“Glad you came, sweeting.”
“I gathered that.” She drew back to look at him, so he could see her admiring.
“Baldwin has melted away very quickly.”
“I told him to.”
“And how did you persuade him to ride you over? No, I do not think I want to know that. But how you ride! You must have tumbled off close to a dozen times.”
“I did not want to ride in front of him as I do with you.” She saw his eyes glow at that. “Who is the sleeper?”
A dart of sorrow, so fast that any who did not know him as she did would have missed it, crossed his handsome-ugly face. “Ah, now that is the puzzle.”
The girl screamed at him when she saw him and was too horrified to answer questions. Poor Magnus. How vile it is for him.
Still with her locked in his embrace he turned on the road. “Now you are here, do you remember that charm you laid on the necromancer’s servant last winter? The one you said soothed and comforted?”
To comfort him, Elfrida stroked a hand down his back. “That may not be needed.” The girl could not help her terror any more than her husband could help his looks. But I can help them both, and I will.
Having Elfrida by him was more than balm. He was fully alive again, feeling as young as Tancred and bursting with hope. His clever witch-wife understood his need for contact, too. Taking his huge paw in her delicate hand, she led him to the slumbering maid. Then, being Elfrida, she did an unexpected thing.
She knelt by the girl and leaned close but did not touch her. She sniffed the lass’s breath, her hair, and sat back on her heels.
“This child has been drugged, very lightly, with a sleeping draught.”
Slowly, she drew apart his cloak and placed the tips of her fingers on the sleeping girl’s palm. “Cool but not cold. Skin softened lately by unguents.”
She glanced down the length of the tiny body. “Bare feet. Clean bare feet. She rode here, or came in a cart or carriage.”
Magnus thought of the fresh cart track and nodded. “How did she escape?”
“Or was she let go? Or is she another altogether? Let us—”
She stopped, turning her head on one side. “The Lady Astrid comes. You will hear and see her soon. Can you keep her back for a moment? It need not be for long.”
Magnus snapped his fingers at the hovering guard and sent him off to gather others and delay the coming Norman storm.
Elfrida sat by the head of the sleeping girl. Blushing a little, she patted the grass beside her.
Still shy of commanding me, sweet, after six months of marriage? No matter, you will not be shy tonight. Grinning at the thought, Magnus crouched beside her. His wife shifted slightly so he could see her, the girl, and the road.
“Where are the lady’s people, the ones who rode out with you this morning?” she asked in a low voice. “Where is Father Jerome?”
“The priest is ministering to a dying villager, a plowman who broke his back and who cannot be saved.” Anticipating her sympathy, he added quickly, “The man lingers but he has no pain.”
He watched her close her eyes and say a brief prayer. “As you say,” she remarked, opening her eyes. “He will go in peace, with the sunset.”
How does she know this? She is a witch and knows many things, some I wish she did not know. Magnus crossed himself and returned to more earthly, political matters. “As for the others, I sent them on with Tancred to the hamlets.”
“They did not try to wake this child?”
“After she had screamed down half the woodland on seeing me? No. Ill-luck like that is catching. I know men. We did not know the girl’s name and they were eager to leave, believe me, to discover some knowledge they hope will be useful, something they can tell their lady.”
Elfrida looked at him, a piercing glance as if she could read his thoughts, both good and ill. He wanted to kiss each freckle on her forehead, kiss her flower-petal lips and her gleaming amber eyes. The sunlight burnished her red hair and dazzled him.
“You are lucky, Magnus.”
“Because I found you, I know.”
“You are fortunate because the Holy Virgin loves you and for the rest we found each other. Now let me work.” Clearly seeking to take any sting from her words, Elfrida leaned into him. He kissed her lightly, feeling her smile, and then she drew back. He became aware of birdsong again and, in the distance, unseen as yet, the rumble of approaching horses.
Taking a deep breath, Elfrida touched the sleeping girl’s forehead. At once her own face lost its habitual animation and color. Bleached as parchment, she closed her eyes.
“Do not be afraid.” Her voice was slower, a little more resonant, carrying a faint echo. “Do not be afraid, Magnus.”
