by Chris Page
Twilight nodded downward.
‘That has to be our man Swein,’ he said. ‘I wonder where he’s going.’
‘With him out of the way we could collect the abbess from whatever dungeon he is holding her in and be away before he gets back,’ Tara said practically.
‘We could but I want to learn a little more about this wicked earl first. We can get the fair Edgiva at any time. Let’s follow this little cavalcade and see what transpires.’
After riding at a fair clip for thirty minutes, Swein and his men pulled their sweating horses into the forecourt of a large manor house. As Swein and ten of his men dismounted, an old man with a regal bearing came out of the manor house with two younger men flanking him. Swein strode up to the old man and without warning struck him across the face with his mailed, metal-fingered gauntlet. As the old man fell to the ground, the two young men by his side went for their swords, as did Swein, the ten men at his back, and the others on horseback. There was a standoff for a moment as the old man staggered to his feet, his lined face covered in blood.
‘Wait,’ he said in a quavering voice. ‘Hold your swords.’
He turned to each of the younger men by his side.
‘My sons,’ he implored. ‘I do not want you to die like this. As unfair as it is we will pay the extra geld.’
The horsemen behind Swein began to encircle the three men.
‘You will not only pay the extra geld, Baron, you will pay it now!’ Swein rasped. ‘Or suffer the consequences.’
The old baron staggered and but for the steadying hands of his two sons would have fallen. He shook them off and despite the blood running down his face pulled himself erect.
‘Earl Swein, I do not have that amount of money on hand. It will take me time to get it together.’
‘In that case, Baron, I will confiscate this house and all your lands. Pay now or lose everything you own.’
The old baron bowed his head in defeat.
‘Cut them down,’ cried the earl, stepping back behind his men, who leapt forward with their swords drawn.
And then, as the two sons stood, one in front and one behind their father with their swords raised in what would be a desperate and vain attempt at protection against the earl’s soldiers queuing up to cut them to pieces, everyone, even the horses and the blood flowing down the baron’s face, suddenly froze.
And Twilight and Tara appeared in their midst.
The Wessex astounder and his little tyro walked slowly among the immobile men. Arriving at the old baron, erect and regal-looking despite the facial blood, Twilight tapped him and his two sons on their shoulders. Remaining frozen the three men could hear, see, and speak.
‘Gentlemen,’ said Twilight softly as the wild look of desperate fighters was replaced by one of bewilderment in the two younger men’s eyes as they adjusted to the scene, whilst the baron’s face showed a benign acceptance of everything that was happening.
‘We are venefici in this area on a mission. This mission involves this worthless individual.’ He indicated the frozen Swein. ‘We stumbled upon your little problem and have frozen everyone whilst we take stock of the situation.’
‘We are indebted to you, sir, and to you, miss,’ the baron said in his quivering voice, the chivalry of an old school gentleman couching his words. ‘My sons and I were close to death when you intervened.’
‘This foul earl is taking liberties with the collection of the geld?’
‘It’s more than liberties. Every few weeks he comes here and asks for more. His greed is boundless. It’s got so that we can’t pay any more, he’s had everything. All we have left is this house and our lands, and Swein was about to take that,’ one of the sons answered.
The baron spoke. ‘I do apologize. I have forgotten my manners in the strangeness of the situation. This is my eldest son, Cyrille.’ He indicated the one who had just spoken with his eyes. ‘And this is my youngest, Julien.’ He looked the other way. ‘I am the Baron Tennant de Corbierre.’ Had he been able he would have bowed to them at that point.
‘I’m Tara, and this is Twilight. He’s the cleverest wizard in the land.’
‘Aaahhh,’ said the baron, raising his white old eyebrows. ‘Wizards, eh. Now I understand a bit more.’
‘Could you please release us from this bondage?’ Julien asked. ‘I would like to kill Swein and all his men.’
‘I’m sure you would,’ said Twilight. ‘But that is slaughter in cold blood and I cannot allow that, however justified you may feel. Be patient, your turn will come.’
‘You mentioned that you’re on a mission involving Swein,’ said Cyrille. ‘May I ask what that mission is?’
