Forbidden Magic (41 page)

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The stillness of the night was shattered by the pounding of hooves against the road as the party of five made its way through the deep snow. In the lead, two knights dressed in full armor kept a watchful eye for any who might appear before them, their swords drawn and a pledge of death upon their lips. Their journey from London had been long and cold, though none had complained except for one of the two women in the group, and nothing any of the others had said or done had pleased her.

"How much longer, Stanmore?" she whined. "My feet and hands are numb, and I swear I shall never walk again after riding on this nag."

"Not far, m'lady," the knight answered over his shoulder,

I then turned back to watch the road and hide his disgust, for the mare she rode had been specially selected for its gentleness.

"You said that shortly after we left the boat," she snapped. "How far is not far?"

"Tell her two days," the knight who rode beside Stanmore whispered.

"What Hube?" the woman demanded. "You spoke too softly."

"Only a bend or two in the road, m'lady," Hube called back. "We'll arrive at Burchard before Brother Howard has warmed his hands by the fire."

"Ha! Don't speak to me of warmth," she raved. "Only the summer sun will ever chase away the chill I feel."

"I warned her about journeying on such a night," Stanmore mumbled to his companion. "We could have stayed at the monastery until morning and traveled by daylight. But nay. She is too anxious to return to her brother's castle."

"Tis Amery of Wellington she is eager for, Stanmore," Hube pointed out. "Everyone in England knows that except Sir Amery." He snorted sarcastically. "And Sir Amery won't look twice at her when there are younger, more beautiful women to choose from than Lady Mertice." He shifted irritably in the saddle. "She is such a fool. Only rumor tells of Sir Gunther's and Sir Amery's return here. We very well may be ordered upon the road on the morrow to seek them once again if the rumor proves to be misleading, for I fear Lady Mertice will not stop until she finds him."

"Yea, friend, you speak the truth. She is blinded by the hope of snaring Sir Amery as a husband." He laughed softly. " 'Twould be a good match, I think—he with a heavy hand for chattering women."

"I have not heard of his violence with women," Hube insisted with a frown. "Only his dislike for their nagging ways. He would walk away before he'd strike her."

"Yea, 'tis true," Stanmore admitted, then turned a smile on his friend. "Only wishing on my part."

Hube wiggled his brows and grinned wickedly. "Yea, 'twould be a treat to see her laid low by a fist to her jaw." Sighing, he looked back at the road. "Someday, perhaps, it will come to pass. There must be one among us who would ignore the results for a chance to silence her endless complaining. Her brother never will."

"Do not discredit Sir Gnnther, Hube," Stanmore rallied in defense. "He has been gone several years and has forgotten the ways of his sister. One day with her will show him her true self. Especially once he learns how she treated Lady Anne while he was gone."

"Now there is a noble dame if I ever knew one. I was truly glad when Lady Mertice decided to return to London for a time. Her absence gave rest to Lady Anne's soft nature." He sadly shook his head. "For her sake, I pray the rumor of Sir Gunther's return is true."

Stanmore held his laughter for fear, Mertice would hear and question him. "And thus place the curse of her tongue on poor Sir Amery?" he teased.

"His shoulders are wide," Hube answered. "He will bear it well."

The other started to respond when Hube's attention was suddenly drawn to a dark shape moving among the trees by the side of the road a short way ahead, and he jerked back on his horse's reins to bring the group to a halt.

"What is it now?" Mertice wailed, annoyed by the delay.

"Someone's out there," Hube told the man at his side, completely ignoring Mertice. "By the road. See him?"

"Yea." Stanmore nodded, pulling his sword. Then in a louder voice, he cried, "Halt! You there, near the road! Step out where we can see you."

The figure straightened as though about to do as Stanmore had commanded, but rather than moving away from the trees, it turned and headed deeper into the woods. Yet the staggering gait of the stranger told the two knights that, whoever he was, he had either had too much to drink or was very ill, and without obtaining Mertice's consent, both knights dismounted to investigate.

"Where are you going?" she shrieked fearfully, then turned to the knight who rode in back of her with her maid. "Draw your sword and stay with me. Tis I you should protect, not wander off as those fools have done."

