A Witch's Quest

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  “I understand none of this!” Killian admitted.

  “Just go and keep yourself safe, Killian. I will be cautious in dealing with the king. Sure we’ll be allowed to be together soon, my love.”

  Killian gazed into her eyes with a distinct fear of what the future might hold for them. She recognized his dread immediately, but she perceived his deep sadness as well.

  “You know I have lost the child I carried?” she whispered to him as she touched her belly.

  “Aye!” He nodded to her sorrowfully.

  “There will be others!” she said in a hopeful tone. “In my heart I pray it will be so!” She attempted a courageous and confident smile as he bent over and they shared one more hurried embrace.

  “Go now!” Aine ordered.

  Alainn and Danhoul watched as the others disappeared and there were only the two of them left in the chamber. The men’s footsteps drew nearer and Alainn dreaded meeting the infamous ruler, especially now as her head still throbbed, and her heart despaired at the many quandaries they faced. She wasn’t certain how they would ever free themselves from this dire situation they found themselves in.

  The thought of Killian remaining in the tower left her heartsick. After learning so many secrets while her spirit freely roamed the castle, she longed to deal with the king and all of his many supporters by way of her vast magical powers, but she wasn’t certain how best to do so. If she simply allowed Killian to escape the king would surely be outraged and want to seek vengeance. His wrath in all likelihood would follow them all the way to Ireland. They would never know peace or perhaps never be allowed a life together, so she was well aware she would need to find a way to persuade or force the king to release them.

  Those months ago when she had lived apart from Killian she had done so with the intent of leaning toward her magic, learning all she could regarding her magical powers and perfecting them. She had thought her supernatural abilities could solve most any dilemma. However, it apparently counted for little here in a country where anyone associated with magical abilities or even suspected of any diversity would be labelled a witch and persecuted harshly.

  She had clearly seen it in her visions, that somehow her being here could spark a period of chaos and invoke a fear that could possibly create a witch hysteria that was not to come to pass for nearly a century. Even now she felt certain the thought was being planted into the minds of the king and those who could in little time make such devastation become truth. She knew she must be cautious and fear Cromwell and many other advisors who could influence the king’s thoughts. If the demon was instructing them, she knew he would advise them so that much more pain and devastation would occur for always the dark ones fed on such turmoil. She would need to think on it long and hard to decide if her magic would truly put her at an advantage in dealing with the king or simply see her soon imprisoned or worse.

  She would need to bide her time here with King Henry to discover how best to deal with the king. Perhaps she could simply seek the assistance of someone who would administer a poisonous potion to the king, for there were many who despised the man...although it would be murder and treasonous, and a dangerous consideration, it would involve no magic. For if she was found out to have supernatural abilities or if anyone even caught wind of such, she knew without question she would find herself bound to a fiery stake and burned alive. She had had a foreboding premonition. She had vividly seen it and worse yet, she had felt it and experienced it in its agonizing clarity in her visions. She shuddered at the possibility of such a hideously painful death, and the visions she had witnessed burned in her memories as fiercely as the flames. Yet if she did nothing in the way of freeing Killian, he could very well go to the block at the king’s whim, and that thought chilled her very soul.

  Perhaps she would need to enlist Danhoul and his supernatural powers as well, but he, too, would be then at risk. The Celtic gods seemed most selective with when they chose to assist them, and often seemed unwilling to interfere with the lives and woes of humankind. If they came to her aid she would be beholden to them and have no choice but to go off to a future time without her Killian, and that left her nearly as filled with dread as a painful death. Alainn glanced out the window and up toward the sky and the thunder rumbled loudly in response. Her powers reflected her fears and her moods and that was a dangerous consideration at the moment.

  She glanced at Danhoul and shuddered as the door was opened and she knew she would soon come face-to-face with King Henry VIII.

  She reasoned she had to fall upon a way to escape this country and get back home to their beloved Ireland for she could sense within her very bones time was running short for all of them...one way or another.

  Chapter Three

  “I demand to know where you are from! Where is it you live?” the king snarled unpleasantly.

  “I am from Ireland,” Alainn stated. She scowled as she stared into the ruddy displeasing face of King Henry VIII.

  She’d been forced to bear his company and his unpredictable moods and temperament for nearly a moon now, and she grew more impatient and disenchanted with each passing day. Her own ill-temper had begun to surface as well in knowing she had gained little toward what might benefit them in their escape from this country, or seeing Killian freed from the tower.

  She felt she walked a very fine line with the unstable and volatile king. She wasn’t even clear how to best contend with the man. In part she felt she may need to snare him, draw him in with her womanly wiles, charm and beguile him, perhaps even bewitch him. The thought made her skin crawl.