‘We’ve come to save the Abbess of Leominster, Edgiva,’ replied Tara. ‘Swein has her captive in Hereford Castle. Have you heard anything of this lady and her capture?’
‘Only rumours,’ said the baron. ‘Nothing certain, although Swein wouldn’t hesitate to do such a thing if he had a mind. He’s that evil. ‘
‘Why don’t we ask him?’ Twilight said, walking over to the frozen earl, who had his sword held downward with a snarl of domination about to break out on his immobile face.
‘Before I do, I’ll just have a look inside his head.’
He paused for a few moments in front of the earl.
‘Mmmm. As I suspected, nothing much in there but greed, ambition, and hate, and a glowing and all-encompassing infatuation for the abbess.’ Twilight turned to Baron Tennant de Corbierre and his two sons. ‘An infatuation he manifests in strange and disturbing ways.’
‘I can imagine,’ said the baron.
‘What ways?’ Tara asked pertly, already suspecting that it had become an adult question and she would be denied a proper answer.
Twilight looked at her and then ducked the issue as he had with his own children.
‘I’ll tell Katre and she can decide if you should know,’ he said. Teaching the young Tara how to cope with the Cowering Dead and the Equinoctial Mists and how to handle and kill savage, brutal people through the use of the enchantments was one thing - but telling her about the sexual antics of depraved men - something completely different. He’d left all of the basic birds and bees stuff with his own children to Rawnie, who had coped perfectly.
‘Coward,’ sniffed Tara.
Twilight nodded acceptance of her accusation and tapped Swein on the shoulder. Give him a real nasty villain any day.
The earl came to in a bile-spitting, screaming rage. For two minutes he screamed every epithet he could lay his tongue to at Twilight without repetition. There was nothing, NOTHING the old sorcerer would ever do that would protect him from Swein’s revenge. There was no place he could hide, no hole deep enough or dark enough or far enough away. Swein would find him and feed his flesh to the wolves and drink his blood; even death wouldn’t stop him. Twilight tapped him on the shoulder again and the tirade stopped in mid word. He looked down at Tara, who smiled sweetly back at him.
‘And I suppose you’re going to ask my mother to tell me the meaning of some of those words as well,’ she said, sticking her tongue out at him impishly.
He went back to Swein.
‘I have come to get Edgiva, the Abbess of Leominster,’ the old wizard said when the earl finally realized that screaming abuse only got him silenced again and actually listened.
‘Over my dead body,’ spat Swein.
‘So be it,’ said Twilight. ‘I will also be taking all the money you have extracted from the good Baron Tennant de Corbierre here and giving it back to him.’
A look of fear flitted briefly across Swein’s face. For the first time he was beginning to understand that this old man, with the long silver and black hair and the blackest eyes he had ever seen, actually exercised a complete control over him and his actions, and there was nothing all his bullying, intimidation, and manpower could do about it.
‘What will it take to make you change your mind?’
‘You leave this man, his sons, and lands i
n peace and only levy the geld on them that is fair and equitable. As regards the abbess, I will only leave her with you if that is her own wish.’
‘She won’t want to leave me . . . ever,’ sneered Swein.
‘We’ll see. Where are you keeping her?’
Leaving all of them still frozen and only the baron and his two sons with speech, sight, and hearing so they could converse, Twilight and Tara transformed to the locked chamber in Hereford Castle where Edgiva was being held captive. Once the abbess had got over the shock of the sudden arrival of the pair in her chamber, Twilight explained the situation, including the fact that they were here at the request of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
‘As God is my witness, Swein is holding me here against my will,’ Edgiva said quietly, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She was a tall, willowy woman with dark brown hair, a most attractive face and demeanour. Her long, simple cotton robe reached to the floor, and she had braided her hair into a knot on the top of her head, accentuating her height.
Out of deference to her plight and position, Twilight refrained from exploring her mind.
‘Swein said you’d never want to leave him.’
‘He’s totally wrong about that. He has abused me beyond all reason, such that I can never again enter the service of the Christian Church as before. My future in service of my faith has been taken from me by that cruel and depraved ogre.’
‘What would you like us to do with him?’