"But Lady Mertice," the maid objected, "the stranger is in need of aid. 'Tis cold—"

"We owe him nothing!" she barked. "To tarry will only be the death of us all!"

"Yea, m'lady," the young girl murmured, then shifted to get a better view of Hube and Stanmore. She was thankful the two of them had had the courage to disobey Mertice, for whoever the stranger was, he should not be wandering in the woods at this late hour—especially in the cold.

"It's a woman!" Hube called back to the rest once he and Stanmore had approached close enough to see. "Celeste, bring the lap blanket. She's cold and nearly out of her wits."

"Then leave her!" Mertice ordered in a rage. "We are not responsible for a crazy woman."

"I will not!" Hube retorted, "Not on the eve of Christ's birth or any night!"

Shocked by the knight's brazen disobedience, Mertice merely sat there with her mouth gaping open, and, seeing her chance to help without getting permission, Celeste quickly slid from her mount, clutched the fur robe to her chest, and dashed through the ankle-deep snow to the woman.

"Where has she come from?" the' maid asked worriedly as she wrapped the frail, trembling body in the blanket.

"Tis a question only she can answer." Stanmore frowned, bending to sweep the tiny woman up in his arms. "We'll take her to Burchard and see that she's cared for. On the morrow we'll talk with Sir Gunther about her."

"I do not remember seeing her among the serfs at Burchard," Hube commented. "I would have remembered one so beautiful with hair this color."

"Yea," Stanmore murmured, staring down into the face haloed with coppery curls. "Something terrible must have frightened her." He hugged her to him when she shivered violently. "But she is safe now." Turning, he started back toward the horses.

"She may ride with me, Stanmore," Hube offered, agilely swinging himself up on his destrier, then holding out his arms to take her.

Having seen his ward safely deposited in his companion's embrace, Stanmore helped Celeste mount, handed her the reins, then quickly stepped up into his own saddle, unaware of the angry glare all four of them received from Mertice. Not that he would have cared if he had, for he had already decided to speak with the woman's brother about joining Sir Gunther's knights rather than staying with this ill-tempered, nasty woman. With a nod from Hube that he was ready to travel on, Stanmore kicked his charger's sides and set the group off down the road at a quicker pace than before. The young, mysterious woman needed to get in out of the cold, and soon.

An hour passed before the faint lights of Burchard Castle were seen by the travelers, and once the drawbridge had been lowered and the group was safely inside the stone walls of the fortress, Mertice called out for Hube and Stanmore to halt.

"You will be punished severely for going against my command and endangering my life," she hissed, blue eyes flashing her rage. "Take that woman to one of the huts and leave her there. Her health is no concern of ours. Then stable our horses and find a place other than my brother's castle to sleep. You both are not worthy of the honor. In the morning I shall speak to Gunther and see you are banished from my service and my brother's lands as well." Dismissing them with a toss of her head, she set her fiery gaze on Celeste. "And you will be reduced to working in the kitchen for your part in this. Norward, help me dismount!"

The one called Norward quickly edged his steed closer, jumped to the ground, and held out his hands to assist Mertice from the mare.

Readjusting her clothing in short, angry motions, she straightened her spine and looked Norward in the eye. "At least one of my knights remains true to me,""she said, her nose raised in the air. "Come, we shall sup with my brother." She swept past him and marched toward the huge oak door, pausing only long enough for Norward to rush up behind her and open it, then disappeared inside in a whirl of rich cloth.

Stanmore's green eyes darkened as he watched the oaken barrier close behind Mertice. "I fear I have angered God that he should curse me with that one," he snarled, then turned to look at Celeste. "Come. Since the three of us are no longer needed by Lady Mertice, we shall see to this young woman's care and warm ourselves by a fire while the high and mighty bitch stuffs herself with food and drink." Then in a lower voice, he added, "I pray she chokes on it." Dismounting, he I moved to help Celeste to the ground, then came to Hube and took the silent woman in his arms. "Celeste and I will take her to Ordella's hut," he told him as Hube, too, dismounted.

"The old woman?"

"Yea, she has potions and herbs that will help. Meet us there as soon as you've stabled the horses. And tell no one what we do. Lady Mertice has an evil way and may seek revenge when none is due."

Nodding, Hube gathered the reins of the steeds and hurried away.

