Forbidden Magic (48 page)

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Two weeks had passed since the lord of Burchard, his knights, and Amery had returned to the castle with the young maid called Leta. All had been welcomed joyously, though the forthcoming joust between half brothers in which one would die, cast a somber mood over the homecoming that grew with each passing day. Even Mertice worried over the outcome, for all of her plans to snare Amery would be for naught if he were to meet his half brother on the field and the other reigned victorious. Thus, she set out to catch him any way she could before he left for London. But the task proved more difficult than she imagined. Amery's disposition was fiercer than she had ever remembered it being, and even her brother kept his distance at times.

Most of his days were spent riding about the land hoping to find Jewel, praying that somehow she had found a safe haven and was still alive, simply waiting for him to come and take her back to the castle. It never happened. At night, he would sit before the huge fireplace in the great hall and stare silently into the flames with a chalice of ale in his hand. No matter how hard anyone tried, no one could draw him into conversation, and whenever Mertice tried, he would merely glance her way before leaving his chair and climbing the stairs to his chambers. He preferred his solitude to spending even a moment with her.

"I worry for his health," Anne remarked one morning as she and Gunther shared a place at the table with Rickward and Stafford and watched Amery don his fur mantle and leave the hall for the stables. "He needs his rest and strength to fight his half brother."

" Tis a peace of mind he needs more, wife." Gunther sighed, stabbing a puce of meat from the platter. "Until Jewel is buried and he knows for certain that she is dead, he will keep looking and the torment he feels will continue to twist his insides. There is nothing any of us can do."

"Perhaps the old woman, Ordella, would have a potion that would dull the agony he feels," Rickward suggested, staring at the door Amery had pulled shut behind him on his way out.

"Haven't you heard, Rickward?" his cousin asked. "The old woman is dead. She died while we were at court."

A frown furrowing his brow, Rickward jerked his head around to look at Stafford. "Nay, I had not. Doth that mean Burchard is without a healer?"

"Nay, Rickward," Anne replied. "There is another who took her place, though I have not seen her. She is known as Adar."

"Adar?" Gunther questioned. "I have not heard the name before."

"She is a second cousin on Ordella's father's side. Her family succumbed to illness, and she was left homeless. Ordella took her in... or so the story is told among the serfs at Burchard."

"Is she a sorceress too?" Gunther teased.

"Ordella wasn't a witch, Gunther," Anne snapped. "'Tis only idle gossip. But even if it were true, I would have a hundred witches living here if it meant saving one life."

Gunther reached over and patted his wife's hand. "Yea, my sweet, and I agree. I only wished to lighten everyone's mood. There is too much gloom encasing Burchard these days." He fell back in his chair and stared over at the door. "Too much." he murmured, wondering if Amery would ever give up his cause.

* * *

Huge, fluffy snowflakes floated earthward, and Amery paused just outside the castle entrance to stare up at the sky. He knew it was useless to spend his daylight hours roaming the woods surrounding Burchard looking for Jewel, but in his own mind, it was a way of cleansing himself, a way of proving to her that she had been right all along. There would never be another woman who could take her place. Tying the fastenings of his mantle around his neck, he started off toward the stables, only vaguely aware of the people he passed until one of them turned abruptly and bumped into him, nearly knocking them both to the ground.

"Excuse me, Sir Amery," the man apologized, his face ashen. "My thoughts were elsewhere and I paid no heed to the direction my feet took me. Forgive me."

"No harm done." Amery half smiled, thinking how the old man reminded him of Doane. It would be good to live within the walls of Wellington again, and the first thing he vowed to do was have his lifelong friend take up residence there within the castle. He smiled to himself as he watched the man walk away while he mentally listed the reasons Doane would tell him nay. Suddenly, he espied a shape among the crowd some thirty paces away that set his blood pounding through his veins. Though the figure was clothed in a dark, hooded cape that hid the color of her hair and restricted his view of her face, there was something about her size and the manner in which she walked that reminded him of Jewel. He straightened to peer over the heads of those who divided him from the woman, wondering if perhaps his mind played tricks on him, and he blinked when she simply seemed to disappear right before his eyes.

"Jewel!" he called out. "Jewel, come back!"

Suddenly the people milling about the place paused in their duties to stare at him, and Amery instantly became aware of the worried looks he received. Damn them! They all thought him mad! Glaring at them one at a time until each turned his face away from him, Amery could feel his body begin to tremble. In a rage, he dropped his helm into place, whirled, and stormed toward the stables.

Adar had knelt to retrieve the leather pouch she had dropped from her tray and its contents, which had spilled upon the snow-covered ground, when she heard the deep voice of another call out a name. At first she ignored it as she collected her things and put them back in the bag. But once she had stood up again and seen the way everyone around her had stopped what they were doing to stare at something behind her, she, too, turned to look. All she saw, however, was the broad figure of a knight stalking away from them, and she shrugged, unable to comprehend the interest his presence had aroused. A demure smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Unless, of course, they appraised his massive build, for he was, without a doubt, the biggest knight she had ever seen. The smile vanished, and she stiffened. How could she possibly assume that! He was the first knight she could remember seeing. Suddenly, a vision of emerald eyes flashed in her mind, a cleft chin, a scar, and blond, sun-streaked hair. The tray shook in her hands, and Adar gripped it solidly to keep from spilling everything to the ground. Was he the knight she had seen in her nightmare? The one in a monk's robe? A chill not borne on the air enshrouded her, and Adar quickly turned and headed for her hut.

* * *

"M'lady," Leta called out as she hurriedly crossed the great hall to where Mertice sat before the hearth. "M'lady, hast thou seen Lady Anne?"

