The Amethyst Amulets

by Cillian Burns

  Nicholas crossed himself and Julie gasped, “Lily, is it you?"

  "Who else, Julie?"

  Anger surged through her and a harsh question formed on her lips. “I thought you were my friend!” she blurted out, feeling betrayed.

  "And so I am."

  "Humph! You have a strange way of showing it."

  Lily moved to one side and Julie glimpsed the amethyst amulet she had worn lying on the table. Forgetting her anger with the older woman, she glanced at Nicholas. “I thought you had that.” She nodded toward the necklace.

  "Apparently Lily is a thief as well as a witch.” He took a step forward. “How came you by what was locked in my strong box?"

  "Tis a long story, my lord. Will you sit while I tell it?” She motioned toward the crude stools surrounding the table.

  Nicholas seated Julie on one, then took another. “I would hear what you have to say, witch.” He leaned forward and resting his forearms on the table stared at the amulet.

  "You think me a witch?” Lily's generous mouth curved upward. Her eyes twinkled.

  "I know you are a witch,” Nicholas ground out between clenched teeth.

  "Perhaps I am. Have you ever heard of white magic?"

  Nicholas shook his head, but Julie nodded.

  "White witches do good magic,” Lily said to Nicholas. “We try to help people."

  "Do you call yanking me back to the thirteenth century helping?” Julie spluttered.

  "Perhaps. Let me say you must help yourselves for the most part. I brought you here. It is up to you what happens now."

  Julie leaned forward. “Explain, please.” Lily must have some reason behind her words.

  "Nicholas needed your help, didn't he?"

  "He didn't in 1249."

  When Lily turned her gaze to Nicholas, Julie, seeing an opportunity, snatched at the necklace which lay in the center of the table, winking faintly in the candlelight. Lily, however, was faster. Her hand seemed to blur as it swept over the jewel, leaving only empty space where it had rested.

  Nicholas leaped to his feet. “I order you to return the amulet!” he shouted, raising his hand as if to hit her. Julie flinched at his strident tone and threatening posture.

  Lily pointed a finger and arrested Nicholas's arm in midair. Julie saw the sweat bead on his forehead as he strained to bring his arm down. “Release me, woman!” he commanded.

  Lily shrugged and with a wave of her hand, Nicholas's arm immediately lowered to rest at his side. “I think you two should cool down. You will need me to intervene in your lives quite soon, and at the moment, I'm not feeling too charitable toward either of you."

  Nicholas slammed his fists on his hips and glared. “Meaning what?"

  "Threatening a descendant of the Merlin is not the way to gain my cooperation, my lord."

  Julie shook her head. “You can't be serious."

  But Nicholas stepped back away from Lily, a look of awe on his face. “Did you hear what she said? Her line comes down from Merlin. We must not anger her."

  Julie smiled. “You don't believe all those old Arthurian legends, do you, Nicholas?” She was sure the early Britons had struggled against the Anglo Saxons, but felt the stories of the warrior king and his counselor Merlin had been greatly exaggerated.

  To her surprise, Nicholas said in a serious voice, “Do I not?"

  "You, Julie, are a product of an age of skepticism,” Lily said. “Not everything has to be seen to be believed."

  "That's not true.” Anger surged through her, fed by the smug expression on Lily's face. But even more irritating was the fact Nicholas had taken Lily's side just now and the older woman was pleased. “Did our friendship merely fill some purpose for you?” It hurt to think she had been used.

  Lily gave her a sharp look, but didn't answer. Julie frowned in disappointment.

  "My lord,” Lily said, “I think you will need my services in the weeks to come. Julie will be an object of curiosity or worse, if she forgets who she's supposed to be. I will accept a small wage to keep watch over her—to protect her, of course. We wouldn't want your people to think her a witch.” Lily's lips twitched.

  Nicholas regarded Lily with narrowed eyes. He hated to let her have the last word, but opposing a witch could be dangerous. She could shrivel his manhood if she wanted. He shuddered at the thought. To have her where he could watch her would be wise, if not desirable.