* * *

Ordella's hut was set away from the rest and because of the late hour and the fact that nearly everyone would be in the great hall enjoying the celebration with their lord and lady, Stanmore felt secure in taking the young beauty there. No one came to Ordella unless he was sick and the old woman had never tried to hide her dislike for Gunther's sister. Ordella would keep the woman safe from any spiteful acts of Mertice's.

Only a moment passed after Celeste knocked on the door before it was opened. The orange light from the fireplace on the opposite wall cast the old woman in shadow, and Celeste trembled at the sight of her. Though no one else at Burchard had her skill for healing, many whispered that her powers did not come from God. Thus, the serfs feared her and kept their distance unless illness claimed them and they began to fear death more than the strange old woman. Stanmore, however, did not believe such nonsense.

"Old woman," he announced, "I am Stanmore, knight to Lady Mertice, and this is her maid, Celeste. We need thy help. We found this one wandering the road to Burchard. She is cold and in need of your medicines."

Ordella's alert brown eyes swept over the young girl cradled in the knight's arms, then glanced briefly at Celeste before she moved aside and allowed her visitors to step into the one-room hut.

"Lay her down on the pallet," she said in a solemn voice, pointing to the straw bed near the hearth. - Having done so, Stanmore moved out of the way to allow the old woman a chance to examine the young girl, but he did not move far. He could not explain why, but he felt a strange attachment to the coppery-haired beauty with the wild, frightened look in her eyes.

"Fetch a bowl of broth from the kettle over the fire,"

Ordella ordered Celeste, then stood. Crossing to an old, weathered trunk, she pulled out several blankets and returned to the bed, there to unfold them and cover the girl's trembling body, while Celeste hurried to the cupboard for a bowl and spoon.

"Add more logs to the fire," she said, glancing up at Stanmore.

He nodded and quickly set about fulfilling her request. Within minutes the small hut was warm enough to bring a sweat to everyone's brow, and while Stanmore and Celeste shed their fur mantles and anything else that would make them more comfortable in the heat of the small room, Ordella pulled up a chair beside the bed and began to rub her patient's hands vigorously. When the girl's teeth finally stopped chattering, she motioned for Celeste to hand her the bowl of broth while • she propped up the young woman's head. As she did, the hood of her mantle fell away and everyone in the room stared in awe at the thick mass of coppery hair that spilled from it. None had seen such beauty before, and their curiosity about her grew.

"Eat, child," Ordella coaxed soothingly as she lifted a spoonful of broth to the young woman's lips.

Somewhere in the dark recesses of the troubled girl's mind, she heard the voice of a woman, a stranger, telling her to eat, and she slowly opened her eyes. Shadowed figures loomed above her, silhouetted in the golden glow of firelight. None had faces and although they stood rock still, her fear that they would raise a sword to strike her dead brought a whimper to her lips. Bolting upright, she knocked away the hand that offered food and frantically crawled to the opposite end of the pallet. Huddling back against the wall, her mantle hugged tightly across her bosom, she stared in wide-eyed horror at the trio who mutely watched her. Who were these people? her befuddled mind implored. She quickly looked about the room. Where was she? Who had brought her here? She vaguely remembered being lifted in someone's arms. And she had been so cold. But the knight who had held her had tenderly cradled her in his warm embrace. Suddenly, the vision of a knight with bloodied sword flared up to strike terror in her heart and when the one closest to her slowly stood up, she screamed.

"Nay! Nay, do not kill me!" she cried, an arm raised in front of her to ward off the killing blow. But instead of sharp steel against her tender flesh, a warm hand caught her wrist and pulled her into a strong, yet tender, embrace.

"No one will harm thee, my child," the voice pledged. "We are your friends. We will protect yon."

"Nay!" she shouted, struggling to get free, but the arms tightened around her and held her close.

"My name is Ordella," the old woman said, then nodded toward the others in the room. "And he is Stanmore, and she is Celeste. They found you wandering the road to Burchard, alone and nearly frozen. They brought you to me so that I might care for you. I will not hurt you, my child. I only wish to ease your suffering, and lay to rest your torment. Tell me what it is that frightens you, so that I might send it on its way."

