A Witch's Tale (8 page)

“How was your practice, Sir Gavin?” she asked
as she returned the purse of coins to him that was left over.

He appeared relieved to see he had monies
left. She felt badly once more for buying the lavender gown. It appeared she
wouldn’t need it now if she managed to alter Lord Lyon’s gowns to fit her. She
was appalled to consider it, but had only two gowns to her name, both as ugly
and as rough as the one she wore.

Minerva could never afford anything but wool.
Madeline despised her purely feminine desire for pretty things that made her
consent to keep the items, imagining the look of approval from Gavin to see her
gowned so regally during the tourney.

Madeline was deflated to realize she forgot
her sewing kit. She despaired of what she would do all day while the men were
at the practice field. It appeared she had something to do; perfect her spells
to aid Sir Gavin in his quest.

She was determined to help him.

Gavin scowled and grunted in reply and
returned to the fire to sit and eat. His obvious wince upon sitting was marked
in the tightening of his expression. That he appeared sore and uncomfortable
was obvious. Alastair grinned as he took a bowl and bread from her.

“He had a bad day and found himself unseated
more than once,” he informed her with a grin.

“Unseated by whom?”

“That would have been me,” he informed her
proudly. She giggled at his unrepentant look. “We had a rousing day of practice
and he is not in the best humor. Pray do you have some remedy in your bags for
what ails him?”

Madeline smiled and disappeared within the
tent. She held up a small vial.

“A dash of this mixed in with his wine should
ease his sore muscles. I have nothing to mend his pride, Sir Alastair.”

“That would take your whole bag,” he informed
her and grinned and accepted the vial. “My thanks for the food. It is not often
we have a woman’s kind hand at such matters. Lady Vivienne is a deplorable
cook. That leaves only Gaston. He is no better at it.”

Madeline chuckled and accepted his praise as
he went to prepare a cup of wine for Gavin. She knew the five knights lived
with Sir Gavin and his sister back in Scotland. The old keep was won by Sir
Gregor de Mortaine in a skirmish and gifted to him by James Stuart. It was the
first home they had after their banishment to Scotland. They all loved the old
stone structure, even if it was drafty in the winters, as she was told by
Gaston.

Seeing their closeness made her realize they
were very much like brothers. They were all raised by Sir Gregor and his wife
after his banishment. She realized the man could have abandoned the five
unwanted boys. Instead he took them with his family when they fled.

She never felt such closeness with her three
half siblings, always reminded she was a bastard, unfit even to sit with the
family at meals. It was enough she was allowed in the schoolroom. Had Lady
Agnes known of it; she would have put a stop to it.

Her mother was treated poorly by the other
servants after Lord Lunley died. Ostracized by them, she lived a lonely life
until she could bear it no more. Madeline swore she would never be kept by any
man when she was told her mother died by her own hand.

She knew from her grandmother, Alessandra ran
away to be with Lord Lunley. She took a position as a servant in his home under
his own wife’s nose.  Her mother loved her father until the day he died
from a lingering illness. Her mother sent for Minerva to tend to him but Lady
Agnes wouldn’t allow her in the house. He died within a fortnight. He’d left
nothing to his mistress or their daughter.

If not for Minerva coming for her, Madeline
could have been assured of a lifetime of degrading servitude under Lady Agnes’s
heavy hand. The lady liked to whip her to punish her for what occurred between
her husband and her mother. She suffered many such beatings until Minerva
arrived. Lady Agnes thought to try and keep her from leaving. Minerva cast a
spell keeping the woman rooted to her spot, unable to move to stop her.

Lady Agnes swore to see them both burn then.
For that they moved about, finally settling in Valmont toward the end of her
grandmother’s life. Madeline was always worried the lady would find her one
day. Lady Agnes swore to declare her a heretic and a witch. Minerva had always
told her to be cautious for that reason.

The threat of Lady Agnes should have
diminished over the years, but Lady Sybilla was no better. She hardly looked like
that same scrawny child she’d been. Even if they walked by her, they’d not know
she was Alessandra’s daughter. She looked like her grandmother; she was told.

Alessandra had been dark haired and dark
eyed. The Viscount was fair of eyes and hair. No, none of them would ever know
her on sight. For that reason, she’d planned to leave Valmont and change her
name, worried they still looked for her.

She sat at the fire, lost in her thoughts,
unhearing when Gavin spoke to her.

“You wished a bath, did you not?” he asked
and looked much improved, she could see. “Gather your things and I will take
you before it gets too late.”

She nodded and went and retrieved soap,
taking the lavender gown wrapped up in a toweling sheet with her comb and
ribbons she found in Lord Lyon’s chest. She felt a sense of pleasure as she saw
him mounted and ready to go when she arrived. His large hand pulled her up with
hardly any effort, settling her in front of him.

It was only then she felt shy of him, aware
of his masculine smell. His large corded arms were wrapped protectively about
her, making her heart thump loudly in her chest. She was once again having very
un-witchlike responses to this man. As much as she tried to tell herself she
owed him a reward for saving her; she knew she was attracted to Sir Gavin.

What woman would not be, witch or not? His
features were not as perfect as Alastair’s or Miles, but he was exceedingly
handsome and exuded an aura she found mesmerizing. His eyes were as clear and
green as new grass, light and teasing one moment, dark with fury the next.

Gavin came here to reclaim his family honor.
He was proud and it was obvious the men who followed him were loyal to a fault.
She had no doubt they would die for him. He appeared to be honest in his
dealings with her thus far.

Madeline had no illusions about Gavin. He was
every inch a man, even if he was a gallant knight. He might be a bit naughtier
than most, but he was right to take her from Valmont. The villagers would have
burnt her cottage to the ground with her in it had she stayed.

