A Witch's Tale (11 page)

“Who did he lose the match to?”

“It was Strathmore, if you can believe it.”

Madeline reclined on her side facing him, her
expression fascinated. “It makes no sense to me. The man won. Why did he need
to go so far?”

“He might have won the match that day, but
many said it was by unfair means. My father said he was not himself that day.
His squire believed his wine was doused with something those final rounds. My
father said he felt himself falling from his horse even before Strathmore’s
lance even felled him.”

“Winning the match was not Strathmore’s only
goal then, I take it?”

“No, discrediting him in the queen’s eyes
was. She didn’t care if my father won or lost a jousting match. Strathmore saw
a way of replacing himself in her good graces.”

“Wasn’t that what your father would have
wished for?”

Gavin looked at her in surprise. “I know
where you go with this, Madeline. Yes, my father would have rather not served
as court stud to the queen. He would have never given up everything in order
for that to happen.”

“Did he have regret of it?”

“His only regret was losing his lands and
title for me.”

“Then it stands to reason he threw the match
to leave court?” Madeline asked and saw the dark frown and regretted saying it.

“He wouldn’t have lied to me,” Gavin replied
coldly. “You had to have known the man. Had he done it, he would have admitted
it proudly. No, he was set up by Strathmore and his hirelings.”

“It seems so trivial a matter to be punished
so severely. Why would the queen act so harshly?”

“The queen saw it as his desire to return to
his wife. It was jealousy, you see. He might have had no way to refuse her
advances, but she knew he didn’t love her. Women can be vindictive. She was
known for such pettiness. Banishing him and casting him out was the least of
it. She stripped him of everything she could. He could not return here, even to
plead his case, or he would have been imprisoned.”

“I think he was free of her at last,”
Madeline remarked and smiled. “It appears he got what he wanted, even if it
cost him everything.”

“He paid a very high price for it,” Gavin
disclosed grimly. “He had to earn his spurs all over again in Scotland,
Madeline. Do you realize what that must have been like for a man of his years?
My father was well over thirty when this all came about. He was mocked and
ridiculed all the while. He endured it all to win great battles for James
Stuart. He had to prove himself all over again. For all those years of service,
he was given only a leaky, drafty keep. It had no land attached, butted between
two opposing houses always at odds. Do you think my father had it easy? He
spent the rest of his life buffered between the feuds of those there. It was no
reward. Now it would appear I’m the one to inherit such a thankless position.”

Madeline could see the topic upset him. “I
did not imply he was better off, only that he was free of the queen’s hold. I
don’t see it as fair at all. What I don’t understand was why King James never
honored him as he should have.”

“What do you think this tournament is about,
Madeline?” he asked and looked away. “It is his way of giving back all that my
father lost, while saving face with the English.”

“Then you must win it.”

“Yes, there is no question I must win. My
family needs this. The king demands it.”

“What if you should lose?” she hesitated to
ask.

B
ut elfin phantomas
cursed the dell,
And sylvan witches all
unsean,
As our tale will truely
tell,
Wielded sceptre o're the
queen.

“I
think we both know I lose more than just a tournament, if that is the case,” he
said and regarded her gravely. “I have to prove myself to my king, even if I
haven’t killed enough of his enemies already.”

“So
your worth is measured to your king by a jousting tournament? You ride under
his pennant and he would take all credit should you win?” she asked in disgust
and shook her head. “You accept the matter better than I would, if it were me.
I would feel sorely used.”

“We’re
all used in this life, Madeline,” he admitted in regret. “You think because you
claim to be a witch, you’re not subject to it? What happened to you back at
Valmont? Were you not used for them to blame all their misfortunes upon you?”

“It’s
not the same thing,” she argued.

“It’s
far worse,” he pointed out. “How many of them were cared for by you, healed by
you?  How many gained from your efforts, only to turn on you? Think of
that? It is no different.”

She
did and felt reluctant to admit he was right. The villagers and friends she
believed she had in Valmont all used her. She tended their ills and maladies,
helped birth their children, and gave them comfort. They gained what they
desired for themselves and turned on her, without thought she would go to her
death. She shivered to think, if not for him, she would have met that fate.

“I’d
like to put that behind me now,” she said and looked away from his knowing
gaze. “Next time, I will not be so quick to offer my aid.”

“What
are your plans when the tournament ends?” he asked and threw her off guard. “Where
do you wish to go?”

“I
have no wish to remain in London,” she admitted. “I would go to another village
perhaps, and start over.”

“Until
what occurred in Valmont happens again,” he predicted sharply. “You might wish
to consider what I put a stop to there will come to pass one day, Madeline.
This pastime of yours might well get you killed. You might wish to forego such
endeavors in the future.”

Madeline
stared at him sadly, realizing he had no idea of what he spoke of. The power
she wielded was not a hobby, but a way of life and a religion. She was a healer
first and a seeker of knowledge second. He assumed anyone could do as she did
just by mixing up potions. He couldn’t know the power was an inherited gift
passed down through the centuries. It skipped Alessandra and passed to her. Her
skill would one day go to a granddaughter.

There
was no choice in it for her. These things she could do would force themselves
to the surface. She considered her past experiences vividly, recalling wishing
for things to happen and they did, with disastrous results. Unable to harness
her power; she made things happen based on emotion, a dangerous thing to do.

The
Lunley children had the misfortunes to find that out firsthand. Their torment
of her got it back upon them threefold. The Viscount’s youngest daughter liked
to torment her then, pinch her when their schoolmaster wasn’t looking. She
often sneered at Madeline’s red hair, citing her own golden hair far prettier.

