Sorceress (23 page)

How did this woman know so much about her? How could Gleda know that while all of Bryanna’s siblings had straight teeth and favored their right hands, she did not?

“Oh, Kambria was smitten with your father, and ’twas her undoing. But who could blame her? Alwynn, he was a handsome devil.” She sighed and, though she was staring at Bryanna, in her mind’s eye Bryanna guessed Gleda was envisioning her father as a young man. “He was a tall, strapping baron, with a twinkle in his eye and an easy laugh. He’d caught a glimpse of the apothecary’s daughter in the village and had been enchanted.”

“Her being a witch and all.”

“Shh,” Gleda reprimanded sharply. From the other side of the door a goat bleated, its bell ringing as it walked. Gleda ignored the noise and continued. “Lord Alwynn, he had come to Tarth in search of recruits and mercenaries, but with one look at Kambria, he set his mind on having her.”

“But he was married. . . .”

Gleda narrowed her gaze upon Bryanna, as if to convey a wisdom shared only by women. “Aye, that he was, though a marriage vow hasn’t stopped some men from lifting the skirts of someone other than their wives. And, mayhap Kambria knew of his wife but didn’t care. She was as rebellious as I think you might be, and couldn’t or wouldn’t resist his advances. It matters not now. The result was the same. Theirs was a short, albeit passionate time together, but it lasted long enough that you were conceived.”

“Nay! My mother is—”

“Yes, yes, I know. Lenore.” She sighed. “I’m getting to her.”

Bryanna wasn’t certain she wanted to hear the rest of the old woman’s tale, no matter how false it might be. It seemed a sacrilege, even heresy to hear lies about her parents, both now dead and unable to defend themselves. Cringing inside, Bryanna braced herself with ever-increasing dread.

“As the Fates would have it, Lady Lenore, too, was with child. Alwynn had planted his seed with both of the women he loved within two weeks of each other.”

“I doubt that—”

“ ’Tis the truth I tell you, Bryanna,” Gleda insisted as she plucked a bit of goat’s hair that had caught on a nail in the table. She rubbed it between her fingers, twisting it into a fine string. “When nearly half a year had passed from his visit, after summer had faded and the leaves on the trees had started to curl and turned brown around the winter apples, it became apparent that Kambria was with child. No longer could she cover her swollen belly with clothes that hid her shape. The local priest at the time was Hallyd, who now is the Baron of Chwarel, which is less than a day’s ride from here, to the east.”

“A priest?”

“No longer. His brother, who was baron, befell a horrible accident. Within hours of the death, Hallyd quickly gave up his holy cassocks for the barony. Truth to tell, he was anything but holy or God-fearing. But as a young man, he was power hungry. He had heard of Kambria and was obsessed with her, the dagger, and her magick. Upon learning that she was with child he became enraged. Proclaimed her both a whore and a witch. It was ugly, I tell you. Hallyd railed against her and threatened her with her life if she did not tell him the whereabouts of the dagger.

“She refused, but Hallyd was relentless in his persecution of her and he was determined to bring about her ruin. ’Twas thought that he had wanted her, and it infuriated him to learn she’d given herself to another and carried his child. In the end, Hallyd would be satisfied with nothing but death for her and the babe.”

Bryanna protested no more.

“Foreseeing his vengeance, Kambria stole away one dark winter’s night. She headed south and east. To Penbrooke.”

Bryanna’s stomach cramped. “No,” she murmured. “Oh, no . . .”

Gleda was nodding, her fingers working the wool. “’Tis true. Within days, Lady Lenore’s time had come, but the birth was not easy and lasted far too long. When the babe finally arrived,the cord wrapped around her tiny neck, she was blue and could not breathe. Lenore, too, struggled, bleeding and nearly dying herself. Had the babe survived, most likely she would have been severely addled, a half-wit, but it was not to be.”

“The child died?” Bryanna whispered.

“So it is said.”

Bryanna shivered. She had never heard this story, never known that she’d had another sister. . . .

“When Kambria appeared at Penbrooke, Alwynn, fearing his wife would not survive knowing she had lost a babe, made a bargain with his lover.” Her old eyes found Bryanna’s and she no longer rubbed the thread of goat’s wool. “He agreed to place Kambria’s daughter to Lenore’s breast.”

“You’re saying that was me,” Bryanna said, disbelieving. Oh, this was wrong, so very wrong!

