A Passionate Magic (29 page)

”Vivienne,” Dain said, reaching down to help
his sister stand, “I do have a last question for you to answer. Why
did you leave those gifts for me?”

“I used to give you similar tokens when we
were children, so I foolishly hoped they’d remind you of me,” she
said, “though Agatha warned that your memory of me was blocked so
long as the spell endured. But I grew impatient and refused to wait
any longer. Knowing Emma possesses magical skills, I trusted her to
solve the mystery and reveal to you a truth you could not recall.
Which she did, when she first spoke my name aloud to you. It’s why
I told her my name. The last gift, the large bead, is very similar
to my parting gift to you so many years ago.”

“Nothing can bring back the years we’ve
lost,” Dain said, “but restitution will be made. You will have
justice, Vivienne. I’ll see to it. Agatha, you will come with us.”
It wasn’t a request.

“You needn’t order me, Dain,” Agatha said.
“I’ve been waiting years for this day to arrive.”

“Hermit, will you come, too?” Dain asked.

“I’d just as soon stay here,” Hermit said.
“I’ve no real taste for battles.”

“Please?” Vivienne asked, and turned her soft
gray eyes on him.

“On the other hand,” Hermit said, standing to
join her, “I’d like to see this through to the end, and I have
never met the notorious Lady Richenda. Lead on, my lord Dain, and I
will follow.”

***

The tide was just beginning to ebb and the
sea still washed over the rocks. Agatha and Vivienne simply walked
through the water, emerging perfectly dry on Penruan beach. Emma
was about to follow them when Dain scooped her into his arms and
carried her around the rocks.

Emma didn’t protest. She was content to wrap
her arms about his broad shoulders and lay her cheek against his.
For a few minutes she rejoiced in the warmth and strength of Dain’s
vigorous manhood, and dared to hope they could resolve all problems
and banish all demons together, as they had promised each other
just a few days earlier.

Behind them, Hermit splashed through the
waves, grinning with the mischievous look of a little boy tramping
his way through mud puddles, until he reached the dry sand. Then
his scarred and bearded face assumed a grim expression.

“The look in your eyes,” Emma said to him
when Dain had set her on her own feet again, “tells me that you are
ready to do battle for Vivienne’s sake.”

“Not for Vivienne only,” Hermit responded. “I
owe a debt to you, too.”

“Come on, then,” Dain ordered, speaking as if
Hermit were one of his men-at-arms. “We’ll use our wits first, and
trust we won’t have to resort to swords.”

“I haven’t handled a sword for years,” Hermit
told him, “but I still remember how, and I’ll have no qualms about
using one to defend our ladies.”

“Good man.” Dain clapped Hermit on the
shoulder. “I don’t expect to have to use cold steel against my
mother, but when dealing with her, it’s always best to be well
prepared.”

With Dain and Hermit in the lead they
hastened up the steep and narrow path to the top of the cliff and
set out for Penruan Castle. The sentries on the battlements leaned
over the edge to stare at the lord of the castle and at the
shabbily dressed man in a flat-brimmed pilgrim’s hat, who were
escorting across the drawbridge the lady of the castle, the elderly
healer whom most of them knew, and the mysterious lady in white who
was commonly assumed to be a ghost.

So firm was Dain’s control of his men that no
one objected to the peculiar procession and no questions were
asked, not even when they crossed the bailey, mounted the stairs,
and entered the great hall. However, there were plenty of wondering
looks. When Sloan saw them he set down his mug of ale rather
abruptly on the trestle table. Todd sent a reproachful glance in
Emma’s direction. Hawise rushed to Emma’s side, and Blake came with
her.

“Where is Lady Richenda?” Dain asked of
Sloan.

“In her chamber, my lord, where you ordered
her confined,” Sloan answered.

“You and Todd go to her and bring her to the
hall, along with Blanche,” Dain commanded. “What I have to say to
my mother must be public knowledge. I will not have rumors making
the rounds. This is a day for open truth.”

