The Necromancer's Grimoire (3 page)

“You know…” He glanced up at her with troubled eyes, “Ach, well, you don't. But I will tell you.” His words were interspersed by the rasp of the whetstone on his blade.

“His father is a cruel man, lass, very cruel. When the auld laird saw that Richard would never be a fighting man, he took little Robin from his ma in his seventh year and sent him north to my da.” Alisdair shook his head. “My da was hardly a better man, and was under orders to harden the lad, and forbid any book-learning.”

Nadira sighed. “Men are forged from their pasts like steel in a fire,” she said.

“Aye. Rob and I grew up like brothers. The auld man did his duty and Robin was spared no hardship.” Alisdair turned the blade in the light, inspecting the edge. “I know the lad missed Richard and his mum. Everything Robin had was taken, everything the lad loved. The auld laird believed that feelings softened a man, made him useless in war.”

He leaned back and looked her in the eye. “And he is right. Killing and beating can't be done if a man feels for his enemy. It's a cruel, hard world, lass.”

Nadira turned up the corner of her mouth. “Aye,” she said.

“With Richard dead, the lad had nothing left in his heart. Then you came to us. I saw when it happened. It was when you were feeding Marc with that spoon. That's when he started to love you. He was standing there by the bed, and there you were murmuring sweet words to poor Marc and wiping his beard with the hem of your shift. Aye. I was loving ye, too, that day.” Alisdair's blue eyes softened for a moment, remembering his friend, and then he leaned toward her, intense.

“But I have to tell you, lass. We traveled to Kemberley for the summer months each year so the auld laird could see how Rob was growing. When he was about ten years old, Rob found a nest of pups in the laird's byre. He took a wee one from the bitch and hid it under his bed. I warned him his da would beat him for it, but,” Alistair shrugged and sheathed his dagger. “The lad is stubborn. When the auld laird found that wee dog he dragged it out from under the bed, roaring at the boy about getting soft and being worthless as a man. He shook that pup and then...” Alisdair stopped and reached out to touch her knee. “Ach, don't look like that, lass, it was years ago.”

Nadira wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Monstrous. Beastly!”

Alisdair nodded. “Aye. Well, you ken what I mean about Robin, then. You are that wee soft puppy now, and he fears someone will drag you out by your scruff and kill you too. You must be kind to him.”

Nadira sniffed again. “Don't you have any happy stories to tell me?”

Alisdair smiled. “Aye. Though I can't be telling them to a woman.”

Nadira wiped her eyes and stretched out her legs. “Since you are my jailer, I cannot insist, but perhaps something less horrible.”

The big man thought. “I can tell ye about the time Rob went fighting for the first time with the duke's army.”

“Oh, you men and fighting. I'd rather hear about what he did when he wasn't fighting something or someone.”

“Not so many of those stories. Drinking and whoring? Is that what ye want?”

Nadira laughed. “I suppose there is little else to tell. What about Richard?”

“Aye, I can tell ye about Richard.” Alisdair poured from the pitcher into his tankard. “When the letter came to the auld laird from the archbishop sending Richard away, the laird had all us men in the hall and gave a long speech. We were to protect the lad from brawling and bandits and keep him from diseased whores,” he leaned toward her conspiratorially, “because we were going to Paris, ye see. To the university.”

She smiled.

“Rob was very glad to get away from his da. He was ready to leave before dawn…sitting on his horse in the dark waiting, before I even got back from the privy.” Alisdair chuckled. “Went riding ever-where. Richard went to monasteries, palaces, great halls…we went ever-where.” He took a long pull from the tankard and wiped his beard with the back of his hand. “Good days, good times.”

Nadira nodded. “And the baron was happy then?”

Alisdair looked at her kindly. “He was ne'er one to smile overmuch, lass. His da beat the mirth outa him early-like.”

“I would like to make him smile.”

“Then his face would crack for sure. But Richard was merry. He told us stories of the scholars and monks and clerks and what he read in them books. He was a fine lad, that Richard was.” He raised the mug to the absent Richard and drank again.

“I only knew him for a day.”

“Ah, for sure. And that a very bad day, too.”

