A Passionate Magic (25 page)

“You may be safer outside the castle than in
it,” Dain said, gently caressing the hand in which Emma held the
crescent.

As it happened, Emma never left the castle
that day. When she descended from the battlements to the bailey
after talking with Dain, she found Hawise waiting for her.

“I’m worried about Todd,’ Hawise said. “His
wife tells me he has been coughing up phlegm all night, though like
most men, he refuses to admit he’s ill. The wife wanted to know if
you have a medicine that will help.”

“At least that’s good news,” Emma said. “Not
because Todd isn’t well, but his wife’s request means the folk here
are beginning to trust me and the medicines I make. Do you know
where Todd is right now?”

“He’s in the wardroom, preparing to stand
watch on the battlements,” Hawise responded. “His wife is none too
pleased about it, either, considering how cloudy the sky is, and
how sharp the wind. She’s afraid Todd will be drenched with rain
and catch another chill.”

“He won’t be out of doors today,” Emma said.
With Hawise behind her, she set off briskly in the direction of the
wardroom, which lay just inside the entrance of the tower keep.
Weapons were kept there, and the men-at-arms coming off or going on
duty on the castle walls used the wardroom while they donned or
removed their chain mail. It was a noisy, thoroughly masculine
place, smelling strongly of male sweat and of the oil and sand used
to clean weapons and chain mail. The unexpected appearance of the
lady of the castle brought a sudden halt to rough conversation.
Several men-at-arms reached in haste for a shirt or a chain-mail
tunic with which to cover unseemly nakedness.

“I ask your pardon for interrupting you,”
Emma said, making sure she kept her gaze well above the shoulder
level of the embarrassed men. “I am looking for Todd.”

“Here I am, my lady.” Todd was holding his
chain-mail shirt, which he was just about to pull over his padded
gambeson. His face was flushed and his eyes were fever-bright.

“You may leave your chain mail behind. My
lord Dain has a new assignment for you today,” Emma said to him.
“You are to come with me. If one of your comrades will speak to
Dain, or with Sloan, they will have decided by now who is to take
your place on the walls. Again, good sirs, I beg your pardon for
intruding,” she said to the men-at-arms. She flashed her sweetest
smile at the men and stepped outside the wardroom to wait for Todd
to join her.

“My lady,” Hawise protested, “you shouldn’t
be giving orders to the men-at-arms, not while Dain and Sloan are
both within the castle. It’s not a woman’s place to command
men.”

“Dain won’t object. He has already decided to
keep Todd indoors. He noticed that young man isn’t well even before
Todd’s wife spoke to you,” Emma explained.

“He’s a considerate lord,” Hawise said.
“Sloan tells me Dain is aware of almost everything that happens in
Penruan, and in Trevanan village, too.”

“Sloan, hmm?” Emma was about to make a
teasing comment on Hawise’s increasingly frequent references to the
knight who was captain of the men-at-arms when Todd appeared
wearing a woolen tunic, with sword and knife at his belt. “Come
with me to the stillroom, Todd. You, too, Hawise. I may need your
assistance.” Emma knew it wasn’t necessary to tell Hawise to report
to Todd’s wife on his treatment. Hawise would be certain to provide
whatever information was pertinent, and she’d carry additional
medicine to Todd’s quarters and explain how it was to be used. The
anxious wife would see to it that her husband obeyed the
instructions.

“What is it you want of me, my lady?” Todd
stood just inside the stillroom door, looking warily around at the
bunches of herbs hanging from the ceiling to dry, and at all the
jars and pots of newly prepared medicines lined up on the shelves.
Suddenly he gave way to a fit of coughing that bent his sturdy form
double. Hearing the way he was gagging, Hawise snatched a small
bowl from the table and thrust it into his hands.

“First,” Emma said, pouring syrup from ajar
into a large spoon, “we are going to ease your cough. Swallow
this.”

“What is it?” Todd stopped coughing long
enough to take a backward step in the direction of the door.

“It’s horehound syrup,” Emma told him,
offering the spoon. “I promise it won’t harm you, and I’m sure it
will help. Didn’t your mother, or your grandmother, ever dose you
with horehound?”

“Sometimes, when I was little.” Todd regarded
the spoon doubtfully.

“If you took it when you were a boy, surely
you can do no less now that you are a grown-up man-at-arms,” Emma
said.

With undisguised reluctance Todd opened his
mouth and accepted the medicine.

