To her surprise, Gregor passed the first two subjects rather hurriedly, as if they were minor, and went almost immediately to the wedding. As they lay in each other’s arms, he encouraged her tell him what she wanted for their ceremony, and she felt herself drifting further away from the sense of danger.
“I want lilies,” she confessed sheepishly. “Big white and orange ones that bloom bigger than my hand. And I want honey cakes. My mother told me once that that’s what she and my father had on their wedding night. She said it was an old Irish pagan ritual. It’s meant to bring love and fertility to the new couple.”
“Ye shall have them,” he promised, bringing her fingers up to his mouth so he could kiss them. “When we get back, Alice and Erica will be biting at the bit to get involved.”
Morgana giggled, picturing the two women jabbering back and forth between varying shades and qualities of silks and furs and beads. Then, of course, there would be hairstyles to contemplate, shoes to mull over, and jewelry. It was a lovely thought, getting married to Gregor.
Slowly though, her smile started to fade, and so did the thoughts of a wedding. She knew Gregor was trying to keep her calm and confident in their ability to make a plan. But even if she could find a way to convince her source to confess, she wasn’t guaranteed freedom.
Fordun had been her predator for just over a decade, but he had been a witch-hunter for the church long before their paths had ever crossed. Even if they could prove he was not Godly, there was still a possibility of the Magistrate moving forward with her execution simply because of propriety alone.
She looked at Gregor, who had been watching her silently as she processed her thoughts. His dark-green eyes penetrated her soul, seeing straight to the pain they were both trying to keep pushed away. Once more she felt her throat close up and her tears begin to well in her eyes.
“Not yet,” Gregor soothed, wiping a tear away from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t give up just yet.”
“There’s no escaping him, Gregor,” she sobbed, shaking her head. “He’s too untouchable.”
Gregor put the crook of his finger beneath her chin and made her look up at him.
“Nay lass. You and I can do anything. Ye hear me? With ye by me side Henwen has recovered from so many tragedies. If we can do that we can save ye, I have no doubt in my mind.”
Morgana shook her head. “All I did was help heal sick people. Nothing else.”
“Nay, that’s where ye started,” he replied quickly. “Since ye’ve come to the castle ye have helped take of our sick, offered ye advice and classes to anyone who’s asked, and boosted the morale of me village. Do ye need me to go on? Because I can. “Yer compassion with our orphaned children has been a godsend, yer ability to get Tily out of her shell, yer…”
“Very well then,” Morgana laughed, playfully putting a hand over his mouth. In retaliation Gregor licked her hand, and wrapped his arm around her waist so he could pull her underneath him.
Morgana felt the familiar heat rise from her loins as she felt Gregor’s manhood begin to grow and throb between her legs, and she spread her legs farther for him. Slowly his hips began to move, teasing her mons as his lips captured hers in another kiss.
“I will bring ye home,” he promised, his kisses trailing over her ear, down her neck. “And we will be married, and we will have our children.”
As if to prove his point, Gregor slid his manhood between her folds, filling her up again deliciously. “And we will have our children, and we will never be bothered again.”
Gregor’s words dissolved into moans as they both gave into to the pleasure of their lovemaking. This time they moved slowly, using their love to worship one another’s body in the most sacred of ways. As they transcended into bliss, she no longer could tell where her body ended and his began.
Several hours later, when their passion for one another was finally sated and they had eaten everything on the tray, Morgana sat on the bed wrapped in a sheet and told Gregor her plan. He listened to her intently, taking everything she said to heart.
When she finished, he nodded his head intently.
“This will work,” he told her, getting up to throw another log on the fire. “I can get it out of him.”
“It might be harder than you think,” Morgana protested. “He’s very loyal and has been with him for quite some time.
To this Gregor grinned. “Good, I could use a good brawl then.”
Chapter 30
When Morgana had told Gregor her idea to stop Fordun, he knew she was on to something. The next morning, over a hearty breakfast meant to put some meat back on her bones, he listened to her recall a very interesting interaction between her and the captain of Fordun’s guard.
“He doesn’t want to admit it but this life is starting to wear on him,” she explained. “There was compassion in him. He could have left me to be defiled by the other guards, but he didn’t. Instead he made sure they stayed away from me.”
“With all due respect, lass,” Gregor countered. “How do ye ken that he wasn’t just trying to get ye all to himself?”
“He had every chance to,” she replied honestly, not wanting to lie to him, “but he didn’t.”
“But how do we get him to testify against his master?” he asked. Gregor stabbed the sausage on his plate with his fork and tore off a large chunk of it with his teeth.
“How do we get him to come clean?” Gregor chewed over his bite of sausage as he chewed over his thoughts.
Though they were up late with their intimate reunion, both of them had been up with the sun. They we anxious to get started and with only three days to prove her innocence, every minute was precious.
