Heart's Magic (22 page)

“My mother will not think so.” Emma allowed
herself to be guided out of the great hall to a pantry off the
screens passage. At Mirielle’s order, hot water and a towel were
brought and while Emma washed, Mirielle arranged for bedchambers to
be made ready for the children and for Father John. Uncertain what
Gavin or Alda would want done, she simply assigned a guest room to
each of the newcomers.

“We should hurry,” Mirielle said to Emma, who
was now brushing her long, black hair with considerable vigor.
“Your parents will be coming into the hall soon. Your father is a
punctual man.”

“What is he like?” Emma’s eyes were dark
brown, with hints of purple in the irises, and at the moment they
were wide with hope. “I have never met him. I was born after he
went away.”

“He is very tall and handsome.” Mirielle
searched for the right words to describe Gavin to his daughter. Not
knowing what mischief the children had gotten into, she added, “He
can be fierce at times, but he is fair and he has a kind
heart.”

“I hope so.” Emma’s brown eyes swam with
tears. “My brother and I have both disobeyed the lady of Cliffvale.
Father John says Warrick has been very wicked and ought to be made
to perform a severe penance. I could not let my brother come home
to face our mother alone for a misdeed that is in part my fault. I
had to come with him. My lady of Cliffvale said I could not return
to her if I left. I insisted, and refused to eat or stop crying,
until she released me.”

“I think I understand.” Mirielle bent down
until her head was level with Emma’s. She spoke as if she were
telling a great secret. “My cousin is seneschal here, and even
though he is older and my guardian, sometimes when he does
something naughty I feel I have to protect him, because I love him
so much. I think your father will appreciate your loyalty to your
brother and so he will not punish you too harshly for what you have
done.”

“I hope you are right, Lady Mirielle.” Emma
slipped her small hand into Mirielle’s and together they returned
to the great hall.

They were just in time. Gavin and Alda walked
into the hall in formal procession with Brice attending them and
Alda’s maidservants and Gavin’s squires behind them. Alda’s
fingertips barely touched Gavin’s sleeve and every movement of her
body spoke of her distaste for any contact with him. When they were
seated in the two large chairs at the high table, Alda turned away
from Gavin at once, to speak to Brice, who sat at her other side.
Gavin did not appear to notice.

With Emma’s hand still firmly clasped in
hers, Mirielle moved forward until she was standing directly in
front of Gavin. She knew what she was about to do was improper, but
from what the children had said coupled with what she personally
knew of Alda, Mirielle thought their best chance of a fair hearing
for their transgressions lay in a public confrontation.

“My lord,” she said to Gavin, “we have three
unexpected guests to help us celebrate your homecoming. May I
present to you your daughter, Emma.”

The girl made a pretty curtsey. She lifted
her face to regard Gavin with eager expectation written upon her
delicate features. Then Alda spoke and at the sound of her mother’s
voice fear replaced the more pleasant emotions in Emma’s eyes and
on her face.

“Why are you here? I did not send for you.”
Alda’s hissed question made Gavin look sharply at her. His own face
was a mask of frozen composure. But he did not fail the child who
stood trembling before the dais.

“Welcome home, Emma,” he said.

“Thank you, my lord father.” Emma’s voice was
a soft whisper and she glanced nervously toward Alda.

“It was my thought,” Mirielle said to Gavin,
“that Emma might join us at the high table. I am convinced her
manners are acceptable. Perhaps you would allow her to sit beside
you for this meal.”

“A child at the high table?” Alda objected.
“Certainly not. Put her at one of the lower tables.”

“Would you deny your own daughter?” Gavin’s
voice carried a message that Mirielle could not decipher. “I cannot
think why you would do so, Alda. Emma looks quite presentable to
me.” The look he gave Alda was filled with loathing. His wife
stared back at him, her own features rigid with hatred.

That there was a contest of wills going on
Mirielle could see, but she did not know why it was happening. Was
it something about Emma, or was it that the baron of Wroxley and
his wife could not abide each other and their child was a handy
weapon in the battle between them? Mirielle prayed that Gavin would
not stoop to use a child in such a shameful way. Her belief in him
was borne out in the next hour and when that hour was over, she
found herself a little less angry with him than she had been.