“It doesn’t taste quite as awful as my
grandmother’s syrup used to do,” he admitted.

“I disguise the taste with other herbs,” Emma
said, “and with a bit of honey. Todd, Lord Dain wants you to stand
guard at the door to the lord’s chamber. Someone has been sneaking
in and out of the room. We want to learn who it is.”

”A thief?” Todd asked. “Here in the castle?
How can that be?”

“I don’t think it is a thief. Nothing has
been taken, but Dain and I are both concerned to know it’s possible
to get into and out of our chamber unseen.”

“It shouldn’t be possible,” Todd said,
frowning in thought. “There are always people in the great hall,
and we have a good view of the staircase from there.”

“And of the people going up and down the
steps,” Hawise added. “Who would notice one among so many?”

“Are you saying you think it’s one of us?”
Todd exclaimed in open disbelief.

“Neither Dain nor I can imagine who it could
be.” Emma spoke very firmly. “We want to disprove any suspicion
that one of our own people could be at fault. That’s why we decided
you would be a good man for the job. You are honest and
intelligent, and we know you’ll be discreet until this mystery is
solved.”

“I will, my lady.” Todd stood a little
taller, looking pleased at the trust being reposed in him. “I’ll
say nothing to anyone, not even my wife.”

“I knew we could depend on you. Now, you will
need to take the horehound syrup regularly to suppress the cough.
You don’t want to begin choking just at a moment when you ought to
be quiet.”

“Quiet for what?” In a rustle of black robes,
with Blake directly behind her, Lady Richenda entered the
stillroom. “Are you devising some wicked scheme to use your noxious
herbal medicines to disable my son so you can turn the castle over
to Gavin of Wroxley?”

“I am obeying Dain’s wishes,” Emma said.

“What is the evil potion you’ve just fed to
this stupid boy?” Lady Richenda demanded, glaring at Todd as if he
had done something wrong.

“It is only a syrup to stop frequent
coughing,” Emma explained. “My lady, I have Dain’s permission for
everything I am doing in this room.”

“By gathering herbs and preparing tinctures
and ointments from them, you are deliberately contravening the Will
of the Lord,” Lady Richenda declared in a loud voice.

Emma noticed the light of fanaticism in her
mother-in-law’s eyes and knew it was useless to try to argue with
her. Even so, she wasn’t going to back down. She had to stand up to
Lady Richenda, for herself and her hopes for the future, for Dain’s
sake, and for the sake of all the folk whom she was certain she
could help, if only she could prevent Lady Richenda from constantly
interfering.

“It is cruel of you to allow the people who
depend on you to suffer needlessly,” she said.

“Suffering will cleanse their immortal
souls,” Lady Richenda proclaimed, sounding as if she spoke from a
pulpit.

“I disagree,” Emma said with great firmness.
“When a person is ill or in pain, it’s often difficult to think of
anything but the body. Alleviating discomfort allows the afflicted
soul to consider spiritual matters. At Wroxley I knew a man who
sustained a dreadful wound to his side. It was clear he was going
to die and he knew it, yet all he could think about was his
intolerable pain. When he was given a calming herbal infusion mixed
with a bit of poppy syrup the pain receded. He was able to make a
full confession and receive absolution. He died at peace, clasping
the priest’s hand. Will you tell me that medicine did not help his
immortal soul?”

“He was a weakling,” Lady Richenda answered
in a voice filled with contempt. “If I do not prevent you, you will
turn every man at Penruan into a similar weakling. Then you’ll open
the gates to Lord Gavin, which is what you’ve planned all
along.”

“That is untrue,” Emma said, “as I suspect
you are well aware. I have no such intentions.”

“Lady Richenda,’ Blake spoke up, “I can’t
believe Lady Emma would work any harm to Penruan, or to the people
here. She has been doing nothing but good since she arrived. She
treated my gashed leg so it healed without festering, and the drink
she gave me took away all the pain, so I slept well that night. I’m
sure she was helping Todd just now, the same as she helped me.”

“How dare you interrupt me?” Lady Richenda
whirled on Blake, her right hand whipping out to slap him so hard
he stumbled and would have fallen if Emma had not caught him.

“Enough!” Emma cried, her arms around the
boy. “Dain gave Blake to me, to be my page. I make my claim to him
here and now. You may no longer abuse him.”

“What is this infernal racket about?”
exclaimed Dain, striding into the stillroom, bringing with him a
breath of cool, damp outside air that Emma found very welcome.

