Forbidden Magic (40 page)

S
ecretively, Amery had watched Jewel carry little Ella from the great hall and had listened as Anne told her husband that Jewel had insisted on putting their child to bed. As did Gunther, he too wondered if Jewel would be returning to the celebration, and he relaxed-inwardly when Anne assured her husband that Jewel would. But as the minutes dragged by, Amery feared Jewel had had a change of mind and had gone to their chambers for the night. All he had done this eve had been for her benefit, and he had planned more to come. If she did not return to the hall, his scheming would have been for naught. A frown settled on his brow, and he absently left the table where he sat, his empty chalice in hand, and strolled to the hearth as he considered different ways to lure her from their room.

"More wine, Sir Amery?" a soft voice beside him asked.

As he glanced up at the one who spoke, an idea blossomed in his head, for he had noticed her subtle beauty and the shy, but encouraging, look the serving maid had given him. His gaze traveled down the slender length of her, then drifted toward the steps leading to the chambers above. Jewel would certainly not remain in their room if he brought this young maid there. With a self-assured smile on his handsome face, he straightened, stepped toward her, and draped his arm around her neck.

"Only if you will share it with me," he said, holding out the cup for her to fill it.

"If thou so command, m'lord." She smiled, lifting the pitcher she held.

The devilish grin sparkled in his eyes as he watched the dark red liquid cascade into his chalice. Yea, Jewel would most certainly not choose to remain when he entered their room with this pretty young thing on his arm. He nodded toward the revelers who laughed and enjoyed themselves close by.

"Then let us seek privacy away from the noise," he suggested, turning them toward the stairs. When they had reached the top and had started down the hall toward his chamber, he asked, "What is your name? And why haven't I seen you before?"

"Judith, sire," she replied. "And you have seen me. . . many times. 'Tis your thoughts were always of another, and therefore passed me over."

Her answer caught him so completely off guard that he came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the corridor. "What?" he asked, frowning and taking his arm away.

"The Lady Jewel, sire," she explained. "Everyone at Burchard knows of your feelings for her." A light blush rose in her cheeks and she lowered her eyes." 'Tis why I was surprised when you asked me to share your wine."

Tawny brows gathered in a fierce frown, and Amery turned to glare back down the hall. What nonsense did she speak? Were all who lived in the castle fools or just idle gossips with nothing better to do with their time than speculate on something that was not there? His irritable gaze fell on Judith again. Well, he'd give them something on which to bend their imaginations. Taking her arm somewhat hurtfully, he guided them to the door of his room, lifted the latch, and swung the portal wide, expecting to find Jewel sitting in the chair before the fire. The anger on his face turned to surprise and confusion, for not only was she not sitting in the chair, but the bed and room were empty as well.

"Is something wrong, sire?" Judith asked.

Amery's puzzled look swept the room again. Where could she be? Nearly an hour had passed since she had taken the child from the great ball, enough time to see the babe sleeping soundly. Had she, perhaps, stayed in Lady Anne's room to comfort the child and fallen asleep as well? Yea, that was surely what had happened. He turned his attention back to the serving maid.

"Dost thou know where Lady Jewel took the child?" he asked.

Judith's own brow wrinkled in confusion. "Young Ella, sire."

'"Yea," he replied impatiently. "I wish to speak with her."

"But Lady Jewel is not with the child, m'lord."

"What?" he said, more confused than ever.

"Lady Jewel gave the child to me and asked that I put her to bed."

Suddenly, all the things he and Jewel had discussed in their chambers two days before came rushing back to mind. At the time, he had thought she only played with him when she had spoken of leaving him and how he would not be able to forget her. Now he knew differently. The crazy wench had flown. Moaning inwardly, he closed his eyes and raised his chin in the air. And she didn't just plan to leave him. She intended to return to Harcourt! Damn! She'd be riding right back into Radolf's trap. Looking at the young maid standing before him again, he roughly seized her arm.

"Where? Where were you when she gave you the child?"

"In the kitchen, sire."

"And did you see in what direction she went afterward?"

Judith shook her head. "Nay, m'lord."

Shoving his chalice in her hand, he ordered, "Find Sir Gunther and tell him of this while I talk with the servants in the kitchen. Tell him to meet me there."

"Yea, m'lord," Judith replied, watching him rush off toward the stairs.

