Forbidden Magic (47 page)

* * *

Adar was awakened from a sound sleep by the cries of pain coming from the old woman who shared the tiny hut with her, and she sat straight up in bed, eyes wide and alert and searching the shadows for Ordella's whereabouts. Spotting her sitting on the edge of her pallet, her hands clutched to her chest, Adar threw off the covers and raced across the room to her.

"What is it, Ordella?" she implored, touching her open palm to the woman's brow.

"My . . . heart," she gasped, fighting to breathe. "Adar .. ."

"Don't talk," Adar instructed, gently but firmly pushing her back down on the straw mattress. "Lie still while I get you something—"

"Nay ... no time." Ordella's wrinkled hand came up to grasp Adar's sleeve. "Listen."

Tears gathered in the young girl's eyes, for she knew Ordella was dying. "I am."

"Seek out... the lord ..." A sharp pain doubled her over, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "He will... know..."

"Ordella!" Adar screamed when the old woman sucked in a rapid breath, stiffened, then collapsed on the bed, her head sagging to one side and her green eyes open in a glassy stare.

B
uried deep within the bowels of the castle where sunlight never shone, Amery lost all sense of time. Twilight faded to ebony, then pale streaks of dawn stained the eastern sky, and finally exhaustion claimed him and he tumbled into a restless sleep. Visions of his father, young and happy, floated through his subconscious mind and mingled with the images of two little boys, one blond, one with auburn hair. The scene was pleasant until a dark shadow fell across the youngsters and a hand reached out to pull the younger of the two away before it viciously descended upon the other. The sound of a child's crying haunted his dreams, and Amery murmured in his sleep. The sights of blood, maimed bodies, and fierce battles raged within his head before the images changed and he stood at the threshold of Harcourt, Lord Alcot's body lying cold upon the earth at his feet. Confused, for he knew he had not raised his sword against the man, Amery looked up to see the figure of another coming toward him. Vicious laughter filled the air, and when the knight removed his helm, Amery recognized the scarred face of Ian. Suddenly, another shape stepped out from the darkness and walked toward him.

"Jewel," he whispered when she reached up and pulled the hood of her mantle from her head. "You're alive."

But then, just before she reached him, he saw that it was no longer Ian who stood behind her, but Radolf, and he was drawing his sword, ready to slay her.

"Nay!" Amery called out, grabbing for his own weapon, and Jewel's chilling screams echoed through his brain, shattering the illusion and jarring him awake.

Bolting upright, his body drenched in perspiration, Amery swept his tormented gaze over the darkened cell, and a full minute or more elapsed before he realized where he was and that it had all been a nightmare. Sliding closer to the wall, he leaned back against it and closed his eyes, wondering if he would spend the rest of his nights in a similar manner. A deep frown wrinkled his brow. What difference did it make? Without Jewel they would all be the same . .. lonely and filled with guilt. She was dead because of him, and nothing he could do from now on would ever change that. Drawing up his knees, he rested his shackled arms across them and laid his brow against one wrist. His shoulders slumped heavily, as if the weight of the universe rested on them, and his heart ached for the chance to tell her—just once—that he loved her. His own mocking laughter filled the tiny chamber when he thought of Gunther and how the man had tried so hard to get him to admit there was a possibility that Amery could ever feel such an emotion—for anyone. And now that he did, it was too late.

He jerked his head up to listen when he thought he heard the faint tapping of boots against the stone floor in the corridor. He stood up when they grew in volume and neared the door to his cell. Maybe it was too late for Jewel and him, but it would never be too late for him to see justice done. If Cod willed it, and he was allowed his freedom, he would find the proof he needed to bring Radolf to his knees before Queen Eleanor.

The key rattled in the lock, and a moment later the huge metal door swung inward. Amery squinted when the light of the torch was thrust into the cell and he could hardly make out the figures of two guards who came toward him. But he did not resist when one of them roughly took his arm and jammed a key into the iron band around his wrist. Once the shackles fell away, the guard then motioned for Amery to lead the way, and the group quietly left the dark cavity of Amery's prison. They traveled the distance down the passageway and up the long flight of stairs in silence, but all the while Amery was praying they were taking him to speak with the dowager queen. At the top, they were met by two more guards, who fell into step ahead of Amery, thus flanking him on all sides, and by the direction they took, he knew Cod had heard his prayers.

