Deathspell

by Peter Dawes

  “After you, milady,” I said. “Let’s be on our way.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Long silences filled our southward journey, our horses walking at a brisk, but manageable pace. My mind wandered several times throughout the duration of the day, revisiting the suspicions I harbored while attempting not to entertain them for too long. Sometime around midday, Jane rode up beside me, jolting me back into awareness. “Leonard tells me there is a town an hour’s ride from here,” she said. “We’ll pause for food there.”

  “Very well,” I said, punctuating my acknowledgement with a nod and apt to leave it at that. When I failed to say anything else, Lady Cavendish allowed her mare to drift back beside Leonard and left me to my thoughts once more. A town came into view just a few miles further down the road, as Jane had indicated, and the same lack of conversation dotted both our time spent acquiring food and our journey forth. We rode onward until dusk, pausing before the sun fully set in the west to take up rooms.

  Another long rest left me feeling much more rejuvenated. After passing through the market in search of food the next morning, I drifted back toward the open-air stable and fed Tempest an apple I had purchased as a treat. Jane found me a short time later, with Leonard in tow bearing a satchel which looked slightly more encumbered than I recalled it being last evening. If she gave any care toward his well-being, she gave no outward indication.

  “The conditions of these towns are wretched,” she commented once she was within earshot. The sigh which followed sounded heavy enough to nearly break her in two. “What I wouldn’t give for the hospitality of a local Lord.”

  My gaze met Leonard’s as he glanced over at me. While the look in his eyes managed to remain impassive, something about the weight they held told me I was being warned against commentary. Shrugging, I brushed my hands off and reached for Tempest’s saddle. “Milady should be careful how loudly she announces her displeasure,” I quipped, heedless of Leonard’s displeasure. “Every scoundrel in town might assist in lightening your purse.”

  “The market does an adequate enough job of that, thank you.” Jane smiled warmly at Leonard as he led her over to her mare’s stall and secured the horse’s accoutrements into place. “Although we did make certain to purchase a few things for us to eat along the way. We should be able to make it to Plymouth before supper.”

  “Always a pleasant expectation.”

  She ignored my response in favor of accepting Leonard’s help atop her steed. It shifted its hooves to accommodate her weight while I shifted my focus away, in favor of surveying what I could make of the town around us. “Regardless of how much lighter your purse is, announcing it draws the wrong sort of attention,” I added. Mounting Tempest, I nudged her out from her stall, gripping tight onto the reins to direct her closer to the exit. “Now, I have to be mindful of whether or not we’re followed. Unless we’re doing away with the charade of me being your guard.”

  Jane tsked, directing my attention back to her. “It isn’t a charade, rogue,” she countered. “I paid good money for your services.” As she rode up beside me, her eyes danced with mirth, regarding me as though I might be little more than a child. “And really, if you think me some helpless waif, you do so to your downfall. Remember, I’m the one who’s teaching you spells. Not the other way around.”

  Leonard snorted and settled onto his horse next. Together, the two progressed forward, a smirk dancing on Lady Cavendish’s lips that her servant mirrored while riding past. Watching them depart, I sighed and Tempest snorted. “Yes, I hope she takes a nasty fall as well,” I said, digging my heels into the mare’s sides. She charged forward to catch up and from there, I devoted myself to a vow of silence. Unless the conversation shifted toward my purpose in being there, I wanted no part in amusing the woman.

  The pledge held steady the remainder of the journey. We reached the gates of Plymouth, Jane straightening her posture as our horses carried us through. Leonard nodded to a man standing near the guards and in turn, the man mounted his own steed and raced ahead of us. I tensed and followed behind more closely, both unfamiliar with the town and my expected decorum as part of her entourage. It caused me to focus more intently on the townsfolk while attempting to appear nonplussed.

  A few of them halted their activities as we rode past. The emblem on my cloak garnered a few stares, as well as some whispers, but Jane seemed apathetic toward them all. “This way, rogue,” she said, leading us deeper into the city, and closer to its coast. She didn’t wait for my response before quickening our pace.

  Waves ebbed in the distance, bearing the glisten of the late day sun. The water stretched from one end of the horizon to the next, leading to heaven only knew where. I had never set my sights on so southward a horizon, nor fancied what might lie on the other side. Even the concept of Paolo being from a place called Verona failed to impact until that moment, when I realized I stood so close to where England ended and the rest of the world began.

  Jane rode up beside me, prompting me to glance in her direction. Her expression bore a level of bemusement as our eyes met. “Did my guard fall asleep?” she asked.

  “Surveying the land. Nothing more,” I said. Freeing a hand, I pointed toward the road ahead of us, a predatory smile spreading across my lips. “Lead us onward, milady.”

  “Not much further now.” She nodded once at me, head held high while she gave her horse a nudge. As she surged ahead of me, I took up a position on her left, set back two paces, but nothing more than that. Leonard mirrored my stance on the right, and together the three of us rode along a gently curving path, ascending one of the hills overlooking the town. As we rounded a bend, I found myself in awe, attempting not to pause while wishing an additional moment to marvel at what stood before us.

  If the sight of the ocean had been impressive, my first look at her family’s manor bore a whole other level of intrigue to it.