  Reluctantly, he agreed, “You may come to the castle and act as Julie's maid. Keep your present form so people will not recognize you as the Barstow Village healer and seller of amulets and potions."

  "Make her give me the amulet, Nicholas,” Julie demanded. “I need it."

  "And you shall have it in due time,” Lily promised. “At the moment, I believe Nicholas wants to keep you here."

  "He will not keep me where I don't want to be.” Julie's violet eyes deepened to purple with the intensity of her declaration. She stood and started for the door.

  Nicholas followed her, turning in the doorway to say, “I shall expect you soon."

  The witch smiled, but he didn't like her expression. “Only my imagination,” he muttered to himself, slamming the door and untying Archangel.

  He hoisted Julie into the saddle and swung up behind her, holding her slender body in the crook of his arm as the horse clopped off down the street. To his surprise, tender feelings flowed through him. He had felt much hot passion toward women before his marriage. Then he had enjoyed Julianne's shy and delicate nature, exactly the way a wife should be. But to have tender feelings toward a strong, stubborn woman like Julie—never would he have believed it. All this moving back and forth through time had muddled his head, he decided, urging Archangel to a gallop. His head began to ache and his bed called him, along with the anticipated pleasure of having Julie lying next to him.

  Miles Norville sat on his warhorse, a massive Percheron named Devil, and observed his lands from the vantage point of a hill covered in sweet-smelling clover. A week had passed since his return from Nicholas's wedding, but something still stuck in his craw. The thought of the beautiful Julianne in bed with his overlord Nicholas ate at Miles’ gut during all his waking hours. Because Nicholas had won several important tournaments at Westminster, he had been named the king's champion and awarded property adjacent to what he already held. Two of those demesnes had belonged to the barons who had tried to kill Nicholas in his youth.

  Miles, a second son with no expectations of inheritance, had been fostered with the lord of Barstow Castle and brought up along with his son Nicholas, so Miles had at first been more than eager to help Nicholas retain his birthright. When Nicholas was given his enemies’ lands by King Henry as a reward for putting down the rebellion, Nicholas had rewarded Miles with the gift of his own small demesne by his grateful friend. He had sought Eleanor's hand and Nicholas had approved the marriage between Miles and his sister. For a second son, this was great good fortune and at the time had seemed enough. Five years later, it did not.

  He turned Devil toward home. The ride had given him an opportunity to think, uninterrupted by the constant demands of his household. During the wedding, he had come to the conclusion Nicholas had too much of everything: too much money, too much land and far too lovely a bride. He himself had very little in comparison. Eleanor was pretty, but headstrong. Occasionally, he hit her to force her compliance with his wishes. It was fortunate that he could hold their sons Richard and Simon's safety over her head, because the hatred in her eyes often made him decidedly uneasy.

  In comparison, Julianne seemed a gentle and pliable girl. One who would not fight and rail at him when he engaged in amusing and interesting tupping practices. One who would not blacken his eye before he knocked her unconscious to the floor.

  He gave a dig with his spurs to Devil who turned and tried to bite him. The all white horse had spirit. And anything with spirit he had to break. It was part of the thrill. But not this horse, not yet. At the moment, it was a woman he sought and he had not sub
dued Eleanor in a very long time. She was overdue, in fact. He pointed Devil toward the small keep and raced the wind to get there.

  As he entered the bailey, Miles saw a messenger wearing Nicholas's colors walk his horse to the watering trough.

  "What do you want?” Miles snarled.

  The man bowed and pulled his forelock. “I be bringing Lady Eleanor some bolts of fine linen from her brother, Lord Nicholas, milord."

  "Well, get on with it.” Miles dismounted and disappeared into the keep, leaving Devil for a groom to stable.

  Eldred just happened to be passing. He knelt down by the other man and pretended to shake a stone from his boot. No others being near enough to hear, Eldred said in a quiet voice, “The lord goes to London in three days to procure more mercenaries for his army."

  The messenger grunted an acknowledgment and led his horse toward the stables.

  Eldred stood and giving his foot a shake strode off to perform his next task.

