Enchanted Cottage (Avador Book 3, Books We Love Fantasy Romance)

by Martin, Shirley

  “Why didn’t you go to a doctor then?”

  “The doctors were all back at the field.” He grimaced. “No matter the argument with my superior officer, I’m determined to recover my former rank.”

  Alana glanced down at her plate and found it empty. “Maybe when you’ve recovered, you should return to the Elegian army and apologize to your commanding officer.”

  “Apologize? Danu’s ba—I was right and he was wrong. Simple as that.” Looking haggard, he rested his head in his hands. Sweat beaded his forehead; his hands trembled.

  She said no more but considered that Colin’s bravado concealed a real worry that he had no position and no army to return to.

  Shortly after the meal, Colin fell asleep on the floor after she gave him willow bark tea again. Still, his face remained flushed, his skin warm to the touch. He might lose his arm after all, Alana agonized, keeping a wary eye on him.

  * * *

  The following morning, Colin looked better, his face not so red. Yet she knew from past experience that people often felt better in the morning, their fever returning in the afternoon. Possibly it was safe to leave him for a few hours. She had to go to the capital city of Moytura, for the very simple reason that she needed another dress. I can’t wear this gray dress forever, she thought, noting the holes and torn places. Even though warmer weather would soon arrive, she planned ahead to the coming winter when snow would mantle the forest and cold would grip the land. She looked down at her sandals, about to fall apart. So, new shoes also. She sighed, for she had no money, only the gold bracelet her mother had given her, the precious piece she kept in a drawer. Ah, no, she didn’t want to sell the bracelet, the only tangible reminder of her mother. But she had no choice. All her grief and depression returned, a cold lump in her stomach. She missed her mother and father, all the happy times the family had shared.

  As Colin sat at the table, nursing a mug of chamomile tea, she prepared to leave for Moytura. She sponged her dress and sandals, trying to look as clean as possible. She ran her fingers through her hair and reminded herself to buy a comb.

  “Will you be all right while I’m away?” she asked, opening the front door.

  He nodded. “Don’t worry about me.” He paused. “One thing I’ve wanted to tell you, how very much I appreciate what you’ve done for me. By tomorrow, I hope to repay you in some way for your kindness.” He offered one of his rare smiles, and her heart beat a bit faster.

  “No repayment necessary, Colin. I’m happy to help.”

  “Just the same, I want to do it.”

  He had a book in front of him whose title she could read from where she stood: Cavalry Tactics.

  After leaving the house, she took the path through the forest that connected with the Royal North Road. The rocky path took her uphill and down, past maples and oaks, green with springtime growth. Upon reaching the road, she caught the sweet scent of strawberries flourishing in the field, and saw rows and rows of tall corn stalks. Crows cawed from high above, diving in the air for insects. The sun was warm on her back, a light breeze lifting her hair. But dread muted her enjoyment of the day. It took no stretch of the mind to imagine the shocked looks of the people when they saw her face. She hurried along the road as horseman galloped past, stirring up clouds of dust, and farmers took their carts to the markets. Other travelers from the opposite direction skittered away as they saw her, a portent of the ordeal to come.

  Much of the way to Moytura was open farmland, but here and there villages and hamlets formed a chain—albeit a weak one—that surrounded the capital in all directions.

  About two hours later, she reached Moytura, where the land leveled off. She looked down at her dirty feet; perspiration dampened her dress. She sought a wooden bench in Talmora Square to rest and let the breeze dry her frock. She brushed her dusty feet off, absorbing the sights and sounds of the city. Shoppers threw her shocked and disgusted looks, but she ignored them, her only desire to accomplish her tasks and return home. Bittersweet memories came back in a rush, the happy times she’d spent with her mother, on the rare occasions when they went shopping in the city. The entire family had often attended festivals here, enjoying the booths and buying souvenirs.

