The Lady of Secrets (2 page)

But a storm had destroyed Papa’s small fleet and taken his life as well. That had been Maidred’s first experience with how fragile a vessel dreams could be and she had shrunk from reality.

Debts had swallowed most of the Brody fortune, forcing them to leave their snug manor house. But Neve Brody had been a woman of strong and determined character, managing to turn even a humble cottage into a warm, comfortable home.

She had taken in washing and mending to enable her family to survive, but as exhausted as Mama must have been, she had never abandoned their cherished nightly custom of gathering around the fire for one of her stories. Mama had always been a gifted weaver of tales and Maidred had sat at her mother’s feet, waiting as eagerly as her younger sisters.

Only Robbie had refused to listen, eschewing such faery stories as childish nonsense, too somber and too full of his own importance as the new head of the family.

To Maidred, it had felt like a betrayal. As much as she had mourned the loss of her father and their beautiful home, she had grieved even more the loss of her brother.

She had not understood Robbie at all until two years ago when the typhus had swept through their village, carrying off both her mother and her youngest sister, Elsbeth. Maidred
had little time to mourn before she had been obliged to assume all the burdens Mama had carried. The washing, cleaning, mending, cooking, baking, and caring for her other two sisters, Annie and Brenna. And she was so inept at all of it. The only thing she was good at was the weaving of stories.

By nightfall she was too tired to do anything but weep into her pillow and there was no one to turn to for comfort and sympathy, certainly not her brother, who was working twice as hard as she.

She knew these thankless unending chores were a poor woman’s lot in life, but she could not help wailing to herself. It wasn’t fair. She had been forced to become a woman, a mother, before she had the chance to finish being a girl. To know what it was like to be wooed, to be a bride—and without a dowry, these were things she would never experience.

Her brother demanded to know why she had taken such a risk, dabbling in sorcery that cold November midnight. Maidred remembered that it had been a particularly trying day. She had burned the porridge, ripped an irreparable hole in her only decent frock, discovered their supply of potatoes had turned black and would not last the winter. Annie and Brenna had whined more than usual, Annie especially fretful because she was coming down with the ague. She had thrown up all over Maidred’s shoes.

By the time Maidred had collapsed upon her cot, she had been pure exhausted. But she had still found the strength to steal from her bed hours later when the night was at its darkest, the moon hiding its face behind a veil of clouds. She had tiptoed past her sleeping siblings, crept out of the cottage, and raced to join in the forbidden revels being held inside the kirk. And why? For the most selfish and ignoble reason.

She had just wanted a small taste of excitement in her life, a wee bit of magic. But there was no way she could make Robbie understand that and she was too ashamed to try.

Moistening her lips, she said, “First off, you must know I would never have gone that night if I had known what was really going to happen, what wicked purpose—”

“What did you think would happen? A coven of witches gathering in a church after midnight!”

“I didn’t know they were witches. I thought they were wise women like in those stories Mama used to tell us about the beautiful Lady of Faire Isle.”

“Stories, Maidred! There is no magical Lady of Faire Isle, no gifted wise women. Only witches or at least spiteful old crones who delude themselves they possess some dark powers.”

“Not all of them. There truly are genuine cunning women and there is much to learn from them. All about healing and useful white magic and even how to conjure the dead. Just think of it, Robbie. If we could contact Mama, see her, speak to her again.” Maidred regarded her brother wistfully. “Wouldn’t you want that too?”

“No!”

The vehemence of her brother’s reply took Maidred aback. “Why not?”

“Because it would be unnatural, against the will of God.” Rob shuddered and crossed himself. “Even if it could be done, do you think I could ever face our mother after the way I broke my promise?”

“What promise?”

“I swore to Mama on her deathbed that I would look after my sisters always, keep you safe.”

“Oh, Robbie. So you have done. You’ve worked yourself
nigh to death keeping food on our table. And the time that angry dog came after us in the lane, you flung yourself in its way and you were the one who got bit. So brave, just like the noblest of knights.”

Maidred cupped his cheek in a comforting gesture as her mother would have done. “That I have come to such a pass is not your fault, my dear Robin Goodfellow. It is all my own stupidity.”

She could see from the iron set of his jaw, the pain in his eyes, that her words had no effect upon him. Her brother would carry the guilt of her death inside him until the end of his days. For that sin alone, Maidred feared she deserved to be burned.

He curled his fingers around her wrist, holding on so tight, as though he would never be able to let her go. “I tried so hard to find a way to save you, May. I went begging to everyone I could think of, some of Father’s old friends from the guild, the bishop, the provost. I tried to explain that you had been led astray, that you meant no harm.”

Robbie shook his head in despair. “They all said the same thing. There was naught to be done but pray for your soul and Master Galbraith said that all I could do was give you … this.”

He released her and withdrew something from inside his doublet. Maidred expected that it might be a rosary or some holy relic. Just like Papa, Robbie adhered to the tenets of the Catholic faith.

Whatever the gift was, Robbie seemed loath to hand it over. He thrust a small pouch into her hand and cupped her fingers around it. “Here take this. Hide it beneath your shift.”

Maidred stared at the pouch, squeezing it gingerly. It seemed to be filled with some grainy substance.

“What is it?”

“Something that will make sure you do not suffer overmuch. It—it will take your pain away.”

“Oh!” Maidred breathed. She feared the terrible agony of the flames more than she did death itself. “What am I supposed to do? Do I swallow some—”

“No. Just tie the pouch around your neck and keep it close to your heart.”

“Is it an amulet of some sort? Is it magic?”

Robbie was unable to meet her eyes. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “It’s magic.”