They paused outside the tall, double doors behind which the King of England, or the Dowager Queen in his absence, sat to receive his subjects and hear their pledges or news, and Amery wondered if, when they were opened, he would find Queen Eleanor seated on the throne awaiting him. Inwardly he cringed when one of the guards lifted a hand to the latch. Had he been beckoned to hear his sentence or plead his case? The huge wooden doors creaked open and presented Amery with a full view of the room beyond. At the far end, across a marble floor, he could see Queen Eleanor's regal form sitting stately and tall in the high-backed chair on the three-step platform, her slender figure clothed in rich velvet and a look of concern on her face. To one side stood Gunther and Rickward. On the other were Leta and Stafford, and, seeing their expressions, Amery was still uncertain of his fate, for none smiled or had a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

"Sir Amery of Wellington," Queen Eleanor said, beckoning with a wave of her hand, "come forward and tell me why I should believe these friends of yours."

Amery's brow furrowed for a brief moment as his eyes darted quickly over those standing on either side of Eleanor. Then, with a slight nod of his head, he started toward her, mildly surprised when the guards stepped aside and allowed him to advance alone. At the base of the steps, he paused, slowly dropping to one knee and crossing his right arm over his | chest to cover his heart with a clenched fist, his head lowered. He remained kneeling, awaiting her permission to rise, and sensed more than saw the dowager queen leave her chair and move down the steps to him.

"How vulnerable you are at this moment, Sir Amery," she murmured. "Twould seem you have put your trust in me enough to turn your back on those who would without hesitation fulfill my command if I were to bid them raise their ' swords to you. Or hast thou surrendered to the justice thou deservest?"

He did not move or utter a sound, and the queen glanced over at Gunther with a cocked brow. He lowered his eyes and missed the vague smile that upturned the corners of her mouth.

"Rise, Sir Amery," she granted, "so that I may look into thy face and know the truth."

Her tone was cool and as he rose to full height before her, Amery began to doubt his judgment in laying his life in her hands. Yet the dowager queen had always been fair to her subjects whenever they had come to her with their problems, and he dismissed the feeling in exchange for the hope that she would be so with him.

"Your Majesty," he said with a nod of his head, green eyes looking into hers. Some of his worry faded once he saw the gleam in her own.

"Sir Gunther tells me that the charges brought against you are false, that you as well as those at Harcourt are the innocent victims of some ruthless plot for power and wealth," she said. "Did he lie?"

"Nay, Your Majesty," he answered softly.

"Then what proof do you bring in thy behalf?" She turned from him and mounted the trio of steps to sit down upon the throne again, her back as straight as the chair, her chin held high, and an expectant look upon her face.

"None, Your Highness," he admitted. "None that can speak the details of what happened."

"Sir Kennard?" she asked.

Amery nodded.

"Tell me how he came to be with you when he met his death, and whose arrow pierced his flesh."

Amery glanced briefly at his friend. "I asked these loyal knights to join my cause in proving my innocence," he began, his eyes never leaving hers. "Three days ago, Sir Ian of Wellington, trusted knight to Lady Edlyn, ventured to the lands of Burchard at her command to murder Lady Jewel. 'Twas he who set to fact my thoughts that Radolf, my half brother, was responsible for the slaughter at Harcourt, for Ian told me of his having been there that night. 'Twas only logical, in my mind, that if my half brother had led the group, his cousin would have ridden beside him. Kennard had always been weak willed where Radolf was concerned and would have done so blindly. But in his heart, I was sure, he would know the wrong committed and confess to you when asked. Thus, we thought to take him from his cousin's protection and bring him here. But along the road not far from Wellington, someone hidden among the rocks aimed his crossbow and stilled the voice I thought would clear my name."

"And did you see this person? Dost thou know his identity?"

"Nay, my queen. He fled before we could look upon his face."

"But thou suspect."

"Yea."

Resting her elbow on the arm of the chair, Eleanor tapped her chin with a fingertip, deep in thought. A moment of silence passed, then she said, "Leta tells me she was beaten by Lady Edlyn when she did not come to her immediately with the news you had kidnapped your betrothed. Why was that, do you suppose?"

Amery's tawny brows came together in a surprised frown as he glanced at the young girl whose eyes were lowered. "I had not heard," he admitted, looking back at the dowager queen.