Jamie had come over shortly after they had finished getting dressed with a tray full of breakfast. As they ate, Morgana explained to him what had transpired between her and Bartholomew, and how she thought that through the right angle, they could get him to testify against Fordun and get the charges against Morgana dropped.
“First, we need to get him away from Fordun,” Jamie suggested, lifting his cup of tea to his lips. “If he kens he can get caught talking at any time he’s not going to give us a word.”
“It’s true,” Morgana agreed. “He already warned me not to lean on him to save my life. This is a huge risk.”
“Aye,” Gregor agreed. “But it’s the best chance we got.” He sat back in his chair, and pondered.
“We could follow him,” he suggested after a while. “Watch his daily routine today, see where it takes him. When we find out when he’s alone, we can go in and get him.”
“How ye going to do that?” Jamie asked. “Fordun’s guards are watching over ye at every turn. They’ll ken yer doing and put a stop to it.”
“That’s why we hire a lad to watch him for us,” Gregor explained. “Someone local, someone that can blend into the scenery. We give him half now, half later.”
When Jamie still didn’t look sure, he pushed forward.
“When we were outside did ye see a single villager that did nae look half starved? Hungry people are not loyal to their Lords. They distrust and despise them most of them time. But we’ve got something that can help. We’ve got good coin, and a full belly is a good incentive to do something quiet and out of sight.”
“He’s got a very good point,” Morgana agreed. “I’ve hidden in that village before and there isn’t a single person here who isn’t tired of being starved or in poverty. Even just one silver coin would be enough to earn you a set of eyes for the day. But I don’t think it best to hire just anyone, we don’t know where their loyalty truly lies. They might take your coin and still betray you.”
“That’s true. But are ye sure ye want to waste an entire day stalking him, lad?” Jamie countered, still not sure. “That’s a lot of time to waste if we daenae find anything.”
“We will,” Gregor replied, determined. “Every man rests. This Bartholomew will too.”
The three of them leaned closer to one ano
ther and the rest of the plan began to unfold. Gregor would go to Fergus, a loyal squire, have him spy on Bartholomew, while Jamie would work on loosening the guards’ lips with plenty of ale to see what he could learn. The previous night had been good practice with them, and he was sure he could get them to open up easily.
Morgana would stay with Zeus in the room along with a dagger and her bow and arrow that Gregor had brought along for her. Even with rumors spreading of Fordun’s insanity, there were still too many people loyal to him that would try to do her harm if she was recognized on the streets.
After breakfast, Jamie left abruptly, throwing on his most cheerful face to put on a good show for Fordun’s men. Within minutes Morgana and Gregor could hear the guards laughing uproariously at one of Jamie’s more vulgar jokes, and they knew they were in good hands.
Gregor left shortly after, but not before he pulled Morgana into his arms for a long, intimate kiss. Even though he would be gone only a short time, he was never going to leave her again without kissing her with everything he had. Although he could tell she was still a little frightened, Morgana put on her bravest face and wished him well.
Outside their door Gregor found that Jamie already had Fordun’s guards slowly traveling away from the room and toward the bar. Only one stayed by the entrance and he was looking longingly after the others, obviously desperate to be part of the conversation. It made it too easy to slip away.
In the stables Gregor found Fergus cleaning out Hermes’ stall. The lad agreed to his part in freeing Morgana readily, and listened carefully to what Gregor instructed him to do.
“It’s very crucial ye not be seen, balach,” Gregor stressed. “Doing so will put yer life and Morgana’s in grave danger.”
Fergus straightened his shoulders and stood proudly. “Aye, Laird Henwen, I fully understand the danger of this mission and readily accept the responsibility. Lady Morgana has saved me family and I am in her debt. It would be an honor to help save her life.”
“That’s me lad,” Gregor responded warmly, clapping him on his back. “Now stay out of sight, listen, and I’ll see ye tonight.”
Just as quietly as Gregor had slipped into the stables he slipped out of them, and headed not toward the tavern, but the Magistrate’s Office. He hadn’t mentioned it to Morgana or Jamie over breakfast because he knew they would disapprove, but he wanted to do a little digging of his own on Fordun.
As he weaved through the city’s dirty streets, Gregor grabbed what he needed as a disguise. A muddy brown cloak hanging on the door of a house, a straw hat from a wagon carrying rutabagas, and a cane he actually purchased from a seller at the market brought his costume together nicely.
Along with a few smears of mud on his cheeks and a sack over his shoulder, he looked no different than any other beggar man on the street. Wanting to be sure he hadn’t been followed, he meandered his way through the rest of the marketplace, through the town square, and came to the Magistrate’s Office from the backside.
To his surprise, there was only one guard at the back entrance, and he was currently indisposed with a rather boisterous blonde tavern maid. All Gregor had to do was wait a few more minutes before the two went scurrying off to the nearby woodshed for a little morning fun, and he was good to go.
