Witchrise (14 page)

‘I have not forgotten.’

‘You made it clear that you are unlikely to say yes, and of course I would never try to force you.’ His voice hardened; he might not want to ‘force’ me, but neither would he give up without a fight. ‘I still hope to make you change your mind though.’

‘Impossible.’

He looked at me broodingly for a long moment. ‘Is that so? I’ve seen the way the wind has been blowing since I left Lytton Park. You would prefer an English Protestant husband, is that it?’

‘No!’

Alejandro continued doggedly, ‘Richard understands your art too. He has his own power. There would be no
conflict
there.’

‘Yes,’ I muttered, ‘but no love either.’

‘I know you do not wish to live in Spain, and why. But what if we were to marry and stay here in England?’ he asked as if he had not heard my response, his head bent in thought. ‘I could give up the priesthood.’

Anger leaped in my heart. ‘Don’t you dare! I know how much it means to you. Besides, it would not solve anything. You are a Spanish nobleman, Alejandro. Even if you gave up the priesthood, when your father dies, you will inherit his title and his duties. You will be required to attend the Spanish royal court, and oversee your lands and tenants.’ He did not reply. I persisted with my argument. ‘Is that not true?’

He lifted his head and his gaze met mine, a stormy black velvet shot through with frustration. ‘
Si
.’

‘In other words, if you are crazy enough to marry me, a commoner and a suspected witch, you will bring double disgrace on your family whether we stay here or live in Spain. And then the Inquisition will come beating down your door.’

‘Those dogs would not dare touch the wife of a nobleman—’ he began hotly, but I interrupted him.

‘The Spanish Inquisition would dare anything. Have you forgotten how they dragged me away and tortured me when we were at court? I was under the protection of the Lady Elizabeth, but they thought nothing of
that
.’

Alejandro shot a lightning glance at my hand. Señor de Pero, the Chief Inquisitor, had torn one of my fingernails off while torturing me for information, and the finger had never quite healed.

He took me by the shoulders, staring into my face. His voice was clipped, self-condemnatory. ‘Yes, and that was my fault. I did not believe de Pero would torture you, but I was wrong. Badly wrong. I should have worked harder to get you out of there.’

‘You couldn’t have saved me; you will never be able to save me. I’m . . . I’m not someone who
can
be saved.’ My heart thumped at the sudden flash of fury and helplessness in his eyes. But I needed him to accept the truth. ‘I’m a witch, Alejandro. I’m meant to be alone.’

He held me at arm’s length, his expression bleak as he looked me up and down. ‘So let me see if I have understood you,
mi alma
,’ he said stiffly, a muscle jerking in his cheek. ‘You will not listen to my suggestions. You wish us to go our separate ways once you have helped
la princesa
, and never see each other again?’

Somehow I managed a nod. ‘That would be for the best.’

‘So this is the end?’

‘This is the end,’ I repeated heavily.

I could hardly breathe, the pain in my heart was so intense. Having my fingernail ripped off by the Spanish Inquisition had been more bearable than telling him we were finished. If my spell stripped away Elizabeth’s desire for Robert Dudley, perhaps I should use it on myself and Alejandro. Set back our hearts to the moment we met and alter fate so that we remained strangers. Cold, indifferent strangers.

Then at least I would not have to suffer the agony I could see reflected in his eyes too.

The hour was late, the night outside dark. The old shepherd’s hut danced with shadows, lit only by a candle lantern and the low fire I had kindled. The smoke wreathed its way out of the broken rafters while I stared through it at the Lady Elizabeth, kneeling opposite me within the circle I had marked out in the dirt with the rough end of my hazel wand.

Outside the circle Blanche Parry stood to one side, studiously not looking at what we were doing but reading Elizabeth’s book of the psalms instead. The lady-in-waiting had stoutly refused to leave her mistress alone with a witch in this ‘nasty, dirty hovel’ but was also clearly horrified at the thought of witnessing magick. So the psalms it was.

Somewhere outside the shepherd’s hut I knew Alejandro was also on his feet, waiting for the spell to be finished so he could escort us back to the house. He had not spoken to me on the way down to the hut tonight, supporting the Lady Elizabeth instead, though he himself was hardly more steady on his feet.

