Grasso, Patricia (44 page)

"Very slowly," Richard answered. "And with great pleasure."

The Earl of Basildon, the Duke of Ludlow, and the queen's page mounted their horses and rode west toward Shropshire.

Chapter 19

Where, in the name of the Great Beyond, is Richard?
Keely wondered, staring out the second-story window in her chamber at Smythe Priory. The western horizon blazed with the dying sun, but Keely took no notice of nature's glory.

Her husband had disappeared.

Because of the swiftness of traveling by barge, Richard should have been waiting for her when she arrived at the priory. Had he fallen to his death from the Cradle Tower? No—she would know with her Druid's instinct if he'd passed into the Great Adventure. Had he been captured and returned to the Tower? Only the Great Mother Goddess knew the answer to that.

Fetching her satchel, Keely withdrew the black cloth bag and emptied the holy stones into her hand. From these she chose one white agate for spiritual guidance and eight purple beryls for breaking bad luck. Then she pulled her tiny sickle of gold from the pouch.

Keely walked to the center of the room and made a makeshift circle, keeping only the agate, one beryl, and the golden sickle in her hands. Entering the circle from the west, she closed it with the last beryl and said, "All disturbing thoughts remain outside."

Walking clockwise around the inside of the circle, Keely pointed the golden sickle at its invisible periphery and fused it shut. She walked to the soul of the circle, faced the west, and dropped to her knees.

"The Old Ones are here, watching and waiting," Keely whispered, touching the dragon pendant that contained her mother's love. "Spirit of my journey, guide me to hear what the trees say. Spirit of my ancestors, guide me to hear what the wind whispers. Spirit of my tribe, guide me to understand what the clouds foretell. Open my heart that I may see beyond the horizon."

Long moments passed. And then it happened, images floated across her mind's eye....

Swirling mist, revealing a magic circle.... A fiery-haired tinker, symbol of the white magician, locked in mortal combat with the black dragon, symbol of evil.... In a flash of movement, the tinker raised his mighty sword and, against all odds, slew the dragon to vanquish the evil.... Slowly, the tinker whirled around and called, "Keely, where are you?"

The image dissolved into the reality of a man's voice, asking, "Keely? Are you ill?"

Keely looked over her shoulder and for the briefest moment stared in a daze at the baron. "Stay where you are," she ordered, raising her hand to ward him off. "Breaking the circle is forbidden."

Willis Smythe cast her a puzzled smile and set a supper tray on the table near the hearth. He folded his arms across his chest and watched her.

Keely whispered a silent hurried thanks to the goddess and broke the enchanted circle. Looking at the baron disturbed her, so she avoided it as long as possible by collecting her magic stones and putting them away.

Finally, Keely faced the baron and gave him a nervous smile. The black cloud over his head appeared more forbidding than ever; death hid in the priory's shadows and waited for the predestined moment when he could step forward to claim what was his.

"What were you doing?" Willis asked.

"Praying for my husband's safe arrival," Keely answered.

"Within a circle of stones? Are you a witch?"

"Something like that," Keely said with an ambiguous smile. Another simpleton, she thought, who lived a shallow life of spiritual ignorance. Holy stones, but this England was filled with them!

Willis returned her smile. She was as stupid as her sister, he decided. Forcing her to his will would be easy.

The baron crossed the chamber and stared out at the night sky. The window's old-fashioned shutters caught his eye, and he turned around, saying, "I ought to modernize the priory. One of my daughters can have it as a dowry."

"Do you plan to marry?" Keely asked, surprised by his remark.

"Very soon now." Willis grinned. "I intend to sire a dozen little black-haired Smythes."
Black-haired Smythes.

Keely frowned. His hauntingly familiar words echoed in the distant corners of her mind. Black-haired Smythes... black Smythe... blacksmith!

"Beware the blacksmith."
Megan's prophetic warning slammed into her consciousness.

"What have you done to Richard?" Keely demanded, heedless of consequence.

And the baron dropped his civilized mask.

"Perhaps you're not as stupid as I thought," Willis said. "I await news of your husband's untimely demise at the hands of the queen's guard. Afterward, the village cleric will marry us."

