Heart's Magic (23 page)

And of Brice’s. The thought was a thunderbolt
cleaving through Gavin’s mind. Was it possible? Leaning forward, he
looked along the table toward Brice, noting the similarities in the
shape of the brow, the cheekbones, the jawline. Emma’s bones were
not yet set in their adult mold, and there was a soft, feminine
sweetness about the child, but in Gavin’s thoughts there could be
no question.

Emma was Brice’s child. Which meant that Alda
and Brice had lain together while Gavin was still in England, years
before Brice had come to Wroxley as seneschal. But Gavin had not
been aware that in those days Alda and Brice had been anything more
than acquaintances, as was often the case with distant relatives.
The realization that they had been intimate a dozen years in the
past opened new possibilities for Gavin to investigate.

Did Brice know he had a daughter? Judging
from his behavior, he did not. It would be like Alda to keep the
truth a secret, so she could use it at a time opportune for her, as
she had done with Gavin on the previous evening. Her revelation
about Emma had prevented Gavin from insisting that Alda allow him
his conjugal rights. What Alda did not know was how glad he had
been to have an excuse to reject her.

And what of the girl? She appeared to be a
sweet-natured child, with little of Alda in her character. The way
in which Emma regarded Gavin with worshipful admiration brought out
his protective, fatherly tendencies. It was not Emma’s fault that
her mother was a cruel and selfish woman. The girl ought not to
suffer for Alda’s sins. Now, if Warrick had been a bastard, that
would be a different matter. But anyone could see that Gavin and
Warrick were father and son and thus there could be no question
about inheritance.

“My lord father,” Emma interrupted his
thoughts. “I am so happy to know you at last. For as long as I can
remember, I have wanted to meet my father. I prayed for your safe
return every day, and again each night before going to sleep. Now
my prayers have been answered.”

“Child.” Gavin steeled himself to touch the
girl who was not his. He put a gentle hand on Emma’s soft little
cheek. The look she gave him was one of pure adoration. Gavin’s
heart melted within him. He knew that Emma had spoken only the
truth. She had longed for her absent father throughout her
childhood and now that she had found him she was ready to love him
with her whole heart. He could not break that innocent heart by
rejecting her. He put his arm around her, drew her closer, and felt
her cuddle against his side. His eyes began to smart. Over Emma’s
head he saw Mirielle smiling at him. Gavin swallowed hard against
the lump in his throat.

“My dear daughter,” he said. “I am glad you
have come home. I plan to keep you with me for a long time.”

When the midday meal was over an important
ceremony took place. One by one the men of Wroxley came forward to
pledge themselves to the new baron. As was right and proper,
Warrick was first. After a whispered word from Donada the boy
approached the dais, where he knelt and put his hands between
Gavin’s and swore loyalty unto death. When Gavin lifted him and
kissed him on either cheek it was more than a mere following of
custom. Gavin embraced his son to the full approval of all those in
the hall, except for Alda, who should have been glad to see her son
so accepted. But Alda glared her dislike at both father and
son.

Brice was next. He went to his knees before
Gavin and spoke the words of the solemn oath calmly, in a firm
voice. Watching her cousin, Mirielle hoped this oath-taking would
signal the end of Brice’s affair with Alda. Brice certainly
appeared to be sincere. However, Alda’s distainful, faintly amused
expression worried Mirielle. She was relieved when Brice stepped
aside to allow Captain Oliver, as the next highest ranking man at
Wroxley, to make his pledge. The other men followed in order of
rank. Gavin was serious through all the oaths. Hugh nodded his
approval and smiled at Mirielle when the ceremony was over. Alda
looked as if she did not believe the words that anyone had
spoken.

“I had the servants prepare a room for you
next to mine.” Mirielle showed Emma into the guest chamber that,
like her own room, was built into the fifteen-foot thickness of the
wall of the tower keep.

“I am to have a room of my own? How
luxurious. At Cliffvale, I slept with six other women.” Emma looked
with approval at the curtained bed, the table and stool, and the
single, narrow window on which the shutter had been left open to
admit light and fresh air.