“Lady Lenore, so near the brink of death herself, did not notice the difference. ’Tis said that when the babe took her teat in her mouth and suckled, Lenore began to grow stronger.”

“Oh, that is such rot!”

Bryanna shook her head so violently that the cup within her hands sloshed, splashing hot broth onto the table and her hands. As if she’d expected the reaction, Gleda dropped her piece of twisted thread and quickly mopped the hot liquid with a rag from a pocket of her apron.

“’Tis the truth I speak, child,” Gleda said.

“Then how do you know of it?”

“The only person who witnessed what happened, other than Lord Alwynn, was the woman who cared for Lady Lenore’s children.”

“Isa,” Bryanna whispered, stunned.

“Aye, not even her servant Hildy guessed the truth,” Gleda said, mentioning Lenore’s most loyal servant.

Bryanna was shaken by the truth in the old woman’s tale. The notion that she was not Lenore’s flesh and blood explained so many things. Had not she been different from her siblings? Had not Gavyn pointed out her father treated her differently than he did her sisters and brothers? Bryanna took a sip from the broth while her mind raced in a dozen different directions. Morwenna and Daylynn were but her half sisters? Tadd and Kelan not her full-blood brothers? Oh, sweet mother of the earth, was that why she was so different, why she was chosen for spells and visions and curses and charms. . . ?

“Aye, ’twas Isa,” Gleda answered, sniffing and swiping at her cheeks with the back of her sleeve. “She was sworn to secrecy.”

“What then happened to Kambria?” Bryanna asked, feeling a chill that ran the length of her body. Though a part of her wanted to hear the rest of Gleda’s tale, another part warned her that she wouldn’t like what she was about to learn.

Again the older woman sighed. “’Twas a tragedy. She returned here to Tarth, and Hallyd, he was waiting. Demanded the dagger, he did, and when she wouldn’t give it to him, he and the men closest to him chased her high into the mountains. ’Twas winter, everything covered with snow and ice. She could not escape. Killed for her witchcraft, she was. And when her body was found, strange markings were found upon her throat, much the same as the bruises upon yours.

“What? On mine?” Bryanna touched her throat.

“Aye.” Gleda brought her a mirror of polished metal and held a candle to Bryanna’s face. She saw her image, her tousled red hair, eyes that appeared more green than blue, the pupils huge. Circling her throat was a ring of tiny bruises.

“The rosary,” she whispered and thought of her dream. Fear curdled the contents of her stomach. What was this? How could something she only conjured in her mind bring a physical impression upon her? She pressed a finger to the small bruises and winced in pain.

“They are real,” Gleda told her solemnly. “They are identical to the marks upon Kambria’s neck when her body was discovered. Bruises and cuts, as if she’d been strangled by something . . . aye, a rosary would do it. Some say she was strangled, but rumor has it Hallyd and his men stoned her.”

“Dear God,” Bryanna whispered, thinking of her dream. Could any of this be true? Fear, like smoke oozing under a doorway, crawled up her back.

“You know ’tis true. Dreams that are grounded in truth leave a mark. Your dream came to you to reveal your mother. I suspect you felt her tragic destiny quite deeply.”

“It seemed so real.”

“’Twas only a dream,” Gleda said, but she seemed saddened, as if she knew something she didn’t dare confide. “You, Bryanna, are the only sorceress who can protect the Chosen One. Only you can piece the dagger together. It’s important, you see, for you will need the Sacred Dagger to save the life of the child. You must keep it with you always.”

“This child . . .” Bryanna shook her head. “I know not of a babe.”

Her eyes grew wide as Gleda slowly repeated the old prophecy. “Sired by Darkness. Born of Light. Protected by the Sacred Dagger. A ruler of all men, all beasts, all beings. It is he who is born on the Eve of Samhain. ’Tis your destiny, Bryanna, to save the child.”

“From what?”

“All that is evil.”

“Who is he?”

“Your own child, Bryanna. For you are the Light the prophecy mentions.”

“What? No!” She couldn’t think about this nonsense.

“’Tis the truth I speak.”

Bryanna’s mind ran in circles. Certainly this couldn’t be true. “Then what . . . then who is the Darkness?” she demanded, her heart racing. “If I’m the Light, then who is the bloody Darkness?”

When Gleda didn’t answer, Bryanna said, “I do not have a child. This . . . this is all the musings and gossip of . . . of old women. A bunch of lies, that’s what it is. Lies!” She gathered in a deep breath as the older woman stared at her.