“His eyes were so kind. He did not speak…he couldn't, his mouth was so…broken.” Nadira paused, remembering that sad day.

“Lass, you kill me, telling me,” Alisdair frowned.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“But the lad did tell ye about the book, no?”

“Near the end. He did.”

“He must have seen your eyes were kind, too, else he'd not say.”

Nadira rubbed the tear that tracked down her cheek. “Why are men so cruel?”

“Ye have to ask the Lord God that one, lass.”

Nadira made a dismissive noise. “Cruelty is made, not born.”

Alisdair leaned forward, “There's not enough of everything to go around. Men fight to take what they need. Them that has, must protect it lest it be stolen by a stronger man.” He lifted his chin in her direction. “So I am protecting you for Rob.”

“So I see.”

“Come, lass. You've been stolen many times now. Ye ken the truth.”

“Ugh.” Nadira raised her arms and flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Ugh.”

“That's an ugly noise for a lady to be makin'.”

“I am no lady, and you know it very well.”

“You are as fine a lady as wears silks and has skin white as milk,” he insisted.

She stared at the ceiling. “If I had not been stolen the very first time, as a little child, I would have been locked away with eunuch guards my whole life. It would have been a beautiful prison, a scented garden of a prison, but a prison nonetheless.”

Alisdair plunked down his tankard. “Hey now. So you ken.”

“Oh, I ‘ken' very well.”

“Do you wish you were a man, then?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I never thought about that.” She thought about it for one minute. “No. I do not wish to be a man. From what I have seen of them…”

“Ach, that's a cruel tongue, now, lass. A woman strikes with her tongue and stabs a man through the heart as cruelly as a dagger.”

Nadira turned her head. “Ah, Alisdair, present company excepted.”

He laughed. “A fine woman is like a jewel. You must be locked away.”

“But I want to go ‘ever-where', Alisdair. I don't want to be locked away.”

“Oh well.” He shrugged, but his eyes smiled at her.

“I have eight men to guard me…”

“No,” Alisdair interrupted, his eyes turned upward as he did the mathematics in his head, “Seven, then. Ye can't count the wee brown friar.”

“Even seven! Surely that is enough!”

Alisdair turned serious. “Do ye belong to the baron or don't you? Are ye Robin's woman?”

Nadira flipped herself over onto her belly and put her face in the soft pillow. Her mumbled reply was nearly inaudible. “Yes.”

“Ye gave yourself to him willingly?”

Another muffled, “Yes.”

“Then ye have to obey him. And he says ye are to be guarded. He'll not have ye stolen again.”

“Argh!” she flipped over onto her back, making the straw mattress bounce on the rope supports.

Alisdair frowned at her. “But I have been wondering, lass. Has he tupped ye, then?

“What?” Nadira sat up and brushed her hair back from her face. She had never heard that word before, but could guess what it meant.

“Ye know, has he tossed your skirts o'r your ears?”

“Oh, for pity's sake.”

Alisdair's many freckles disappeared in a sea of red. “Ye don't have to tell me…”

“Of course I don't have to tell you.”

“Aye, but we was wondering.”

“Oh. Now it is ‘we'.” Nadira quickly imagined her friends at the fireplace speculating on her position. Various positions. She frowned.

“Well, it is more about Rob. We were worried.”

“Worried…” Nadira wondered what would make a man's friends worry when it came to something they bragged about and embroidered with so many details it resembled a fine tapestry of masculine prowess. She had listened to them talk. She knew. Worry? “Why are you worried?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Ach.” His blush deepened. “Rob loves ye. I know it. He would take you, but I ken tell he has not. A man looks at a woman different…afterwards. Rob still looks at you hungry-like. Maybe summat is wrong…wrong w'…” The big man coughed delicately. “Maybe they hurt more than his thumb.”

Nadira had trouble keeping a straight face. “I assure you, he is perfectly healthy.”

Alisdair let out a great sigh. “Ah, very good then. So he's tupped you, then.”

“No.”

“But?”

It was Nadira's turn to blush. “I…he…” She made a wry face. “He thinks he will kill me with a child.”