Keely felt the earth move beneath her feet. She clutched her swollen belly and reached for the edge of the table to steady herself.

"Are you ill?" Willis asked in alarm, hurrying across the chamber. If she or the babe died, his scheme died with them.

He reached out to steady her. Repulsed, Keely shrank back from the evil about to touch her. His expression of alarmed concern became sinister.

"I plan to get my heirs on you," Willis told her. "Better accustom yourself to my touch."

"Why arc you doing this?" Keely asked, beginning to panic. "You're supposed to be Richard's friend."

"Betraying my closest friend does pain me, but I'll survive the guilt," Willis answered. "The future of two fortunes sits upon your delicate shoulders. Whoever possesses you controls a vast empire of gold, greater than the queen's."

"I don't understand."

"As stepfather to Richard's heir, I will control the Devereux fortune," Willis explained. "And once your father is dead, the Talbot estates become yours."

"Gaining the Talbot fortune through me is impossible," Keely replied. "Henry is the duke's heir."

"Unfortunately for Henry, bastards cannot inherit," he said.

"What do you mean?" Keely asked, confused. Willis smiled. "Morgana and Henry are the real Talbot bastards."

His revelation stunned Keely. "Are you saying I'm legitimate issue?"

"Precisely."

Keely shook her head in disbelief. "My mother would have told me," she said.

"Did she tell you otherwise?"

Keely looked away. Megan had never said she'd been born out of wedlock. In fact, her mother had always advised her to turn a deaf ear on Madoc's bitter grumblings. Baron Lloyd, she'd always said, wouldn't recognize truth even if it tripped him.

"Well, did she?" Willis persisted.

Though it disturbed her to do so, Keely stared him straight in the eye and said, "His Grace would have mentioned it."

Willis chuckled, its sinister sound sending a ripple of unease skittering down her spine. "Do you actually believe the Duke of Ludlow would name his only son a bastard? I think not, sweetheart."

"Words prove nothing," Keely said. "I will deny your lies."

"Deny it all you want," Willis replied, reaching inside his doublet. He withdrew an old yellowed parchment and held it up. "I hold the proof of your legitimacy in my hand," he said.

Keely stared at the parchment and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Could it be true? Had both of her parents lied by omission?

"May I see it?" she asked.

Willis passed it to her.

With badly shaking hands, Keely unfolded the parchment and stepped closer to the hearth to read it by the fire's light. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes as she read the document.

She
was
legitimate issue. She
belonged
somewhere.

And then Henry's handsome face shimmered in her mind's eye. Her noble brother would bear the burden of this. She'd lived her entire life carrying the stigma of her bastardy, but never could she lighten her own load by setting the heavy mantle of bastardy upon her brother's shoulders.

Keely knew what she had to do. In a flash of unexpected movement, she held the proof of her legitimacy to the hearth's flames, which burned not only the parchment but her fingertips.

"No!" Willis shouted, leaping forward to grab her hand.

Too late. His dream of wealth disintegrated into smoldering ashes.

Clutching her burned hand to her chest, Keely dashed across the chamber to the open window and shouted, "Somebody help me!"

One step behind her, Willis whirled her around and slapped her hard. He grabbed her upper arms in a punishing grip and shook her violently.

"My baby," Keely cried.

With a disgusted oath, Willis shoved her away from him. Keely fell to her knees. Her burned hand clutched her belly protectively while the other grasped the window ledge.

"This changes nothing," Willis growled, towering above her. "Richard is dead, or soon will be. You will proclaim your legitimacy after we marry, and your father will not deny you."

Willis crouched down beside her. Grabbing her throat in a bruising grip, he yanked her face close and threatened, "Do as I say, or that brat you carry will be food for the worms. Do I make myself clear?
Do I?"

Unable to speak, Keely managed to nod once.

Willis released her, then stood and stared down at her for a long moment. Finally, he quit the chamber and locked the door behind.

"Mother, help me!" Keely moaned, touching her dragon pendant.

Keely looked down at her injured hand, and the sight of her own burned flesh made her gag dryly. Regaining her composure, she stood and slowly crossed the chamber to sit in the chair before the hearth.