“’Tis the truth I speak.”

“Then prove it. Where is she? Kambria. Where is she buried?”

Gleda snorted. “Your mother is in a pauper’s grave outside the village walls, far from the sanctity of the church’s cemetery. ’Tis nearly a day’s journey from here.”

“So all who were a part of this are dead, yet you know of this, how?” She studied Gleda, who was suddenly overcome with a deep sadness. “From Isa?” she guessed.

The elderly woman went over to the fire and picked up the metal prod. Jabbing at the burning logs, she adjusted the wood so that the flames crackled and burned bright. “Aye. Isa was my sister,” she said.

Was that true? Isa had never spoken of her family.

“Waylynn, Kambria’s father, was our brother. He was your grandfather. An apothecary.”

“Is he yet alive?” Bryanna asked, though she guessed the truth.

“Oh, nay. He died years ago. Far away, crossing the River Towy.” Her mouth puckered as a veil of sadness came over her. “So you see, child, you are of my blood. Of Isa’s blood. Kambria was our niece, mine and Isa’s. And we’re all descendants of Llewellyn.”

“The great one?” Bryanna said. “Is—is that why people in the village fear you?”

Gleda nodded and sighed, as if she found the whole ordeal tiring. “ ’ Tis natural, I suppose. And then there are rumors that it’s not just Llewellyn, but Rhiannon as well, that she had a child sired by him.”

“The great witch? You’re saying that you and I . . . and Isa and this Waylynn are all descendants of an affair between . . .”

“Mortal and immortal, aye.”

“That’s impossible.” Bryanna wasn’t going to swallow this fish of a lie. ’Twas insanity.

“So you’re one of them? A disbeliever, eh? Don’t you know that all people fear that which they do not understand?”

“Then I would be afraid all the time because I understand nothing! Nothing!” Dead women talking to her, sacred daggers, now this . . . this heresy that she was . . . not even completely human. ’Twas an old woman’s folly. But an old woman who believed every word she breathed. Bryanna saw it in her eyes. “All right,” she said, catching her breath and trying to think clearly. “Do you have the stone?”

A whitish eyebrow rose.

“The first stone,” Bryanna said. “If all of this . . . belly rot is true, then you can prove it, right? By coming up with the first stone. So do you have it?”

“You mean a jewel for the dagger?”

“I . . . I don’t . . .” In truth, Bryanna wasn’t certain, but Isa had definitely mentioned a first stone. “Yes, the jewel,” she said emphatically, for then the little woman might tell her more, at least a portion of the truth. “Where is it?”

“Nay, ’tis something you must find.”

“I must find it? But I’m here. If you have the bloody gem, then—”

“I don’t.”

Bryanna was flabbergasted. This was crazy. “Then why did I come all this way?” she asked, trying to make sense of this. “So . . . so . . .
how
am I supposed to find it?”

“You’ll find a way. I’ll help.”

“You will?” She stared at the tiny bit of a woman. How could she possibly help? “So, now, let me understand this,” she said, trying to think while a hen clucked softly overhead. “You . . . you are a witch as well? You draw runes and cast spells and pray to the Great Mother?”

“A witch? Nay. Not really. What I feel is not nearly as strong as what Isa sensed.” She shook her head. “ ’ Tis true that I have seen visions at times. I foretold my own son’s death, I did. But I’ve learned to keep them to myself. When I saw that one of the potter’s daughters would drown in the river, or that the innkeeper’s wife would bear no sons, people got angry and afraid.” Her thin lips drew downward. “You see, they don’t understand.” She glanced around the interior of her home again. “Now, come. We have but a few hours of daylight left and much to do.”

“Just a minute.” Bryanna was still struggling to make sense of it all. “If you and Isa and I . . . and Waylynn are all of the same blood, why was not Isa, or you or any of the progeny of Waylynn, the child of Light? Why
me
?”

“ ’Tis written.”

“Where?” Bryanna demanded. “Written
where
?”

“Here.” Gleda tapped the piece of doeskin with her finger, then picked it up. “This”—she wagged the leather under Bryanna’s nose—“is only a piece of it. ’Tis your quest to find the rest.” Turning her back on Bryanna, she carefully wrapped the dagger in the deer hide, then tied it together securely with the twine she’d twisted from the goat hair.