The back entrance opened to a long corridor with a large kitchen to the left and several storage rooms to the right. Thinking he was there to help, someone hefted a crate of carrots into his arms and ordered him to take it to the room marked IV.
“Right, mum,” he agreed, hoping his English accent was passable. Remembering to use his cane, Gregor hobbled down to furthest storage room in the corridor and slid the crate inside. When he was finished, the kitchen maid had disappeared back into the kitchen, and he was alone once more.
Not wasting anytime he stole up the stairs to the main floor, and began to search for Fordun’s room. He had deduced that while taking part in such an infamous trial the man’s ego would dissuade him from staying at camp with his men and to give in to the pleasures of a more civilized society.
When he came upon the second floor of the building, he discovered that he was in fact correct when he spotted a pair of guards with emblazoned crosses about their chests guarding a door at the end of the hall. Gregor cursed under his breath when he saw the men standing there, and ducked quickly behind a stone bust of the old English Kings sitting atop a heavy stone column.
For several moments he stood there, his mind trying to figure out what to do next. The risk of getting caught was getting higher by the moment, but if he could create a distraction he might be able to do as he hoped. As if God himself was on his side, shouting erupted from Fordun’s room.
In an instant his men were rushing inside to see what was going on. Not wanting to spare a second, Gregor dashed down the hall and slipped into the room beside Fordun’s. To his relief, it was empty. After securing the latch, he picked up the vase on the dresser, tossed the flowers and water into the chamber pot and put it up the wall standing between him and Fordun.
Though he couldn’t make out most of the words, he could tell by their voices that it was the Magistrate that was arguing with Fordun. Fordun’s voice boomed with anger, not at all like when they were in the Magistrate’s Office the day before. From what he could make out, Fordun was angry about being so closely monitored.
Wanting to know more, Gregor looked around the room for anything he could find that could be useful. There wasn’t much in the empty guest room, but there was a window that sat only a few feet away from Fordun’s, which was hanging wide open. Carefully, Gregor undid the shutters to the guest room and opened the window as silently as he could. Once he did so, the voices carried in rather easily.
“Get the bloody hell out of here before I have ye all hanged for interfering with state matters!” The Magistrate roared as the sound of shattering glass came not but a moment later.
The guards must have taken him seriously, for it wasn’t a moment later he could hear them clamoring back out the door, shutting the door loudly behind them. An awkward silence filled the room beside Gregor for only a moment before the arguing ensued again. This time, he could hear them clearly.
“You can’t trust the complaints of a few angry peasants,” Fordun protested.
“It’s well more than a few, Sir Fordun and you know it,” the Magistrate retorted, his own temper stymied. “We’ve had reports pouring in from all over the countryside. Reports of you looking specifically for red-headed women that look like your Morgana. Some even as young as thirteen!”
“Witches can be born just as they can be turned!” Fordun shot back defensively. “And what do you know of witchcraft, hmm, your Honor? The ancient Egyptians used to hunt and sacrifice red-haired people to their Gods because they were known to be conduits of evil forces.”
The Magistrate made a sound of disgust.
“Don’t compare us to those heathens,” he growled. “It doesn’t help your case in the least. And I may be a lot of things, Sir Fordun, but a fool is not one of them. You aren’t after these women because of some Egyptian myth. You’re after them because they look like your precious Morgana.”
For a moment, Gregor’s heart filled with relief as he heard the Magistrate say those words. If the man was this level-headed, perhaps there was a good ending to all of this after all.
“Do not forget Magistrate, I have cleaned up several messes of yours from your more…immature days. Your hands are stained with innocent blood just as much as mine.”
“This is different, damn it!” the Magistrate roared. From his vantage point Gregor could hear him throwing something hard to ground. “It’s not just the high count of bodies. It’s the rumors. There’s talk of you kidnapping a priest! Of you murmuring unknown languages when you’re drunk in taverns, of you even defiling a church, Fordun. I’m sorry, but I have no choice. The Royal Court and the Roman Church have asked me to open an investigation on you after this trial.”
A long, awkward silence stretc
hed between them then. Gregor waited anxiously, not sure at all how the conversation was going to end. Fordun appeared at the end of his rope, but did he still have enough left to hang Morgana with it?
“I’ll prove them all wrong,” Fordun said, after a while, his voice calm. “I’ll prove to the Church again that I am their right hand. I admit, perhaps my mind has gotten a little–consumed with the witch. But once she is dead, I will regain focus. I swear it. You know how long I’ve been chasing her. She’s simply all I need to regain my sanity.”
Gregor heard the Magistrate give an exhausted sigh, and his stomach tightened uncomfortably.
“Very well. In regard to your earlier request, I will allow you to burn the witch, no matter the outcome of her trial…”
Gregor returned to tavern several hours later, heavy with information and something else. The information he had heard from his vantage point had made his heart heavy, but he was determined to find a better outcome to their dire situation. Back at the room, he pulled the object he had stolen from Fordun’s room and placed it on table.
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