Witchfall (10 page)

‘You mean that you tortured her.’

He smiled unpleasantly. ‘Oh, hardly. We persuaded her, rather. Though I am afraid we must now take your maid Meg Lytton away with us. We would like to know more about this aunt of hers. Indeed, I am surprised you are not more curious yourself, Lady Elizabeth, given the charge of witchcraft once faced by your maid. But perhaps you are content to be served by one in whose blood flows the stench of eternal damnation.’

‘That is arrant nonsense, sir, and well you know it,’ Elizabeth retorted, and held up a hand as his men moved to seize me. ‘No, you shall not take another of my faithful servants to your torture chamber. If this witchfinder Marcus Dent had found anything of note when he examined Meg Lytton, would he not have sent word to the Queen, my sister?’

‘Perhaps he was prevented from doing so,’ Señor de Pero remarked simply.

‘Or perhaps there was nothing to report.’

‘All the same, we will take Meg Lytton to be examined.’

The Inquisitor nodded to his men to continue. Elizabeth looked on in cold fury, helpless to prevent them from dragging me to the door. My mistress had done more for me than I had expected, however, given that I had refused to help her, though it was hard not to imagine that Elizabeth had tried to prevent my arrest by the Inquisition for fear of what I might reveal, like poor Blanche before me, under torture – and not because she cared for me or valued my service.

I passed Alejandro in the doorway and saw his furious expression, his hand still hovering above his sword hilt.

Deliberately I averted my face and stared coldly at the ground, hoping Alejandro would understand that he must not interfere with my arrest.
Say nothing! Do nothing!
Alejandro wanted to fight, because he was not only a man of God but a trained soldier. As a woman I knew that fighting was futile. We were outnumbered and on their territory. This was a time to be patient, not rush in without thinking of the consequences.

‘It is both God’s will and the Queen’s wish that we root out evil and unholy practices in her court. If your maid servant knows nothing of the dark arts, you will have nothing to fear.’ Miguel de Pero bowed to the princess with a mocking flourish, then waved his men to take me away. ‘
Adios
, my lady.’

Evil and unholy!

That was a better description of the cell into which the priests had thrown me than of myself, I thought. The place was cramped, wretched-smelling and thick with tiny black flies that stirred from the straw like a breeze every time I shifted position. I might not be pious and devout, yet I believed in God and had always tried my utmost to do what was right. It was surely God who had given me the power to work magick and a keen ambition to better myself in the craft. Had He done so in order that I should reject that gift as ‘unholy’ and spend my life on my knees instead, praying to be deaf and blind to the power I possessed?

The black-robed men of the Inquisition had chained both my wrists and my ankles to the wall, then locked the cell door when they left me there alone – as though they expected me to escape without these precautions. I could not imagine how I could have achieved such a feat. The cell was high up in one of the eastern towers, a part of the palace I had never visited before. Through the narrow sunlit grating that passed for my window I could hear birdsong from the stately gardens below, and the occasional clatter of wheels in some unseen courtyard.

What had Blanche told them of my talents? That I could scale sheer walls and gnaw iron bars with my teeth? I felt a sudden anger towards my betrayer, and clung onto it as a source of strength. My head could not blame Blanche for speaking under torture, but my heart did, and my aching body too. I had thought we had become friends in the past few months. But in her pain Blanche had seized on my name, and given it to the Inquisition to save herself.

The iron cuffs chafed at my skin with every movement, so I stayed as still as I could. With nothing better to do, I watched the slotted sunlight crawl across the walls as morning turned to afternoon. Then the sun swung away, and the tiny room became dark and chilly.

For hours nobody came to the cell door. I tried not to dwell on my growing need to relieve myself. This must be part of my test, I thought drily. Another was the foul, unrelenting stench of the straw at my feet, which smelled as though many others had been left here for hours without a pot.

Some of the flies entertained themselves by exploring my nose, then my eyes and cheek, while I jerked my head impotently to drive them away. This was how a horse must feel in harness, I thought, unable to shake off the flies which plagued and stung its hide.