Some of the fear lessened in the amber-hued eyes staring back at Ordella, but the old woman knew the young girl was still far from convinced that those around her meant her no harm. But what worried Ordella more than that was the half-crazed look in the child's eyes. Whatever had happened to her had to have been of such magnitude that it had twisted this seemingly gentle soul into a fearful, harrowed shell of what she once must have been. Ordella had no potions or herbs or magic spells that could heal the sickness of one's mind. Only time and gentle urgings were the cure for that. She smiled warmly and tried again.

"What is thy name?"

A frown curled the other's brow and a look of dismay came over her face. "I. . . I.. ." Tears gathered, and the young woman's gaze darted from Ordella to Celeste to Stanmore and back to Ordella again. With a shake of coppery hair, the girl replied, "I can't remember."

For as long as Ordella could recall, she had been the healer at Burchard Castle, having taken over her mother's job after she had died. Ordella had only been fourteen at the time and because the needs of the people had been great, she had never had the opportunity to live the kind of life other young girls her age had. Thus, she had never fallen in love, never married, and never had any children of her own. But that longing had never ebbed, and she had had to be content in caring for others' children. She had managed all these years to present a toughened mien so that no one would get too close and unknowingly remind her of what she had never had, or ever would have. She had managed—until now. Her heart ached suddenly for the hopelessness and fear this lost child was experiencing.

"Do not fret, little one," she murmured, missing the brief hint of recognition in the amber eyes. "It will come to you. For now, we shall call you Adar. It means fire." Tenderly, she touched a lock of the silkened tresses falling over the young woman's shoulder. Suddenly realizing she had let her emotions slip, Ordella straightened and let go of Adar to look at the other two who shared the room.

"I'll take care of Adar now," she said, clearing her throat. "You may go." She reached then for the bowl of broth she had set on the floor beside her and when she straightened again, she noticed the strange look on Celeste's face. "What is it?"

"We..." she began and sheepishly glanced down at the floor. "We have no place to go. Lady Mertice has dismissed us for our disobedience and said we were not welcome in her brother's castle."

"Tis the word of a babbling idiot," Ordella grunted. "Lord Gunther would never turn anyone out in the cold."

"Then he has returned?" Stanmore asked.

"Yea," Ordella told him, turning with bowl and spoon to Adar. "Several days past. I have not seen him, but the serfs have told me of his return." She smiled encouragingly at Adar. "Eat this, child. It will bring back your strength."

"Then I will speak to him on the morrow after the Mass," Stanmore said more to himself than the others in the room.

"About what, Sir Stanmore?" Celeste asked worriedly. "I do not wish to return to Lady Mertice's service."

"Nay." He smiled, touching her arm. "Never that. Before she announced her decision, I had decided to ask Sir Gunther if there was a place for me at his side. If you wish, I will tell him you desire to serve Lady Anne."

A bright, appreciative smile came over the young woman's face. "Yea, Sir Stanmore, I do wish it."

"And he will grant it," Ordella added, pleased that Adar was eating the broth she spooned out to her. "And until then, Celeste, you may stay here with me. My place is humble but warm, and I have food. Sir Stanmore," she continued without looking at either of them, "seek out David. His hut is larger, and he will give you shelter until the morrow if you wish it."

"Thank you, Ordella, I will," Stanmore replied, reaching for his mantle. "And is there more I can do for Adar?"

"Nay," she said. "I will feed her, then put her to bed. Her problems will take time to solve, and I have plenty. Now go and seek thy rest. You have done your share this night. God will smile kindly on you for it."

Draping his fur mantle over his shoulders and picking up his helm from where he had laid it, Stanmore turned to Celeste. "Keep thy faith, Celeste." He smiled. "What we have done this eve was meant to be. There was a reason. We may not know why now, but we shall, and methinks 'twas for the good."

An impish grin parted her lips. "If only to free us of Lady Mertice?" she asked.

Stanmore laughed heartily. "Yea, if only that," he agreed, then turned to look at the one with coppery hair who had watched and listened to them without a word. "I pledge thee my protection, Adar. No harm will come to thee from this day on as long as God grants me the strength to draw a single breath."

Round, amber eyes stared back at him, and though she did not speak, he saw a softening in the look she gave him, and he smiled in return. Presenting her with a slight bow, he turned and left the hut.