Lady Richenda began her descent of the stairs
with a confident air, as if she believed she had triumphed over her
despised opponent. Blanche would nave told her by now how Emma had
escaped from the lord’s chamber by magical means, and Emma could
gather from the expressions passing over her stern race what her
mother-in-law’s thoughts must be. With undisguised contempt Lady
Richenda regarded Emma standing below in the hall with her hair
pulling out of its braid and her shoes and the hem of her skirt
soggy from sand and seawater. Obviously, the runaway wife had
returned repentant to her husband’s castle, to be chastised and
placed in confinement again, with Lady Richenda in charge of
her.

Watching her mother-in-law, Emma saw with the
clarity of new knowledge the conclusions Lady Richenda was drawing,
and she marveled at the way in which that pitiful soul could
deceive herself as well as others.

Then Lady Richenda spied Agatha and halted
her progress down the steps.

“How dare you bring that loathsome creature
into my home?” Lady Richenda demanded of Dain. “And who are these
other two disreputable beings? If they are friends of Agatha, or of
Emma, I’ll not allow them to stay. Remove them, Dain, and then I
will speak with you, but not before.”

She turned to remount the steps only to find
Sloan and Todd standing squarely behind her, blocking her way.
Blanche was stopped a few steps higher, from where she could do
nothing to aid her mistress.

“Out of my way!” Lady Richenda ordered the
two men.

Neither man moved.

“Come down, Lady Richenda,” Dain said in a
terrible voice. “I have something to say to you.”

“I will not listen if you intend to speak to
me in that tone,” Lady Richenda responded.

“You will like my tone even less after I have
finished with you,” Dain said, his face and voice as chill as
winter’s frost. “Will you come into the hall on your own feet, or
shall I order Sloan and Todd to carry you in?”

Lady Richenda lifted her chin a notch higher
and walked with silent dignity down the last few steps. She acted
as if she was completely oblivious to the servants and men-at-arms
who were slipping into the hall by way of the main entry or the
screens passage from the kitchen, drawn there by the hastily passed
word of mouth that hinted of something important about to happen.
Even Father Maynard appeared from the chapel, alerted by the
murmurings of servants that he might be needed before long.

“What is this about?” Lady Richenda asked of
her son.

“I have guests to present to you,” Dain said.
“First, Agatha the healer, to whom you have not spoken for many
years, not since the day when you made a certain malicious bargain
with her.”

Lady Richenda did not respond to the
provocative statement. She merely set her mouth in a stubborn,
unattractive line and glared at Agatha. Only when she let her gaze
move onto Hermit and then to Vivienne did she begin to lose her
composure. She appeared startled by her first clear look at the
strangers. Next she seemed puzzled and, finally, bewildered.

“Allow me to present our other guests,” said
Dain. “First Hermit, a kind and valiant friend.”

”A man cannot be both valiant and kind,” Lady
Richenda snapped haughtily.

“Your son is,’ Hermit told her.

“I never taught him kindness,” Lady Richenda
said.

“Of that I am absolutely certain,” Hermit
responded, smiling a little when Lady Richenda disdained to place
her hand into the one he politely extended.

“Here is our most important guest,” Dain
said, “though
guest
is not the correct word for her, since
she rightfully belongs here.” He drew the lady in white forward
with an arm around her waist.

Vivienne moved gracefully, her robes floating
about her in the invisible breeze that always seemed to surround
her, and the air around her smelled of sunshine and the sea and of
newly picked blossoms. A murmur arose from the onlookers, many of
whom had seen the lady as she haunted the moor and the cliffs.

“This,” said Dain to his mother, raising his
voice so all could hear, “is Lady Vivienne, my sister, child of my
father’s first marriage, whom you banished from Penruan as soon as
my father died.”

Lady Richenda went as white as Vivienne’s
robes, her face absolutely bloodless. Emma expected her to swoon at
the sudden appearance of the girl who she must have believed was
long dead by now. Lady Richenda did not faint. Instead, she drew
herself up and turned her cold, blue-green gaze on her son.

“This is a foul trick, perpetrated by that
wicked healer, Agatha,” Lady Richenda said. “No doubt she was
assisted by your equally wicked wife. Dain, you have no
sister.”

“What I have,” he said, taking a threatening
step toward her, “is my memory of Vivienne during my earliest life,
years too long forgotten and restored to me only today. How could
you abandon the daughter of the baron of Penruan? You have always
claimed to honor and respect Halard as your lord and master, yet
you ordered the murder of his legitimate child, and it would have
been done as you commanded were it not for Agatha, who took
Vivienne away from here.”

