A Passionate Magic (16 page)

“You are wrong,” Lady Richenda declared in
the voice of one who is absolutely sure of herself. “Nothing is
more important than a person’s immortal soul, and if you think
differently, then you are doomed to a most unpleasant surprise in
the Hereafter. Dain, I expect to see you in the chapel.” Lady
Richenda stalked out of the room, pausing only long enough to
indicate with a fierce look that Father Maynard should follow
her.

“Dain, I am sorry,” Emma said. “It was not my
intention to quarrel with your mother.”

“Then see to it that you do not quarrel with
her in the future.” He rose from the chair but did not look at
her.

“I fear it will be a difficult task. She does
not like me.”

“Considering the bloodshed that lies between
our families, can you blame her?”

“I thought she would accept the king’s will.”
When he did not respond at once, Emma went to him and laid her
hands on his rigid back. “Dain, please look at me.”

He turned to meet her eyes, but there was no
warmth in him. This was the same cold and distant man who had
confronted her on her arrival at Penruan, and she knew it was his
mother’s harsh words that had changed him from the gentler soul she
had just begun to know, the lover who had shown her unimagined
delights.

“I want to thank you,” she said, hoping to
see in him some slight return of kindness.

“For what?” The words were abrupt, clipped
off between his gritted teeth.

“For the gifts,” she said, and let her hands
stray upward along his arms, feeling the hard muscles that tensed
beneath her stroking gestures. When she touched one finger to the
corner of his mouth, he turned his head away.

”What gifts?” he asked.

“The flower, and the herb,” she said, smiling
at him.

Dain frowned at her as if he did not
understand what she was talking about, but before he could respond,
Hawise came into the room.

“I am sorry to interrupt you,” Hawise said.
“Lady Richenda insists that both of you must join her in the chapel
at once.”

“Yes, I know,” Dain said.

When he started to pull away from her, Emma
went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He made no response, but stood
still for a moment, then turned his back on her and went out the
door.

“
I
have not seen that disreputable
squire of yours,” Lady Richenda remarked to Dain when Mass was over
and the inhabitants of Penruan were finally assembled in the great
hall for a very late midday meal. “Dare I hope you have finally had
the good sense to take my advice and send Robert away?”

They were sitting at the high table, eating a
meat pie that ought to have been steaming hot but instead was cold,
and a rather unsavory cold vegetable stew. Over Emma’s protests
Lady Richenda refused to allow any of the food to be reheated,
saying denial of comfort was good for the soul. The men-at-arms
seemed to be making up for the lack of hot food by drinking more
wine and ale than usual, and the great hall was becoming noisy.
Emma could riot help wondering if the noise was an attempt on the
part of the men to blot out the constant, strident sounds of Lady
Richenda’s irritating voice.

Dain was sitting between his wife and his
mother, and at Lady Richenda’s unkind words Emma saw his hand
clench around his wine goblet, while his mouth thinned in the way
she was beginning to recognize as a sign of tightly reined anger.
She marveled that his mother did not notice and stop her prying
about Robert’s absence.

”I trust we will not see him again,” Lady
Richenda said.

“No, you will not,” Dain replied. “Robert was
killed recently while fighting outlaws.”

“Was he?” Lady Richenda put down the sliver
of cheese she had been nibbling on. Bowing her head she made the
sign of the cross, then clasped her hands and whispered a brief
prayer. When she was finished she looked at Dain with no hint of
warmth or sympathy in her gaze. “I always disapproved of your
decision to take that creature of sin into your personal service.
At least he died in a good cause. I suppose that thought will
comfort you.” She picked up her cheese again and resumed her
meal.

“How can you be so hard-hearted?” Emma cried,
unable to keep quiet any longer. “Robert was your grandchild.”

“He was a bastard,” said Lady Richenda, as if
that coldly uttered statement explained her apparent indifference
to a tragic loss.

“I only met Robert once before he rode off to
fight and die,” Emma said, “but he seemed to be a good lad, and
devoted to his father. And Dain loved him.”

“That’s enough, Emma.” Dain’s voice was
quiet, his hand on Emma’s gentle. “I thank you for your kind words
in my son’s behalf, but please, say no more.”