  Yet other memories came to mind. For reasons she refused to identify, she thought about Brendan and wondered what he was doing now, how he fared. To be honest, she supposed she wanted to compare him to Colin. As if either man would desire her now! Brendan was a good man, aye, and a skilled carpenter. But she recalled his temper, his impatience with other people. In any event, he was no longer part of her life. With a spurt of determination, she banished all recollections—good and bad—and resolved to complete her chores.

  First, she must sell her bracelet. She heaved a deep sigh, twisting the bracelet around her wrist. How she regretted not taking money from her home in Cairn—money she’d earned!—but the villagers hadn’t given her a chance. Swallowing hard, she rose from the bench and headed for the jewelry store, one she knew from previous visits to be reputable. Heading in that direction, she took a deep breath for courage, well aware her face would startle the owner’s sensibilities.

  Walking as fast as possible, she made her way along the cobblestone streets. She tried to

  enjoy all the sights of the capital, as she had so many times in the past. Elm trees planted along the wide avenue tossed their branches in a warm breeze. Here and there, shops boasted flower boxes in front, filled with geraniums, pansies and other bright flowers. Street vendors sold meat pies and cookies, all manner of snacks that looked and smelled tempting. Possibly later, after she finished her shopping, she might spare a copper coin for a delicacy. For now, her appetite had left her.

  Easing her way among the many people, she reached the jewelry store. She braced herself before stepping inside. She caught the proprietor’s startled expression but shoved his reaction aside. She just wanted to dispense with the whole unfortunate business.

  After a bit of haggling, she sold the bracelet.

  “A well-crafted piece,” the owner said, setting the piece in the window. “We don’t see such unusual gold jewelry these days, with its intricate etching.”

  The gold coins from the sale rested in her pocket, enough for several purchases and many coins left over.

  At the dress shop one street away, she was measured for a dress. She decided at the last minute to order two warm dresses and a cape. That would suffice for cold weather. A shoe shop abutted the dress shop where she was measured for a pair of sturdy shoes. No more sandals!

  Two streets away from the dress shop, on Perfume Lane, she spied a toiletry shop and entered. A bell sounded as she opened the door, and sweet aromas floated through the air. A woman with gray hair appeared from a back room, and for the first time that day, Alana wasn’t met with a look of disgust.

  “Hello,” the owner greeted her. “I’m Radegunda. Dear one, I may have an ointment to clear up your skin, if you don’t mind my frank talkin’.”

  Leaning on the counter, Alana shook her head. “I’ve tried everything, and nothing works. A … a witch put a curse on me.”

  “A curse? Why a curse on you?”

  Alana hesitated, wondering how much to tell the woman. “She accused me of practicing black witchcraft, of sorcery I never committed.” She caught Radegunda’s appraising look, as if the woman questioned her statement.

  “Ah.” Radegunda sniffed. “I know a bit about witchcraft. There is good magic and bad. It can be used as a blessing or a curse.” She folded her hands on the wooden counter. “You might not remember the days of King Tencien, the queen’s father who ruled years ago. In those days, magic was forbidden. For too long, evil sorcerers had used magic to do their bidding, causing tragedy and strife throughout the land. Nowadays, Queen Keriam permits magic, as long as it is used for good. But those who practice dark magic must be defeated and punished.”

  She sighed. “You don’t need to tell me, but how can I overcome evil?”

  Radegunda smiled
. “It will come to you. Good magic can drive away bad sorcery.”

  Alana shook her head. “I know nothing about magic.”

  “You don’t need ta know it. One day, sooner or later, you will find a way to surmount wickedness. You will wake up and wonder why you never thought of it before. Just remember, goodness can defeat evil.”

  A sense of optimism burst inside Alana as she headed for the door. She turned back, a sheepish expression on her face. “Oh, I almost forgot. I need a comb and a cake of soap.”

  “Very good. I have several different fragrances of soap—lavender, lilac, chamomile, rose—“

  She reached in her pocket for the necessary coins. “Lilac, my favorite fragrance. Radegunda, I can’t thank you enough for your encouraging words.”

  “Just remember, child, you have it within you to overcome evil.”