“My lady, is this terrible accusation true?”
Father Maynard cried, hurrying to join the group facing Lady
Richenda.

“It is true,” Agatha declared.

“You have broken our agreement,” Lady
Richenda told her.

“An agreement made in haste and desperation,”
Agatha said, “to keep two innocent children safe from harm. Tell
me, Father Maynard, do you find any evil in what I did?”

“You used magic!” Lady Richenda cried, fists
clenched in helpless fury.

“I saved Vivienne’s life!” Agatha responded
with equal passion.

“Lady Richenda,” Father Maynard said, “it has
long been clear to me that, while you rigidly observe the outward
forms of faith, you lack the gentle and loving heart that ought to
lie at the foundation of our religion. There are many ancient
customs still alive in this land. I, myself, have felt their power
on several occasions. So long as that power is used for good and
not evil, as it is used in the healing arts, I do believe we ought
to live peaceably, side by side with it. We have no right to take
the comfort the old customs offer away from the souls we are
tending.”

“You are a poor example of a priest,” Lady
Richenda exclaimed.

“And you, my lady, are a remarkably poor
example of a Christian,” Father Maynard told her with an asperity
most unusual for him. “Consider yourself fortunate if you are not
formally charged with conspiring to murder a noblewoman. As your
spiritual adviser, I suggest you make a full and prompt confession
and accept whatever penance is laid upon you. If you would rather
not confess to me, knowing my sentiments on this matter, then
perhaps you will find a more accommodating priest at the convent
where your sister resides.”

“I thank you, Father Maynard,” Dain said.
“You have just suggested an excellent solution to a problem that
has been sorely vexing me since I first learned of this lady’s
wicked scheming. I will not have a would-be murderer living in my
home, even though she is my mother.”

“Dain,” Vivienne said, laying a hand on his
arm, “don’t send Lady Richenda away. I know how painful it is to be
forced to leave one’s home. What she did was done out of love for
you.”

”A jealous, spiteful love,” Dain said, “that
led to an evil plan.”

“I think she feared I would corrupt you with
my magic.”

“More likely, she feared I would love you
better than I loved her. Do you honestly believe that, if I permit
her to remain at Penruan, she will not try again to kill you?”

“I am older now, no longer a child, and in
full control of my power,” Vivienne said. “She cannot harm me.”

“If Lady Richenda is left free and
unpunished,” Agatha spoke up, “she will do everything she can to
cause trouble for you, Vivienne, and she’ll try her worst to ruin
Dain’s marriage. She will try to reopen the old feud, too.”

“Ah, yes, the feud,” Dain said. “That issue
must still be resolved. Blanche, take as many servants as you
require and pack up Lady Richenda’s belongings – all of them! Todd,
order horses saddled, and you’ll need a cart or two for the
baggage. Sloan will choose a dozen men-at-arms for you to lead as
you escort Lady Richenda to Tawton Abbey, to pay a permanent visit
to her sister, the abbess. She will be leaving Penruan before
sunset. Father Maynard, will you be good enough to write a letter
to the abbess, explaining Lady Richenda’s sudden decision to devote
the remainder of her years to prayer and penance? When it is
finished, I will have you read it to me before I personally seal
it, for Todd to deliver.”

“You cannot do this to me,” Lady Richenda
said to Dain.

“Why not?” he asked, displaying no sign of
warmth or affection, or even regret, toward her. “Would you prefer
to spend the rest of your life in the castle dungeon? It’s what you
deserve, after the way you treated Vivienne, and me, too. And can
you imagine that anyone here at Penruan or on the rest of my lands,
having heard the tale of your perfidy, would be willing to serve
you, ever again? You know how gossip travels. Everyone in Trevanan
will be aware of your cruelty before this day is done.”

“I did it all for you,” Lady Richenda
cried.

“You did it to maintain your own authority,”
Dain said. “With my father dead, you were full mistress of Penruan
until I came of age. Even then, you continued to rule my household,
and I treated you with respect because you are my mother, though
often I disagreed with you.