Brought out of her reverie about Amery and what she could try next just to win his attention for a moment, Mertice blinked and looked up irritably. Whatever this serving maid wanted bad better be important enough to warrant disturbing her, she fumed silently.

"I beg your pardon, m'lady," Leta quickly continued when she saw the angry look on Mertice's face, "but young Ella is ill, and Lady Anne should be told. Dost thou know where to find her? Or Sir Gunther?"

"My brother was summoned to the granary about some problem, and Lady Anise is in the kitchen," she replied indifferently as she cast her gaze back upon the burning logs in the hearth. A moment passed and when Mertice realized Leta had not moved, she scowled up at her. "What?"

"I beg thy pardon again, m'lady, but the child is very ill,and I must go and fetch the healer, Adar. Wouldst thou please tell Lady Anne about Ella while I do?"

Fear gripped every inch of Mertice, for she realized what would happen the moment Leta saw the one called Adar. She had been Jewel's maid at Harcourt, and if anyone could recognize her, Leta could. "Nay," she said, coming to her feet. I will fetch Adar while you look for Lady Anne."

She missed Leta's appreciative smile and short curtsy before the girl turned and hurried off, for Mertice was already plotting a way to rid Burchard of the only one who stood in the way of her having Amery to herself. Glancing up at the stairs, she started toward them. She would get her mantle from her room and her pearl-handled knife, then visit Jewel's hut before anyone could wonder why she had volunteered to go there. As she mounted the steps and went into her room, she silently cursed her foolishness in not having gotten rid of Jewel before now. But with the old woman's death, Mertice had believed it safe—at least for the time it would take for her to trick Amery into marrying her. A disgusted frown distorted her thin face as she picked up her mantle, swung it over her shoulders, and lifted the knife from the drawer where she kept it. He certainly was different from any other man she had chased after. The others had always been easy to catch, and perhaps that was why Amery interested her so much more. He was not. She left her room in a hurry, raced down the stairs and across the great hall, and stepped out into the snow. Explaining Jewel's death would be simple enough. She would tell her brother that Leta had sent her to Adar's hut and she had found the woman with a knife in her heart. Who would blame Mertice? She didn't even know Jewel.

Having learned which hut was Adar's from one of the serfs in the yard, Mertice rushed toward it and paused at the portal: only long enough to knock and receive permission to enter. With her knife concealed behind the folds of her skirts, she lifted the latch with her other hand and opened the door.

Adar had been adding logs to the fire when her visitor had knocked, and once the door had swung inward to reveal her guest, Adar slowly stood up, surprised by the woman's presence. Judging by her style of clothing, she assumed she was someone from the castle, and Adar could not fathom why such a lady would come to see her. Wiping her hands on her apron, she motioned toward one the chairs at the table, but the woman declined.

"I'm not here to chat, Lady Jewel." Mertice grinned evilly, closing the door behind her.

Adar's brow crimped. That was the second time she had heard that name. The knight had used it in the courtyard that morning. But why did this woman think she was Lady Jewel? Without realizing it, she glanced down at her faded gunna. Because of the kind of clothing she wore, she had suspected some time earlier that she was not just a serf. Obviously, she had been right.

"You know me?" she asked, looking at Mertice again.

"Not really," the other admitted. "We've never met before, but I know your betrothed quite well," She stepped further into the room. "In fact, once you're dead and buried, I plan to marry him."

A chill raced up every knot of Adar's spine. This was no savior standing before her, but someone who wanted to bring an end to her life. Adar took a quick step backward when the woman circled the table toward her. "My . . . my betrothed?" she questioned, her chin trembling.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I had forgotten. You don't remember a thing, do you?" Mertice raised the knife up in front of her. "But it doesn't matter. There's no need to explain everything just so you know before you die."

"Why? Why do you want me dead?" Adar asked, panic mixing heavily with the fear in her voice. "What have I done to you?"

"Nothing, actually," Mertice admitted, moving in. "But alive, you stand in the way of everything I've ever wanted."

Adar inched her way backward away from the woman, frantically searching her mind for the vaguest clue to her identity or something that would sway this stranger from killing her. But nothing would come, and she realized the only way she might manage to survive was to fight. Her eyes quickly scanned the area around her for some sort of weapon. Sitting on the table was the bowl of hot stew she had ladled from the kettle just before the woman had come in, and without any hesitation she scooped it up in both hands and hurled the contents into her attacker's face. The woman screamed when the scorching liquid burned her skin, and she dropped the knife she held to howl in pain, unaware that Adar had spun around and was heading for the door and her freedom.

As her hand touched the latch, Adar realized she had no idea where she should run for safety. Ordella had warned her that until they learned who she was, they wouldn't know who Adar's enemies were. But one thing was certain. She couldn't stay here any longer. Freeing the catch, she yanked the door open and blindly bolted through the aperture only to collide with someone standing on the other side.

"My God!" the man exclaimed once he recognized the
struggling girl he held tightly in his arms. "Jewel! You're
alive!"

"Nay! Nay! Let me go," she begged, fighting to get free of him. "Don't kill me! Please. I never meant to harm anyone."

"I'm not going to kill you." Gunther frowned, confused. "No one is. Please, Jewel, stop fighting me and listen."

Through a haze and from somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, the voice she heard sparked a familiar note, one she vaguely remembered as belonging to a man she had considered a friend. She stopped struggling and lifted amber-hued eyes to look at him, fighting desperately to place a name to his face.

"I can't remember," she moaned, tears spilling over the rims of her dark lashes.

Without wasting another moment, Gunther bent and swept her up in his arms. "Rickward," he called to the man when he spotted him rushing toward them. "Mertice is inside. I heard her scream. See to her care and then bring her to the great hall."

"Yea, m'lord." He nodded, waiting for Gunther to step out of the way before he dashed inside.

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