Dragon's Keep (31 page)

"I was all over stung with bees and that
was bad enough, but she"—he pointed to me to make it clear whom he was
accusing—"she held me down and rubbed a potion on me and said a spell
that went, 'Sting, sting of the bee. Remove thy sword—'"

"Don't repeat it here, lackwit!"
shouted Magnus as if he feared the words, when he knew as well as I that he'd
shown me the healing charm in his own book when Bram was stung.

"Oh," said Bram, eyes wide.
"Sorry, Sir Magnus."

Many were crossing themselves against the
charm, though Bram didn't seem to feel the need to.

Cook nudged the pigboy aside. "I've
known the princess
longest here. Haven't I
worked over the kitchen fire at Pendragon Castle since before the queen's wedding
day? Aye, so I was here for the princess's birth and all. Ah, what a storm
there was! Wind and snow so's a body couldn't see a foot ahead, and the poor
mid
wife died in it!"

"Hmm," said Sir Magnus.
"A bad sign."

"Aye!
And the poor babe with none to attend her but her
mother and she wouldn't let anyone near, keeping the babe to herself as if in
mourning, but some women take on that way.
Anyway,
what a rosy babe she was! And didn't I serve up a mighty
table at her
christening! The roast was tender as churned butter and the pan puffs light as
clouds—"

"Menu not needed here," said
Magnus. "We look to the state of the girl's soul."

"Ah! My head's always at the
table." Cook laughed.

I bit my lip, praying to Saint Brigid for
Cook's kind words to

heal
the wounds made here. Thus far, she'd only added more
weight to the witching scale.

"Who could blame her nursemaid, Marn,
for loving the child so?" said Cook. "How she fussed over the
princess! How worn she was, yet she'd work and work to serve the girl's every whim.
Ah! The child had her nurse in such a love-spell. Marn would have died for her!
I say it now and I say it again, the woman would have died!" Cook dabbed
her
eyes
with the corner of her apron. I prayed she had no more words
of help for me, but she heaved a sigh and went on.

"And her lady's maid, Katinka. Never was
there such attending. Didn't she come to my kitchen early each morn to bring
sweet milk and bread to the princess? Ah, she was up with the dawn to serve
her. Ah, they had a bond. I once saw the princess help the girl from the moat.
Didn't Rosalind bravely go into the water when all know only witches can
swim?"

By this time I was praying to Saint Balbulus
to inflict his stammer on Cook. Still Cook went on, "I often wondered why
the princess shunned Katinka. A pretty girl like that shouldna waste away in a
nunnery!

"Ah!" she
went on. "But we all loved the princess! When she
was but a poppet, she rode her father the king like a
horse and ordered him about the castle gardens, the precious little thing. And
sure it was her mother loved her so! She'd never hear my complaints of the
princess stealing food from my pantry, not even when she took whole rounds of
cheese and meat besides!"

Cook squared her shoulders. "And when
the dragon took the

princess
that last time, the queen's heart broke! I say it
now, though I've no doctoring sense: It wasn't her bowels
nor
her liver that twisted her to her end, Sir Magnus. I'm bold to say the princess
kilt her!"

"With her curse," said Magnus,
driving in the final blow.

"Aye."
Cook sobbed. "You could say
that, love's curse it was,
for she'd not
touch her food and withered away in mourning for the girl."

Cook lifted her apron to her face and cried
mightily into it, her shoulders quaking. All stood befuddled by her display, unsure
of what to do. Sir Magnus waved his hand and had her whisked away.

"We have strange evidence still to
come," announced Sir Magnus over Cook's loud bawling, which still filled
the room though she was far down the hall by now. "There may be some
here," he said, "who would swoon at what Sir Winston is about to
show. Remove yourself if you have a weak stomach."

None moved. No man protected his good wife.
No mother took her child from the room.

"Step up, Sir Winston, and show what you
found on the floor hidden under the queen's bed the very morning you discovered
Rosalind there."

Sir Winston came forth with a simple cloth
bag such as the castle laundress used. He paused to run his fingers through his
thinning hair, looked first this way, then that, and pulled out my dragon skin
gown.

"Ooh! Ah!" crooned the onlookers.

"Would you call this lizard skin?"
asked Sir Magnus.

