her and take her in his arms. His eyes narrowed, however, once he noticed that she had yet to look his way, but instead cast her gaze toward his adversary's tent.

  "She lusts after him," his mother sneered. "And you would do well to remember that. When Amery is dead, she will become your enemy, for she will ignore Queen Eleanor's decree and send her knights to murder you."

  Radolf whirled on the woman. "Nay, when Amery is dead, she will become my wife. And you will do well to remember that!" Knocking her aside, he stormed into the tent.

  Stunned by her son's blatant disrespect for her, Edlyn stood perfectly still for a moment, her chin sagging and panic rising within her. Everything for which she had worked so hard and long was beginning to crumble around her, and all because of Radolf's insatiable desire for a woman he could not have. Her gray eyes darkened as she thought of her son's plans for her and that if Ian had not failed her, Harcourt and Wellington would be hers. Glaring back at the royal pavilion, Edlyn twisted her mouth into an evil sneer. She would fix it so that Radolf would spend the rest of his days alone . . . just as he had wanted her to do. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the knights standing near the tent, telling them that she wished to speak with her son in private, then stepped through the opening.

  "I think it's time you knew the truth, Radolf," she hissed at his back while he donned his chain mail. "It concerns you and your father .. . and your half sister."

  His brow furrowing in a fierce frown, he turned a damning glare upon her. "Thou speakest in riddles. I have no half sister."

  Her nose raised arrogantly, she mocked, '"Tis knowledge I have kept secret all these years—from you and from Ryland."

  Curious, he faced her fully. "You kept the secret of another child from my father without his ever learning of it?"

  "Not your father, Radolf. I kept the secret from Ryland."

  He snorted derisively and resumed his task of dressing. "You babble, woman."

  "Think on it, Radolf," she urged with a sarcastic lift of one brow. "Recall the name Lord Alcot placed upon your head before you raised your sword against him. As I remember, you said he called you bastard, and it puzzled you, for you believed you were kin to Ryland, lord of Wellington."

  Every muscle in his body turned to granite with the telling of her tale, for suddenly he understood what had driven his mother. She had been unfaithful to her husband and had borne a son as proof. No doubt the true father would have nothing to do with her, and Edlyn sought revenge. He closed his eyes when his head began to swim. Nay! She lied! She only meant to trick him. She wanted him to believe that Jewel was his half sister so that he would change his mind about wanting her. It was all an evil lie!

  "You slew your own father, Radolf, and now you wish to marry a woman whose blood also runs in your veins." Edlyn took a careless step closer. "She should have died with Alcot. I meant for him to watch and know who ordered it done. Twas my way of evening the score for his having turned his back on me when I carried his child!"

  A demonic howl tore from Radolf's throat as he turned on her, his hands outstretched to grab her by the neck. A crazed look came over him as he squeezed harder and harder, deaf to the strangled cries for mercy, for which his victim begged. Sharp nails clawed at his fingers in an effort to loosen his hold, but his grip only tightened, choking off the woman's last breath of life. Even when her body hung limp and yielding, her eyes open and unseeing, he continued his assault until the snapping of her neck jolted him out of his trance and he slowly dropped her to the floor. For a long while he stood there staring down at her as though he expected her to sit up and laugh at him—just as she had been doing behind his back all these years! She had used him, just as she had used everyone else in her life. Well, now she was dead, and she couldn't hurt anyone anymore.

  The blare of trumpets heralded the start of the contest, and Radolf came to attention. There was another matter he had to settle before he could claim Jewel as his own, and that was the killing of Amery. Turning to the small table that held the rest of his things, he picked up a leather pouch and pulled it open. From inside, he took Lord Alcot's signet ring and, without hesitation, slid it on his finger. He had waited a long time to wear it, a
nd after today he would have the right to do so openly. He donned the rest of his garb, yanked on his gauntlets, picked up his shield and helm, and stepped out into the sunlight. Amery was already mounted and waiting, and for a long moment Radolf stared at the one he had called half brother, then he strode to his destrier and swung up into the saddle.

