The Sorceror's Revenge

by Linda Sole

  323

  The Sorcerer’s Revenge

  THE APOTHECARY SERIES

  BOOK 2

  Linda Sole

  This book is the copyright of Linda Sole 2012.

  It is illegal to copy this in any form without the permission of the author or publisher.

  Linda Sole is the sole author of these books

  With thanks to my illustrator Regina Paul

  Linda Sole England

  All characters in this book are fictional other than historical figures and bear no relation to anyone living or dead.

  Author’s Note

  I have gained great pleasure from writing the first two books of the Apothecary series and I would like my readers to enjoy them to the full. Even if you read and enjoyed The Apothecary, you might be glad of a little reminder. Here is a brief résumé.

  The Apothecary

  In the first book, Melloria, Countess, Devereaux, is cast out of the castle on to the moors on a snowy night. Close to giving birth, she loses her way and collapses outside the gates of Malvern, where Nicholas Malvern, the apothecary, finds her.

  Nicholas delivers her first child and tells the woman Marta to take her to a wet-nurse in the village, but believing the mother dead, Marta steals the child. Nicholas realises that the woman he rescued is still alive and delivers a second child. The babe, whom, he calls Iolanthe, enchants him, and when the woman clings to life despite all, he uses all his arts to help her.

  Nicholas falls in love with her. Because she is close to death he uses the black arts to save her, something he may come to regret. Melloria has forgotten her previous life and Nicholas calls her Anne, allowing her to think she is his wife. She responds to his loving kindness and is content to be his wife, falling deeply in love with him.

  Meanwhile, the earl has returned to England and is searching for her. When he can find no trace of her, Robert Devereaux takes another wife. Rhoda gives him a son and heir, but he still loves Melloria. Discovering she is still alive, he decides to take her back.

  The Sorcerer’s Revenge

  The second book begins as England is on the brink of civil war. Robert Devereaux is driven by his ambition and a ruthless sensuality. He wants Melloria but she has taken a vow and will not lie with him until her lost child is found. Then he meets the beautiful village girl Alfreda in the woods…

  In France, Count Niccolai Malvolia searches for a lost child, and dabbles in the black arts to bring his enemy low and take back all that belongs to him.

  I hope you will enjoy this second book in the series, and I look forward to perhaps writing a third for you. However, the story you’ve been following ends with this book.

  Best wishes, Linda Sole

  Prologue

  Carmelita gazed into the burnished silver of her mirror. The image was hazy until she waved a hand before it and then it became clear, showing her the face she wished to see, which was of a beautiful woman with pale hair the colour of moonlight and green eyes, with lips as red as cherry juice. Surely no other woman was as lovely?

  Smiling in satisfaction, she waved her hand over the surface of the mirror again and saw not her own image but that of a woman in great distress. This woman had long red hair and was very lovely but she seemed to be in danger. The picture faded to be replaced by the face of a man she knew – the apothecary.

  Carmelita respected the apothecary, whom she knew to be a great sorcerer – perhaps as great as she was herself? Was the woman his woman – and if she was, why could he not help her?

  Carmelita threw some black powder into her fire. The fumes it sent up filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes chanting an incantation to make her vision clearer. Now she began to see. There would come a time when she might either help or destroy the apothecary.

  Which would she choose?

  1

  Robert Devereaux’s meeting with his steward took most of the day. Jonathan, his friend and trusted right hand, had in his absence, done all in his power to see that the manor ran smoothly, attending to the matter of leaking roofs and squabbles amongst the freemen tenants. A part of the lease of the lands they farmed was the promise of certain days given to the lord of the manor, also one tenth of all their crops. They were bound by their agreements to take their corn to the lord’s mill. The miller divided the crop into three shares, one for the lord, one for himself, and one for the farmer. The system was unpopular and many flouted it, taking their wheat to be ground at mills run by independent millers. One such miller had dared to set up his business on land adjacent to Robert’s and was defying all demands to shut down. Jonathan had not taken decisive action against him, merely issuing all the tenant farmers with reminders that they must pay their dues to the lord even if they took their corn elsewhere.

  ‘Sir Jonathan felt that the decision must rest with you, my lord,’ the steward told him. ‘If you were to take a few of your knights and teach this upstart a lesson he might learn that it is unwise to accept the crops of your tenants.’

  ‘He must be given a warning,’ Robert said. ‘And so must the tenants. If they continue to defy the terms of their agreements once they have received official warning they will lose their land.’

  ‘You would turn them out? If you do that their families will surely starve this winter, my lord.’

  ‘Then they should be aware of the consequences.’ Robert rubbed at his shoulder impatiently. His wound still pained him at times. If Melloria had been alive she would have cured it long since with her potions. ‘You will write a proclamation to this effect and have it nailed to trees and barns in the villages throughout the manor.’

  ‘Would it not be better to frighten the miller, my lord? Your tenants are poor men and the temptation must be great.’