Thoughts of where she would go when they
tourney was over troubled her. He claimed he would compensate her for her time.
She blushed slightly as his horse picked through the thoroughfare.

A very drunk Lord Lyon was outside his tent.
He was loudly upbraiding his servant about the theft of his things when they
passed. She giggled despite herself. Gavin looked down at her in question. She
decided the men stole the items out of respect for Gavin and would say nothing.
Sleeping in a real bed after jousting all day had to preferable to the ground.
Realizing she would sleep there with him made her breathing become uneven
suddenly.

Thoughts of giving him his reward gave her a
pleasurable feeling now, wholly unlike her at all. She steered clear of the
village boys and ignored Hugh’s overtures in the past. She was too busy
learning her craft to worry about men overmuch.

Now would have been one of those times such
knowledge might have helped and she cursed her own innate shyness of men.
Minerva instilled it within her not to trust men. She knew her grandfather was
a scoundrel who ran off and left her grandmother pregnant with her mother.

Minerva’s heart was broken when her daughter
shared that same fate. For though Lord Lunley claimed to adore his beautiful
mistress; he made no separate allowances for them when he died. His lack of
attention to that told Madeline he didn’t care as he should have.

Minerva warned her to make her own way, never
rely upon a man. Madeline never thought to ever want to until Sir Gavin spared
her life, assuring her there were men out there who would test her belief all
were selfish and without character.

He more than won her over when he strode
across the scaffold and cut her bonds. He took her breath away as he addressed
the priest and the crowd on her behalf. Surely the man was an exception to such
a rule? Minerva hadn’t known many knights in her time. Perhaps her
grandmother’s feelings were colored by both her and her daughter’s experiences?

She promised Sir Gavin a fortnight of her
time, not a lifetime. Suddenly a fortnight seemed not enough to her. She cursed
her weakness to the man. She’d known him but one day and he made her giddy with
his nearness; her breath catch each time he looked at her.

Never one to feel such maddening things for
men; she despaired her ready responses. Sir Gavin saw her as nothing but a
pretty entertainment while he won his heart’s desire. Even knowing it did not
lessen her outrage to want to be seen as more.

It was foolish to allow such musings to sway
her heart. As the past warned her, men very rarely thought with their hearts.
She prayed to the Goddess to give her strength in dealing with this man. He
would pry her untried heart away from her as effortlessly as he handled a
sword.

Madeline determined she would not share her
mother and grandmother’s fate. She would not allow a man to destroy her and
leave her broken by the wayside. She was a witch first, a woman second. She
might have to remind herself of that often these next weeks. Very often, she
thought with a sigh as he held her tightly to his hard chest as they rode
through the palace gates.

****

They arrived outside a nondescript building
several miles from the palace. Madeline was too busy craning her neck to take
in the sights to pay any attention. The bustle of the city getting ready to
herald a new king in their midst had taken over. The excitement of it all was
evident on every corner they passed. The merriment was contagious.

Though James Stuart was regarded as a
foreigner and his mother still viewed a traitor; he was next in line to the
throne. None could gainsay his succession. In her final moments, Elizabeth I
finally named her cousin her heir, pressured by her advisor Robert Cecil to do
so.

The uprising that cost the Earl of Essex his
head in his bid for the throne was still very fresh in the queen’s mind to
ignore the obvious threats. Despite her disgust to allow Mary Stuart’s son to
succeed her, she had no choice in it. It was rumored, but never proven, that
the queen had many illegitimate children throughout her lifetime; many who
would seek to further their closer claims.

None of that dissent was seen today, only
merriment everywhere as coronation day grew near. She looked up at Gavin and saw
his weariness around his eyes. The powder would ease his tired muscles and
allow him to sleep. She could see he was near to drooping and it was only just
getting to be dusk. She felt guilty for her demand of a bath now.

“What is this place?” she asked curiously as
he jumped down and took her bundle from her. He ignored her as he helped her
down, taking her arm and tying his horse off on a post. He grinned and his eyes
twinkled down at her.

“Does your desire for a bath make you ask
that?”

Madeline shrugged. She wanted a bath. No, it
did not matter. She followed him to the door. An old crone answered, cackling
in delight to see him. The house was dark and quiet within. The old woman led
them down a hallway to the rear of the building. They stepped inside and she
lit many tapers, revealing it was a bathhouse. She shut the door and left them
alone.

Madeline felt shy of disrobing in front of
Gavin. He solved her dilemma by producing a screened partition lying against
the wall. He smiled at her look of relief as he set it up next to a steaming
wooden tub. Once she was assured of her modesty, she slid out of the dirty
brown gown and stepped into the hot water, sighing in unabashed delight.  

“That was all the thanks I needed to hear,”
he said in amusement from the other side of the screen. “Take your time, my
sweet.”

“What is this place, Gavin?” she asked as she
began to wash, listening to him splash on the other side of the panel,
disconcerted by being in such close proximity to a naked man.

“You’ll be angry. I should wait until you
finish your bath,” he informed her with a low, naughty chuckle beyond the
screen.

“Now I demand you tell me,” she insisted as
she paused in scrubbing her skin.

“It’s a brothel, Madeline,” he told her in
amusement, chuckling at her outraged gasp. “You desired a bath, did you not?”

She practically got out of the tub at that.
He laughed again, making her feel ridiculous to act so offended. It wasn’t as
if they were staying for the entertainments.

“You might have told me,” she grumbled as she
hurried now at her bath, lathering and rinsing quickly. She dunked under the
water and washed her long, thick hair painstakingly.

“You wouldn’t have come,” he pointed out
beyond the partition.