A Witch's Tale (5 page)

Gavin de Mortaine had honor. He had put a
stop to her being burned out of sheer principal. He seemed unimpressed with
Father Belsay’s accusations of heresy for his actions. He acted with courage,
conscience, as well as conviction. He was nothing but gallant towards her, that
is, until he told her the immoral reward he would have.

Try as she might, she couldn’t deny the
obvious admiration she had for Sir Gavin de Mortaine, despite his obvious
conceit. It took root the moment he strode across the wood scaffold to champion
her against the whole village. When did one ever seek to save a witch? She
smiled as she looked anywhere but the wide chest she was sprawled across,
flustered to know she was eager to give him his reward.

****

Madeline tried not to gawk as they rode
through London into Westminster. She was in awe as they passed through the
gates of the palace. Wide eyes took in the splendor that met her gaze
everywhere she looked. The five knights that thundered behind them let out
raucous cries as they went through the gates, excited to be there at last.

Her wide eyes took in the rolling green lawns
in the distance, manicured rose gardens, and the elaborate fountains and ponds.
The royal grounds were breathtaking to behold. The white stone palace in the
distance was both beautiful and ominous. The massive structure would soon be
overflowing with noble and royal guests alike in the coming days. The nobles of
England and beyond all came to pay homage to England’s new monarch, James
Stuart.

That was not where they went, she was to
learn. Gavin and the men dismounted within the crowded royal stable yard. He
helped her down and she was left to her own devices for a moment. A slew of
liveried stable hands arrived to see to the new arrival’s mounts. They had been
in luck in getting room for their horses in the stable, as space was filling up
fast.

The knights were already looking for an ideal
location to set up their tents within the festival yard. Many vendors were
setting up shop there, carts strewn with their many wares. Madeline never saw
so much activity in her life. The pandemonium was such she stood and stared.

The grand preparations for James Stuart’s
coronation were underway. Tents and colorful banners and pennants littered the
grounds as far as the eye could see. Every knighted and noble man in the land
would be in attendance for the festivities marking his accession to the throne.

“What? You have time to stand here and gawk,
Girl?” Gavin remanded her sharply as he returned, tossing his leather
saddlebags at her bare feet. “That’s my gear. You will see to it, if only to
earn your keep.”

Madeline scowled as she looked down at his
bags, knowing he expected her to play his servant in addition to his whore. She
set Gerwin down. The cat seemed to agree with her ill thoughts of Gavin,
hissing up at him at that moment.

Gavin poised over the large orange tabby with
a fierce glare. Gerwin had the sense to retreat within her skirts. She regarded
the mercurial knight whose moods changed with the passage of minutes with an
irritated glance.

“What, pray, would you like me to do with
them?” she said, kicking them for good measure. “May I remind you, I am a
witch, not some damned squire?”

“Then use your blasted magic to find some
place to put my things while our tent is being erected,” Gavin snapped angrily
under his breath, “and kindly keep your voice down. My guess is they do not
have any more fondness for witches here than where I found you.”

Madeline stared after him as he stalked away.
She wondered what put him in such a foul mood all of a sudden. She watched him
disappear within the stables to see to his horse, thinking of a few choice
insults to launch at his back.

“Perhaps it is better to do as he says,
Madeline. We were ousted from the stables to make room for the nobles. He will
likely be angry for a time,” Alastair advised her, his handsome face reflecting
his amusement. “We will have your tent up first. Just bring his bags along with
you.”

Sir Alastair Marlowe grinned and winked at
her. He and the others set about to find a spot to erect their tents. He was as
handsome as sin, was Alastair, with dark hair and eyes. He liked to tease and
to instigate mischief often along the road. He treated her cordially and with
respect. She liked him immediately, and for that she chose to obey.

Madeline couldn’t pick up the heavy bags so
she dragged them. She was following the five knights through the festival
grounds, stopping every once in awhile to rest. She waited to make sure Gerwin
caught up as she lugged Gavin’s gear. She fumed, wondering if his full armor
was within the bags. Alastair and the others found a decent spot and set about
putting up the tents.

Madeline huffed as she sat upon Gavin’s bags,
glaring down at her bare feet, now filthy from the muck from the festival
grounds. Gerwin was purring loudly and snuggled against her legs, nudging her,
letting her know he was hungry.

Vendors passed by and stared at her and
Gerwin contemptuously. She became self-conscious, realizing she hadn’t bathed
in days since her arrest. She felt grit where no grit ought to be. She bit her
lip, knowing a bath was something of a luxury in this place. 

****

“Your little witch appears to be brooding.
Don’t be surprised if she plots against you, my friend,” Alastair noted in
amusement. They were watching Madeline sitting atop Gavin’s bags with a scowl
upon her pretty face, petting her cat. “What were you even thinking, Gavin, in
bringing the wench along? It would have been kinder to toss up her skirts on
the side of the road and drop her at the nearest village.”

“I am owed a prize for saving her,” Gavin
informed him with a naughty chuckle. “It will be far more pleasant having a
fair maid warming my bed while here. She is much better off here when we
leave.”

“Doing exactly what, may I ask?”

“Whatever it is witches do, Alastair,” Gavin
replied, eyes flaring in sudden anger, “I don’t have any idea.”

“It appears you’ve taken the wench out of one
bad circumstance and placed her in another then,” Alastair pointed out. “You
should have left her, Gavin.”

“Why do you worry of it? Since when do you
come to a witch’s aid at all, Alastair? I recall you wanting me to let the
wench burn hours ago, and now you rush to the girl’s defense?”

“She didn’t ask to be dragged along here with
us. Had you thought the matter through, you would see that now,” his friend
replied, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow. “So much for chivalry, my lord. You
will have your prize of her only to abandon the wench to fend alone?”