  ‘I shall not punish those who have taken advantage of my absence, but any who break their agreements in future will be punished harshly. The miller is not my tenant. If I burned his mill to the ground or destroyed his goods I should be breaking the law. The tenants are my responsibility. If times are hard they expect me to give them food from my kitchens, yet now they would rob me of my rights. This is the feudal law that I abide by and so must they.’

  ‘There are independent mills in other parts, my lord. In some cases the lords of the manor have come to an agreement that allows payment of rent and more freedom.’

  ‘I care not what others may do.’ Robert glared at him. ‘Do I neglect them or tax them unfairly? Am I unreasonable in the laws by which we all live? Have I ever demanded that a father bring his daughter to me on the eve of her wedding so that I may take my lawful right of Droit de Seigneur?’

  ‘No, my lord. You have never done any of those things. You have always declared that there is no true law to uphold this right and despised those who insisted on it.’

  ‘Then I have not broken the obligations my position carries. My tenants will abide by the agreement they gave or leave my land. That is my final word on the matter.’

  Leaving his steward to write out the proclamation, which would be read to the tenants, because most could not read, and then nailed up for everyone to see, Robert returned to his own chamber. His shoulder had felt easier for a while but now it throbbed with pain. He poured himself a cup of wine from the ewer, which was placed in readiness by his bed.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he sipped the wine and glanced at the letters from his wife’s sister. He frowned as he broke the seal and saw the barely concealed resentment as she demanded to know why he had ignored her first letter.

  Surely you must understand that this is urgent and of the greatest importance? If you cared for Melloria at all have the goodness to visit me.

  Robert opened the other letter feeling slightly aggrieved by her tone. Did she no
t realise that he was a busy man?

  As he began to read the first letter, which was couched in very different terms and explained why she had become impatient and angry at his lack of response, his frown deepened.

  Beatrice had visited the home of a certain Nicholas Malvern to ask for a cure for her sick nuns. He was it seemed an apothecary of some skill and fame. She had seen a young child she thought must be of a similar age to that Melloria’s child would now be if alive.

  When I saw her face my blood ran cold. Her features, eyes and hair are so like my sister’s when she was a child that I was convinced she must be Melloria’s daughter. Malvern claims she is the child of his wife and his but I suspect that he saw my interest and was uneasy. I had thought the child might have been taken to Winchester, but having seen this girl – Iolanthe, she is called, I am certain she is Melloria’s. I have written again to the Bishop of Winchester concerning the child but I ask you to come with all haste and investigate this matter.

  Robert stared at the letter. His heart was thudding so hard that he could scarce breathe. The story of a woman and child that had passed by the convent on her way to Winchester was vague and at best a thin thread, but this was much stronger. Beatrice was a level-headed woman. She would not write such impassioned letters if she were not convinced that the child was truly her sister’s.

  Robert’s thoughts whirled in confusion as he tried to make sense of something that seemed like a miracle. Why had the messengers he had sent out not been given a hint of the child’s existence? He wracked his brain trying to remember if he had ever heard of the apothecary. It was unlikely for they had never had need of outside help. Melloria was capable of making her own cures and more successful than many goodwives who gathered herbs and made their own creams and potions in their kitchens.

  He must go to the convent at once and discover more from Beatrice and then…if the child were his daughter, the child Melloria had believed was a son, what could he do? If Nicholas Malvern had claimed the girl – Iolanthe…a pretty name that brought hope to his heart…he would not give her up for the asking.

  Why would he do such a thing? Perhaps his wife was barren and he had stolen Melloria’s babe to please her. A man might easily do such a thing if he loved his woman enough. How had he found the babe? Where had Melloria given birth – and how had she died? Had the apothecary let her die deliberately so that he could steal the child?

  Robert felt the rage building inside him. He wished that he had not let Jonathan go to Winchester on what would probably be a wild goose chase. To leave the castle while Jonathan was away would mean Rhoda was unprotected and yet he could not wait.

  He rubbed at his shoulder, admitting that he was too tired and in too much pain to begin the long journey north that night, but in the morning he would leave. This was something that could not be neglected a moment longer…

  * * *

  In the night Robert developed a fever. By morning he was sweating, tossing and turning on his bed as he cried out a name over and over again. Finding him ill, his steward sent first for the woman Joanne, who said that he must be bathed to cool him. She brought him a mixture she had made and rubbed balm into his shoulder.

  Hearing the activity and voices in her husband’s bedroom, Rhoda went to investigate. She approached the bed, frowning as she saw that her husband was truly ill.

  ‘Why was I not called?’ she demanded. ‘What has been done for him?’

  ‘I bathed him to cool him,’ Joanne said. ‘I applied balm to his shoulder and gave him a mixture I make from herbs, which has helped him a little.’

  ‘Let me look at his wound.’ Rhoda moved the sheets and saw that blood had stained the bandage. When she took it away she could see that a thick yellow puss had come from the angry gathering of flesh. ‘I think this needs Comfrey, tallow and beeswax. Does Comfrey grow near here?’

