A Passionate Magic (15 page)

He woke once during the night. The fire had
burned down to glowing red embers. Otherwise, the cave was dark and
still. He was not afraid of the dark. There was nothing left for
him to fear. When he glimpsed a wisp of white in the darkness he
did not even lift his head. Surely it was only the last bit of
smoke from his fire, drifting across the cave and disappearing into
the rock wall.

“I don’t understand it,” Emma said. “Dain is
at Trevanan, no one saw him enter the castle, he did not visit me
last night, yet this morning I discovered a sprig of rosemary on
his pillow.”

“Well, it is his castle,” Hawise said in her
sensible way, “and Dain has lived in it for most of his life. He
probably knows of some secret way to come and go. The cook tells me
he used to sneak off when he was a boy, to get away from his
mother’s scolding, and he would walk along the cliffs to Trevanan,
or ride his pony there.”

“I suppose he could have entered without
being seen,” Emma said, staring at the rosemary in her hand. Tiny
pink flowers starred the green needles along the branch. Rosemary
was a sign of love and fidelity, as well as of memory. “But if Dain
did come to our room last night, why didn’t he wake me?” She met
Hawise’s eyes squarely, too perplexed to be embarrassed by her own
question.

“I don’t know, my lady,” Hawise replied. She
bent to pull up the quilt and smooth it over the bed. “Perhaps he
couldn’t stay long and only wanted to leave a token of his warm
feelings.”

“What, ride all the way from Trevanan just to
lay this on the pillow?” Emma frowned at the sprig of rosemary. “It
doesn’t make sense.” She could think of no reason why Dain would
not wake her to embrace her.

“You will have to ask Lord Dain what his
reason was,” Hawise said.

“So I shall. Perhaps I will ride to Trevanan
today, to see him.”

“Sloan says the houses are almost finished.”
Hawise gave one of the pillows a hearty whack to fluff it up and
then replaced it on the bed. “Dain may well come home before you
can go to Trevanan.”

Perhaps that was what the rosemary was for,
to remind her not to forget him until he did return to Penruan. But
he
had
returned, and he had not come into their bed. Still
puzzled by the herbal offering, Emma laid the rosemary aside,
carefully wrapping it in the same scrap of old linen in which she
kept the blue cornflower that had been her first gift.

All thought of a ride to Trevanan was quashed
in mid-morning, when Sloan sent Blake to tell Emma a messenger had
just arrived from Lady Richenda, bearing the news that she would be
at Penruan in time for the midday meal.

“Someone must hurry to Trevanan to inform
Dain,” Emma said to the page.

“Sloan has already sent one of the
men-at-arms,” Blake said.

“The cook will want to know.” Emma’s thoughts
were whirling with the details of what must be done before her
mother-in-law arrived. “Some special dish ought to be prepared to
welcome her. Blake, can you tell me what sort of food Lady Richenda
especially likes?”

“She doesn’t like any food more than any
other,” Blake said. “Besides, she’d be very angry if the cook
deviated from the menus she gave her before she left Penruan. Lady
Richenda isn’t going to be happy, anyway.” Blake’s youthful face
was somber.

“Do you mean because I am here?” Emma asked.
“But she knew I was to marry Dain. It’s no secret that my coming
here is the reason why Lady Richenda has been absent from Penruan
for weeks.”

“I do think Lady Richenda is expecting you to
be a little girl,” Blake said.

“And still she went away!” Emma exclaimed.
“Leaving a little girl to the care of servants, with no woman to
greet her or ease her fears about being in a new place. That was
not kindly done. I am glad it was I who came to Penruan, instead of
my younger sister.”

Blake said nothing to this declaration, and
Emma wished she had not spoken her thoughts aloud, for the boy
looked most unhappy. He looked even more unhappy later, when Lady
Richenda arrived and swept into the great hall like a disdainful
queen. She fixed her sharp gaze upon Blake.

“Well?” Lady Richenda greeted the boy. “What
mischief have you been doing during my absence, for which I will
now be obliged to punish you?”

“No mischief at all, my lady.” Blake went to
one knee before her and bowed his head. “Welcome home, Lady
Richenda. I am glad to see you in good health.”

“You know nothing about the state of my
health,” Lady Richenda said. “As for mischief, I know you too well
to believe you have been behaving yourself during these last few
weeks.”

