Heart's Magic (27 page)

“You believe that Baron Udo and your husband
were both poisoned? And you thought my cousin Brice did it?”
Mirielle’s horrified whispered was no louder than Donada’s painful
rasp. “He would not murder anyone, not even to become seneschal of
Wroxley!”

“I know that now,” Donada said.

“Dear friend, I know you may not feel well
enough to talk for very long.” Mirielle spoke gently. “But this is
important. If the person who poisoned Baron Udo and then your
husband knows that you are aware of those wicked deeds, there would
be good cause for the same person to try to kill you.”

“Such a waste,” Donada whispered, as if she
had not heard what Mirielle had just said. “I never lay with Brice.
I could not, when I thought he had killed Paul. I only wanted to
learn if Brice was guilty—and then, later, how much he knew.”

“Donada, do you know who has made you
ill?”

“Not Brice,” she said. “Poor, foolish Brice.
I have grown fond of him, in spite of myself. But I never lay with
him, so there was no need to punish -”

“Was it Alda who did this to you?” Mirielle
fought her own impatient urge to shake the sick woman in an attempt
to bring her wandering thoughts back to the important subject.
Donada was so fragile, her hold on life so tenuous by now that she
could barely endure the effort it took to speak a few words.
“Donada, please tell me what you know about this. I am trying to
help you. And Robin.”

“You will take care of him, won’t you,
Mirielle? He thinks you are a very great and wonderful lady. I know
it was you who convinced Lord Gavin to raise my Robin from
stableboy to his rightful place as a squire. Thank you for
that.”

“Donada, who is poisoning you?” Mirielle
gripped Donada’s hand, pressing it hard in the hope of drawing
Donada’s full attention to the question she had asked.

“The mage hides,” Donada said. “Oh, Mirielle,
the blackness! I cannot fight it.”

Donada began to struggle then, and Mirielle,
thinking she could not breathe well, lifted Donada until her head
was resting on Mirielle’s shoulder. She was still holding Donada
that way when Hugh returned with Warrick.

“You sent a summons to me through Mauger!”
Brice slammed shut the door of Alda’s chamber. “You told a
watchman, a common man-at-arms, to give me an order?”

“I need you, Brice.”

As usual, the room was too hot and it smelled
heavily of the rose-scented perfumes that Alda used so lavishly.
Alda was wearing only a golden gauze veil, which she had draped
over one shoulder in a manner that concealed nothing of her lovely
body. Her hair was loose, flowing down her back.

“Come to me.” Alda held out her arms.

“Have you lost all your wits, woman?” Brice
turned to leave. “You are married to my liege lord, who may walk in
at any moment.”

“Gavin will not come here. He does not want
me. Gavin is unimportant. But you -” Alda’s hands were on his back,
sliding down his spine and along his flanks, her fingers conveying
heat and the promise of intense pleasure to come. She spoke in a
throaty purr. “Your passion strengthens me. It gives me power over
you, Brice. And other powers, far greater, that you would not
understand.”

Brice stood transfixed by her caresses,
completely unable to move. He wanted to leave Alda and he hated
himself because he could not go. Donada, the woman he loved, lay
close to death, and Brice suspected that Alda had something to do
with Donada’s illness. On receiving the summons that Mauger had so
rudely delivered to him, Brice had decided to obey it and then to
demand the truth of Alda. He would resort to hurting her if he
must, but he would learn whether or not she was making Donada
sick.

“Satisfy me, Brice.” Alda’s fingers worked
their way between his legs. His flesh did not care what Alda had
done, or might have done. His overheated, partially rigid manhood
responded to the stimulation she was providing, and to the promise
of the dark release he knew he would find in her.

“I despise you,” he said to Alda.

“It does not matter.” She stroked his growing
hardness. “Give me this. It’s all I need from you.” She drew him
toward the bed.

Brice pushed her down onto the coverlet. She
pulled him to her and Brice felt his body respond with a demand for
immediate relief. Still, he hesitated a little longer. Every time
he buried himself in Alda’s flesh he betrayed his liege lord,
betrayed gentle Donada, his cousin Mirielle’s faith in him, and his
own best interests. Furious with himself for his inability to break
away from Alda, knowing he would find physical release but nothing
else with her, Brice rammed himself into her squirming, wriggling
body. Her cry of delighted triumph was like a serrated knife
slashing across his mind and heart.