  ‘Yes, there is a patch near the wall in the outer bailey,’ Joanne said. ‘I know how to make the balm you speak of. Shall I gather some leaves?’

  ‘Yes, gather them but I shall make the balm myself. Do not look so surprised. I learned to make simple cures at my mother’s knee. I shall wash away this puss first and leave the wound open to the air. If Comfrey does not heal it we may need to apply the searing iron.’

  Rhoda bent over her husband, soothing his brow with a cloth wrung out in cool water. ‘Hush then,’ she said as he cried for his dead wife. ‘Melloria cannot come to you, Robert, but I am here. I shall do what I can to make you well.’

  Looking down at Robert as he tossed and turned, clearly in agony of both mind and body, Rhoda felt pity stir in her heart. She had thought only of herself. It was true that he had not always treated her well, but at times he had been generous. In his absence at the wars, she had learned to love Jonathan truly, and because of that she could feel pity for her sick husband. Once she had wished he would die on the field of battle, but now she wanted only to ease him. She hoped that her balm would take the poison from his wound for the searing iron was a cruel thing.

  As she turned away Robert caught her wrist, ‘Melloria…’ he cried in his fever. ‘Forgive me. I beg you to forgive me. I should not have left you at such a time…forgive me…’

  So he was still haunted by guilt for deserting his wife when she was close to her time. He had left Rhoda to serve his prince but at least she had had Jonathan, and he was kinder than Robert knew how to be. For once she felt no resentment concerning his first wife.

  Smiling, she bent over him and kissed his forehead. ‘I forgive you, Robert,’ she said. ‘I am going to make you well again. Rest now. I am not angry with you. I forgive you for leaving me.’

  ‘Melloria…’ Robert’s eyes flicked open but she did not think he saw her. He smiled and closed his eyes. ‘My only love…’

  Rhoda left him in the care of his steward as she went away. Comfrey steeped in water and mixed with melted tallow and beeswax would make a soft balm that might ease his wound, but only he could deal with the guilt that haunted him.

  * * *

  Robert was recovering from the fever when Jonathan returned from Winchester. Rhoda went down to meet him, telling him of her husband’s illness.

  ‘He has suffered greatly and is in some torment,’ she said. ‘I think we must wait until he is well again before you speak to him about my freedom. He was fretting for Melloria in his fever.’

  ‘Has the fever broken?’

  ‘Last night. He knew me when I gave him some broth this morning and he took a little, but he is still weak. He needs to rest, Jonathan.’

  ‘You sound as if you care for him. Have you changed your mind about leaving Robert?’

  ‘No. It is my wish to leave but I do not hate him. Once I thought I should be happy if he died in battle, but when he was close to death I prayed that he might live.’

  ‘You could not wish another man’s death,’ Jonathan said, gazing at her with love in his eyes. ‘Robert will listen to me when the time is right – but the news I bring him is not good.’

  ‘You went to Winchester in search of the child?’

  ‘Robert told you of his hopes that she might be there?’ Rhoda nodded. ‘He thought that there might be good news but it could not be worse. The woman has fled taking the child with her – and there was a dead man in the house. By the time the body was found it had bloated and begun to decay, but they think it was Todd Carpenter – the woman’s brother.’

  ‘She killed her brother and ran away?’

  ‘There was another man living with her, a leather worker by trade. He called himself Will Hern but who knows if it is his true name. They say the carpenter was struck a blow that split his head open from behind. It would take a man’s strength to do that but there is more to the story.’

  Jonathan explained that the carpenter had been accused of murder and fled himself, and that the leather worker had come to live there after he had been gone some weeks. ‘Perhaps he resented that his sister took another man into his house. No one knows
the truth but it means that the woman and child have disappeared once more.’

  ‘That will be a disappointment to Robert but you must tell him. He is fretting and has asked for you twice this morning already.’

  ‘I shall go up to him.’ Jonathan touched her hand. ‘Do not look so anxious, my love. I am certain that Robert will let you go when he realises you are unhappy. He may demand that we live abroad but I shall not mind that…shall you?’

  ‘I believe I should like it very much.’ Rhoda smiled for him, though she had a feeling that a dark shadow hovered at her shoulder. ‘Robert is waiting for you.’

  Leaving him to visit her husband, Rhoda went to her chamber. She sent Joanne for the child and when he was brought to her, she held him in her arms. When the pain was so terrible she had sworn that she would never bear another child but it would be happiness indeed to hold Jonathan’s son. She smiled and touched her son’s tiny hand. He was perfect and in her new mellow mood she had begun to care for her babe.

  Would Robert let her take the child with her? Before the babe was born, she had considered leaving him behind without a qualm but now it made her sad to think that she might have to choose.

  * * *

  ‘You think that the child Nicholas Malvern claims is his could be yours and Melloria’s?’ Jonathan frowned when told of the Abbess’s letter. ‘What of the child in Winchester?’

  ‘I am not certain but I think Melloria may have given birth to twins. One was stolen by the woman Marta and the other remained at Malvern House.’