  “Thank you again, Radegunda.” She paid for the soap and an ivory comb, dropping the change in her pocket. She left the store, trying to convince herself that she could face any challenges that came her way. Time and patience were all she needed.

  Looking westward, she spotted the Treasury of Knowledge in the distance. Bright sunlight reflected on its sandstone. Ah, books; she missed reading. She strode in that direction, the air much warmer now, and reached the library shortly after. After scanning their large assortment of adventure novels, she left with several books the librarian had placed in a cloth bag for her. Concerned now about the passing time, she worried about Colin, wondering how he managed by himself.

  Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d missed her noontime meal. Back at Talmora Square, she bought two meat pies, carefully wrapped, and a dozen oatmeal and raisin cookies from the vendors. Time to return home now. She bit into the spicy meat pie, savoring the thick chunks of beef and potatoes. She’d save the other pie for Colin, and they’d share a few of the cookies after the evening meal.

  First making use of the public facilities, she gathered her things together. She made the

  long trip home, satisfied with what she’d accomplished but still sorry about the loss of her bracelet. Radegunda’s kind words helped erase her regret and gave her a sense of optimistic purpose.

  The sun was sinking in the east, firing the sky with a golden glow. Warmth still hung in the air as she trekked the Royal Road. Her legs and feet ached, her sandals about to fall apart. She dreaded the return trip in a nine-day to fetch her dresses and shoes. After finding the path through the forest, she headed back to her cottage, her arms tired from carrying the bag of books and cookies. She sighed as she spotted the cottage, so happy to be home.

  But when she opened the door, she found the cottage empty. Colin was gone.

  Chapter Five

  Brendan packed his tools in his cart, prepared to leave Sligo. Richer by three gold coins, he sighed with a job well done and thoughts of a promising future. The rich merchant whose house he’d helped construct had recommended him to several friends. He would ask Alana to marry him, now that he was able to support her. He would build her a fine stone house, a home worthy of her. Thoughts of spending the rest of his life with her, and children to give them joy, put a spring to his step.

  But did she love him? Surely she did. Pushing the cart ahead of him, he set out on the Royal East-West Road, home to Cairn—and Alana.

  * * *

  Inside her hut, Morag sat at her table and whisked the cloth cover from her crystal ball. Sneezing in a cloud of dust, she shoved jars and books of witchcraft aside. Dust balls gathered in the corners, and cat hairs coated the furniture. A golden cat with green eyes sat in a corner, delicately licking its paws, a half-eaten rat at its feet. The place reeked of cat urine and incense, a stench that would have revolted anyone else, but Morag was used to it.

  Cupping the crystal ball close to her stomach, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She imagined the crystal growing, growing, growing until it filled the room, then the whole village. In a half trance, she opened her eyes. Faint images swirled inside the ball, gradually coalescing into a figure. Brendan! She saw him hurrying along the Royal East-West Road as he pushed a cart ahead. Why, he’d arrive in Cairn before sundown. No time to lose!

  She raised her brown cotton dress over her head and threw it aside. Rummaging through a wooden chest, she pushed aside candles and incense, tucked among blankets and towels and other items she’d filched from neighborhood houses. She found a red silk dress at the bottom and jerked it out. She held the dress in front of herself, admiring the play of colors in the silk moiré fabric. The dress and gold dangling earrings she’d stolen from Maude Mulligan—after turning her into a dog—would surely tempt Brendan. She slipped the dress over her head and fastened the gold earrings, then headed for the door, eager to meet Brendan.

  Past the cottages, the well, the farrier’s and the blacksmith’s on the far edge of the village, she rushed down the road as the sun was sinking toward the horizon. She slowed her steps when she saw Brendan in the distance. He mustn’t suspect her eagerness to meet him. How handsome he is, she thought, as she closed the space between them.

  “Well, hello, Brendan,” she called. “What a surprise to see you here, walkin’ along the same road as me.”

  He stopped next to her, looking puzzled. “What brings you out this way, Morag?”