“That girl has been sent home in disgrace for
some misdeed!” Alda declared.

“She does not seem particularly wicked to
me.” Gavin regarded Emma with a softer look than he had previously
sent her way. “Lady Mirielle is right, Emma. You ought to sit at
the high table.”

At this point they were interrupted by the
arrival of Hugh with Father John and Donada with Warrick and Robin,
all of whom came into the great hall at the same time. Mirielle was
pleased to see that Warrick was talking in an animated way with
Robin. When he smiled, the boy was a younger version of his
handsome father. But Warrick’s good humor vanished when he noticed
Father John and then the grownups at the high table.

“My lord.” Father John hurried forward to
address Gavin. “I come to you bringing with me these two wicked
children, whom the lord and lady of Cliffvale have returned to
Wroxley for parental punishment. I am ordered to recount their
misdeeds to you and to advise you as to Lord Cliffvale’s opinion on
what that punishment should be.”

“I knew it!” Alda was on her feet, pointing
at the children. “You brats have disgraced me.”

“No, we have not!” Emma cried. “Warrick is
not wicked.”

Mirielle observed with interest that Warrick
and Robin had moved to stand on either side of Emma, as if to
protect her. Warrick took Emma’s hand. Mirielle also saw that Gavin
was watching the children’s actions closely.

“Before anyone can be punished,” Gavin said,
“I must hear what these two are accused of doing.”

“In private, of course,” Alda began. “I see
no reason why all these common folk should be entertained -”

“Let them be entertained,” Warrick cried.
“Let it be a public trial.”

“I will not have you treating your mother so
rudely, Warrick,” Gavin said, his heavier voice cutting across his
son’s impassioned words. “You were sent to Cliffvale as a page to
learn manners and courtly bearing. Those same good manners now
require an apology for interrupting your mother when she was
speaking.”

“My lady mother.” At once, Warrick bowed to
Alda. “I do most sincerely apologize for my rudeness.”

“I do not forgive you,” Alda said.

“But I do.” Gavin nodded approval at his son.
“That was well and promptly done, Warrick. Now, Robin, I see no
reason why you should stand here with these two accused
miscreants.” The words were spoken with a smile, to which Robin
responded with passion.

“Warrick is my friend,” he said.

“I will take note of the fact that you think
Warrick is worthy of your loyalty. However, since you lads have not
seen each other for some years, you cannot have anything of value
to add to Warrick’s tale.”

“He told me what happened while we were
washing our hands,” Robin said.

“What you heard was Warrick’s version of
events,” Gavin said, “which I am certain Warrick is perfectly able
to recount to me in his own behalf. Donada, take your son to the
table with you and keep him there.”

“Yes, my lord.” Donada put an arm around
Robin’s shoulders. The boy resisted the pressure she was
exerting.

“Go on, Robin,” Warrick said. “Don’t get into
trouble on my account. Thank you for trying to help.”

“I’m your friend no matter what,” Robin
declared, finally allowing Donada to take him to their usual seats
at one of the lower tables.

Once more Mirielle was aware of how carefully
Gavin was attending to all the children said or did.

“Father John,” Gavin said to the priest,
“what have you tell me about these children?”

“The boy is by far the worse of the two,”
Father John began. “He finds excuses to avoid weapons practice. He
has not made friends with the other pages. Warrick claims the other
boys are stupid. He would spend all his days reading. Reading, my
lord! Lord and Lady Cliffvale feel, and I entirely agree with them,
that this is not a suitable activity for a youth who is in training
to become a knight.”

“I don’t want to be a knight,” Warrick
declared in a loud voice, speaking as though he wanted everyone in
the hall to hear him. “I want to be a scholar instead. I have
already begun my studies and I will not stop, not even if you beat
me or imprison me.”

“Never!” Alda cried. “My son will not be a
cleric! Nor will I allow him to join the priesthood.”

“My lady,” said Father John, “I fear the
Church is closed to young Warrick if he persists in his present
foolishness. Indeed, his very soul is in danger.”

“Not from reading,” Gavin said with a
disparaging smile for Father John’s concern. “I can read and I do
assure you, father, my soul is not in any danger from it.”