  Surrounded by walls on each side, a set of gates remained opened and allowed us passage up to the imposing house. We rode until we reached its front doors, pausing by the horse which had belonged to the man we had spotted in town while a small collection of servants clamored toward Jane. She and Leonard stopped at the base of the stairs. I alighted from my horse as they did theirs, Lady Cavendish accepting the help offered and nodding at a young, female servant while handing her reins to one of the men. “I trust my father still tarries in Exeter?” she asked.

  “Yes, he does, milady,” the woman answered, tall and wiry with a simple dress hanging from her frame. The others seemed to be dressed similarly, all clean and well-groomed and instantly earning my distrust. The female servant gave another woman – this one a more matronly-looking one – a wide berth as she continued. “The manor has been made warm for your arrival, though, just as asked.”

  “Splendid,” Jane said, allowing the woman to take her cloak. My gaze shifted away from Lady Cavendish and settled on Leonard, feeling the weight of his stare settle on me. The older servant had paused beside him and together, the two of them spoke in hushed tones. At first, I didn’t know what about.

  And then, the matronly woman stole a glance over at me.

  Raising an eyebrow, I watched the two of them exchange information, Leonard leaning close enough to whisper in the woman’s ear with her nodding intermittently while he spoke. I strained to hear anything being discussed, yet the issuance of my name from elsewhere prevented me from offering the conspirators more than another few moments of my attention. As I turned my head, I saw Jane smiling at me, her gaze shifting over to the duo as well before returning to me.

  “You are easily distracted for a guard,” she chided. At the same time, she arched an eyebrow and turned to line Leonard in her sights. “Frances, if you could please draw a bath. And Leonard? Stable the horses so our guest can settle in.”

  Leonard’s focus shifted almost more violently than mine had, as though he had been startled. “Yes, milady,” he said, pausing after responding as though he had spoken before understan
ding the request. The matronly woman turned on her heels and entered the manor while Leonard strode closer to me. The amount of distaste evident in his expression left me to wonder what the servant’s duties did not typically include stabling duties.

  I handed the reins to Leonard as he extended a hand, chuckling as Tempest reared back and issued a whinny of protest. He gritted his teeth and held tight to her lead while the mare attempted to drag him forward. “It might be better for me to secure my horse on my own,” I said. “She barely tolerates me on a good day.”

  “Leonard can handle an unruly mare,” Lady Cavendish piped. She shot her servant a mild look of annoyance and he cowered accordingly, consigning himself to the task while obvious in his dissatisfaction with it. Jane closed the distance between us, extending a hand to rest on my shoulder and prompt me forward. “Into the house. You’ll be shown to your room and we can talk over supper.”

  I glanced at my horse over my shoulder before sighing and shaking my head. “If he harms my horse at all, I’ll carve him in two.”

  “I imagine you care more for that horse than you do most people.”

  “You would be correct in your wager.” The expression on my face served as enough warning for Jane to turn her attention away from me again, focused more intently on leading her entourage past the threshold. I removed my gloves and held them in my hands while taking the chance to examine the interior of the house. The sight of what opened up before me forced me aback once more, leading me to wonder how many times I would be reminded just how out of my element I was.

  High vaulted ceilings and a lit hearth greeted us on the inside. Several of the lamps had been lit as well, with the smell of food wafting through the house as a pleasant temptation. A staircase leading to the second floor laid directly in front of us, with rooms shooting off both to the left and the right of the front hall.

  A large rug lay over the wood floor and tapestries hung from the walls, the area boasting very little in the way of furniture. I turned to peer at the door when it swung shut behind us, seeing that all but a few of the servants had followed us inside and now bustled to the next step of their directives. Jane walked up to me as I tracked the activity around me. “Now, I doubt this is your first time in a nobleman’s manor,” she said.

  “The first time I have ever been invited to stay,” I murmured, at too much of a loss to correct my subdued tone of voice. Each time one of the household staff passed us by, they cast curious stares at me, one or two of them eyeing me with revulsion. “They seem not to know what to make of me.”

  “Rogue, you smell terrible. I’m certain they’ll like you better once you’ve bathed.”

  “Once I’ve what?”

  Jane failed to answer my question. Just as I issued it, the matronly woman – Frances – caught Lady Cavendish’s attention, motioning her toward the stairs while saying, “Your bath is being drawn, milady. Come and let me help you prepare.”

  “Thank you, Frances,” Jane responded. She shot me a very quick glance, with that mysterious curl on her lips again before I became an afterthought. I watched them ascend and fidgeted at the glower Frances directed toward me before devoting her full attention to Lady Cavendish.

  “If you could please follow me,” a man chimed as he appeared on my right side.

  I turned to regard him and raised an eyebrow at the way his eyes met mine, his expression both skeptical and expectant. Sighing, I nodded, not apt to indulge this charade any further while knowing I had no other choice. He seemed apathetic one way or the other, which suited me and made our trek to one of the guest quarters painfully quiet. We parted company without any ceremony, and once I was alone, I finally allowed myself to relax.