  A cheer went up from the crowd when the two knights kicked their steeds and set off toward each other, then veered midfield and headed for the dowager queen's pavilion. Nearing her tent, they drew up their chargers, and Eleanor acknowledged their salutes with a nod of her head, then motioned for the proclamation to be read. A silence fell over the throng of witnesses as they were commanded to honor the outcome of this affair, and after the order had been issued, the trumpets blasted again, sending up a roaring cheer from the crowd. Saluting their queen again, the knights then reined their destriers around and headed toward their designated places.

  Jewel felt both pride and fear as she watched Amery draw on his helm and then take the lance Gunther handed him. Two half brothers faced each other with the same goal in mind, ordered to fight to the death, and her heart pounded loudly in her chest. She loved Amery and had agreed to spend the rest of her life with him, but deep inside her she wished the price for such commitment had not been quite so steep. She still did not want to believe that Radolf was guilty of the crimes against her family, even though she had listened to the stories Leta told, as well as Amery's recital of Ian's dying confession and Gunther's explanation of why Kennard had been killed. The Radolf she knew was kind and loving, and, in her mind, incapable of such a cowardly act. She bowed her head and silently renewed her prayer that God would watch over the man she loved, and that no matter what the outcome of this joust might be, she would be able to accept it.

  The trumpets sounded loud and clear again, cutting through the crisp, cold air to mark the start of the match. Her eyes still closed, she jumped when a warm hand reached over and squeezed hers.

  "'Tis the only way," Anne assured her once Jewel looked up. "Amery must prove his innocence to Queen Eleanor and all the people of England .. .. though we already know it."

  Jewel forced a smile and nodded. "Yea, 'tis the only way. But I cannot stop the feelings of guilt."

  "Guilt?" Anne questioned. "Why dost thou feel guilt?"

  "If what Amery suspects is truly Radolf's reason for seeing that I was spared, then 'tis because of me these two meet on the battlefield."

  "They meet by order of the dowager queen, Jewel, to decide the rightful lord of Wellington. This bout would have come to pass whether your family was murdered or not. The issue of Harcourt is another matter, and the one truly responsible— Lady Edlyn—will answer for it. Do not lay such guilt upon your shoulders." She leaned closer so that her words were heard only by Jewel. "Gunther has told me that the dowager queen has sent out her most trusted knights in search of the beggar who traveled the road that night and saw my husband and Amery along the way. He will redeem them."

  Any response Jewel might have made was cut short when the thundering of horses' hooves against the frozen ground demanded her full attention. She held her breath as she watched the destriers charge toward each other, their nostrils flared, ears back, and long legs stretching out in front of them in deep, powerful strides. The knights came together in an explosive crash, the tips of their lances striking their opponent's shields. Radolf's was torn from his hands, while Amery's deflected the blow. Whirling their steeds around, the two knights returned, to their boxes where Radolf was given another shield and a new lance, since the tip of his had splintered.

  They readied themselves and charged a second time. As they came together again, Radolf's lance caught the edge of Amery's shield, and Jewel gasped when she saw it glance off and strike his arm, forcing him to reel back and nearly plummet to the ground. His own missed Radolf completely, and the knight was quick to take advantage of it. Jerking hard on the reins, he spun his steed around and charged again without warning. Dazed from the first stunning blow, Amery was slow to react and barely had time to raise his shield before Radolf's lance hit it squarely in the center, throwing him off Conan's back as Radolf's charger raced on by. Rolling, he came to his feet in a flash, picked up his shield from where it had landed, and drew his sword.

  Wheeling his animal around, Radolf cast aside his lance once he saw Amery braced and. ready, and he dismounted quickly to pull his sword from his belt. Radolf's eyes gleamed beneath the shadow of his helm, for he believed the contest would soon draw to an end. Amery bore more weight than he and would tire much more quickly. With a cocky sneer on his lips, he raised his weapon and shield and started toward his foe.