She is between the worlds again, tracking the girl through dreamland and sleep. His whole body tightened with alarm, with frustration at being unable to go with her, to fight for her. He forced himself to speak steadily. “Only of losing you, my heart.”
She clasped his hand, her long fingers smooth and strong as a shield. Pictures sprang before his eyes, a race of images faster than the galloping hooves of the closing horses.
“Her name is Ruth of Lowton. It is her real name. She worked with her widowed mother as a nail maker, a spinner, a gleaner… many tasks, sunrise to sunset and into dark.”
Elfrida paused, then spoke again. “Ruth liked living with Silvester. She met him outside the church of Lowton where he played the pipes. Silvester asked her to go away with him. She said yes because he was handsome and she was weary of quarrelling with her mother, tired of the endless work.”
Handsome. It is always the pretty ones who can cheat and steal and lure because they look good. Magnus clenched his teeth and his fist.
“Silvester gave her beautiful new clothes. He gave her other sisters. She had enough food to eat, and sweets, treats of oranges candied with sugar cone. He taught her to play the harp. When she cried he cuddled her. He took her with him on the wagon. She was his trusted girl, his good girl.”
Magnus glanced at Ruth. The girl was as still as a sun-basking butterfly through this tale of abduction and seduction, her breathing as delicate as mist. Elfrida’s fingers tightened round his and she continued to speak in the same low monotone.
“Ruth broke her vows. She left Silvester because he liked Rowena more, because Rowena, who was a new sister, was younger and very pretty. She left because she missed her mother. She left because she was not going to be first. She left. Silvester thought she was sleeping in the wagon.”
The pretty, the handsome win out again. But I am glad she escaped. Magnus slapped his fist lightly against the stump of his missing hand.
Ruth snored gently. Elfrida’s cheeks glistened with tears.
“He did not care enough to stop, to go back and look for her. I want my mamma.”
Magnus’s spine and scalp crawled. His wife’s voice had become that of a child’s, young and lost.
“You are safe,” he whispered, squeezing Elfrida’s hand. “You are both safe. Come back now.”
“Will you take me to my mamma?”
“I will.”
At once, Elfrida opened her eyes, gathered Ruth into her arms and sat with her on Magnus’s legs. Astonished at her speed and effortless strength, he stared.
“Hold us both,” she instructed. “Do not let us fall.”
Wondering at the word “fall,” Magnus wound his arms about the pair of them. “Elfrida?”
“I am here with you.” Elfrida tucked Magnus’s cloak about the girl and eased her arm beneath Ruth’s head. She watched Ruth closely for another long moment, then sighed.
“All is well. She has gone into deeper sleep. I want her waking to be smooth and gentle, but for now, we can let her go. Unless she is shaken, nothing will disturb her.”
She lifted the girl back onto the grass and spread her own cloak over her. A guardianship, Magnus guessed, and possibly even another sleep charm.
“How did you do that
?” he asked, as she scrambled to her feet, facing the gathering riders. “Lifting her in the way you did. She is as tall as you.”
“The will and the Holy Mother make many things possible.” Elfrida held out both hands to help him up, laughing as he rose without her aid.
“All is well,” she said a second time. “Magnus…she is untouched as yet.”
He nodded, a shiver skidding over him as he recollected the chilling words, She left because she was not going to be first.
“Ruth will recover more quickly because she is innocent.”
Pray God we reach the others in time, especially the first. Magnus nodded again.
“Excellent,” he said. “Though I like it not that Ruth and Rowena are small.” Like you.
Elfrida said quietly, “I am too old for Silvester.”
“That may be true, but I still do not like it.”
“Ruth recognizes you as a friend,” his wife went on quickly. “You kept her safe as she flew in dreams. She heard your vow to guide her home. She will not forget.”
“Good.” If that means she does not shriek on seeing me afresh, I am content. Magnus spotted Lady Astrid through a haze of dust, a thunder of horses. “Here is another ‘friend.’ What do we tell her?”
“Enough, but not too much,” replied Elfrida, repinning her veil and raising her chin. “She, rather, has things she should tell us.”