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  Chapter 12

  Several days after Nicholas and Julie's visit to Lily's hut, she arrived at Nicholas's office wearing her twenty-first century face and some cleaner thirteenth century clothes.

  "I am here as I promised, my lord.” She curtsied. Her words suggested subservience, but her snapping black eyes said otherwise.

  Nicholas glanced up from the estate records and laid down his quill pen. “So I see."

  A noise at the door caught his attention. He glanced over Lily's shoulder and saw Robert of Arland, the accountant he had sent for from Oxford, hovering in the doorway. “Are you busy, Lord Nicholas?” Robert asked, ignoring Lily.

  Nicholas found himself annoyed at Robert for the second time today. He had sent immediately to Oxford for one of the trained accountants. On their way back, Robert and the messenger had been accosted by robbers only a few miles from Barstow. Robert had remarkably survived without a scratch but the messenger had been killed. He hoped Robert's contribution to the household would offset the loss of a soldier. Since they had already conferred earlier this morning, Nicholas couldn't imagine what the accountant wanted now. With a scowl, he said, “I am busy. Come back later.” Robert nodded respectfully and walked away.

  Nicholas did not wish to speak to Lily about his problems with Miles or Julie in front of Robert. The young man was as yet an unknown element in the castle's life.

  He turned back to Lily. “Shut the door,” he said and waited until she did so before speaking. “I just learned Miles is going to London tomorrow to hire more mercenaries to augment his army. Mayhap you know that already."

  "Yes, I do."

  "My spy in Miles’ keep says the rumor is once he has more soldiers, he will attack me.” He sighed. “I had hoped to be done with warfare and bloodshed, but it seems not.” He paused.

  Lily folded her arms, waiting for him to continue.

  Finally he said, “I also had a message from my sister. She and her sons are coming to visit soon. She did not say why, but I suspect it is because Miles is going to London."

  "His idea or hers?"

  "Eleanor probably persuaded him to let them come while he is gone."

  Lily grimaced. “I doubt Sir Miles allows anything without a good reason."

  "Mayhap he is reminding me that he has my sister in his power. And it would be unwise to ignore that warning.” He waved his hand as though dismissing speculation. “So, if he enlarges his household army, then I must too."

  She nodded in agreement. “It would be prudent."

  "Do you think all this could be avoided, Lily?” He watched her face, hoping she would say his fears might come to naught.

  "No, my lord. I think not. Also, much sorrow is coming, sorrow with which you will cope, though it breaks your heart.” Her sober expression convinced him of her seriousness.

  Nicholas shot to his feet. “Nothing will happen to Julie, will it?'

  She shrugged. “I do not know for sure."

  "Would you tell me if you did?"

  "No. The future must be dealt with one step at a time. And you will do this very well."

  Nicholas supposed she was right. However, he would like to find out what lay in store for Julie and him over the next year.

  With not much hope of an answer, he asked, “Will you tell me what purpose Julie is serving here in 1249?"

  Lily smiled and shook her head.

  Nicholas sighed. He had expected nothing else from her.

  Rising, he walked to the door. “Come with me."

  He and Lily entered the great hall. On the far side, Julie and Lady Beatrix were conferring. Julie saw him and smiled warmly. His heart leaped into his throat, missing a beat. Why did she have this effect on him? He attributed the excitement he felt when she was nearby to mere lust, his body goading him into doing that which he would later regret. Or was it something more complicated?

  He walked over to the two women, trailed by Lily. “Julianne, your new maid, Lily, has arrived."

  Julie's saucy little nose wrinkled when he called her by his wife's name. He tried not to grin.

  "So I see. Lady Beatrix, this is Lily."

  Lady Beatrix scarcely deigned to acknowledge a servant. She gave a minimal head bob and continued her lecture about when to spread new reeds on the floor. “Once a fortnight will be often enough. They smell if left too long. Full of bones and scraps, you know."

  Julie sniffed. “They've already been left too long,” she muttered, but Lady Beatrix had hurried on to the next task. Julie followed more slowly in her wake.