“Mother, don’t leave me!” Robin held fast to
Donada’s hand.

“Mirielle will care for you now.” Donada
moved her head, which still rested on Mirielle’s shoulder. “I wish
Father John had stayed longer.”

“I could ride to Bardney Abbey and fetch a
priest,” Warrick offered, “but it will take a few days.”

“Thank you, Warrick, but I have not the time
to wait.” Donada uttered a despairing sigh, and Mirielle thought
she was gone. But she spoke again.

“If I cannot make my last confession, at
least let me be buried with a priest to say prayers for my soul.
Mirielle, don’t let me be put into the ground until there is a
priest here.”

“I promise. I will see to it. Gavin will make
no objection.” There was no point in pretending that burial
instructions were not necessary. All anyone could do for Donada now
was try to ease her mind, thus making her passage into the next
life less painful.

“Thank you, Mirielle.” Donada lifted a
trembling hand to touch her son’s face. “Robin, my dear.” Her hand
dropped. Donada lay still. Hugh put his hand at her throat for a
moment.

“She has left us,” he said.

“Mother! No!” Robin burst into tears.

Gavin had come quietly into the room at the
last, and now he bent to the bereaved boy.

“Robin,” he began.

“I will stop crying in a moment,” Robin said,
gulping on a sob.

“Cry all you want. I wept, too, when my
mother died.” Gavin laid a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “I only wanted
to say that we will do as your mother asked. Donada’s coffin will
be placed in the crypt where my parents lie, and there she will
stay until a priest can come to bury her properly.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“And I do swear to you, Robin,” Gavin went
on, “that I will find out the villain who has killed your mother
and made you sick, and when I do, that person will pay dearly for
the crime.”

“My friend,” Hugh said to Gavin when the two
of them stood outside the door of Donada’s chamber, “will you allow
me to arrange for the disposition of that good lady’s body?”

“Do you think you can learn something from
her poor corpse?” asked Gavin. Seeing a certain closed look come
into Hugh’s eyes, he went on, “Make any arrangements you think
right, so long as you do not further distress young Robin or go
against his wishes, or Donada’s. If anyone objects to what you do,
send that person to me.”

“Thank you for your trust,” Hugh said. “And
for not asking questions I would not be willing to answer until I
am more certain of the facts surrounding these two illnesses.
Mirielle and the other women are preparing Donada’s body now. When
they have finished, I will order her carried to the crypt, as you
have told Robin will be done.”

“You will want a coffin,” Gavin said. “The
carpenter usually has two or three ready in case of sudden
need.”

“No,” Hugh responded instantly. “No coffin
will be needed. Not yet. For the present, Donada is to be wrapped
in her shroud, laid out on a bier, and covered with a plain linen
sheet.”

“I was right.” Gavin looked hard at him. “You
do have a plan. Do you think the killer will go to the crypt to see
the results of this terrible deed?”

“That is always a possibility,” Hugh replied,
somewhat evasively.

“If only I had proof of what Alda has done,”
Gavin declared, “I would put her in chains in the dungeon where she
once sent me. But, without proof, I cannot in good conscience
imprison a noblewoman in that way. The most I can do is lock her
into her room and set a guard at the door.”

“If Alda truly is the source of the dark
strength I sense in this castle, chains will not hold her,” Hugh
said, “nor locks and guards, either.”

“While I can easily imagine Alda poisoning
someone if she imagined she had a reason for the deed, I find it
hard to believe that she is a sorceress,” Gavin said. “I do not
think she has the will to concentrate her thoughts for long
periods, as you have told me you learned how to do. And here’s a
question for you: if she is a sorceress, where did she learn her
magical skills? Who was her teacher?”

“I have asked myself the same questions,”
Hugh replied. “I have no answers.”

“Keep a close watch on Robin,” Gavin ordered.
“Do not let him become the next victim.”