When
Sybilla’s hair fell out after she was cruel to her; she knew what she was. She
also realized she could hurt people unless she learned to control such a gift.
Minerva recognized her skills from the onset, honed them to one day rival her.

“I
have given little thought of where I will go,” she admitted reluctantly. “I
will take care in the future. You needn’t worry over it.”

“But
I do worry,” he argued, his green eyes filled with concern. “I know how
ignorant this world can be. You must hide this thing you do, Madeline.”

She
was offended at his words. She would not hide what she was. She sat up and
looked at him without remorse for his condition now. He expected her to hide
what she was like it was something to be ashamed of.

“After
this fortnight is over, you need not concern yourself with my fate, Gavin. Your
reward does not extend to rearranging my life as you would see fit.”

“Do
you wish to die, Madeline?” Gavin demanded hotly, his eyes growing angry. “What
will it take to make you see the world will not rearrange itself to accommodate
you?”

“I
will not pretend to be something I’m not!” she replied angrily and flounced
from the bed, eyes flashing in outrage. “It doesn’t work that way. I wish it
did at times. After what happened to Hugh, I realized I could never hide what I
was.”

“You
would have me believe you did that to the man?” he asked incredulously and fell
back against the pillows, eyes closed and shaking his head. “You needn’t play
the game any longer, Madeline. I will think no less of you.”

She
glared at him in growing outrage. “It’s not my fault you don’t believe, Gavin.”

“I
can see how a common-born girl like you might wish to feel special, unique
even,” he argued and shook his head, gazing at her with compassion in his eyes.
“You must see this thing you do is dangerous? Is feeling important worth your
life?”

She
gazed at him in stunned silence. Gavin thought she played at being a witch to
alleviate her own mediocrity. Whatever pity she felt for him was extinguished
in an instant. He didn’t see her at all.

“I
will sleep on the floor tonight,” she said in a clipped voice. “Let us hope you
are much improved come morning.”

She
left the tent, knowing she was too angry to remain in his presence. Her
feelings were hurt. He thought her playing a game. Who would play with their
own life so foolishly? How often had she cried, wishing to be normal? No one
knew her gift would be the end of her one day better than she.

Madeline
sat by the fire and Alastair came to join her. The handsome knight seemed to have
a sixth sense of her churning emotions.

“How
is he?” he asked finally as he fed the fire.

“Well
enough, considering his legs are still in the air,” she replied moodily.

 “You’re
angry,” he noted. “Was it something he said? He is not himself, Mistress Madeline.
You cannot know the stress he is under.”

Madeline
stared into the fire with a glum expression. “He thinks I play at being a witch
to amuse myself.”

“Do
you?” Alastair asked and held up his hands when she swung her angry gaze to
his. “It is a fair question, Madeline. You must admit this has caused you
nothing but misfortune?”

“Don’t
you think I wish to be normal? Do you think I want to die by fire one day
because people fear me?”

“I
would think you would take great pains to keep such proclivities to yourself
after your experience in Valmont.”

“I
must hide? I have hurt no one! I must act as though I have done something
wrong?” she asked in outrage.

“Can
your magic change the world, Madeline?” he asked sadly as he tossed another log
on the fire. “I gather from your silence it cannot. That is why you must hide.”

Madeline
considered Alastair’s words for some time, even after all others sought their
beds. She knew what he meant. She didn’t have to change what she was, just hide
it from the ignorance of others. She sighed, knowing she had little means to
make her way in life if that was the case.

Her
healing and potions was what fed her. Gerwin sat upon her lap and purred,
looking up at her as if sensing her displeasure. If she hid what she was; she
had no way to make her own way in life. The thought of what misfortune that
could land her in made her fume in dismay.

Always
raised to be independent, she balked to think of how helpless that made her
now. For the first time in her life, she realized being a woman was far worse
than being a witch. Women had few options outside of marriage. Giving up
practicing her craft also made her helpless to fend for herself. She bristled
with that truth, feeling sorry for herself. Her face crumpled to know she would
rather burn than be brought so low.

****

Gavin
and Alastair ate their breakfast outside the horse’s enclosure. Gavin awoke
able to bend his legs. Whatever his condition; it was cured by morning. It was
believed to be cramps, though he argued it still. He fumed to know Madeline
made her bed upon a rug. Not having her next to him in the bed put him in a
sore mood that morning, recalling their argument the night before.

Alastair
watched Madeline cleaning up the area of their camp and eyed Gavin with an
amused glance. “You have upset Madeline,” he informed him. “She was quite put
out you insist she is not the witch she claims to be.”

“Do
you think me a damned idiot, Alastair?” Gavin asked in disgust. “She is no more
a witch than I am! The girl’s feelings hardly matter to me. Why do we argue
over my bedmate?”

“I
think her anger stems from her hurt you think her a charlatan.”

Gavin
snorted and looked at his friend in disbelief. “You believe her absurd claims?”

“It
doesn’t matter what I believe, Gavin. She believes it. You have wounded her
with your insistence she pretends to be a witch.”

“I
only made sound suggestions to save her life, Alastair!” Gavin snapped harshly.
“The girl will have to conform or her demise is certain. What happens to her
when I leave her here troubles me.”

“This
just brings me back to my former question, my lord. Where does that leave her
when we ride for Rivenhahl? Have you given any thought to her future aside from
her warming your bed?”