* * *

A thorough search of the castle was made once Amery learned that no one had seen Jewel in more than an hour or knew where she had gone after she had given Ella to the maid, and his worry increased. But his anger erupted once Rickward informed him that Hadwin was nowhere to be found either. He had assumed she bad gone off alone and that tracking her down would be simple enough since she was not familiar with the land surrounding Burchard and getting off the Isle of Wight would be quite difficult for her. Now it was a different matter. Hadwin knew exactly where to take her, and with the advantage they had, it was possible they were already boarding the galley that would take them to the mainland. Ordering all but Rickward and Stafford to stay behind and secure the castle, Gunther told Amery they would meet him at the stables once they had donned their armor. A few minutes later, the four knights thundered across the drawbridge and out into the snowy darkness.

"Ease thy worries, Amery," Gunther said after they had traveled a mile or so in silence. "We will find them,"

"Will we?" Amery challenged. "The snow is deep and still falling. Even the night is our enemy. I fear we wander in circles while they board the ship that will take them further out of reach."

"Yea, 'tis true we cannot see their tracks, but we know where they are headed, and 'tis in that direction we shall journey, and quickly. Our advantage is Lady Jewel. She is not strong enough to travel at the pace we set, and Hadwin is too blind with love to push her to the limit."

"Love," Amery scoffed. "His love will be the death of him."

"Do not speak so, friend," Gunther begged. "He is foolish, yea, but his love for her will protect her."

"Against Radolf's army?" Amery exploded. "For that is what they will surely face once they reach Harcourt. He will slay them both without a care."

"We will catch them long before your half brother has the chance," Gunther promised. "And when we do, I beg you to understand young Had win's reasons for helping Jewel. He did not know the whole of it, or he would have done as you and I and kept your betrothed at Burchard."

The fierce frown on Amery's brow softened somewhat. "Yea, her beauty and gentle manner have a way of infecting a man's mind. Even I fell victim for a tune." His green eyes darkened. "But no more."

Amery's declaration worried Gunther, and he had opened his mouth to question Amery's meaning when Rickward shouted and drew everyone's attention to the vague light up ahead at the side of the road.

"A campfire, Gunther," he said, pointing a finger. "Over there. Perhaps—"

But his observation was never completely stated, for Amery had already kicked his destrier into a full gallop and was racing down the road toward the spot, his heart pounding nearly as loudly as the horse's hooves against the hard earth. Yet, once he had ridden close enough to see the gruesome sight of blood against the snow and that Hadwin's life had ended in such a brutal manner, he jerked back hard on the reins, his body stiffening in rage.

"Dear God in Heaven," he heard Stafford cry as the man reined in his animal beside him and hurriedly dismounted. "Who would do such a thing?"

"Amery?" Gunther called, riding in with Rickward. "Amery?"

A long silence followed while the brothers left their steeds and went to their cousin, each in turn shedding their helms and kneeling by the slain man's body. And beside Amery, Gunther vowed revenge.

"Orton will pay for this," he growled through clenched teeth. "He will rue the day he stepped upon the soil of my lands and took the life of one so dear to all of us."

"Twas not your enemy, Gunther,' but mine," Amery breathed low, hatred gleaming in his emerald eyes. " 'Twas one of Radolf's knights who did this, and now he has Jewel as well." He pointed to the tracks in the snow. "See there? The prints are tiny, as Jewel's would be, then larger ones follow. She has escaped him, but not for long."

Studying the marks, Gunther agreed. "But they are afoot. Why did they not take horses?"

Amery thus indicated the direction where the steeds had gone. " 'Twould be my guess that the battle that raged here sent them running in fear." The nose guard of his helm masked the angry look that came over his face. "And Jewel as well," he hissed, then turned to face his friend. "Journey back to Burchard and see to Hadwin's. burial. I will avenge his death and rescue Jewel."

"Nay, Amery. You will not go alone. I will accompany you. Rickward and Stafford will see to their cousin's interment. He was my knight, and I shall be the one to strike the fatal blow to his executioner."

"The way may be long and cold, and we have not prepared for such a journey," Amery cautioned. "'Twould do no one any good if we were both to perish in our task. I ask you to think on it and see the wisdom of my words. Return to Burchard and, by morning light, bring an army to follow with food and fur pelts for warmth. The way will be clearly marked. I shall see to it."

Gunther made to argue, then turned his head away, remaining silent for a moment longer. "Yea, Amery, your way is best," he said. "But I will not wait until morning light. We shall return to this spot and take up the hunt?"

"And wander about in the darkness?" Amery posed. "Wait until the morning, Gunther." Without giving his friend a chance to argue, Amery dismounted and approached the fire, there to lift a burning log to light the way. His horse's reins held in one hand, the torch in the other, he moved away from his companions and toward the trail of footprints leading away from the road and further into the dense woods surrounding him.

The sight of Hadwin's mutilated body scorched his brain, and Amery found himself blinking repeatedly in an effort to erase it from his mind. But again and again the vision haunted him, and he suddenly realized it wasn't the savageness of the young knight's death that tortured him but the thought that Jewel might meet the same end if he did not find her soon ... if she had not already.

