A Witch's Tale (32 page)

Burroughs
smiled as he helped her with ladling up bowls for the men. “My father sent me
to Sir Rohan when I was nine. I was once his page. I have been with him seven
years now.”

“You
would be a knight as well?” she asked and saw the way his eyes lit up and
chuckled. “What do I ask? It is obvious that is your goal.”

“Sir
Rohan is the best knight I have ever known, my lady,” he disclosed proudly, his
face flushed with admiration. “I could learn from no one better than him.”

Madeline
was touched he thought so highly of Rohan. She smiled at his stout
proclamation. “He is Lord Rohan now. I think it will take us all getting used
to that.”

Burroughs
nodded in agreement. “A barony is much less than he sought, but more than he
thought he’d get when he gave up all to de Mortaine.”

“You
knew of that?” she asked in surprise.

Burroughs
eyed her with a smug look. “I have never seen him lose, my lady. I saw him
leave himself open deliberately to de Mortaine’s lance and lower his shield. I
wondered at it until I saw the way he looked at you.”

Madeline
blushed at his words, unsure to respond. He saw her unease and smiled.

“Lord
Rohan gave up an earldom and a rich fife to wed you, my lady. It is easy to see
he loves you,” the young man gushed with such pride, she nearly cringed. It was
obvious the young man worshiped Rohan and saw him more a romantic hero now.

“Yes,
well he will adore us both more should we feed his men,” she said as she loaded
trays with bowls, avoiding dwelling upon his proclamation or allow her to feel
the sense of pleasure those words evoked. “Let us hurry now. They must be
famished.”

Rohan's
men seemed stunned when their new lady served them, mumbling thanks and
grunting with obvious pleasure as they ate ravenously. She drew more than one
look of praise as they delivered the meal to the men. By the time they were
done, all were commending her efforts without benefit of servants, declaring
her the epitome of a lady to see to their needs first.

****

Rohan
eyed her in admiration as she came to sit with him at the window seat in the
dirty salon. They ate quietly, his dark eyes filled with pride as he saw how
she tended to his men without complaint. He could almost be sure Lady Lucinda
wouldn’t have raised a hand to feed his men, but wailed of her own hunger and
lack of servants.

Madeline
didn’t seem to care that she was a baroness now and it was beneath her to do
such drudgery. It needed to be done and poor Burroughs had his hands full. He
took on six more retainers before he left for Rothford. The men would add to
the forces needed to secure the border.

The
men expected nothing from his wife and looked positively charmed by the time
she took her seat with him. Her cooking was wonderful. He wished to pull her
onto his lap but refrained as they were among others. There would be enough
time to show her his thanks later. Burroughs was clearing the debris in the
master chamber for them so they could sleep there. The men would bunk in the
stable, as it was far more habitable than some of the houses rooms. He knew as
soon as daylight came, the true condition of the house would be revealed. He
hoped Madeline had enough stomach for it. He had men enough to clear the mess,
but the cleaning fell to her and Burroughs. He couldn’t see any of these
hard-bitten knights swinging a mop or broom.

“You
have won the appreciation of my men, Madeline,” he said near her ear. “They
didn’t think to get such a meal, or any meal for that matter. We have no
servants until such a time as we can pay them. Tenants haven’t occupied these
lands for years.”

“They
will earn it, my lord,” she replied and was pleased at his praise. “We have much
to do here. When do you seek to leave for Ireland?”

 “I
have to swear fealty to Rivenhahl and ask him for permission,” he fumed and
looked away, obviously not pleased to have to bend a knee to Gavin. “He dallies
at court now. I expected him to be here before us.”

Madeline
could only assume his new wife distracted him and grinned. Her spell to keep
the pair in London enraptured with one another no doubt worked. She counted
upon the delay, hoping not to go at all. Rohan would see taking her away
wouldn’t be necessary or selling his parcel of land soon enough.