“Is that how you did it?” asked Lady
Richenda, leaning forward to look at Emma across Dain.

“Did what? Emma asked her.

“Did you lure my son into your bed by
pretending to share his unseemly grief over a child born out of
filthy sin? Did you take advantage of his sorrow and use it to
soften his heart against his sworn enemy?”

“My lady,” gasped Father Maynard, who was
sitting on Lady Richenda’s other side, “I do protest your unfounded
accusations.”

“So do I,” Emma said. ”Lady Richenda, I am
not Dain’s enemy, I am his wife.”

“Not for long,” said Lady Richenda.

“My lady!” Father Maynard exclaimed, openly
horrified by the threat in her words.

“Be quiet, all of you!” Dain thundered. “If
you cannot be still, then leave the table. I will have peace while
I eat!”

There was silence in response to Dain’s
command, but there was no peace in Emma’s heart. As if in protest
against all the unpleasant emotions she was trying to conceal, her
stomach rebelled. She could eat nothing more and waved away a bowl
of egg custard flavored with almonds, offering only a weak smile of
apology to the servant who carried the bowl.

As soon as Dain rose from the table,
signaling the end of the meal, Emma excused herself and fled to the
calm safety of the stillroom. There she heated water on the brazier
and made an infusion, steeping mint leaves in the boiling water
until their fragrance was released into the air. She dipped some of
the infusion into a pottery cup, then sat on a stool by the
worktable, holding the cup in both hands as she sipped at the
mint-flavored liquid.

“Dain was beginning to trust me, and I know
he desired me,” she said, thinking aloud. ”We might have created a
good marriage, if only we had been granted more time together
before his mother returned. But how can I convince him to give up
this feud when Lady Richenda is so set against my family?”

She took another gulp of the hot mint brew,
feeling it beginning to settle her stomach. Slowly, warmth and
courage returned to her.

“There must be something I can do to bring
peace to both our families; it’s why I came here, after all. I will
pay careful attention to everything that happens, I will keep my
eyes open and listen well, and I
will
discover a way. I
must!”

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp
knock on the stillroom door. Before Emma could respond, the door
was pushed open and Blake stumbled into the room. He was clutching
at his right thigh with both hands.

“My lady,” Blake gasped, “Sloan sent me. He
thought you’d be here, and I prayed you would be. I’ve hurt my leg.
Please help me.”

“Oh, Blake!” Emma set down her cup and went
to him. She did not need to hear his fragmented explanation of an
accident while he was practicing with a battle-ax to see that the
gash just above his right knee was a painful wound and could have
been a dangerous one.

She made him sit on the stool she had just
vacated while she removed his shoe and cut away his blood-soaked
hose so she could better examine the wound.

“You are fortunate it wasn’t deeper,” she
said. To distract Blake from the pain and fear she was certain he
was feeling, she began to explain what she was about to do. “The
wound won’t require stitching, although later we will have to ask
Hawise to sew another leg on your hose. But that’s a small matter.
No, don’t touch the cut. Let it bleed a bit until I gather what
I’ll need. The mint water I brewed a while ago has cooled enough
for me to use it to clean the wound, and I have a supply of sanicle
that I brought with me from Wroxley. It’s the best herb for
treating open wounds. I’ll soon have your leg treated and bandaged,
and if you are careful not to get dirt into the cut until the skin
closes, you should suffer no permanent damage. You will have a
stiff leg for a time, but you can work out the stiffness with
exercise. I’m sure either Dain or Sloan will be happy to tell you
how to do that.”

Blake was looking a little pale, so she gave
him some wine mixed with water and a few drops of poppy syrup to
hearten him and take away the worst of the pain, and then she set
to work on his leg. She was just finishing with the bandage when
Dain arrived.

“Sloan told me the boy was hurt. How are you,
Blake?” Dain ruffled Blake’s dark hair.

“He will be well enough in a day or two,”
Emma answered for him.

“Be more careful the next time you handle a
sharp blade,” Dain warned Blake. Then, to Emma, he said, “Thank
you. When I heard what happened, I feared I might lose a second
potential knight.”