  She also knew she must be calculating and not attempt anything rash. She deduced he was far more intelligent and cunning than many gave him credit for, and that he was also unusually intuitive, which would not bode well in her favor if she hoped to read his mind or control it to any degree. She believed at one time his mind was remarkably brilliant and capable, more so than most, but through her powers of perception she realized an injury to his head he had suffered some time ago had greatly affected his mind. She sensed he was consumed in a darkness she had seen many a time before and for a man...arguably the most powerful man in the world to have such a growing cloudy murkiness ever-reaching into his soul, was not something to deal with on impulse or to take lightly. She knew she must be cautious, for she clearly sensed this man also claimed the gift of perceptiveness. That was undoubtedly a double-edged sword for she was not able to read him as easily as some, but it also made him a more difficult target to Cromwell and his other advisors who had hopes of leading the king to their way of thinking. She believed they intended to see him in league with the demon and whomever commanded him. She felt that they had a much larger purpose in mind, but she hadn’t been able to discover to what end they intended to employ the king.

  Alainn heard the king impatiently clear his throat waiting for her reply, and it pulled her from her musings. She glanced around the chamber where she’d always been brought when King Henry requested she take audience with him. The room was large, but not as elegant or adorned as Alainn might have suspected for the king of England, for she’d seen his immense throne room when she was between life and death and knew of his taste for opulence.

  In this chamber there was a large table in the corner. Upon it sat a quilled pen, an ink well, a wax pot and an enclosed candle. The chair beside the table, the only chair in the room, was covered in velvet cloth. Even though it was not a throne, it was perhaps the richest of furnishing in this chamber. The ceiling was high and domed and there were several windows of which she was ever-thankful. She welcomed the light even though it seemed the sun shone very little most days.

  Three swords were mounted above the table beside the Tudor crest, crossed together in a formation she was certain held some relevance unbeknownst to her. There were four paintings on the walls. Three were of people Alainn did not recognize. The fourth was an immense painting with a wide gold frame. It nearly filled the spacious wall on which it hung. It was of King Henr
y, obviously in his younger years. His appearance in the painting was far more appealing for he possessed a youthful attractiveness and he’d been clearly fitter. Now his face was round, his jowls pudgy, and his body plump. She determined he was not in sound health, and being a healer who also claimed magical intuitiveness, she knew he suffered from numerous maladies. She sensed the king had once been given to notable vanity. He’d been prideful of his appearance and his physical prowess. His decline of health and comeliness had consequently been a blow to the man and she reasoned this was in part why he was volatile and ill-tempered.

  Alainn felt King Henry’s eyes upon her, but rather than continue the undesired conversation, she boldly walked toward the window. She sat upon the small, simple window seat and stared out at the greenery of the garden beyond. She espied a small wren within the bushes. As she placed her hand to the window, the tiny bird turned to stare back at her and began to sing. It’s soft clear song cheered Alainn and she smiled in spite of the precariousness of her situation.

  She hoped to keep the king in a state of confusion in her regard, to keep him questioning her motives and unwise to her identity. She surmised she must be kept here in the castle long enough so that she could learn what she could to assist in Killian’s release, but to keep the king distanced. She did not wish to infuriate him to the point where he ordered her punished, yet she hoped to cause him to find her objectionable and disharmonious at the very least.

  However, his lingering curiosity had recently turned to intrigue and that was not something she desired in the least. She knew the king possessed a distinct weakness for women and that this very attraction and compulsion had seen him fall out with the entire Catholic church in his hunger to have Anne Boleyn for his bride. He had created a church of his own so that he could fulfill his desire to have her as his wife. Yet despite his alleged great love for her, his need for a male heir had caused him to listen intently to the rumors being said about her. He had seen Queen Anne, the woman he had claimed to love more than any other, callously declared an adulteress and had even resorted to alluding to the possibility she had been a witch. After spending weeks in the tower, she had been beheaded and Alainn well knew King Henry had already taken up with his third and present wife before his second had met the axe. Alainn was finally pulled from her thoughts by the angry demanding male voice of the king.

  “I bloody well know you’re from Ireland! You certainly sound Irish, and your physician who as of late seems more like a guard to you, has told me that much! What part of Ireland do you hail from? Where is it you dwell?”

  Alainn sighed as she replied.

  “I have resided in more than one location in the fair country of my birth. I have lived in Leister and in Munster, have kin in Connacht. I have dwelled in a cottage, two castles and allegedly in a cave for a time, although it was apparently only for a few short days after my birth therefore I have no memories of this,” she mused appearing to be intent in her thoughts and unaffected by his bursts of temper.

  “If you do not tell me where you live or who your husband is, I will have you sent to the dungeon!”

  “You would have your daughter’s rescuer, the woman who saved the life of your own wee child sent to the dungeon? That does seem more than a trifle ungrateful. But come to it, why would you not send me to the tower, do I not rate such importance as those who are held within?”

  “You are an impossible woman! Never have I seen the likes of a woman who would openly defy me in such a blatant manner! Do you not value your own skin? Simply answer my inquiry and tell me the name of your husband.”

  “Why is it relevant you learn who my husband is; ’tis clear I am of little importance to him or sure he might have sought to find me by now? Perhaps he has taken a ship and set off for the Americas. He has previously spoken of that possible endeavor. Or sure he’s simply seen how entirely lovely the English maidens are. Alas, that must be the truth of it then; it’s sure he’s become besotted by another woman and has taken up with her. Women do tend to fawn over him like flies to a dung pile. It would not be unlikely that it has finally happened so. He has oft told me I am an impossibly difficult woman to manage and that I am of uncommonly strong-will. I’d suggest he is finally simply well pleased to be done with me!”