  “Oh, I came to gather herbs from the field. One of the old ladies—you know Ciarda Trwyth—has suffered from a bad cold for a long time. Thought I’d get a few cornflowers for her, make her feel better. I hate to see anyone suffer so.”

  He looked down at her and smiled. “Why, that’s so thoughtful of you.” The smile faded, his face serious. “Please tell me how Alana Cullain has been. I don’t write letters much and haven’t had a lot of spare time. But I must admit, I’ve thought of her every day since I’ve been gone.” He walked on, matching his step with hers.

  Morag affected a look of sorrowful regret. “Oh, Brendan, that I should have to be the one to tell you. I don’t know how to say it—“

  He halted and stared down at her. “What is it? What happened?”

  She heaved a deep sigh. “I just don’t know how to say it.”

  He shook her by the shoulders. His voice rose. “What happened to her? Is she sick?”

  Morag took a deep breath. “She married a man from Ros Creda.”

  “Ros Creda! That’s miles to the south. But why did she marry him? I thought we had an understanding—“

  ”Well, if you must know, he stopped by the farrier’s last nine-day to have his horse shod. A fancy horse, too, so he musta been rich. He swept her off her feet,” she said, snapping her fingers, “just like that!”

  His face crumpled. “That she would do this to me … marry another man when she surely must have known how much I cared for her.”

  “Then it’s just as well you found out now how flighty she is.” She slipped her hand into his calloused one. “I heard there will be an Earrach festival in Moytura next nine-day. A spring festival sounds like fun, dontcha think?”

  * * *

  A druid from a neighboring village handfasted them two days later, Brendan unaware that Morag had cast a love spell on him. Since he had lived in his parents’ house with five brothers and sisters, he moved in with her. It took him but one day to regret his decision.

  “This place is a pig sty!”

  She shrugged. “Then clean it.” She sat at a table, reading a book. Of witchcraft? Goddess, he hoped not.

  “Clean it? That’s your job. And just so you know, I’ll be leaving for Sligo in a few days. Another house to work on.”

  “Sligo?” she whined. “We’ve just married, and you’re leavin’ me.”

  “Too bad I can’t leave tomorrow.” He grabbed a clay statuette from a table, an image of a woman with exaggerated breasts and wide hips. “What is this?”

  “A statuette.” She threw him a smug look.

  “I know what it is, but who is it, what does it signify?”

  “Endora,” she said, a look of
defiance on her face.

  “The demoness!” He hurled the object across the room, where it hit a wall and broke into dozens of pieces.

  She jumped up from her chair and pounded his chest. “Look what you did! Who do you think you are!”

  “Your husband, unfortunately.” He stalked out of the house, slamming the door behind

  him. Why in the name of the Goddess had he married her? Oh, she was a tiger in bed, he’d give her that much. But if sex was all he wanted, he knew willing women in Sligo, or the many pleasure women who plied their wares in Moytura. He’d thought he was getting a sweet, loving wife. How wrong he was.

  If only Alana had waited for him.

  Chapter Six

  After Alana left for Moytura, Colin drained his mug of sassafras tea and shoved his book aside. Enough studying for now. Mindful of the care Alana had given him during his feverish illness, not to mention the tasty meals she’d prepared, he wanted to repay her for her many kindnesses. He felt much better now; no more idling about. By tomorrow, he should be well enough to return home.

  He dropped his mug into a tub of soapy water, grabbed the ax by the fireplace, and headed outside. Squinting in the bright sunlight after all his time inside, he wove his way among the surrounding trees to chop wood for the fireplace. Although summer hadn’t arrived yet, Alana would need wood for heating when winter brought freezing temperatures.

  He reached a copse of craobhs, small but sturdy trees, their wood suitable for heating. Sunlight filtered down through the trees, a cool breeze tossing branches. Swinging the ax, he thought about Alana and wondered what had caused the blemishes on her face. And what would she look like without those splotches? She surely had the most beautiful hair he’d ever seen, those glorious auburn tresses that fell down her back. Her soft voice and gentle smile came to mind.