  Placing the satchel on the floor, I unclasped my cloak and sat upon the edge of the bed. The mattress bore an unnerving level of comfort and fire crackled in a hearth; more tapestries hung from the walls of the room and the idle notion passed through my mind that perhaps I should take the lot of them down. I turned my head and spied a window, feeling some small sense of assurance for the first time since entering. Such was to be short-lived, however. When I tested the shutters, I discovered them unable to be opened.

  “Will break you if necessary,” I murmured, hanging my cloak beside my bed and sitting to remove my boots. After tucking away my weaponry, I pulled Lawrence’s spell book from my bag, deciding to pass the time by reading. Lady Cavendish had mentioned supper and it occurred to me for the first time that she also said we would speak together during it.

  “Surely she wouldn’t have taken that much of a leave of her senses,” I said aloud. Jane would have to be mad to continue entertaining me as though I was actually her guest, but the more I mused upon it, the more I realized how fitting it seemed to be for her. I thought of a woman bold enough to conduct business with my ilk and travel this distance with little more than a bodyguard at her side. A peasant mercenary dining at her father’s table probably bothered her as little as everything else did. Not even two days into a fortnight and she had already proven herself beyond all expectation.

  “I believe I might already be in trouble, Paolo.”

  An indiscriminate amount of time passed before a knock sounded on the door, waking me from a short-lived rest. The young, female servant stood on the other side, walking in with a folded pile of clothing in her arms. “Lady Cavendish wants a bath drawn and for you to change for supper,” she said, setting the garments atop the bed.

  I hid the spell book, tucking it behind my back to free both hands. “I have other things to wear, thank you kindly,” I said.

  The girl snorted and spared me a quick, derisive glance. “She says she doesn’t want you smelling and in rags. Best to pay mind to what the Lady wishes.” Just as quickly as she had arrived, the servant spirited out of the room, leaving a confused man in her wake. I had only a few moments to hide the book in my satchel again before Frances walked in to escort me away. Despite a heavy amount of protest, I found myself being stripped and forced into a bath, the water scalding and uncomfortable.

  I gritted my teeth and attempted to shoo the woman away. Frances ignored me, directing the younger girl to trim my hair once it had been washed and barking orders that I was to have a shave, too, whether or not I liked it. As one of the men approached me with razor, I scowled and threatened to strip him of it.

  “Ignore ‘im,” the matronly woman said. “Or cut ‘im if he won’t cooperate.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. The way he peered at me bore a plea in it, as if to say, ‘Could we please do this the easy way, sir?’ and though I failed to speak, I relented to the fussing. Still, by the time I had been shorn and shaved, and put into a fresh pair garments, I had built up enough anger to split among the lot of them. I decided, however, to save it for the source of my vexation.

  They led me into the dining room while I adjusted the tunic which now hung from my frame. It had been dyed a deep blue, with a golden trim, and I only felt more ridiculous when I saw the way Jane studied me when I entered. “My, you do clean up very well, Master Christian,” she said, standing on the opposite side of a table and regarding me with a frustrating amount of amusement. She tucked her hands in her sleeves. “You could have almost been a noble.”

  “I could have hung myself from a balcony, too, from shame,” I said, giving the belt around my waist one final adjustment out of annoyance. “Am I to look like a fool during the entire duration of a fortnight?”

  “For as long as I own your services.” She lifted a brow at me. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss it. You might find yourself relishing the attention.”

  “Not bloody likely.”

  The young, female servant scowled at me before hustling to Lady Cavendish’s side. If my manner of speech had offended Jane, she failed to make note of it. “Always so pessimistic,” she said. “I’ve met mercenaries with much better dispositions being paid far less.” Jane nodded at her maid as she pulled out a chair. Lowering into the seat, Jane allowed herself to be pushed in
closer to the table and pointed at the chair across from her. “I sent Leonard away so we might speak in private. Please, sit.”

  The servant who had rid me of my facial hair stood by a chair and pulled it out. He eyed me nervously and I sighed while giving in once again, displeased at how little control it seemed I had over the situation. “I think you have me confused for a man readily impressed by how much coin a person has to offer,” I said, pulling in my own chair before the servant could be bothered. He backed away, at least smart enough not to fight me on this one concession. “If you wanted a more complacent guest, you should have wooed someone else.”

  “But I wanted you, Master Christian. Not merely a sword for hire.” Her hands folded on her lap as she held a pleasant smile on her face. “Or have we forgotten my offer?”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten. In fact, I was reading before being rudely thrown into a cooking pot.”

  Jane barked out a laugh. One hand lifted to cover her mouth and I waged a battle not to give in to a smirk at the amount of delight the sound contained. As it stood, I managed only to be marginally successful in my effort. “Yes, I always boil my guests.” Her hand lowered again. “Or perhaps I was testing whether or not you could chill the waters yet yourself. Have you learned much from Lawrence’s book?”

  I raised an eyebrow, the passage of the male servant from the room enough for me to realize what we were discussing in their presence. A steady stream of men and women shuffled in and out of the dining room, setting plates of food on the table and leading me furrow my brow at Jane. Once again, her apathy had me unnerved. “You are a rather trusting woman, milady,” I said, flicking a quick glance at the servant closest to her.