“You have not heard the whole of Warrick’s
offenses,” Father John insisted. “The boy is determined to pursue
the study of alchemy.”

“Is he?” said Hugh, looking at Warrick with
new interest.

“None of this is particularly disturbing,”
Gavin said. “I see no reason why the boy cannot combine his
knightly training with the studies he wants to pursue.”

“You still have not heard all, my lord,”
Father John said. “It was his latest escapade that resulted in his
expulsion from Cliffvale. I am commanded to tell you that under no
circumstances will Warrick or his sister be permitted to return.”
The priest ended his remarks with an expression of great
satisfaction on his thin face, as if he felt that he had discharged
a disagreeable duty to the best of his ability.

“What did you do, Warrick?” asked his father.
When Warrick looked at his toes with a sullen air instead of
answering, Gavin said, “It will be worse for you if you refuse to
tell me and I am thus forced to inquire of Father John for the
details.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Emma cried. “He was
proving an experiment he had read about, that I said could not be
done. Warrick was only trying to show me how to heat sulfur, which
he combined -” She stopped, gulping back tears.

“Sir,” said Warrick, straightening his
shoulders as if he expected a blow to fall on them, “I set the
stillroom at Cliffvale on fire. All of Lady Cliffvale’s dried herbs
were burnt and the walls were blackened.”

“Lad,” murmured Hugh, who was standing behind
the children, “you must learn to be more careful in your work.”

“There was a great flash of fire,” Warrick
said, speaking over his shoulder to Hugh, “and a revolting
smell.”

“I am sure there was,” Hugh responded.

Mirielle could see that Gavin was more amused
than annoyed by this story, but she knew he would not be indulgent
toward his son. Whatever the boy’s personal wishes might be, and
however sympathetic Gavin was to them, Warrick was the heir to
Wroxley and thus he was required to learn how to defend the castle
and how to be ready to do his duty to King Henry when called upon.
His other interests would have to take second place.

“Father John,” Gavin said. “I thank you for
your good care of these young ones. I would ask you to remain at
Wroxley for a few days, if you can. We have had no resident priest
for some time and I am certain my people would be grateful to make
their confessions and take communion from you.”

“Of course.” With that, Gavin’s squire,
Hidern came forward to lead the priest to a seat at one end of the
high table.

“Warrick,” Gavin went on, “I leave you in
Hugh’s care for the moment, while I consider what your punishment
should be. Tomorrow morning, you will report to Hidern in the
practice yard. He will begin to teach you the duties of a squire,
since your days as a page have come to an end.”

“Yes, my lord.” Warrick did not look happy at
his father’s decision, but he made no protest.

“For this meal, you may join Robin and his
mother,” Gavin added.

“Thank you, Father.” Warrick’s face
brightened at this order, which the boy promptly obeyed.

“Emma.” Gavin motioned to her with one hand.
“Come here and sit between Lady Mirielle and me. I want to talk to
you.”

“Yes, my lord.” Emma did as she was told,
taking her place on the bench beside Gavin’s chair. Her manners
were excellent. She did not spill a drop of food, either on her
clothes or the tablecloth, but Gavin could see how tense she
was.

“What, exactly, was your part in Warrick’s
escapade?” Gavin asked her.

“I questioned what he said about that
experiment,” Emma replied, adding, “I was right. It ended badly.
Sometimes, what is written in a book is wrong.”

“So I have occasionally found.” Gavin tried
to control the smile that tugged at his lips. The girl was so
solemn. He suspected that she was still afraid, too. “Shall I
assume from your remarks that you can read, Emma?”

“Warrick has been teaching me. Lady Cliffvale
was glad of it, for I can write, too, so she set me to keep her
stillroom ledger.”

“Perhaps we can find a similar use for you
here,” Mirielle said. With a glance at Gavin she added, “It would
be a good idea for Emma to learn the duties of a chatelaine.”

“I have already begun,” said Emma.

Gavin looked more closely at the girl. She
was not blonde and beautiful like her mother. In fact, Emma’s
straight hair, which was left loose and flowing as was the custom
for maidens, was so dark and shiny that it reminded him of
Mirielle’s hair.