No doubt I could have dreamed up some spell to make my imprisonment less of a torment, perhaps even made myself invisible – for all the good that would have done me,
chained as I was to their filthy wall. But one of Señor de Pero’s men had stuffed a cloth into my mouth before leaving, and the closest I could get to speech was an angry stifled moan.

Eventually I heard footsteps stop outside my cell, then the door being unlocked. This was it. They had come back to question me.

My heart juddered and I felt sick, watching the door swing inexorably open.

How long could I withstand their torture before I broke as Blanche had done? Perhaps I was not as brave as I hoped. Certainly I did not feel very brave just at the moment, about to face the Inquisition.

Except it was not Miguel and his men come back to skewer me alive, but a dark-hooded priest standing in the doorway to the cell, a silver cross about his neck.

‘I bring spiritual solace,’ he murmured, and I saw that he held a small, leather-bound book of prayers. ‘Will you repent your sins, or risk an unshriven death?’

Alejandro!

For a second I was overjoyed, my heart singing with love at the sound of his voice. Even the dark little cell seemed to lighten with his presence. Then I remembered the terrible danger he had put himself in by coming to me, and I shook my head violently, groaning ‘No!’ behind my gag.

Alejandro stepped inside, his head still bowed. Beyond him I could see one of the guards looking at me with a sort
of leering stare, then the man pulled the cell door shut and we were alone.

‘Forgive me, my love.’ Alejandro removed the cloth from my mouth, his gaze searching my face intently. ‘I wanted to come earlier but they were questioning me too. Have they hurt you?’

I shook my head. My mouth and throat were dry as sawdust. ‘Thirsty,’ I managed.

He looked about but there was nothing for me to drink. ‘Damn them,’ he said angrily.

I closed my eyes in despair, then opened them as a new thought struck me. ‘The Lady Elizabeth?’

‘They’re searching her rooms now for forbidden writings, anything that might link her to Dee and his accursed horoscopes. I bribed the guard, told him I could not bear to see such a young girl face the Inquisition without bringing her prayer and spiritual comfort.’ He smiled grimly, throwing back the deep cowl of his hood so that I could see his face clearly. ‘I look the part, at least.’

‘If they catch you here—’

‘I know,’ he agreed calmly. ‘We have maybe a few minutes, then I’ll go. Hush, don’t look like that. I’ll be careful.’

‘How should I look?’

Alejandro leaned forward, his gaze fixed on mine, and covered my mouth with his own. A kind of warm, glorious darkness enveloped us both as we kissed, and for that
moment I forgot the horror of our situation. I was waiting to be questioned and tortured, while he had put himself in terrible danger just by coming to see me.

Yet as soon as his lips touched mine, all of that became meaningless. All I knew was that I loved him, and my soul soared as our lips and then our bodies touched.

After a moment, he pulled back and gazed down into my face. ‘That’s how you should look,’ he said softly.

‘If I wasn’t chained to this wall, I’d put my arms about your neck and kiss you back,’ I whispered.

Alejandro smiled, but I saw his restless fury grow as he looked about the room. His dark gaze paused on the brazier, not yet lit, but with thin irons poking out that would sear flesh once red-hot. Then he glanced down at the metal cuffs at my wrists and ankles, no doubt seeing how cruelly they dug into my skin. ‘What savages they are, to treat a woman worse than a dog. Let them hurt you, I’ll fetch my sword and hack their hearts out, one by one,’ he breathed angrily. ‘They do not deserve to be called men.’

‘Fire-eater! You know, this is the second time you have bribed a guard to visit me in prison,’ I said lightly, hoping to distract him from his fury.

I remembered how Alejandro had visited me secretly in my little room at Woodstock, the night before Marcus Dent came to interrogate me on a charge of practising witchcraft. How frightened I had been then! We had only left Woodstock a month ago, yet already the time I had spent
there seemed a thousand years ago. Now I was at court and still suspected of being a witch, facing torture at the hands of the Inquisition.

It was like facing death.

I managed a faint smile when he did not reply. ‘You seem to be making a habit of bringing me “spiritual comfort”, Alejandro.’

‘Only because you have a habit of getting yourself into trouble.’