“Your cursed wife is determined to weaken
every man-at-arms in the castle,” Lady Richenda cried, “so she can
turn the place over to Gavin of Wroxley.”

“I treated Todd’s cough,” Emma explained,
responding to Dain’s questioning look in her direction, “and I
protested when Blake defended me against Lady Richenda and she
slapped him for it.”

“I can see she slapped him hard.” Dain’s
large hand caught the boy’s chin, turning his face to better see
the red mark on Blake’s cheek. When he removed his hand from Blake,
Dain touched Emma’s arm, pressing it in a reassuring way. Then he
turned and seized Lady Richenda’s arm in what was clearly a much
tighter grip.

“Mother,” Dain said, I will escort you to the
great hall. You may remain there or retire to your own chamber if
you wish. You are not to step within the confines of the stillroom
again, unless you are expressly invited by Emma, or by me. Do I
make my intention plain, my lady? Henceforth, you are to leave Emma
alone to treat the castle inhabitants as she sees fit. I will
tolerate no more interference from you.”

“You are making a grave mistake,” Lady
Richenda declared. “This enemy wife of yours will lead you to ruin
and debauchery. But you remain my son, and I know my duty to you
and to the memory of your father. Whatever restrictions you impose
on me, I will do everything in my power to prevent your
destruction.”

That day Lady Richenda did not appear in the
great hall for the midday meal.

“She is closeted in her room with Blanche and
Father Maynard,” Hawise reported to Emma. “I pity the priest, for
he’s not a bad fellow, and I almost feel sorry for Blanche, though
I cannot convince myself to like her. Blanche is too sneaky for my
taste. Lady Richenda has refused a tray of food, so her companions
will miss their largest meal of the day.”

“Ask Cook to save something for them to eat
later. They’ll want more than bread and cheese by the time evening
comes,” Emma said.

The midday meal was a pleasant one, with the
calm of the great hall undisturbed by any arguments. Just as the
sweets were about to be served, Emma noticed a rather pale and
tired-looking Father Maynard approaching his usual seat at the high
table. Suddenly, the castle cook erupted around the end of the
screened passage to race across the hall. She was moving so rapidly
that Father Maynard halted his own progress to gape at her.

“My lady!” cried the cook, skidding to a halt
before the high table. “There’s a dreadful thing happening and I
know you won’t like it.”

“What is it?” Emma asked.

“I needed a bit of fresh mint for one of the
sweets. You did tell me to feel free to help myself from the garden
whenever I needed fresh herbs.”

“So I did,” Emma said. “Pick as much as you
require. There’s no cause to worry about overusing the mint. Our
plants have sent out so many runners, it would be impossible for
you to destroy them.”

“Not so,” the cook cried, almost in tears.
“Lady Richenda is uprooting all the plants, and the sweet I worked
on all morning will be spoiled for lack of mint.”

“What?” For just a moment Emma was so
startled and so angry she couldn’t move. She heard Dain’s muttered
oath and was aware of him leaping to his feet beside her. For his
sake she made what she knew was a futile attempt to smooth over the
cook’s accusation. “Perhaps Lady Richenda wants herbs for her own
use.”

“Never,” said Dain. “This is deliberate
mischief.”

“My lord,” the cook said to Dain, confirming
his suspicion, “she’s tearing up every plant in the garden, not
just the mint. All the new plants Lady Emma put in, and the
seedlings, too – all the hard work that she and Blake and Hawise
did has gone for naught. When Lady Richenda is finished the herb
garden will be completely destroyed.”

“By heaven, I’ll make her replant the entire
garden herself,” Dain exclaimed. He stepped off the dais and headed
in the direction of the screened passage. Emma followed on his
heels, with the cook, Father Maynard, Blake, Hawise, and Sloan all
close behind.

The herb garden, which was located near the
kitchen door for easy access by the cook, and which also contained
lettuce, carrots, and a few other vegetables, was in worse
condition than Emma expected. Row upon row of plants lay on the
ground, uprooted and trampled. Some of the plants had been chopped
into pieces with a kitchen knife, which Lady Richenda was still
brandishing while she stamped on a row of tiny seedlings. Her shoes
and the hem of her black robe were muddy, there were smudges of
dirt on her face and her white linen wimple, and her hands were
scratched and stained green. Blanche stood off to one side,
wringing her hands and weeping. From the cleanliness of the
maidservant’s clothing and hands, it was apparent that she hadn’t
been helping her mistress.