“No chance of that. The wound is a clean one.
I don’t believe it will fester,” Emma responded, warmed by the
light she perceived in Dain’s eyes. “Blake ought to lie down and
stay quiet for a while, though, so the bleeding doesn’t begin
again.”

“And put on your second pair of hose,” Dain
advised, chuckling at the sight of Blake’s bare leg and his
none-too-clean foot.

“I will.” Blake pulled on his shoe, then
stood and attempted a cautious step. “Ow! Oh! It doesn’t hurt too
much,” he said, glancing at Dain.

“As I expected,” Dain told him, “you will
grow up to become a brave knight.”

“Yes, my lord. It’s what I hope to do.” Blake
limped toward the door.

Behind Blake’s back Dain and Emma exchanged a
smile of adult understanding that lasted only an instant, until
Lady Richenda stalked into the still-room, with Father Maynard in
attendance.

“How dare you use this room without my
permission!” Lady Richenda exclaimed, coming to a halt just a few
inches away from Emma.

“I have Dain’s permission to use the room,”
Emma said, speaking as calmly as she could when confronted by Lady
Richenda’s cold outrage.

“Why?” Lady Richenda turned to her son.
“Cooking herbs are stored in this room. Only the cook or I may
enter it. Why have you entrusted the key to this outsider?”

“Because Emma asked it of me,” Dain said with
remarkable patience. “Because I believe she can do some good with
her herbal remedies.”

“Blake!” Lady Richenda had noticed the boy,
who was standing partly hidden behind the door. One skinny hand
reached out to grab Blake by the ear and drag him forth. As soon as
Lady Richenda got a good look at him, she dropped her hand and
stepped back as if in shock. “Why, you are half naked! As usual,
you are a disgrace to your name and to my service. If you wish to
remain my page, you will explain to me at once what is the meaning
of your present state of undress.”

“Blake was injured, as you can see by his
bandage.” Stepping forward, Emma put a protective arm around the
boy. “In order to treat his wound, it was necessary to cut off one
leg of his hose.”

“And you allowed her to do this, knowing how
I consider treatment of injuries and illnesses to be in opposition
to the Will of the Lord?” Lady Richenda turned to Dain again. “Have
you no faith at all? Those whom the Lord favors will recover from
their afflictions without mortal intervention. I suppose you have
invited that witch, Agatha, here in my absence, as well as
admitting your enemy wife to my private room?”

“The room was virtually unused,” Emma said,
so appalled by Lady Richenda’s cruel viewpoint that for the moment
she could think of no other argument.

“The room belongs to me. Return the key to me
at once. I do not want you or that godless, wicked Agatha to come
in here ever again, to practice your vile herbal treatments. And as
for this immoral page, he also belongs to me, and I intend to see
him properly chastised for his nakedness!” Lady Richenda pointed a
skeletal finger at Blake.

“He is not naked, only bare-legged,” Emma
said. She sent a look of appeal in Dain’s direction, hoping he
would speak up to protect Blake. To her relief, Dain did not fail
her.

“In fact, Mother, I gave Blake to Emma, to
attend her,” Dain said.

“First my stillroom, then my page? Where is
your loyalty, Dain?” Lady Richenda demanded.

“My loyalty lies where it has always lain,”
Dain told her, “with Penruan, and with the folk whose liege lord I
am. The people of Trevanan have Agatha to care for their illnesses
and injuries, but for too long those who live here in the castle
have had no healer. Emma’s knowledge of herbs is extensive, and so
far she has served us well. She will continue to do so.”

”You cannot trust her!” Lady Richenda cried.
“She is one of Udo’s spawn.” She looked as if she wanted to say
much more. Dain’s furious face stopped her.

“I will not be caught in a quarrel between my
mother and my wife,’ Dain said. “Emma will not exceed the
permission I have given her. You, Mother, will not prevent her from
carrying out the duties I have granted her leave to perform. I
trust both of you understand me, and will obey my wishes.”

“But-!” Lady Richenda exclaimed, plainly
about to say much more.

“Thank you, my lord,” Emma said, bowing her
head to him.

“Ah, you are clever!” Lady Richenda cried,
turning on her. “Meek and mild, and agreeable in bed, too, I’ll
wager. But you won’t win. Dain is my son, and you are only an
interloper, not to be trusted. You will not last long.”