Leaving Hugh, Gavin made his way to Alda’s
room. He did not bother to knock. Availing himself of a husband’s
privilege, he walked right in. Alda was draping a golden gauze veil
about her otherwise naked body. Her maidservant was making up the
bed with fresh sheets.

“Out.” Gavin looked at the maid and jerked
his head in the direction of the door. With a sly smile the maid
turned down the covers to make the bed ready for immediate use.
Then she dropped a curtsey and left Gavin alone with his wife.

“Must you keep this room so infernally hot?”
Gavin asked. “I am told you require vast quantities of
charcoal.”

“I am often cold.” Alda did not look at him,
instead occupying herself with the arrangement of the veil.

“If you wore the clothing that any decent
woman wears, you would be warm without needing braziers.” When Alda
did not reply to this, Gavin said, “Donada has just died.”

“Oh.” Alda showed no interest in this
information. “Well, she has not been much use to me of late, with
her continual protestations that she was too sick to work on my new
gowns.”

“She was sick.” Gavin frowned his disapproval
at her, but Alda was still draping the folds of her veil and paying
no attention to him. “Is that all you have to say about the death
of a woman who spend a great deal of time with you and gave you
honest service?”

“I will have to find another seamstress at
once.”

Gavin flexed his fingers. He did not want to
touch Alda. He thought his hands would be forever soiled if he did.
But she seemed determined not to look at him, and he wanted to see
her eyes when he made his accusation. Gritting his teeth, he
grabbed his wife by the shoulders.

“Take your hands off me!” Alda’s head came up
as Gavin intended and her eyes blazed barely contained rage at him.
“I told you I would never lie with you again.”

“Nor would I defile myself by lying with
you,” Gavin shot back. “I only want to know the answer to one
question. Did you poison Donada?”

“I?” Alda laughed at him. “Why should I want
to rid myself of a perfectly good seamstress?”

“Perhaps you thought she was your lover’s
mistress. If so, you were mistaken.”

She did not rise to the challenge in his
words by denying to her husband that she had a lover. Alda took a
different direction, issuing her own challenge.

“If you want a poisoner,” she said, “look to
your precious Mirielle. She has the most amazing collection of
harmful herbs in her workroom. I did try to have them removed for
the good of all who live at Wroxley, but I understand that she has
been busy replenishing her supplies.”

“Mirielle would never harm anyone,” Gavin
stated.

“Are you really so sure? Tell me, dear
husband, has your mysterious friend, Hugh, determined what the
poison was that killed Donada? If he has, I would wager you will
soon discover that same substance somewhere in Mirielle’s workroom.
But you will never find any poisons in my chamber, nor any proof of
your false accusation against me. Now, let me go.”

“There is a woman far better than you lying
dead, and an innocent boy who is sick of the same poison that
killed his mother. I am certain you are the cause of both
calamities.” Keeping a tight rein on his temper, refusing to give
in to the violent urge that tempted him to strangle Alda, Gavin
took his hands off her shoulders. He knew he could no longer allow
her to roam freely about the castle. He spoke with controlled
authority, laying down his new-made rules for her. “I will find the
proof I need. Until I do, you are confined to this room. There will
be two guards at your door at all times. Your personal maidservant
will be assigned to other duties. I will chose a new maidservant
for you, one who will report to me any attempt you make to leave
your room or to send or receive a message.”

With Donada’s remains taken to the crypt
under Hugh’s supervision, Mirielle turned her full attention to
Robin, who was complaining of pains in his abdomen and a terrible
burning in his throat and mouth which was not alleviated by the
water Mirielle offered. When Robin began to vomit, Mirielle’s fears
for him increased. She was certain his sorry condition was in part
due to grief at the loss of his mother, but it was also true that
his illness was progressing more rapidly than had Donada’s.

“My lady, please do something for him.”
Warrick insisted on remaining with his friend. He looked frightened
and he spoke in a whisper so Robin could not hear what he said. “I
don’t want Robin to die.”

“Perhaps some of the special medicine that
Hugh made will help. It was intended for a grownup, but I can
dilute it with extra water.” Mirielle looked at the tray on which
she had carried the water pitcher, the cups, and the medicine to
Donada’s room. “Warrick, where is the medicine jar? I have been so
busy tending to Robin that I did not notice it is gone.”