Alejandro had not forgiven me for rejecting him. Perhaps he never would. Well, I would probably never forgive myself either. But it had still been the right thing to do.

I set the cauldron on the flames, waited patiently for the oil to smoke, then threw in the toad entrails, a slimy pinkish-brown tangle.

The smell of roasting innards filled the hut at once, and the Lady Elizabeth blenched.

She did not cover her nose though, much to her credit, but at my whispered instruction threw in her own ingredients: a shred of paper with ‘Robert Dudley’ written across it, a dried petal of eglantine he had pressed inside a letter for her, and a scattering of rosemary.

‘Have you ever wished to be free of love, Meg?’ she asked curiously, watching as I stirred the ingredients gently together.

I kept my eyes on the cauldron. ‘Yes.’

‘With Alejandro?’ Her smile was thin when I looked up in surprise. ‘I know you are still secretly betrothed. I have seen how you look at each other. But you must know such a match to be impossible. Indeed, I should have said something before, but my mind was elsewhere . . .’

I looked at her, steeling myself, for I knew before she spoke what was coming next.

‘I know it will be hard, but I need you to stay away from Señor de Castillo while you are here. You must never be alone with him in your chamber, as you often were when you served me before. I was taught that a princess must always be in charge of her ladies-in-waiting, especially the younger ones, and has a duty to ensure they remain . . . untouched.’ To her credit, she looked very uncomfortable as she said this. ‘You understand what I mean?’

I nodded stiffly.

‘Good, I’m glad.’ Elizabeth bit her lip, gnawing on it as she stared at the cauldron between us. For the first time I saw her as a girl rather than a princess, only a few years older than me, and very much in love with a man she could never have. ‘Now to rid myself of unwanted love, and we can both be chaste together.’

I had earlier had a very similar conversation with Alejandro, of course, and could have smiled about that if my heart had not been bleeding inside.

‘If you are ready,’ I managed huskily, adding a crushed handful of the wild flowers I had gathered in the woods, ‘recite the words we practised. But
backwards
, remember, and three times exactly. Then we must keep vigil until everything inside the cauldron has begun to blacken. That’s vital, my lady, or the spell will not work.’

Elizabeth nodded, a look of utter concentration on her narrow-chinned face.

‘Dudley Robert,’ she intoned with great seriousness, staring at the sticky mess inside the smoking cauldron, ‘thee for . . . love my away take. Dudley Robert . . . thee for love my away . . . take.’ She paused, suddenly shivering, then finished in a rush, ‘Dudley Robert thee for love my away take.’

God’s blood, I thought grimly, those toad entrails stink. I tried not to show my revulsion before the princess though. If she could stand it, so could I.

Nonetheless, gathering the ingredients for the spell, consulting my mother’s grimoire, even scouring out her old travelling cauldron . . . these simple acts had brought me closer to my mother. Now it felt as though Catherine Canley were there by my side, advising me how to work the spell. And I felt sure she would have performed such spells for her own mistress, Elizabeth’s mother, Queen Anne.

The disgusting mixture in the cauldron was brown now, turning to black at the edges. I looked at the Lady Elizabeth, but she was staring at the various objects I had laid out on the dirt floor beside the fire, her face distracted.

Suddenly uneasy, I glanced at the cauldron, then the door, closed against the cold night air. What was troubling me? The hairs prickled on the back of my neck as I became aware of a presence with us in the hut. My mother’s spirit? Or something more sinister?

The place was so still. Perhaps I was imagining things. It was very late, and I was tired after a restless night.

The pot hissed and I peered inside, squinting through the heat haze, the thickening smoke as the ingredients blackened. When I leaned back again, I felt dizzy. Then stupid somehow, as though I had been drugged.

Had I unwisely inhaled some of the smoke? But there was no warning in the book about doing that . . .

I turned to consult the grimoire for the next step, and found Elizabeth turning the pages, her look fascinated.

‘My lady,’ I began tentatively, then saw what she was wearing on her slender middle finger.

My mother’s ring!

‘No!’ I exclaimed in horror and lunged across the cauldron for her hand, not caring how insolently I was behaving towards a princess.

I never reached her.

In that instant, Blanche Parry stumbled forward with a yell as though to prevent me from molesting the princess.