"Aye," said
Sir Winston, "if it be a giant lizard like a dragon."
He held it higher. The shape of it still showed my
form that once lay under it, like the hollow of a wasp husk.

"Here is her
dragon's skin!" said Sir Magnus. "And there's no
denying it is hers, to view the shape. Here is how she
used dark magic to enter Pendragon Castle unseen."

"Look away," said the miller's wife
to her children. "Don't gaze into her witch's
eyes!"

This was too much! I squirmed in my bonds,
shouting in my

gag-

"Grab her lest she cast her spell on
us!" ordered Sir Magnus.

I fought the guard, but he held me tight and
from behind.

The wizard stood. "Here before us all is
the woman who
wafted into Pendragon Castle. Logic tells us she used witchery to
float above the moat, for we all
know the bridge was up. Thus, she came wrapped in dragon skin, invisible to
mortal man. Coming home, as she said, after she was sure her mother was dead.
Returning to Wilde Island to claim the Pendragon crown.
Think now," he said, leaning toward the townsfolk. "Are you safe with
the queen's crown on this woman's head? She
who chooses drag
ons over kin?
A spell caster and a
murderess?"

He let the word
murderess
fall across the crowd like silk.

"Nay!" shouted the crowd.
"Hang her!"

"Is this sure proof she is a witch or
murderess?" asked the sheriff cautiously.

"Proof aplenty!" said Magnus.

"Trial by water," said Father Hugh,
padding across the rush-strewn floor to my defense.

"No," said Magnus. "For one
such as her it must be trial by fire. She'll walk the coals, and if her wounds
don't heal in three days' time, we'll know her to be guilty."

"God have mercy," said Father Hugh,
shaking his head in good sadness, and so all were agreed.

The Devil's
Footpath

I
was thrown into
my
rat-infested
cell
to
contemplate my sins before my torture trial. Stale bread and
brown water were brought to me each day. I battled the rats for my food,
relieved myself in the bucket, and went down on my knees in the narrow bit of
sunlight and
called
out to God.

When at last the guards came for me, I was
taken to the castle foreyard,
where
an audience could watch my torture
in the bright good morning air. Sir Allweyn leaned over the bed of
coals,
taking special care to keep them hot with his bellows.

The air above the coals wavered glassy with
the heat. I was sick with fear as the guardsmen brought me forward and made me
sit on a stool.

"Don't make me do this," I pleaded.
"Please." I was gagged and blindfolded and someone—a man I think, by
his awkwardness—removed my shoes and hose. I felt the shame of my bare legs
and ankles exposed to the onlookers. Thus, with naked feet I was hauled to a stand.

"Check her for
herb charms and sniff her for salves!" ordered
Sir Magnus. More shame as large hands felt me up and
down,
touching even my breasts for hidden
witch cures. Next the sound
of sniffing: a man's face at my neck and at
my feet a dog's wet nose. The cur sniffed up my legs and down then licked my
foot and yelped. The man no doubt had kicked him.

"See how the beasts love her,"
noted Magnus.

"There is a stink!" the man
reported. "But no witch herbs or salves here, sir!"

"Good!" said Sir Magnus. I heard a
strange low muttering in Latin, which I took to be Father Hugh close by. What
prayer he said, I could not tell, but I knew he was good-hearted. In this entire
crowd it seemed he and Cook were the only ones who hoped my burns would heal
and prove my innocence.

"Take her!" ordered Magnus. I felt
the growing warmth as I was led to the edge of the coals. Before the burning
path my
mother's gown was twisted by
someone to a knot above the knee.
Standing blindfolded near my torture
bed, I thought on the last thing Chawl had said before we parted, "Don't
forget your inner fire."

The heat from the coals washed upward from
the ground. I prayed to the Holy Spirit, who lives inside the wind, to blow an
inner fire in me such as the dragons have.

Ah, God, the pain of that first step! The
searing heat! I could smell my flesh burning as I hastened across the cruel
bed.
Stumbling sideways, I was righted and
placed firmly on the coals
again. I screamed into my gag, the sounds
coming from my throat like a strangled hen. I walked forward.
More agony.
The

rhythm
in my head chanting,
Fire.
God.
Fire.
God.
And the
crowd about
me moaning like
a sea wind.