“Amen,” said Magnus.
Chapter 9
As Lady Astrid dismounted, Elfrida glanced again at Magnus. “Did you find any trace of the other missing girls?” she asked quickly. Her husband frowned and shook his head, once. She felt aggrieved herself.
There should be some signs of Silvester. He is a man, yet he seems to come and go like a spirit. Is he another dark wizard? I sense not, but what if I am mistaken? What is amiss, too, with Magnus? Why is he so irritated with me, so restrained? What have I done?
And here, striding forward with a face as rigid as a steel blade, was Rowena’s “guardian,” and a paltry one to Elfrida’s way of thinking. The lady rides to our manor from here and then rides back. Why? Why does she travel in person when she could send messengers? Does she care so much? No, but she does not want to give up control. She does not trust anyone. Since I rode out in haste she assumes there must be news, so sets out herself. She wants to be on hand to react.
“Looks like an icicle,” Magnus muttered against her ear. Aloud he said, “Lady Astrid, you come at a lucky moment. I have good tidings— not so fast, young man.”
A squire was trying to make for the sleeping girl. Before Elfrida could react, Magnus stepped in front of the youth and stopped him from shoving past the rest of Lady Astrid’s maids and attendants. “The lass needs peace.”
Pale as a frozen primrose, Lady Astrid yanked the squire aside. “For shame! You deny me a reunion with my ward?”
“No indeed, my lady, but this girl is not Rowena.” Magnus held up a hand before Lady Astrid could protest. “She knows your ward, though. From her my wife has learned that Rowena is alive and unharmed.”
“For now,” put in Elfrida, wanting the woman to face her. “The girl who sleeps, her name is Ruth. She and Rowena were taken by a man called Silvester.”
Lady Astrid’s expression did not change, but her eyes widened. She turned abruptly to Magnus. “Where is he?” she demanded.
“We should know soon enough. We have learned—”
“Mon Dieu! Rouse the girl, compel her to talk!”
“Ruth does not know.” Before Magnus could stop her, Elfrida stepped directly in front of Lady Astrid. “Her recollections are cloudy. Silvester drugged her with a tincture of the eastern poppy.”
“An expensive potion,” Magnus threaded in seamlessly, understanding the thrust of her conversation. “One beyond the reach and purses of all but the very rich and powerful, the Norman rich and powerful—like the sweets Silvester feeds them.”
The lady disguised the tiny start she made then by tweaking the folds of her long cloak. “How does this serve?” she snapped. “You, sir, are meant to be a tracker. Why have you not found my ward?”
Magnus looked as genial as he ever could with his scars, and his reply sounded mild but was to the heart. “You delayed in seeking my help, Lady Astrid. You also gave me no trace of the other victims.”
“Though you surely had it. Gifted to you by anxious, trusting parents.” With that insight Elfrida appreciated more. Curbing a livid flash of temper, she said, “Had you not been so single-minded and selfish in your search, you might have recovered Rowena with the other girls.”
She heard a restive shuffling among the followers of the lady and knew they agreed.
“Silvester is not, as you have it, a traveling player,” Magnus remarked quietly.
“Nor a Jew, as you also told us. As you lied to us,” said Elfrida.
Lady Astrid said nothing.
“We know he is handsome,” Elfrida went on. “We know he has a covered wagon that he uses to lure the young maids he wants. Sometimes he takes a girl along with him, to show favor and to beguile other victims.”
Magnus slapped his hand against his thigh. “So he seems safe to them,” he said. “Of course.”
“He plays the pipes to soothe,” Elfrida said, this time watching Lady Astrid’s maids. Githa stared at the ground. Seeing her through the eyes of the spirit world, Elfrida saw Githa’s panic as a dark nimbus around the young woman’s perfectly groomed head. I must talk to her alone. She does know this stranger, of that I am sure. With any luck, Githa would later seek her out.
“These excuses serve no purpose. You have not found Rowena.” Lady Astrid attacked again.
“And you have not told us the whole story, Madam, so we are quit.”