‘Well, you may not have noticed this, but I’m not very good at being
good
.’ I took a deep breath, knowing what I must do. ‘Which is why you must go, Alejandro. You cannot help me, but you can help the Lady Elizabeth.’

He touched my cheek, his expression intense. ‘I have a plan. Let me marry you. Tell them we are betrothed. I can protect you once we are man and wife.’

‘No,’ I whispered, though it nearly killed me to refuse such an offer.

It was sweetly tempting to agree and let him protect me, in the hope that being betrothed to a Catholic novice in the King’s service would restore my reputation and save my neck. But in truth it was more likely to do neither of those things, but stretch Alejandro’s neck instead. And I would not drag him into this dangerous hotchpotch of guilt and suspicion.

‘It would do no good. Señor de Pero has already warned me to stay away from you,’ I told him, ‘and I think he warned
you too. He’d be more likely to want me dead if I said we were betrothed.’

His eyes flickered, but he did not press the point. So I was right and Miguel de Pero had spoken to him about me, perhaps instructed Alejandro to steer clear of English country girls like me, so clearly beneath his status as a Spanish nobleman and a novice. But whatever had been said, he was still here beside me. I had to give him that. And he knew me well enough not to waste his time trying to change my mind once it was made up.

‘Then my advice is to confess straight away that you dabbled in the dark arts, but only at your aunt’s insistence. That she led you astray with her cunning witchery, and now you repent. Tell them you renounce the Devil and wish to be a good Catholic.’ He frowned when I shook my head. ‘No, hear me out. They’ll be more excited by a confession of witchcraft than this other business with John Dee, which seems to be leading nowhere. You will not be tortured if you confess straightaway, and if you can demonstrate true repentance they may even release you without trial as an example to other transgressors. Then once you are free I will take you away from here, somewhere they can never find you.’

‘And what will happen to the Lady Elizabeth?’

He hesitated, then lied. I needed no magick art to tell me that he was lying. ‘She will come to no harm. Your mistress need not be implicated in your confession.’

‘A witch in her household, and you say she will not be implicated?’

His voice became strained. ‘I love you, Meg Lytton. I will not leave you here to be tortured and abused. I know it sounds bad, but a confession will save you the worst pain.’

‘Alejandro, you know I cannot do that. A confession would destroy the Lady Elizabeth.’

I loved him back fiercely but I could not make myself say the words. Not now, not here in this cell. To use those words would glue him to my side as surely as if I had used a spell of cleaving.

‘Now leave me, Alejandro. For my sake, you must say nothing of our betrothal to anyone. You will never become a priest if you openly associate with me, especially now that I have been arrested by the Inquisition. And if you are found here, what can your masters think but that you are somehow involved in my wickedness?’

He stared at me despairingly. ‘At least protect yourself then. I know that you are capable of it.’

I almost laughed, but did not quite dare, seeing his grim expression. ‘Are you giving me permission to use magick?’

‘I do not believe a just and loving God would wish to see you suffer under the instruments of the Inquisition,’ he muttered, and glanced about the walls of my cell where vicious metal tools and contraptions hung, waiting to be used on unfortunate prisoners like myself. ‘Nor remain locked up
in this cruel place, though you had cast a thousand witch’s circles.’

We both heard the sound of footsteps coming up the tower’s circular staircase. Alejandro turned to look at me, his eyes very dark.

‘Please go,’ I managed huskily. ‘And put the cloth back in my mouth. Hurry!’

By the time Miguel de Pero stepped into my ugly cell, ducking his head to avoid the low doorway, my betrothed had disappeared – probably slipping higher up the stairs to avoid meeting the Inquisition as they climbed to my tower room.

The black-robed Spaniard loomed above me, holding a torch aloft to banish the growing shadows. I blinked up at him and his men in the torchlight, unable to hide my fear of what would come next. Now that I no longer had to appear strong in front of Alejandro, my inner defences began to crumble and I could not seem to hold a single spell in my head.

How could I withstand this man’s methods when I already felt so weak, so alone and vulnerable? My arms ached from hanging in chains, and my body was deeply uncomfortable, my belly cramping like a woman’s in labour. His eyes were cold as he looked me up and down, examining my captive body; they froze the blood in my veins.