His words were greeted with a high-pitched laugh that startled them both. Maidred spun around to discover that Tamsin had awakened, or perhaps she had been alert for some time. Knowing the wily old woman as she now did, it would not have surprised Maidred if Tam had been feigning sleep while listening in on their conversation.

Tam leaned against the wall, her thin arms dangling over her bent knees, her eyes agleam with amusement.

“Aye, powerful magic,” she cackled. “The kind that will scatter your soul clear up to the heavens.”

Robbie rounded on the old woman. “Shut up, you old hag. You are the one who has been the ruin of my sister. This is all your doing.”

“Truly?” Tam raised her thick gray brows in mock astonishment. “I thought you just said you were to blame. Anyone but dear little May.”

“You were the one who filled her head with nonsense about sorcery, lured her to the church that night.”

“Is the fisher to be blamed if the foolish wee fishy has a taste for its bait? There are worse things your sister could
have done. She could have been stealing out to spread her legs for some lusty lad.”

“Damn you!” Robbie clenched his fists and took a step toward Tamsin.

Maidred seized hold of his arm. “Robbie, please. Just ignore her.”

As I should have done.

“You have no idea how much pleasure I will take in watching you burn, you loathsome crone. If you were not already bound for hell this day, I vow I’d snap your neck myself.”

He meant it. Robbie’s arm felt like steel beneath Maidred’s grasp. The bitterness and anger in his face alarmed her. She would have never imagined her gentle brother capable of such hatred.

“Robbie,” she pleaded, trying to draw him away from Tam.

The old woman appeared unmoved by his fury or his threats. Tam got to her feet, shaking out her tangled mass of gray-white hair. She yawned, stretching her arms and arching her back like a scrawny cat.

She smiled at Robbie. “Regretful as I am to disappoint you, laddie, I won’t be going anywhere. The devil will have to wait for me a bit longer. Nor will heaven be getting itself another angel in the form of your bonny sister. No one is going to die today.”

“If you believe that, then your brain is as rotted as your soul. You have broken the sacred law against practicing witchcraft—”

“Sacred law!” Tam cut him off with a contemptuous sniff. “That law has been writ down in the books since my grandmother’s
time and how many witches have been burned? None, I’ll warrant you. Oh, I have been hauled up before the magistrate and condemned for sorcery before. I’ve been imprisoned, chained in the pillory. Once I was even flogged. But that is all that ever came of it.”

She shrugged. “We are not like those barbaric English, hanging poor folk for a little magic. The Scots have a healthy respect for their cunning women.”

“This time is different,” Robbie said. “The king himself is coming here today to witness the sentence being carried out.”

“Aye, and that will be our salvation. King James will pardon us.”

“Will he?” Maidred asked. Tam looked so confident, Maidred felt a flicker of hope, like glimpsing a far-off light in a night of unending darkness.

Robbie pressed her hand. His face was still taut with anger, but his eyes gentled. “No, May, he won’t. This witch and her friends made a waxen image of the king to bring about his destruction. That is not just witchcraft. That is treason.

“The king believes that when he sailed to Denmark to fetch home his new bride, the coven brewed up storms to prevent his ever returning to Scotland. Why would he pardon those he deems responsible?”

“Because the king was present in the court the day I was examined.” Tam smiled slyly. “I whispered a few private words in his ear, showed him exactly how powerful a cunning woman I am.”

“Then you sealed your own doom, you old fool.”

“Nae, our king is a soft man, afeard of his own shadow. How many times have the great lairds of this land plotted and rebelled against the king? And how many of them have been
put to death by the king’s command? Very few. The king is always quick to forgive, eager for reconciliation.

“That’s because our good king Jamey has no stomach for violence.” Tam grinned at Maidred. “So don’t you fret, lass. Just watch me and do as I do. When the king arrives, drop to your knees, fake a few tears and a little repentance. Cry out to His Majesty for his mercy and we’ll both come out of this all right. You’ll see.”

Maidred trembled. Weep, beg, and appear contrite? She would have no difficulty with that because her tears would be genuine, her remorse sincere. But could the king be so easily moved?

Maidred wanted to believe Tam, but she had placed too much faith in the old woman’s assurances before to be comforted.

She looked instead at her brother and it was Robbie’s expression that heartened her. His face had gone still, but his eyes blazed with the same hunger that threatened to consume her.

The hunger of hope.

ROBERT BRODY SHOVED HIS WAY THROUGH THE CROWD MILLING
in the streets. Jostled and pushed from all sides, Robert thrust back, jabbing his elbow sharply into the paunch of a burly merchant.

“Oof! Easy there, lad,” the man said. “No need to be so impatient. There should be space for all of us to get a good look. These two witches are only the first to die. There will be many more trials, many more burnings to come.” He chortled. “So if you don’t manage to squeeze to the front of the
crowd today, you can come earlier and gain a better position for viewing next time.”

Rob gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to drive his fist into the man’s jovial countenance. But if he ever started punching, he feared he’d never stop. This sea of smiling faces and merry voices infuriated him, sickened him.

A holiday mood prevailed, as though they had all come to attend some harvest-day fair instead of watch an innocent girl burn alive. Many of these fools had even brought their children to witness this horror.

Rob shook with the effort to contain himself. He had been perishing to lash out at someone ever since the sentence of death had been passed upon Maidred. But he couldn’t afford to do anything rash that might get him injured or arrested.

He still had two other sisters waiting at home, dependent upon him. Taking deep breaths, he conjured up an image of Brenna and Annie until he was able to check his anger.

He loved his two younger sisters, but they were not the same as Maidred. She was his twin. Born in the same hour, fashioned of the same blood and bone, she was the light to his shadow, the keeper of the dreams he had long ago abandoned. How could he endure to lose her?