Lady Astrid tried to stare down her nose at the taller, sinewy Magnus but could not. “I do not owe you any explanation,” she began, but he glared at her and she fell silent.
“Someone should explain,” he commanded. “Or I am done here.”
“’Fore God, my lady, say for Rowena!” shouted one of her men, instantly stopping as Lady Astrid swept about to skewer the speaker with a glance.
“I will.” Leading his own pony and Apple, Rowena’s bay, Tancred nudged through the knot of older men and maids. Elfrida marked how they made way for him. The boy looked determined, older than his years. He launched into a spate of Norman French.
“English, if you please,” said Magnus. “Have you found Ruth’s mother and kindred and told them that she is safe?”
Tancred scowled and began afresh in English. “They know. Your men told them. Her mother is walking over. I rode ahead.”
He stopped, perhaps realizing how cold that sounded. Elfrida could only hope he realized it.
Magnus certainly did. “A true knight, to leave a widowed mother plodding in your dust. Go on.”
The boy’s shoulders slumped for an instant and then he spoke, his voice a little shrill and his words very formal, as if learned by rote. “Rowena Gifford is now the sole heir of William the fair. Her father intended her for the church, but that was not Rowena’s wish. She and I plighted our troth many years ago, when we were children. Father Jerome witnessed our vow.”
“That fellow is everywhere,” remarked Magnus, “And another who seems to believe that truth is a feast he need only pick at, that he may choose to share what he likes.”
“How do you know that her father is dead?” Elfrida asked.
“Because he is also a Percival, one of the sons of the overlord of the late William the fair. You are, Tancred, are you not?” Magnus challenged, his brown eyes burning very dark. “One of your names may be Olafsson but you are also a Percival. These great families take great interest in land and who owns it.”
In Tancred’s rapid glance to Lady Astrid, Elfrida appreciated the rest. “And the Lady Astrid is also a Percival by birth and a Gifford by marriage.” She ignored the noble woman’s hiss of displeasure. “You two know each other.”
“Of cour
se,” Tancred answered, with a shrug. “She is my aunt.”
The open, careless way he admitted this proved more to Elfrida. Lady Astrid was also Tancred’s ally and advocate. The lady confirmed it by confessing, “Tancred is my godson.”
“But Tancred is not the only Percival keen to win Rowena’s hand in any future marriage, especially now she is an heiress,” Magnus added shrewdly. “Hence your lack of truth, my lady, to Elfrida and myself, and your clumsy plotting. You fear powerful rivals in your quest to bring these youngsters together.”
Tight-lipped, her face crimsoning to an unbecoming red, Lady Astrid said, “These matters should be private.”
“No, they should not,” said Elfrida at once. “Too much has already been done in secret, and for too long.”
Sensing eyes on her, she turned and saw Githa, as pale as her lady was scarlet. There are still more secrets here, new secrets. Has Lady Astrid promised her ward to another, as well as to Tancred? Is this why the girl had to vanish, so the lady could negotiate for a richer dowry and terms, have two nobles contesting for Rowena and her lands?
If Tancred is telling the truth, then Lady Astrid must know that Rowena would go with Tancred. But now she cannot do so. Was this why she was taken, to stop her from joining her betrothed?
All the time, the other maids have been kidnapped and these nobles knew and did nothing.
“Who is Silvester, Lady Astrid?” she asked aloud. “I think you know very well.”
Sorely tempted to roar at the Norman icicle and the lad Tancred, to compel them to talk, Magnus felt a narrow hand grip firmly around his wrist. Elfrida murmured, “Step back, my love,” and pulled.
Intrigued, aware of a slight tingle against his sun-baked neck, Magnus stepped with her.
“Fall away,” she said aloud.
Everyone took a backward stride, though Magnus was too proud to be astonished at this piece of magic. My witch-wife knows something. At the edge of the tiny circle that had opened in the jostling crowd, he saw Lady Astrid’s haughty bewilderment.
“What?” she mouthed in French, but had no chance to complain. Before any could react—except for my Elfrida—an arrow buried itself with a thud in the middle of the open circle.
Knight and the Witch 02 - A Summer Bewitchment Page 6