When I'd walked the
devil's road I collapsed and was dragged
before
Sir Magnus, who ordered my gag and blindfold removed. Unable to stand on my
burnt feet, I stayed on my knees, breathing hard as a runner. Leaning over me
as a priest in blessing, Sir
Magnus,
bedecked in blue robes and wearing golden gloves, took
out a small vial
and held it under my right eye, then under my left.

"See," he said lifting the vial for
all to view. "Not a single tear!

"Ah!" called the millers wife.
"It's a sign, for witches and dragons never cry!"

"Aye, all know
it!" called Jossie.

I swayed under the searing pain burning my
feet. "The m-mask," I stuttered. "It soaked up ..." I
couldn't finish.

Father Hugh rushed forward. "We should
wrap her wounds." He bent over me and touched the back of my neck with his
cool hand. "She's in God's hands now, Sir Magnus, and
in three days' time her wounds will show her
guilt or innocence."

Sir Magnus paid little mind to Father Hugh,
but held up the
glass vial to the sunlight
as if the dryness of my eyes was proof
enough.

"Wrap her!" insisted the good
father.

Still on my knees I cringed as my feet were
bound and the cloths knotted tight. With aid I stood on the binding cloth, pain
sharp as hot pokers searing up my legs as I was led away.

After two days in the cell I was still in
pain. Sweat covered me, and bouts of trembling. I sipped brown water, but could
not touch my crusts. The rats were joyful over it. More fever-dreams
came and now they were of Kye. My lover called me,
but my feet
were wrapped in molten metal. With a will to my legs I
walked
into his arms. Kye lifted me close
and I could smell the sweetness
of his skin. But when I leaned in for
his kiss he threw me under
a table as a
feast-goer would a gnawed bone, and in the dream he
shouted,
"Dragon-filth. I've seen your claw!"

I screamed, awaking to the stench of my own
foul sweat. Weeping I crawled about in the dark as one gone mad. If Sir Magnus
had held his vial in the corner of my eye then, I would have overflowed it.

On the third morning I awoke to a tingling in
my feet and felt hope stirring in my breast. This would be my testing day,
where innocence or guilt was proved. I ate a bit of bread for strength and
stood on my bandaged feet, counting to thirteen before falling to the straw
again.

At midday joy-songs drifted into the dungeon.
I crawled to the wall, and pulled myself up to the barred window. Outside I
spied two men marching to the drawbridge with a Maypole. In a flutter of red
and yellow ribbons three musicians played "Will Ye Come A-Maying" on
their pipes.

So it was May Day. I took this to be a good
sign. The window slit was too small to see the fullness of the foreyard,
though I could hear hammering as workmen built the selling stalls for the fair.
Pipes played and I saw a crowd moving about in the foreyard. All were signs of
May Day preparations.

The cell door opened. Two guards gagged me and
led me up
the narrow steps. I walked to
prove my healing, though there was
still some pain. The sight that
greeted me in the bright-lit foreyard hit me with such violence I dry retched
in my gag. Aside from a group of hooded Benedictine monks on the edge of the
crowd, all the people in the foreyard encircled a gallows.

Villagers parted and grew silent as I was led
to the stage be
side the gallows, where Sir
Magnus sat dressed in velvet robes and
wearing a great gold chain that
ended in my mother's jeweled cross. On either side of him, sweating in the
midday sun, were Father Hugh and Sheriff William.

Directly I was brought to an empty stool
before them and made to sit, which eased my feet but not my heart. Father Hugh
was called forward to
unwrap
my bandages for all to
see. The good father's hands shook as he unbound my right foot. The wrapping
came away from my flesh, discolored, but untorn. With care Father Hugh
inspected my foot, pressing first the soles
then
pinching hard each toe. "It's healed!" he said. Cook cheered,
but
was alone in her cheering.

In heavy silence Father Hugh unbound my left
foot. As he tore the final wrap away my skin tore with it. Fresh blood dripped
from the wound. Father Hugh frowned as he watched the blood flow, and began a
prayer in Latin, for he could not declare me healed.

"Ah! Ye can all
see!" called Kate the miller's wife.

"This proves her witchery!"
announced Sir Magnus, tapping the cross on his breast.

"No!" I cried under my gag, but
none could hear with the