“Gavin
is not an unreasonable man, Rohan,” she began and could see his pride was
greatly tweaked, and done for her, she reminded herself. “What little I know of
him; he is honorable and his men loyal. You couldn’t have a better liege lord.
Mayhap when you are over this silly jealousy of yours, you will see that.”

“Do
you love him still?” Rohan countered and threw her off guard.

She
had not thought of Gavin since leaving London. She felt more than a little
fickle since her marriage. She saw Rohan’s look and sought to allay his fears.
“I cast a spell upon him, if you must know. Without it, he cared nothing for me
beyond his own pleasure. You think me a fool? I know what I was to him.”

“That
is not what I asked you,” he insisted, his dark eyes never leaving hers.

“I
begin to question whether what I felt was real at all,” she admitted and saw
his look of relief. “When the spell wore off, he didn’t feel the same. I know
you don’t believe I’m a witch, but it’s all true. I wanted to know what it was
like to be loved and be a knight’s lady. I saw it wasn’t real. You have nothing
to fear of my feelings. I had no right to them. I tricked Sir de Mortaine.”

“You
expect me to believe that you put a spell on the man?”

Madeline
gazed at him in exasperation. “I would show you if you insist. I did all I said
I did.”

“Turn
Burroughs into a toad then, if you be a witch,” he said and saw her cringe.

“I
do not know how to reverse such a spell,” she admitted with a scowl. “You can
see Lady Strathmore is still with us? Something easier my lord; if you please.”

 Rohan
glared at her and looked down at his empty bowl. “Refill my bowl with stew.”

She
whispered the words and sat back in satisfaction, seeing his bowl was now
filled with the steaming stew. Rohan nearly dropped the bowl, staring at her
with suspicion in his dark eyes.

“I
did all I said,” she told him under her breath, her eyes meeting his intently.
“I swore to not use magic anymore, but it is obvious it becomes necessary at
times.”

“Can
you conjure such things we need now?” Rohan asked and considered her words.

Madeline
frowned. “Such as wealth? Luxuries?”

“Yes,
among other things,” he asked, looking unconvinced despite what was steaming in
front of him.

“To profit
by the use of one’s own magic is forbidden, but it’s possible,” she admitted
and looked at him with a pained expression. “The Goddess would punish me for it
and turn my magic against me should I do such a thing.”

Rohan
looked disbelieving. “Punish you how? Now you would pull my leg?”

“The
Goddess can destroy me if she wished,” Madeline informed him uneasily. “It is
certainly better not to draw her notice with such things.”

“She
would condone you turning Lady Strathmore into a cat though?” he asked in
amusement, his lack of belief obvious.

“I
was threatened and it was for my own protection,” she said sorrowfully as her
gaze went to the hearth where the two cats lay. “To randomly punish one in such
a way is altogether different.”

“Why
had you need of de Mortaine at all then?” he demanded with denial in his gaze.
“If what you say is true; you could have freed yourself from the priest in
Valmont.”

“I’m
afraid I’m not that good of a witch, my lord,” she said and shrugged. “My
grandmother died before teaching me everything. I’ve had to learn all on my own
these last months since she died. Had she lived, none of this would have
happened.”

“You
and she simply would have run once more after de Valmont’s complaint was
aired?” he asked and shook his head in disgust. “Even you must see that you
can’t run forever, my dear wife.”

“Do
you believe me now?” Madeline asked hopefully.

Rohan
eyed her and the stew thoughtfully. “We shall see. I have another task for
you.”

“I
will not go against the Goddess to prove it to you,” Madeline informed him
tearfully. “I am on her tolerance now! You either believe me or you don’t!”

“Is
giving comfort forbidden to you?”

She
looked uneasy. “No, not at all; it is encouraged. What sort of comfort would
you ask for?”