I leaped up, startled by this violent response, but one glance at Blanche’s face told me she was not even looking at us. She was staring at the cauldron, its contents now a foul stinking mush.

With a surprisingly powerful kick, Blanche launched my mother’s battered cauldron off its iron stand, then stamped on the fire, all but destroying it. Blackened toad entrails, ash and burning brands – some still white-hot – went flying towards the princess, who jumped to her feet to avoid being burned by the shower of hot debris.

The fire hissed out.

The hut was dim, the only light coming from the princess’s lantern, the flickering gloom thick with smoke.

Blanche stood in the centre of the circle, head bent, her large body shaking as though with an ague.

‘Blanche!’ the princess gasped, her face paler than ever. ‘What on earth were you thinking? You’ve ruined everything. The spell will not work now. And you’ve burned my hand! Look!’ And she thrust out her slightly reddened hand, still jewelled with my mother’s ring, for the woman to see.

‘Blanche?’ I murmured, rather more cautiously, and laid a hand on the woman’s heaving shoulder.

The lady-in-waiting swung abruptly to face me, crouching low as though about to spring at me. Her mouth opened. But no words came out. Only a terrible snarling like a rabid dog, her lips damp with spittle.

Elizabeth was staring now, her eyes almost black. ‘God’s blood, what is that infernal noise she’s making? Have you lost your wits, Blanche?’

But Blanche did not reply. Her cap had tumbled off, her hair hanging loose. Her features were twisted in an ugly grimace, almost unrecognizable. Some creature of pure evil had taken possession of her body and was staring out of her normally placid face with a malevolence that struck terror into me.

The door to the hut crashed open and Alejandro stood there, breathing hard, his gaze locked on me. Then his eyes widened at the sight of Blanche in the circle, crouched with bared teeth like a wild animal.

‘
Madre di Dios!
’ He crossed himself rapidly, then lifted his silver crucifix to his lips, staring at Blanche. ‘I heard shouts. What in God’s name has happened here?’

‘We don’t know,’ I muttered, looking away from him, though I was secretly relieved to see him.

It was a lie, of course. I had a strong suspicion that Marcus Dent might be behind this. But Alejandro did not need to know that. It would only make it harder for him to let me go.

Blanche had turned to inspect him, still growling low in her throat. Now she suddenly sprang at him with a wordless cry, rigid fingers outstretched like claws.

Alejandro seized her by the wrists, struggling for a moment while the lady-in-waiting screamed and raked at his face, then crashed heavily to the dirt floor with her. The violent shock of their landing seemed to shake the demon out of Blanche, and she cried out in genuine terror, ‘Lord save me!’

Alejandro released her and stumbled to his feet, a smear of mud on his cheek. ‘Mistress Parry?’

‘Forgive me, forgive me,’ she babbled, then hid her face in her hands.

He swung to face us. ‘I don’t understand what’s been going on here—’ he began in a hostile tone, but then broke off, staring at Elizabeth. She had been studying the back of her hand with a perplexed frown, and he must have seen the glint of my mother’s ring on her finger. ‘My lady? Why are you wearing that ring?’

The princess looked up with narrowed eyes, clearly shocked to be addressed so peremptorily.

‘Sir?’

I stepped forward, holding out my hand. ‘My lady, you must remove that ring. It is a magickal object.’

‘What, this? But it’s so beautiful. I saw it lying on the floor, and I just had to put it on . . .’ With obvious reluctance, the princess slid the ring from her finger and placed it on my palm. She bit her lip. ‘Was it the ring? Did I cause this?’

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted, closing my palm on the reddish-gold ring. It felt cool and smooth, and I was suddenly tempted to slip it onto my own finger, remembering how strong and confident it had made me feel. ‘Though I doubt it. This felt more like dark magick.’

‘It’s curious though,’ Elizabeth murmured, frowning down at her hand again. ‘I could have sworn—The skin was burned, I’m sure. But there’s not a mark there now.’

‘How lucky for you,’ I said with mild irony, then caught Alejandro looking at me darkly and regretted it.

But the princess was not listening. She had hurried across to comfort Blanche, embracing her with the warm affection she seemed to reserve only for her ladies-in-waiting, and murmuring reassurances in her ear.

‘We had better get back to the house,’ I said to nobody in particular.