“Indeed, my lady,” said Emma, coming forward,
“Blake has been very well behaved.”

“Who are you?” Lady Richenda demanded,
glaring at her.

“Allow me to join Blake in welcoming you to
Penruan, my lady.” Emma sank into a curtsy.

“I asked who you are,” said Lady
Richenda.

“I am Emma of Wroxley. I am Dain’s wife.”

“What?” Lady Richenda stared at her. “I
expected a child of seven.”

”Yes, I know, my lady, but my younger sister
has been ill and so I came in her place.” Emma was determined not
to antagonize her mother-in-law, so she kept to herself her opinion
of the way Lady Richenda had absented herself from Penruan during
the period when Dain’s bride was expected to arrive.

”A substitute bride, are you? No doubt your
coming was the result of some vile trick perpetrated by Gavin of
Wroxley,” Lady Richenda said. She did not lower her voice, which,
being both loud and shrill, carried easily to every corner of the
great hall and beyond. When she ceased speaking a sudden stillness
fell in the hall, as if everyone there was waiting to learn what
would happen next.

Emma chose not to make the angry reply in
defense of Gavin that immediately sprang to her lips. Instead, she
took a moment to study her opponent.

Lady Richenda was tall and thin, her height
emphasized by her severe dark robe and her plain white linen
wimple. Her features were similar to Dain’s, and she possessed eyes
of the same startling blue-green shade. But where Dain’s eyes could
warm and smile on occasion, Lady Richenda gave the impression of
holding no warmth at all. Her sharp-boned face was gaunt, as though
the features were honed by long illness or by intense religious
fervor, or both. For just an instant Emma felt a spurt of pity for
her mother-in-law, until she saw the flash of malice in Lady
Richenda’s eyes and knew the woman was going to be an implacable
enemy to any hope of finding happiness with Dain.

“Your inability to speak and answer my
accusation,” declared Lady Richenda, “is the result of guilt.”

“Not so, my lady,” Emma said. “I have come
here to be an instrument of peace between your son and my
father.”

“Peace!” Lady Richenda’s shrill tone made
clear her opinion of that idea.

“For my willing presence here, I deserve a
respectful greeting equal to the one I gave to you,” Emma said.

“You will get no such greeting from me,” Lady
Richenda told her. “I do not want you here.”

“Mother.” Dain strode into the hall, his
spurs jingling softly in the tense silence. “Welcome home.” As
Blake had done before him, Dain went to one knee. He would have
lifted his mother’s hand to his lips, but she snatched it away.

“What have you done in my absence?” Lady
Richenda’s voice held an awful warning.

Dain rose to his feet, smiling as if he had
not noticed the odd stillness in the hall, or the way every person
there stood unmoving, watching the scene.

“I see you have met my wife,” Dain said,
still smiling. “I am sorry I wasn’t here to present her to you,
myself. I am sure Emma has made you welcome.”

“I am not a guest, to be made welcome in my
own home,” Lady Richenda said with icy dignity. She looked from
Dain to Emma and back again. “Have you bedded her?”

“That is not your concern,” Dain
responded.

“Indeed, it is! I will know the truth. How
did she trick you into bed?”

“I do believe this is a matter we ought to
discuss calmly, in a more private place,” Emma said.

“How dare you tell me where to speak!” Lady
Richenda stood still as a statue, her face like stone. Only her
burning eyes and her shrill voice betrayed any emotion.

“Emma is right,” Dain said. “The great hall
at midday, before servants and men-at-arms, is not the place to
discuss such an intimate matter.”

“Will you take her part?” cried Lady
Richenda. “Choose your enemy’s daughter over me? She has bewitched
you!”

Emma gasped, wondering if Lady Richenda was
able to discern her magical power. Then she realized it was merely
a figure of speech, the worst thing that Lady Richenda could
imagine. From the corner of her eye Emma saw Father Maynard enter
the hall.

“The Commandments say, ‘Honor thy father and
thy mother,’ ” Lady Richenda intoned, speaking to Dain.

“And our Blessed Lord said that a man shall
leave his father and mother and cleave unto his wife,” Father
Maynard said.

“Do not presume to contradict me in this,”
Lady Richenda snapped at him. “I will have obedience from my
son.”