Rohan
grinned and decided to let her stew as he ate his second helping, weary and
wanting rest. When he finished, she and Burroughs collected the dirty dishes
and the young man said he would clean up the mess. Madeline was tired and
followed her husband up the stairs to their chamber. He set down the lamp and
looked about the destroyed room with a raised eyebrow.

“Would
your Goddess deny us a fit room to sleep within?” he asked and folded his arms
across his chest, still resistant to her claims.

“You
wish me to clean and set the room to rights?” she asked and appeared relieved.
“Tis’ considered lazy, my lord. I can clean it with hardly much effort
tomorrow.”

“You
are as tired as the rest of us, Madeline. I’d see this magic you speak of,” he
taunted and gazed at her with a look that made her scowl. He didn’t believe she
could do it.

Madeline
glared at him and looked about, her lips moving soundlessly as she cleared the
room of broken furnishings and filth before his eyes, leaving the room bare.
She looked to the hearth and a fire sprang up, making him jump with eyes wide.

“Is
that enough to assure you I tell you the truth?”

“Do
you wish for us to sleep on a bare stone floor?” he countered and nodded. “I
would see what you can do.”

Madeline
mumbled the words and a large bed appeared, covered in silk bedding and
pillows. She nearly completed furnishing the room when he finally sat
unsteadily upon a chair she conjured by the fire and gazed down at it in
wonder, hands trembling as he touched it, feeling the wood and getting up
quickly.

“Do
you believe me now?” she asked him, biting her lip in dismay to see his worried
look.

“Aye,
I believe you to be a sorceress as you say,” Rohan replied, his dark eyes
unable to fathom the fact his wife was truly a witch as she claimed. “You must
never allow anyone to see you do such things. They would put you to death. Do
you understand?”

“Very
well, my lord,” she said with a sigh. “If not for Lord Rivenhahl, I would be
dead now.”

“I
can see you felt you owed him your life now,” Rohan began, but she shook her
head.

“It
was the code, my lord.”

“What
code? Now you would tell me witches have a code, much like knights?” he said in
disbelief, obvious in his expression.

“He saved
me. Taking me with him to the tournament was what he asked as a reward. I had
no say in it.”

“Could
you have refused?” Rohan asked curiously.

“No,
the code is quite clear in that regard,” she replied and shrugged. “Most would
have settled for a token of luck.”

Rohan
fumed to know de Mortaine used her code to his own advantage, never believing a
word of it himself. He saw with his own eyes what his wife could do. His look
of horror was profound.

“Lady
Blythe is that white cat down below?”

Madeline
looked at him with an apologetic look. “I have tried to change her back. I
haven’t the skill. I told you my training was not finished. Such power escapes
me yet. My grandmother’s book is incomplete. It is no help in that regard; I’m
afraid.”

“It
appears it’s just as well you can’t change her back. You don’t know her as I
do,” Rohan said stiffly, still looking around the richly appointed-room in
stunned amazement. “She would have made good her threats to you.”

“She
planned to have your child if I hadn’t stopped her,” she told him uneasily and
looked away at his gasp of outrage. “She wanted me to see to it she conceived
from you. Such things are forbidden for me to do. We cannot create life. To do
so would go against our laws. I could have expected far worse than her threats
should I have done so.”

“Tis’
likely they all got as they deserved, Madeline,” Rohan told her grimly and
paced before the fire.

“What
are you thinking, Rohan?” she asked worriedly.

He
regarded his wife warily. “Who else knows of these things you can do,
Madeline?”

“My
three half siblings and their mother,” she said softly and clasped her hands in
front of her. “All that happened to Hugh was hearsay, my lord. I never offered
such spells to the villagers there to think me more than a healer.”

“Marlowe
knows about you now, as well,” Rohan snapped in reminder and looked unhappy.
“No one else can know of this. If the Viscount of Lunley brings charges forth;
Lord Rivenhahl will certainly plead your case as our liege lord, but no more of
these spells, Madeline. Tis’ wondrous to have such a gift, but don’t you see
the danger to yourself?”