“Ahhhh…” Alisdair's expression suggested this explanation made perfect sense. “You know, his ma died with child. That's what he's thinking, no doubt. And you so much smaller than he is. What, you barely come up to his shoulders. Aye. But I can't imagine…” his face twisted with thought, “I can't imagine he would keep from tuppin' you forever.”

“Hardly.” Nadira remembered cold nights curled up in his arms. The baron was very healthy. “I suspect I shall be ‘tupped' eventually. In good time,” she teased. “Are you no longer worried?”

“Nah. I will tell Garreth.”

“Oh, bother.” This sort of thing was very important to men. She laughed to herself. Alisdair would have shown the same concern should Montrose's horse come up lame. Food, weapons, horses, and ‘tupping'. Maybe not in that order.

A timid knock at the door brought Alisdair to his feet, his stool scraped loudly against the floorboards and banged the wall behind him. Nadira sat up.

“It's me,” came a muffled voice.

“It's the friar, Alisdair. Please let him in.”

Alisdair lifted the iron latch and opened the door for the Franciscan. William entered with a large bulging sack, giving the huge Scotsman wide berth. His eyes danced merrily when he saw Nadira.

“I brought you some books to read,” he said. Nadira felt a wave of affection. William looked rested and relaxed. His brown cassock was clean and pressed.

“Oh, I am so glad you did.”

He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed with the sack on his knees. He reached inside and eagerly pulled out a handful of small volumes. “Sir Corbett gave these to me, and there were some manuscripts the white knights took from the French…”

“The ‘white knights'?” Nadira asked.

“Oh.” William stopped, glancing at Alisdair. “Yes. Ah…Nadira. About those knights…”

Nadira sidled closer to him and clasped her hands in her lap. “What?” It occurred to her for the first time that she had an excellent accomplice. She might not need to gather everything she wanted to know by herself. She turned an eager face to his. “Tell me everything.”

“I will, though it may take a long time.”

“Well,” Nadira leaned back against the wall. “We appear to have a long time. Do you know when they will be back?”

“I was told three days.”

“Can you tell your story in three days?”

“Ha! I can.”

“I am ready to listen.”

“When I went to the monastery in Coix to get help, Henry told me about Sir Corbett. He said he had sent Richard to Coix years ago,” William crossed himself politely, “so I knew I was on the right path. Henry told me other things as well.” There his voice faded and William's eyes lost their focus. After a moment Nadira felt it was necessary to touch his hand to bring him back.

“How is Henry?” She prompted gently.

William shook his head and took a deep breath before continuing. “He appears much the same as when we left him. He refuses to change his habit and looks like a pile of rags with wild hair and eyes. His tiny cell is like the stall of a stable, and smells much the same.” William sniffed. “But he knew me, and remembered you. He told me where to go and who to talk to.” William met her eyes. “And he reminded me not to taste the book.”

Nadira patted his hand. “And you will not. It will be in the safekeeping of the white knights when they return with it. What else did he tell you?”

He continued, “He told me Sir Corbett and his men were in a great manor just over the border to France. When I finally reached the manor after a long journey on foot, the knights took me in and questioned me. I told them how you had read the
Hermetica
. They made strange signs to me. When I did not respond properly, I was put alone in a room while they held a long council. I waited, impatient; for I was sure you were in great danger. Already some weeks had passed since you were taken and I was thin and tired from the travel, Nadira. I almost despaired,” he crossed himself again, “of ever seeing you again.”

“I am safe now.” She pointed her chin at Alisdair. “And will be as long as Lord Montrose has his way.”

William gave a soft laugh. “The baron has warned me already, Nadira. He lectured me on the importance of your safety, punctuated with dire consequences. Of course I cannot argue with him, a great lord with a big sword…” They both laughed. “But when I heard that he had imprisoned you I knew I had to say something. He graciously listened to my pleas and permitted me to visit and bring you gifts.” He lifted the edge of the sack to demonstrate.

“He is generous, indeed,” she said. Alisdair grunted his disapproval of her sarcasm. “Tell me about the white knights. Who are they? Who is their master? What do they want from me?”