She thought about this for a while in silence.
‘I don’t honestly know,’ she said finally. ‘Every part of me wants him dead, yet my beliefs forbid such an action.’
‘Okay. Leave that to us. In the meantime let’s get you out of here. Take our hands.’
They deposited the abbess in the private chambers of Robert of Jumieges, the Archbishop of Canterbury. The archbishop, who was at Mass, was sent for and arrived red-faced and full of gratitude. Making their excuses, Twilight and Tara left them both and returned to the manor house of the Baron Tennant de Corbierre.
‘What are we going to do with Swein and his soldiers?’ Tara said, walking around the frozen men. ‘If we leave him here he’ll be back to his old ways as soon as we’re gone, and the baron and his two sons here will be the first to feel the heavy hand of his revenge.’
‘Exile,’ said Twilight emphatically.
‘Where to?’
‘I thought Denmark. Swein and his men are acting with the brutality and savagery of the Viking so why don’t we arrange it so they live with them?’
‘What about Swein’s father, Godwine, and his brothers. Won’t they object?’
‘Probably,’ said the old wizard gleefully. ‘But they can go as well if they like!’
Two weeks after the abbess was rescued, the archbishop invited Twilight and Tara to London to meet the king. It was the anniversary of Edward’s coronation and would be marked by a grand dinner.
Katre decided that Tara needed a proper dress. A grand dinner with the king and queen and all the courtiers and noblemen of the land would be a formal affair and require, at the very least, the usually scruffy little tyro to look presentable. The only problem was that Swein’s father, Godwine, and his two brothers, Beorn and Harold, would also be there. As earls of the realm their presence was required at such a grand state occasion.
Twilight was looking forward to the encounter.
When they arrived they were greeted by the archbishop, who quickly drew Twilight and Tara, resplendent in a green floor length silk dress made by Katre to match her eyes, to one side.
‘I have just had some news that I must share with you,’ he said behind his hand. ‘I placed the Abbess of Leominster in a quiet retreat the church has in the country. We use it for contemplation and recuperation for those in the front line who need to reacquaint themselves with God. This afternoon news reached me that she has left the retreat and is on her way to Denmark . . . to join Swein.’
Twilight raised an eyebrow at Tara, who was plainly surprised by the news.
‘I thought I’d better tell you before Godwine and his sons begin to gloat because they’re sure to know. Probably arranged her escape and passage.’
‘Thank you,’ said the old wizard. ‘Somehow, I’m not as surprised as I should be.’
‘Well I am,’ said Tara with her hands on her hips. ‘I believed her.’
The archbishop ushered them into the line that was waiting to be introduced to the king and queen. Twilight spoke to Tara’s mind.
The lesson here is a salutary one. When we rescued her I didn’t explore Edgiva’s mind out of deference to her plight. Had I done so, what do you think I would have found? A great big candle burning brightly for the unspeakable - and as far as I’m concerned unknowable - abuse handed out to her by ‘that ogre’ Swein.
Tara replied and then continued.
He was right. He said she wouldn’t want to leave him . . . ever.
In front of them Robert of Jumieges bowed and kissed the king’s heavily be-ringed hand, then introduced them both as ‘Tara and Twilight, the remarkable wizards I told you about, your highness.’
Edward the Confessor was a short, portly man with alert brown eyes and a pointed beard. He held his hand out to Tara, who didn’t know whether to kiss it or shake it, so she ignored it and fixed him with her bright green eyes.
‘Tara, the tyro Irish wizard. I’ve heard a great deal about you, young lady. I hope you’re not going to turn any of my guests into goats tonight.’ He raised his eyebrows and rounded his eyes in mock severity for an answer.
‘Depends,’ said Tara, twisting her silk dress into a nervous ball at the hem.
‘On what, pray?’ The king’s eyes sparkled.
‘On how well you look after my master here.’ Tara indicated Twilight.
The king laughed and moved his eyes to Twilight and bowed. ‘You, sir, are most welcome. Your tyro Tara is a most mettlesome creature and must be a delight to teach in your magical ways. I am looking forward to discussing many aspects of this with you and would take it as a great honour if you would sit next to me during our meal this evening.’