"Now that you have, would you venture a guess?"

Amery's gaze shifted to Gunther, who gave him a nod of encouragement. Yea, he had a guess, he reflected silently, but to recite it without proof would sound shallow. Yet he knew that the dowager queen would listen to nothing less and then judge for herself. "'Twould be nothing more than a guess, Your Majesty, but now that I have heard, I fear my suspicions are stronger because of it."

"And why is that?"

"For as long as I can remember, my stepmother has thirsted for money and power, and countless times she argued with my father when he denied her. Again, I offer no proof but say she poisoned my father to rid herself of him, then set out to steal all she wanted. 'Twas her plan to enter Harcourt under the guise of friendship, then kill all who resided there. Lady Jewel, as you well know, was here with you and thus was spared. 'Tis my belief—and why I took her from Harcourt—that Edlyn wished her dead." He glanced at Leta, continuing, "And why this maid was abused for doing what I told her. She had no way of knowing that I would not harm Jewel, for Iliad told her I would if she were to sound the alarm too soon. Edlyn's anger came from learning of Jewel's escape and that 'twas I who had taken her. Reaching Jewel to end her life became impossible then."

A pained expression came over his handsome face. "Or nearly so."

"Nearly, Sir Amery?" Queen Eleanor questioned.

The ache in his heart deepened. "Yea, Your Highness. Nearly. Lady Jewel fled my protection. She could not accept my explanation for the death of her family—she thought Radolf innocent—and she took with her a young knight of Gunther's. We found his body in the woods near Burchard. Sir Ian had killed him."

"And Jewel?" Queen Eleanor's expression showed her true distress for the first time since granting Amery an audience.

Amery gritted his teeth and sucked in a slow breath. "I fear she perished in the storm, my queen."

Though the words were spoken as simple fact, Eleanor sensed a deep feeling of grief in the one who stood before her, a feeling nearly as deep as her own. She had loved Jewel more than any of the other maids who had attended court. She had seen in Jewel the promise of becoming an exceptional wife, and she knew that standing at her husband's side, she and Sir Amery would rule their lands as fairly and honestly as her own son, King Richard. The couple would have been a strong force behind the dynasty of England, whether they had loved each other or not. Eleanor's eyes fell away from Amery, a frown marring her brow. And that confused her, for she was certain—by the expression on his face and the tone of his voice—that Amery had loved his betrothed, a possibility that contradicted everything she had ever heard about Amery of Wellington. A vague smile parted her lips. Richard would not have been surprised by the revelation. He had ofttimes told her that someday Amery would find the woman that would touch his heart. Tears burned the backs of her lids. And now that he had, she had been taken from him ... unfairly, cruelly. Well, those responsible would answer for it. Straightening sharply in her chair, she raised her chin and looked him in the eye.

"In the absence of the king, my son, I proclaim that a joust to the death between Sir Amery and Sir Radolf will determine the rightful heir to Wellington. The contest will be fought in one month's time here on the palace grounds and witnessed by all who are divided on the issue. The victor will acquire the lands of Harcourt as well, since no lord rules there and it is the : source of this disagreement between half brothers. Do you accept the decree. Sir Amery, and call it fair?"

"Yea, Your Majesty," he replied, bowing slightly at the waist.

"Then leave this place and return to the lands of Sir Gunther, your friend, and prepare for the contest. I will send a message to Sir Radolf." She waved her hand irritably. "Go, all of you, and leave me alone with my thoughts."

Rickward, Stafford, and Gunther joined Amery before their Queen and placed their clenched fists over their hearts in silent homage, heads bowed. Turning, they had started to leave when Amery caught sight of Leta. Her young face was pinched in a hopeless expression, and her worry touched his heart. Extending a hand toward her, he offered her refuge in his I protection, and a bright smile lit up her eyes as she turned to the dowager queen, presented her with a deep curtsy, then hurried to take Amery's hand. In silence, the group strode across the marble floor toward the exit, unaware that Queen Eleanor watched them.

"I pray I have done thee justice, Sir Amery of Wellington," she whispered, her gaze resting on his wide shoulders and broad back as he walked away. "And that my son will agree." Feeling the weight of her decision, Eleanor closed her eyes and rested her brow against the palm of her hand.