  The clash of steel rent the air as Radolfs first attack was launched, but Amery deflected it easily with a well-positioned shield, and Radolf suddenly knew his foolishness in assuming, the knight would be an easy conquest. Amery's strength alone might see Radolf finished, he conclude, for when the blade had struck the thick metal of Amery's shield, it had sent a jolting tremor all the way up his arm and nearly rattled his teeth. He staggered back a step or two, his brow furrowed and sweat running down his face, and of a sudden, he was the one forced to defend himself, for Amery wasted no time swinging his heavy broadsword. Radolf caught the blow with most of his shield, but the tip of the thick blade dented his helm and sent Radolf down on one knee. Again, the clash of steel rang out as Amery continued the assault with a downward slash and fended off his opponent's attempt to harm him. Frantic to save himself, Radolf lashed out with his sword and hit Amery just below the knee, knocking the man to the ground and allowing himself the opportunity to rise. His chain mail saved Amery from any real injury, and any pain he might have suffered was ignored as he quickly came to his feet and squared off with his enemy.

  Steel struck steel time and time again and the blades flashed in the bright sunlight while their shrill peal blended into one continuous sound; Jewel watched in pained silence, knowing that the energy of each man was being sorely taxed and that one foolish, careless mistake by one or the other would bring the contest to an end. The thought had barely formed in her: mind when Radolf, thinking the advantage would be his if he held his sword in both hands, flung his shield away. Lunging with the tip of his broadsword pointed at Amery's chest, Radolf realized his error when Amery deftly thwarted the attack by swinging his shield in an outward motion to knock Radolf's weapon from his grip. Relentlessly, Amery finished the onslaught with a sweep of his own, catching Radolf across the side of his head, splitting open a gash in the knight's helm, and tumbling him to the ground.

  For a long while, Amery stood over the body of his dying half brother, watching the flow of blood poor from beneath Radolf's armor and trickle down his face and neck. He had known for years that it would come to this, and now that it was over, Amery truly wished there could have been another way. The young man's mind had been twisted from the start by a callous, unfeeling woman who had wanted nothing but power and wealth at any cost—even if it meant the death of her son. Thinking of that evil one, Amery glanced angrily toward Radolf's tent, wondering where the woman had gone, for he had seen Edlyn talking with Radolf there. It would give him great pleasure to raise his sword against her here and now, and let the blood of her son flow with hers.

  "Amery."

  Brought out of his reverie by the sound of his name on Radolf's lips, he turned back and knelt beside him, unnerved by the half-crazed look in his eyes.

  "My death will come much easier," he whispered with a sneer, "with my knowing that your father cast you aside for a son that wasn't even his."

  A puzzled frown came over Amery's face and he thought that perhaps he had misunderstood. Doffing his helm and setting it on the ground beside him, he asked, "What are you saying, Radolf?"

  The man's eyelids fluttered and it was obvious to Amery that he lingered close to death. "My mother was unfaithful. I am not Lord Ryland's son, but Lord Alcot's." He gave a feeble laugh at the shocked expression that came over Amery's face. "Y
ea, 'tis true. She told me... at my tent just now." A trembling sigh shook him. "Dost thou see the irony of it, Amery? I killed my own father because I had fallen in love with a woman I could never have .. . my own half sister. Jewel." He nodded weakly at his left hand. "Take off the gauntlet."

  Laying down his sword, Amery quickly did as he had been bidden, unaware that formalities had been dropped and that the dowager queen and Anne and Jewel, along with many others, had left the pavilion and were walking toward them. Nor did he sense their presence behind him as he stared down at the ring on Radolf's finger.

  Radolf closed his eyes, his strength waning. "I took it from his finger ... after I slew him."

  Jewel's hand flew to her mouth to stifle her gasp, and tears filled her eyes, for she had heard Radolf's confession.

  "Give it to Jewel," he begged weakly. 'Tell her, I love . .. her." His head sagged to one side as his last breath left him.

  Epilogue

  Burrowed deep beneath the fur pelts on the bed, Jewel I lovingly watched her husband stir the fire in the hearth against the cold October night, silently appraising the sleek, powerful muscles across his wide shoulders and the sinewy ripples of his back that narrowed to a lean waist. It was hard to imagine that nearly a year had passed since their first meeting at the inn on the road to Harcourt, or that within a few weeks she would give birth to their first child. The true lord of Wellington had returned to the castle and with him had come peace and good times while monies were being collected to free their king. Although Richard's brother, John, sought to take the throne, backed by greedy noblemen hoping to fatten their own purses, the people of England had banded together under Amery's guidance to see that justice was served and once again King Richard would reign.