The servant who made up the bed with clean
sheets and a quilt had also removed Emma’s belongings from the
saddlebag in which they were packed and had left them in a neat
pile on top of the clothing chest. Emma possessed a hairbrush, a
wooden comb, one extra dress, a second shift, a single pair of
stockings. Otherwise, she owned only the cloak in which she had
come to Wroxley and the gown, shoes and undergarments she was
wearing. All of the clothing was well worn and the dress Emma had
on was too short for her.

“We will see Donada first thing in the
morning,” Mirielle said. “She will sew new clothes for you. I am
sure she would appreciate your help if you are a good
seamstress.”

“I would like to make a new tunic for
Warrick,” Emma said. “His second one has a hole burnt in it.”

“Warrick is fortunate that he was not badly
hurt,” Mirielle responded.

“He said I saved him when I threw a bucket of
water over him.” Emma changed the subject abruptly. “I remember
Donada because she was always so pretty and so kind to Warrick and
me. She looks old now.”

“She has not been well.”

“But you will cure her, I am sure. My father
says you are a fine healer.” Emma paused before continuing, as if
she were deciding what to say and leaving out a fair part of her
story as she told it. “I did not like Cliffvale. Neither did
Warrick. Lord and Lady Cliffvale knew our mother did not care about
us and that our father was far away, so they did not trouble
themselves to treat us well.”

“Surely, you made friends among the other
boys and girls who were fostering at Cliffvale,” Mirielle said.

“Warrick is right about the boys. They are
stupid, none of them can read and, what’s worse, none of them care
that they are unlettered. All they want to do is fight. There was
only one other girl at Cliffvale, and she was as unhappy as I,”
Emma said. “Margaret wanted to come to Wroxley with me, but of
course, Lady Cliffvale would not allow it. Lady Mirielle, may I
visit your workroom?”

“If you promise not to set it on fire,”
Mirielle said, to tease the overly serious girl. But Emma did not
smile.

“I would like to become your pupil, Lady
Mirielle.”

“Assisting me in my workroom will be part of
your training, if your father agrees to my suggestion,” Mirielle
said.

“I want to learn everything you can teach me
about the healing properties of herbs—and of metals.”

“Are you set upon the study of alchemy, like
your brother?”

“It is in our blood,” Emma said. “Because of
our mother.”

“I have never known Alda to display an
interest in my work,” Mirielle said, surprised by the girl’s
assertion.

“Perhaps she has changed in my absence. Once,
when I was small, I saw -” Emma stopped, as if she were confused.
“I was very little then. It’s possible that I misunderstood what I
saw.”

* * *

As his father had ordered, Warrick was sent
to the practice yard the day after his arrival. There he was given
a squire’s short sword and his training in the use of it began at
once.

On her way across the outer bailey to see
Ewain the blacksmith, Mirielle paused to watch the squires at work.
Warrick was fending off a make-believe attack from Gavin’s younger
squire, Bevis, while Hidern, the older squire, watched and shouted
occasional directions.

“Warrick does not look to me as if he has had
much practice with a sword,” Mirielle remarked to Hidern.

“I think it’s more that he doesn’t care,”
Hidern replied. He shook his head in undisguised irritation at
Warrick’s incompetence. Raising his voice, Hidern called, “Bevis,
break off. Give the child a chance to catch his breath before the
next round.”

“I am not a child!” Warrick shouted at
Hidern. When he saw Mirielle, his face flushed dark red, as if he
was embarrassed to be seen at less than his best by a lady.

“You will kill no enemies that way,” Bevis
jeered, walking away from Warrick to join his fellow squire.

“Warrick, think about what you are doing,”
Hidern added.

“And save your ill temper for another time,”
said Bevis.

“When your clever words will be more
appropriate than a sword,” Hidern finished the thought.

“Must you taunt him?” Mirielle asked.

“The lad needs toughening,” Bevis told
her.

“Else he’ll never make a good knight,” Hidern
said.

“It’s not our fault he’s a laggard,” Bevis
added.

“Or that he would rather be mixing herbs with
you, or reading with Master Hugh,” said Hidern. “I mean no offense,
my lady, but Warrick’s training has been neglected—or perhaps he
refused what was offered at Cliffvale Castle.”

“And now he must make up for the time he has
lost,” Bevis concluded.

“I do understand,” Mirielle said, “but you
two are well advanced in your training. Perhaps Warrick would learn
faster if he were paired with someone who is at his own level.
Hidern, you and Bevis could watch and offer instruction when it’s
needed.”