“Stay out of it, Alastair!”

“Ah, so you envision a lifetime of happiness
with our fair witch by your side, do you?” he needled with a scornful laugh. “A
better mate one could never find, I’m sure.” 

Gavin refused to answer, knowing Alastair was
right. Whatever had he been thinking in dragging the woman with them? What
would be her fate when he left her here? He gnashed his teeth, knowing he
hadn’t thought past his own cock the moment he set eyes upon her.

****

Madeline watched them argue. She knew it was
her they discussed. She fumed to know her savior was having second thoughts of
his reward. She glared down at her chipped dirty nails, longing for a bath once
more. Gavin approached her now, his handsome face composed in a scowl.

“Grab my gear and stow it in the tent,” he
ordered, green eyes narrowed in anger. “We haven’t all day. Pay a mind with
that one,” he pointed at the larger of them, “it contains my weapons.”

“I hadn’t noticed. They’re so light and easy
to carry too,” she said sarcastically and rose, dragging the heavy bags only a
few feet before he cursed and strode forward. He pushed her hands aside and
picked up both bags.

“Perhaps you can be of more use making us
something to eat,” he suggested as he lugged his bags through the flap of their
tent.

“I do not cook, Sir de Mortaine,” she replied
to his back as she followed.

“A witch who does not cook?” he mused
mockingly as he turned to her, putting down his gear. “Do you not make potions,
wench? Forgive me, but is that not cooking?”

Madeline crossed her arms across her chest,
raising an eyebrow. “I can make you a potion, Sir Gavin. It might even do you
some good right now.”

****

Gavin frowned darkly, knowing he was taking
his sour mood out upon the girl. Just because their mounts were being kicked
out of the stable to make room for the nobles was no fault of hers. He had to
spare limited coin to seek another tent to house the horses. He had to buy feed
and hay for the animals. These unforeseen expenses were felt in a much lighter
purse.

“Pay me no attention. I have other matters on
my mind, Madeline,” he allowed more gently. “If you do not know how to cook; we
will make do.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t know how, merely that
I didn’t cook.”

“What is your point, wench?” he barked,
making her jump from his angry tone. “Either you cook or you do
not!”   

“Your request was for a companion, Sir de
Mortaine, not a servant!” she snapped back at him. Her chin rose defiantly and
her blue eyes narrowed. “If you’re hungry; I suggest you cook it yourself!”

“You’re an impudent wench,” he noted in a
snide tone. “How do you propose to eat yourself, Witch?”

“Don’t worry about me.” She sniffed slightly.
“I will take care of myself.”

“Like you did back at your village? I can see
you did a fine job of it,” he badgered her sarcastically. “Are you always this
ungrateful?”

“Ungrateful? You save my life, only to abduct
me! And then you ask for unseemly favors in exchange for your assistance! As I
said, you asked for a companion, not a servant. I do nothing more than you
asked. It appears you are the ungrateful one!”

Gavin seethed at her obvious point. He could
see she meant what she said. He gnashed his teeth. He knew they wouldn’t
survive should he, or one of his men, do the cooking. She would not relent, he
determined, by the stubborn tilt of her chin.

A sudden thought occurred to him. His eyes
darkened as his gaze lowered to her rounded, snug neckline in the ugly brown
wool dress. It showed a fair curve of full bosom beneath. His lips curved into
a slow, lazy smile.

“Let us hope you apply yourself to being a
more generous companion, Madeline.”

She gasped at his obvious meaning, her face
reddening. He smiled, enjoying her unease. “Since you have so little else to
do; that should prove quite entertaining for us.”

“You might have asked me to cook you
something to eat,” she pointed out with a glower, face burning with
embarrassment, “instead you have ordered me about since we arrived, like I am
your lackey! Let us be clear on this, Sir Gavin. You saved me and you stated
your reward. If you wish for my help, you must ask it, and nicely in the
future.”

Gavin smiled tightly, tempted to put the
wench over his knee. His hunger won out. He removed a small purse of coins from
within his leather jerkin and tossed it to her. She caught it in midair,
surprising him with her quickness.

“Very well
, please
make us something
to eat. One of the men is securing a cart and will take you to get food
supplies.”

Madeline bristled at his words. He was hardly
apologetic, and still demanding.

“Very well, I agree to cook. I would also
wish for a bath if it feasible,” she said softly and looked down, “the days in
my cell left their mark upon me, I fear.”

“If you can wait until later; I know of a
place.” 

She nodded enthusiastically and eyed him a
bit more kindly. “I will need some toiletries as well. They were left behind at
my cottage.”

“Anything else you can think of?” he asked
curtly, seeing his coins disappearing quickly.

“No, that about covers all,” she smiled at
his disgruntled expression and chuckled. “Next time you kidnap a woman, let her
pack all her bags first.”

Gavin had to smile at that. His mood
lightened considerably at her teasing.

“Aye, next time I won’t be in such a hurry to
leave,” he allowed with a grin. “Even with over a hundred angry villagers fast
upon my heels; I will wait for the wench to pack all her necessities.”

****

He left her then. She dug a comb out of her
bag to make herself more presentable. She painstakingly combed her hair until
she removed each tangle from the long, curling mass.

She found a rag and wet it liberally with the
water skin. She was happy to have found a bar of soap in his things and washed
her face and teeth, and any other parts she dared while he was out of the tent.
While it did not take the place of a real bath, she felt immensely cleaner, and
knew she had to smell better.

Gavin returned and let her know the two
knights arrived with the cart. “You will stay close to the men in the market,
Madeline,” he warned her softly, “every criminal and sneak thief in this city
is probably wandering these grounds.”