He had trodden through the ankle-deep snow for nearly a hundred yards before he noticed droplets of blood beside the footprints, and he stopped suddenly, afraid to go on. They very well could belong to Jewel. Damn his pride and stubbornness for playing with her! Their games could have cost her life!

"And the one responsible will pay with his own," he hissed, setting off again at a faster pace.

The snow was falling more heavily now and was filling up the tracks he followed, making them nearly impossible to see. The log he carried had burned down to a glowing ember, offering little light, and he angrily flung it away. His fingers were cold beneath the gauntlets he wore, and he paused to pull off his gloves and blow warmth into his cupped hands while he decided what he should do next. Slowly glancing all around him, he studied the dark shapes of the trees and rocks, wondering if Jewel wandered aimlessly through the woods or had a destination in mind. Or perhaps the man who pursued her had made that decision for her. As he stood there contemplating his next move and listening to the deathly quiet that surrounded him, his charger suddenly reared its head and snorted loudly, bringing Amery's attention around. Something had frightened the steed, and although Amery could not see what it was or hear a sound from anywhere close by, he sensed he was not alone. Dropping his gauntlets in the snow, he pulled his sword from his scabbard and backed away from the nervous animal, his mind quick and alert.

A movement to his right caught his eye, and he turned to face it, his weapon held ready for battle as he inwardly cursed the darkness that encased him. All the shadows looked the same, and until whoever was out there made a move and revealed himself, Amery would have to trust his instincts. The moments seemed to drag out. Every muscle in his body grew tense, but only his eyes moved to survey the dark shapes before him. Finally, a huge form stepped out from behind a tree about twenty feet away from him, and for a moment Amery was confused. The man wore a monk's robe.

"Halt and state thy name," Amery said when the man started toward him.

The menacing figure, appearing grateful for the chance to pause and lean against the tree, did as he had been bidden. "'Tis well known to you, Sir Amery," he said, slowly raising one hand to push the hood of his robe off his head. "I am Ian of Wellington, knight to Lady Edlyn and messenger of death."

It had been many years since Amery had last seen Ian, but his voice and size were unmistakably familiar, and the words he spoke convinced him that he had been right all along about the slaughter at Harcourt. He quickly scanned the woods on either side of the knight for another's presence.

"I am alone, Amery," Ian confessed, sounding tired and drawn.

"And Lady Jewel? Where is she?"

A thick-muscled arm was lifted to indicate the encompassing forest. "Out there ... somewhere. I know not which direction she took."

"Hast thou harmed her?" Amery growled.

"Nay." A heavy sigh escaped him, and Ian fell against the tree, then slowly slid along the trunk to sit on the ground. He remained quiet for several moments as if his thoughts were difficult to sort and the words slow to form. Then he laughed. "'Tis fitting, I suppose, that she will be the one to bring about my end," he said, resting his head back against the tree trunk;

"She is the innocent and should not be made to pay for another's greed."

"Radolf's," Amery finished.

"And Lady Edlyn," he said, turning his head to look at Amery. "More so the latter."

"Then you know the truth about Harcourt?"

"I was there," he replied, closing his eyes and leaning back against the tree again. "I have always been there. I have seen every evil thing Lady Edlyn has done, and still I love her." His huge body shook, and when he spoke again, his voice was tight with tears. "She poisoned my friend, and I did naught to stop her. She abused the child I had grown to love as a son. She ordered the deaths of trusting friends, and I did naught to stop her!" His outburst seemed to cause him a great deal of pain, for he winced and quickly raised a hand to his brow. "I have killed many whose crimes were only that they stood in her way. I am more evil than she, for I knew the difference and went blindly on, thinking each time I would win her love." His hand dropped to his side. "Oh, but what a fool I have been. Her mind is closed and her heart is made of ice. Amery? Amery?"

All the while Amery had grown to manhood, he had distantly admired Ian, for the knight had been true and bound by honor to the lord of Wellington. To hear his confession tore at Amery's heart and stirred his hatred for the one who had ruined so many lives. Lowering his sword, for he sensed no danger from this dying knight, he moved closer so that he could look into the man's eyes. His own widened in surprise when he saw the glistening stream of blood flowing down the side of Ian's face.

"Amery, I beg thy forgiveness and pray her wicked ways have not hardened thy heart as well. Find Lady Jewel. Protect her. Do not... let... her .. . return to ... Har—" Nothing more passed his lips, for Ian's shoulders slumped and his head fell forward, and before Amery could reach out a hand to catch him, the silent knight's lifeless body crumpled to the ground.