  “I doubt that, woman. For though you are undeniably exasperating, never have I looked upon a face or a form as beautiful as your own!” The man appeared to be completely enticed by Alainn and she purposely smiled up at him.

  “And if I tell you the name of my husband might I then have one request in gratitude for seein’ your wee child safe?”

  “And would you ask to be returned to your country?”

  “Aye, it is to be hoped that will be possible. But would it not be best to send all of the Irish within your castle, the tower and your city back to Ireland? Sure you would be glad to be done with us after all the recent unpleasantness?”

  The king’s head turned sharply to look at her with that statement and she knew she’d pushed too far with daring to mention anything of a political nature. She hastily posed another inquiry in hopes it would take away his newfound suspicions in her regard.

  “Does your wife fare well with this child she carries?” Alainn saw him turn away once more as she attempted to learn information from him without causing further suspicion.

  “Yes, my physician says she is remarkably well, no harm will befall her or the child. He will grow to be a strong man and be king of this country.”

  “Aye, he will be king,” she agreed.

  “And my queen and I will have many other sons as well.”

  “’Tis unlikely, Your Majesty!” she dared to remark.

  “What do you mean it is unlikely; do you dare to consider yourself a seer?”

  Alainn smiled at him with unspoken promise.

  “If you keep lookin’ at me in that manner, and spendin’ time with another woman, sure it won’t be doin’ your marriage any consideration.” She thickly emphasized her Irish accent in talking to him.

  The man pulled his eyes from her and walked to the table where he heavily dropped into his chair.

  “You bait me and then berate me for showing interest, you are a cursed woman!”

  “Aye, you are not the first man to have made such an observation. ’Tis easily enough rectified. Simply let me go and free my countrymen with me. You shall be done with me and I shall be no further vexation to you, Your Majesty!”

  “You want the young physician set free?” His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. His lips pursed and his jowls wobbled as he spoke.

  “Aye, he is my valued friend and he has done you no wrong. I ask that any other Irishmen here in your country be allowed safe passage to our homeland as well. As a token of your appreciation in seeing your daughter safe, I would request they be allowed to journey home...all of them.”

  She was well aware the king appeared to be attempting to decipher her deceptive mind, but as she read his mind she knew that whenever he had been near her in the past weeks, he could think of nothing more than having her. As she aptly listened to his thoughts she knew a part of him feared her for he reasoned he had never met a woman who seemed to care so little for her own well-being. She continued to hear his thoughts and knew well enough he had attempted to locate her husband, but in truth he wasn’t entirely certain she was actually wed to anyone or that a husband actually existed. Alainn prayed he would never discover that Killian was her husband for the results could be catastrophic for all of them.

  Alainn allowed herself to momentarily forget her loathsome guise of charming the king while gaining his trust and confidence enough to allow her to manipulate his thoughts and his actions. She knew it was a dangerous consideration for it must be done gradually if it was to be accomplished with any degree of capability. If it happened too quickly or forcefully the king could easily be driven past the brink of madness. The consideration truly did not cause her as much moral discord as perhaps it should, but she also believed Cromwe
ll and the king’s other advisors would hold even more power if the king became entirely unfit to rule. If the demon controlled them as she believed, that would be an unthinkable consideration to have the demon ruling the most powerful country in the world.

  It was imperative she find a way to see King Henry sign a decree stating they were freed, for if she and Killian and Danhoul should simply escape the castle by supernatural or any other means without being granted freedom by the king, the ramifications for the Irish people may be far-reaching and long-lasting. If she simply magically created a decree without the king’s knowledge or without planting the seed in his mind that he would release her, as well as Danhoul and Killian, they would all suffer...of that she was certain.

  Her thoughts went to Killian who was imprisoned within the infamous tower of London. Her heart ached with longing to return to Ireland with her young, brave and handsome husband, Killian O’Brien, to their beautiful country and their castle, to their once cherished life together. Although it seemed they had never been entirely without turmoil and upheaval, in their lives and in their marriage, their present predicament and immediate future appeared dismal at best.

  They had come to England nearly four months ago with the intention of Killian and two other Irish chieftains meeting with King Henry VIII, discussing his rumored intentions for ruling Ireland. They had hoped to reason with the king and discourage any further invasions on Irish shores, to prevent bloodshed and loss of Irish lives. It was hoped to have taken days, perhaps weeks at most. But now they’d been here for over three moons and Killian sat in the tower because he would not bend to the unreasonable king’s every whim. He had ordered him to take part in sword fights with many opponents simply to entertain the king. Initially it was to be one man, one opponent, one sword fight, but the king had not surprisingly insisted Killian keep on with the challenges. Because Killian was unusually tall, unquestionably strong and muscularly built, and because he possessed vast skill and talents with a sword, the king had been well entertained and longed to search for an English opponent who might better him.