“No, my lady.” Hidern was polite, but his
refusal was firm. “This is men’s work, and no concern of
women.”

“Which is just the problem,” Bevis noted.
“Warrick would rather do women’s work.”

“I would not!” Warrick yelled, having heard
this last comment. “You are stupid, both of you. All you care about
is weapons and armor, horses and warfare -”

“What else is there for a man?” asked Hidern.
“Get back to work, lad. Lady Mirielle, you will have to excuse
us.”

Fearing that she might have made Warrick’s
situation worse by her well-meant interference, Mirielle continued
on her way to Ewain’s shop. When she got there she discovered that
Gavin was with the blacksmith. Telling herself to act as if her
heart were not pounding faster than usual, and to speak as if her
throat were not suddenly dry or her tongue stumbling over the
words, Mirielle greeted Gavin politely before addressing herself to
her friend, the blacksmith.

“Ewain, here is a fresh supply of burn
ointment for you,” she said, giving him the jar.

“I expect I’ll have need of it.” Ewain set
the jar on a nearby shelf. “My lord Gavin plans to keep me busy,
and glad I am of it, though I will need a new assistant or two to
help with the work.”

“Walk with me, Mirielle. I would have a word
with you.” Gavin took her arm, drawing her with him out of the
blacksmith’s shop. They set off across the outer bailey toward the
inner gatehouse.

“I want to talk to you, too,” she said,
deciding to make use of this opportunity. “It’s about Warrick. I
know it is not a woman’s place to interfere in such matters, but it
seems to me your squires are too harsh with him. They will only
make him more sullen.”

“I told Hidern to be hard,” Gavin said.
“Warrick’s training has been sadly neglected. For that I blame Lord
Cliffvale and his squires, but I intend to see the fault remedied
as quickly as possible. Warrick has responsibilities to match his
rank and he must learn to accept them.”

“Perhaps he is ill-suited to be a knight. He
seems to think so.”

“You were correct, Mirielle, when you said it
was not your place to interfere.”

Mirielle should have been silenced by Gavin’s
cool words, but she had seen misery in Warrick’s face and she had
held another conversation with Emma that morning on the subject of
the treatment the children had received while at Cliffvale Castle.
Her heart went out to both Emma and Warrick. She was determined to
do what she could to make their lives more pleasant now that they
were at home.

“My lord, when I must administer a
particularly bitter potion to someone who is ill, I add herbs to
mask the taste and, if the medicine is particularly unpleasant, I
include a dollop of honey.” Gavin said nothing to this. He just
kept walking, so Mirielle continued. “If Warrick had a friend of
his own age to practice with, someone who is even less used to
weapons than he, then the practice might become a game and Warrick
might take an interest in it, especially if he thought he could
help his friend to learn.”

“A friend.” Gavin repeated. “I suppose you
mean Robin?”

“Why not?” she asked. “His father was a
knight, and a fine one, from all I have heard of him. Sir Paul’s
son ought to be a knight, too. It is shameful that Robin has been
sent to the stables to work.”

“Robin has found ways to deal with his exile
in the stables. He is a clever boy.”

“And an honest one,” Mirielle said stoutly.
“Robin is Warrick’s best friend. Donada tells me they were
inseparable before Warrick was sent to Cliffvale.”

“I will think about your suggestion.” Gavin’s
tone indicated that he was finished with the subject.

“I have another one to make,” Mirielle
persisted. “Send Warrick to Hugh for tutoring. Hugh will teach him
how to contain his anger.”

“I will talk to Hugh about Warrick.” Gavin’s
sudden smile dazzled Mirielle. He paused by the inner gatehouse. “I
suspect that Hugh will agree with all you have said. He will very
likely have a full schedule of instruction in mind.”

“Possibly.” Mirielle answered his smile with
her own. She had the feeling that Gavin wanted to touch her,
perhaps to take her hand. Standing there in the busy outer bailey,
with people moving in and out of the gatehouse, she felt as though
they were in a private place, where no one could disturb them.
Still smiling, they looked into each other’s eyes and she knew they
were in agreement about his son, and about Robin. She need not
worry. Gavin would take care of both boys. Now, if he would give
his permission for her to begin teaching Emma the skills required
for herbal healing, Mirielle believed all three children would be
set upon paths to lives far happier than their last few years had
been.