‘It would be a pleasure, my lord,’ Twilight replied, giving him a short bow in return.
It would be a pleasure, my lord! Tara mimicked to his mind.
You’ll be the one turned into a goat if you don’t behave yourself, he replied, moving her forward with a gentle push to Queen Ealdgyth with a smile of greeting on his face.
Before the meal began there was a period of introductions between other guests during which wine was served in great pewter tumblers. Twilight and Tara refused. Although she was still eating, drinking, and sleeping, the enchantments were gradually taking over these functions. Alcohol, however, was not allowed by any veneficus. It interfered with the necessary physiology and could cause any number of serious mishaps should they be called upon to use their skills whilst under its influence.
The archbishop introduced them to several others before, looking over Twilight’s shoulder, his face hardened.
‘My dear archbishop,’ said an oily, deep voice.
‘Good evening, Earl Godwine,’ Robert Jumieges replied stiffly. ‘These must be the two wizards I’ve heard so much about.’
Twilight turned to look into a pair of hazel eyes glinting with malice above a large hooked nose.
The archbishop made the introductions tersely. Godwine was accompanied by his other two sons, Harold and Beorn, both having the hazel eyes and hooked nose of what was obviously Godwine family facial characteristics. They made no attempt to hide their enmity toward Jumieges, the three pairs of hazel eyes making it obvious that there was no love lost between the Godwines and the archbishop, who quickly made his excuses and moved away.
When he was out of earshot Godwine leaned in close to Twilight and muttered in his deep, oily voice.
‘I bear no grudge against you for sending my son Swein into exile. He is a deranged fanatic whose behaviour deserved nothing less. Indeed, had
you decided to kill him I would not have been surprised and would have accepted it as just punishment for his kidnapping of the abbess.’
By his side Harold and Beorn nodded vigorously, demonstrating that family opinion on this matter of the behaviour of the younger brother was unified. Or, to put it another way, whatever Godwine said, his sons had better agree with.
Twilight nodded in a tacit appreciation of their understanding. As he did so he took a look inside Godwine’s head. Edgiva, the abbess, was to the fore as was all sorts of treachery. The sons’ minds were smaller versions of the father. They had arranged Edgiva’s escape and passage to Denmark. Even more disturbing, they were actively involved in an attempt to usurp the king. Soldiers and arms were being prepared secretly at several places around England, and the attacks were imminent, a fact that Godwine lost no time in bringing to Twilight’s attention.
‘I wonder,’ Godwine said, grasping his elbow and speaking close to the old wizard’s face again, ‘if you would be interested in joining my sons and I in a little, shall we say, intrigue against the monarchy?’ He nodded toward a group of people clustered around Edward. ‘We could certainly make good use of your skills in getting rid of those that would oppose us.’
Feigning surprise Twilight affected a neutral shrug. This nasty, oily old man and his sons were the last people on this turning earth he would join. No wonder Robert Jumieges did not like them.
Tara, engaged in conversation by Beorn, looked at him.
No wonder Swein is what he is. The whole family are like it. They look like ideal goat material to me . . . permanently.
Say nothing of any consequence, Twilight replied. They don’t know what they don’t know, so let’s keep it that way.
‘Perhaps we could meet after the dinner, somewhere discreet?’ The oily voice was speaking close to his ear again.
‘Perhaps,’ Twilight replied.
A red and gold liveried herald called them to the large, U-shaped table groaning with food, and they took their places. With the king on his left and Tara his right, Twilight looked around the long table to see where the Godwines were. The oily old earl was quite close, just three people down on the other side facing them, his hooked nose already buried in a pewter goblet of wine. Both his sons were further down. As soon as they were seated and the archbishop had said grace, Edward the Confessor engaged Twilight in conversation. He wanted to know everything Twilight could tell him, starting with Merlin and King Arthur to the present day, and paid particular attention to the period with King Alfred and the Viking. After listening avidly throughout the meal, to the complete detriment of his wife on his other side, to Twilight’s low-voiced account of the many events he’d shared with King Alfred, now known as Alfred the Great after his long time as monarch, Edward replied sincerely.