Her throbbing fingertips pained her less than her aching heart. Would her husband die? Would her brother's existence be shattered? Without her cooperation, the baron's scheme would disintegrate as surely as the proof of her legitimacy had. Suicide would assure her brother's future, and her husband—if he lived—would find a more suitable wife.

Keely couldn't do it. Leaping from the window to her death also meant killing the innocent babe she carried within her womb.

And then Keely recalled the Goddess's promise:
Once in a blue moon, and forever when the fires blazed.

The fiery-haired tinker in her vision would slay the black dragon....

Along the west side of Smythe Priory, a thick hedgerow grew between the house and the surrounding wood- land. Three figures crouched behind this greenery and peered up at the second-story window where the baron held Keely prisoner.

"He struck her!" Henry exclaimed in a loud whisper, surging to his feet.

Two massive hands on either side of him hauled him down to the ground. Henry looked from one hulking Welsh giant to the other.

"Do you want to get yourself killed?" Odo asked, his voice hushed but angry.

"No one hits my sister and lives," Henry announced with all the bravado of an adolescent marquess.

"The baron did strike her and should die," Hew agreed with the boy. "I saw it too."

"Am I blind?" Odo snapped, reaching around the young marquess to slap his brother. "Smythe will suffer for touching our little girl, but we need to bide our time until she's out of harm's way."

"How will we get her out?" Henry asked.

"My lordship, you are about to become a hero," Odo told him. "Hew will stand on my shoulders, and you'll climb up us to stand on his. Reach for that gutter, then pull yourself onto the roof, and—"

" 'Tis impossible," Henry argued. "My reach exceeds my grasp."

"What did he say?" Hew asked, scratching his head.

Odo ignored his brother. "Then Hew will give you a boost. We'll catch you if you lose your balance. Won't we, brother?"

Hew nodded.

"Wrap the rope around the chimney nearest the chamber and knot it tightly. Then lower yourself down the side of the priory to her chamber," Odo instructed the boy. "We'll get her out through the window, and the baron will never know we've been here and gone."

Henry gazed for a moment at the priory and its roof, then smiled and said, "I'm game."

"Once inside, don't frighten her," Odo added.

"Or she'll scream," Hew warned.

Meanwhile, Keely sat in the chair in front of the hearth. Her aching heart and her throbbing fingers conspired against her. Teardrops rolled down her cheeks, and her stomach churned with nausea. In an effort to calm herself, Keely closed her eyes and tried to conjure pleasant thoughts—her beloved forests in springtime, the birth of her daughter, her husband's devastating smile.

Unexpectedly, someone grabbed her from behind. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand covered her mouth.

" 'Tis Henry," whispered a familiar voice. When she relaxed, the hands dropped away.

Keely bolted out of the chair and rounded on him. "Thank the Goddess," she exclaimed. "But how did you get here?"

"On wings of brotherly love," he answered, then flashed her a wicked grin.

Keely arched one ebony brow at him.

"Odo and Hew are waiting below," Henry said, gesturing to the open window.

Keely slid her gaze to the window and saw the rope hanging down the side of the priory. "Is it safe?"

"Safety is a relative thing," Henry replied. "Would you prefer remaining in the baron's company?"

"No." Keely lifted her satchel off the floor and hurried toward the window.

Henry reached for the rope.

"Wait." Keely cocked her head to one side like a doe sensing approaching danger.

Heavy lumbering footsteps sounded in the corridor.

"Under the bed," Keely whispered, closing the shutters to block the sight of the dangling rope.

As her young brother slid beneath the bed, Keely tiptoed to the chair before the hearth. Her heart pounded frantically, but she forced a serene expression onto her face. Hearing the clinking of keys and the door being unlocked, Keely suffered a powerful urge to turn around and verify that Henry was out of sight. She won the war with herself, but the battle cost her in composure. She trembled almost uncontrollably, and her stomach churned with a combination of fear and nausea.

Ever so slowly, the door creaked open. Carrying a basin of water in his hands, the baron advanced on her.

Willis set the basin down on the table and ordered, "Soak your fingers in that."