  Nicholas laughed and the corners of Lily's mouth edged up.

  "She has spunk, Lord Nicholas. You two will deal well."

  Oh, yes, Julie had spunk in abundance. Often, she just gave him a look and went on doing precisely what she wanted. She always seemed to enjoy testing him, seeing just how far she could go before he stopped her.

  Julie had best be careful. She might not approve of what he wanted to do.

  Late that night, Nicholas found himself tossing around on his side of the large bed he shared with Julie. Her even breathing told him she slept, which was more than he was doing.

  As he turned on his side, her knee came up and nudged a very vulnerable part of his anatomy. He grunted and moved away. Bloody hell! Did she know what she was doing to him? Of course not. She was asleep. Or so he thought. He would wring her neck like a chicken's if he discovered she tortured him on purpose.

  Her sleepy whisper surprised him. “I heard you groan. Did I hurt you?"

  Before he could formulate an acceptable reply, she moved nearer, her soft hand touching his bare shoulder. “Nicholas?"

  This time he did groan. Capturing her hand, he brought it to his lips. “I am warning you, Julie, there is only so much a man can take.” He pressed light kisses on her fingertips. This was not the way to relieve his problem, but still it felt too good to stop.

  "I thought maybe I'd stuck my elbow in your ribs, or something."

  "Not exactly my ribs,” he muttered, not wishing to admit where her knee had landed.

  She leaned over, her face near his. “I didn't hear what you said."

  Her light perfume and the warmth of her body so close to his teased his senses and increased his desire. “Julie,” he whispered, sliding an arm under her shoulders and pulling her against his chest.

  She stiffened.

  He should take his hands off her. He should move away from her. He should saddle Archangel and go for a long, calming ride in the cool night air.

  He did none of these things.

  Instead, he pressed her body tightly against his manhood, demonstrating just how much he wanted her. He had not meant to do more than hold her for a moment, but her warm breath caressed his cheek, and he lost what little control he had. Blindly, he found her lips and touched them with his own, gently at first, then harder and swifter, sucking on her full lower lip, begging entry to her sweet mouth. Joy surged through him when she tentatively touched her tongue to his. A
forbidden pleasure, but one worth risking. His head swirled.

  He and Julianne had not coupled in months. Her pregnancy had prevented her enjoyment of the marriage act, and he had refused to take if he could not give. But now, his long-deprived body had other ideas—ones not based on logic. With shaking hands, he cupped Julie's face and took one last pull at her nectared mouth before finding the strength to shove her gently away.

  The fragrance of her petal soft skin filled his nostrils, nearly driving him wild. But, as much as he wished it, this woman was not really his wife. He had taken an oath in his wedding vows to be faithful to Julianne and so he would. In addition, he vowed another promise to himself. His seed would never again enter the frail body which belonged to Julianne, thus protecting her from death a year from now. Then Julie could go back to the future, and he would love Julianne from afar for the rest of his days. Not that he wanted to live like a monk, but an oath was an oath.

  "Julie, I am truly sorry,” he began, “but the vows I made to my wife during the wedding ceremony..."

  Her fingertips touched his lips. “I understand, Nicholas. I didn't mean to tease.” She was silent a moment, then whispered, “I'm so afraid of losing my time forever. But it was wrong to expect you to console me."

  Before he could speak, she added, “However, if you sent me home, you could have your wife back and enjoy your conjugal rights.” She gave what sounded suspiciously like a suppressed sob. “And with all the enthusiasm you just demonstrated."

  Willing his body to subside, Nicholas lay back against the pillows and locked his hands behind his head. He would do anything to keep Julianne safe and alive. But chastity was a hard thing to ask of a man who had never wanted to be a monk—even though moments before he had silently sworn to become just that to keep his wife safe. It was Julie's fault for tempting him, he thought crossly. But he knew that was not true. It just seemed easier to blame someone else for his weakness.

  "You are a most unusual wench,” he growled. “One minute your tongue is stroking mine, and the next you are entreating me to let the amulet send you home. I am not sure whether you desire me or wish me to perdition."