“You will have honor and respect,” said Dain,
“but do not forget who is lord of this castle. Now, if you wish to
continue this conversation, we will do so in my chamber.”

Lady Richenda directed a cold look at him
before she turned and headed for the tower stairs. Dain put out a
hand to Emma, to usher her toward the steps. She held back.

“Father Maynard,” Emma said, “will you come,
too? That is, if you agree, Dain?”

“Yes, I do,” Dain responded at once. “Come
along, priest; we may need you as a peacemaker.”

“What is this?” cried Lady Richenda as she
took in the refurbished lord’s chamber. “Who has dared to make
these changes without my approval?”

“Emma has my permission for everything she
has done in this room,” Dain said. “I am far more comfortable now
than I ever was in the past.”

“You do not need new bed hangings, or
cushions,” Lady Richenda declared, almost spitting out the words.
“You do not need comforts, my son. What you require is boldness and
determination of purpose if you are to defeat your enemy. Let me
remind you that your enemy is this creature’s parent.”

Emma bit her lip and remained silent, waiting
to hear what Dain would say. She was pleased by the quick way in
which he had defended the alterations she was continuing to make in
his room.

“I have not forgotten anything you have
taught me,” Dain said to his mother. He gestured toward the
cushioned chair, offering the seat to her. When she refused with a
haughty shake of her head, Dain sat down. At once Emma went to
stand behind the chair, as she had often seen Mirielle do with
Gavin. Emma put one hand on Dain’s shoulder and was encouraged when
he did not shrug it off or tell her to remove it. Lady Richenda
noticed, and her eyes narrowed.

“Why did you not send Emma back to her father
as soon as you saw that she was a grown woman?” Lady Richenda
demanded of her son.

“You know as well as I that the marriage was
made at the will of King Henry. By the terms he imposed on Gavìn
and me, I could not refuse to accept my wife,” Dain said
mildly.

“Then defy the king!” cried Lady
Richenda.

“I will not.”

“What you mean,” said Lady Richenda with
great contempt, “is that you want to bed her again. Dain, where is
your resolve? Where is the hatred for anyone of Udo’s blood that I
have tried so hard to instill in you?”

“My lady, I beg of you,” Father Maynard
protested, “cease this talk of hatred. Vengeance belongs to the
Lord, not to mere mortals.”

“I shall become the Lord’s right hand,
wreaking His vengeance for the wrongs done to my husband and his
father. I shall do the Lord’s work, if my son will not!”

Lady Richenda’s fierce blue-green gaze met
and clashed with Emma’s, and Emma trembled inwardly, for she
perceived in Lady Richenda a true fanatic. The woman hated her
beyond reason, and Emma was sure if Lady Richenda ever learned
about her magical power, she would use the information as a weapon
against her, and against those whom she loved.

Therefore, Emma decided, she could not tell
Dain the truth. If she did, he might reveal her magical ability to
his mother, either inadvertently or deliberately. Emma’s heart sank
within her as she contemplated the lie of omission that she had
intended to remedy at her first opportunity and now must maintain
indefinitely. Lady Richenda had just driven a wedge of dishonesty
between husband and wife, harming their marriage without ever
knowing it.

“Lady Richenda,” said Father Maynard in a
stern voice, “you cannot know what the Lord’s will is. It is
possible that the Lord wants peace between Penruan and
Wroxley.”

“What / want,” Lady Richenda told him, “is
for you to say Holy Mass in thanksgiving for my safe return home
before this enemy creature was able to cause any more harm to
Penruan than she has already done. I have fasted since rising this
morning; therefore, you will conduct the service before the midday
meal. I will be in the chapel within half an hour, and I expect
everyone who is in the great hall to attend. You may tell them
so.”

“My lady, I believe the midday meal is ready
to be served,” Father Maynard said.

“Then tell the servants to put the food on
the tables before they go to the chapel,” Lady Richenda
ordered.

“The meal will be cold before the Mass is
over,” Emma protested. “That’s unfair to the men-at-arms who have
been on guard duty since dawn and who need warming food.”

“Are you claiming their bodies are more
important than their immortal souls?” asked Lady Richenda.

“I am saying that both are important,” Emma
said, and would have gone on to suggest that the food be kept hot
in the kitchen, but Lady Richenda stopped her.