The Sorceror's Revenge (2 page)

             
Robert’s thoughts whirled in confusion as he tried to make sense of something that seemed like a miracle.  Why had the messengers he had sent out not been given a hint of the child’s existence?  He wracked his brain trying to remember if he had ever heard of the apothecary.  It was unlikely for they had never had need of outside help.  Melloria was capable of making her own cures and more successful than many goodwives who gathered herbs and made their own creams and potions in their kitchens.

             
He must go to the convent at once and discover more from Beatrice and then…if the child were his daughter, the child Melloria had believed was a son, what could he do?  If Nicholas Malvern had claimed the girl – Iolanthe…a pretty name that brought hope to his heart…he would not give her up for the asking.

             
Why would he do such a thing?  Perhaps his wife was barren and he had stolen Melloria’s babe to please her.  A man might easily do such a thing if he loved his woman enough.  How had he found the babe?  Where had Melloria given birth – and how had she died?  Had the apothecary let her die deliberately so that he could steal the child?

             
Robert felt the rage building inside him.  He wished that he had not let Jonathan go to Winchester on what would probably be a wild goose chase.  To leave the castle while Jonathan was away would mean Rhoda was unprotected and yet he could not wait. 

             
He rubbed at his shoulder, admitting that he was too tired and in too much pain to begin the long journey north that night, but in the morning he would leave.  This was something that could not be neglected a moment longer…

* * *

In the night Robert developed a fever.  By morning he was sweating, tossing and turning on his bed as he cried out a name over and over again.  Finding him ill, his steward sent first for the woman Joanne, who said that he must be bathed to cool him.  She brought him a mixture she had made and rubbed balm into his shoulder.

             
Hearing the activity and voices in her husband’s bedroom, Rhoda went to investigate.  She approached the bed, frowning as she saw that her husband was truly ill.

             
‘Why was I not called?’ she demanded.  ‘What has been done for him?’

             
‘I bathed him to cool him,’ Joanne said.  ‘I applied balm to his shoulder and gave him a mixture I make from herbs, which has helped him a little.’

             
‘Let me look at his wound.’  Rhoda moved the sheets and saw that blood had stained the bandage.  When she took it away she could see that a thick yellow puss had come from the angry gathering of flesh.  ‘I think this needs Comfrey, tallow and beeswax.  Does Comfrey grow near here?’

             
‘Yes, there is a patch near the wall in the outer bailey,’ Joanne said.  ‘I know how to make the balm you speak of.  Shall I gather some leaves?’

             
‘Yes, gather them but I shall make the balm myself.  Do not look so surprised.  I learned to make simple cures at my mother’s knee.  I shall wash away this puss first and leave the wound open to the air.  If Comfrey does not heal it we may need to apply the searing iron.’

             
Rhoda bent over her husband, soothing his brow with a cloth wrung out in cool water.  ‘Hush then,’ she said as he cried for his dead wife.  ‘Melloria cannot come to you, Robert, but I am here.  I shall do what I can to make you well.’

             
Looking down at Robert as he tossed and turned, clearly in agony of both mind and body, Rhoda felt pity stir in her heart.  She had thought only of herself.  It was true that he had not always treated her well, but at times he had been generous.  In his absence at the wars, she had learned to love Jonathan truly, and because of that she could feel pity for her sick husband.  Once she had wished he would die on the field of battle, but now she wanted only to ease him.  She hoped that her balm would take the poison from his wound for the searing iron was a cruel thing.

             
As she turned away Robert caught her wrist, ‘Melloria…’ he cried in his fever.  ‘Forgive me.  I beg you to forgive me.  I should not have left you at such a time…forgive me…’

             
So he was still haunted by guilt for deserting his wife when she was close to her time.  He had left Rhoda to serve his prince but at least she had had Jonathan, and he was kinder than Robert knew how to be.  For once she felt no resentment concerning his first wife.

             
Smiling, she bent over him and kissed his forehead.  ‘I forgive you, Robert,’ she said.  ‘I am going to make you well again.  Rest now.  I am not angry with you.  I forgive you for leaving me.’

             
‘Melloria…’  Robert’s eyes flicked open but she did not think he saw her.  He smiled and closed his eyes.  ‘My only love…’

             
Rhoda left him in the care of his steward as she went away.  Comfrey steeped in water and mixed with melted tallow and beeswax would make a soft balm that might ease his wound, but only he could deal with the guilt that haunted him.

* * *

Robert was recovering from the fever when Jonathan returned from Winchester.  Rhoda went down to meet him, telling him of her husband’s illness.

             
‘He has suffered greatly and is in some torment,’ she said.  ‘I think we must wait until he is well again before you speak to him about my freedom.  He was fretting for Melloria in his fever.’

             
‘Has the fever broken?’

             
‘Last night.  He knew me when I gave him some broth this morning and he took a little, but he is still weak.  He needs to rest, Jonathan.’

             
‘You sound as if you care for him.  Have you changed your mind about leaving Robert?’

             
‘No.  It is my wish to leave but I do not hate him.  Once I thought I should be happy if he died in battle, but when he was close to death I prayed that he might live.’

             
‘You could not wish another man’s death,’ Jonathan said, gazing at her with love in his eyes.  ‘Robert will listen to me when the time is right – but the news I bring him is not good.’

             
‘You went to Winchester in search of the child?’

             
‘Robert told you of his hopes that she might be there?’  Rhoda nodded.  ‘He thought that there might be good news but it could not be worse.  The woman has fled taking the child with her – and there was a dead man in the house.  By the time the body was found it had bloated and begun to decay, but they think it was Todd Carpenter – the woman’s brother.’

             
‘She killed her brother and ran away?’

             
‘There was another man living with her, a leather worker by trade.  He called himself Will Hern but who knows if it is his true name. They say the carpenter was struck a blow that split his head open from behind.  It would take a man’s strength to do that but there is more to the story.’ 

Jonathan explained that the carpenter had been accused of murder and fled himself, and that the leather worker had come to live there after he had been gone some weeks.  ‘Perhaps he resented that his sister took another man into his house.  No one knows the truth but it means that the woman and child have disappeared once more.’

             
‘That will be a disappointment to Robert but you must tell him.  He is fretting and has asked for you twice this morning already.’

             
‘I shall go up to him.’ Jonathan touched her hand.  ‘Do not look so anxious, my love.  I am certain that Robert will let you go when he realises you are unhappy.  He may demand that we live abroad but I shall not mind that…shall you?’

             
‘I believe I should like it very much.’  Rhoda smiled for him, though she had a feeling that a dark shadow hovered at her shoulder.  ‘Robert is waiting for you.’

             
Leaving him to visit her husband, Rhoda went to her chamber.  She sent Joanne for the child and when he was brought to her, she held him in her arms.  When the pain was so terrible she had sworn that she would never bear another child but it would be happiness indeed to hold Jonathan’s son.  She smiled and touched her son’s tiny hand.  He was perfect and in her new mellow mood she had begun to care for her babe.

             
Would Robert let her take the child with her?  Before the babe was born, she had considered leaving him behind without a qualm but now it made her sad to think that she might have to choose.

* * *

‘You think that the child Nicholas Malvern claims is his could be yours and Melloria’s?’  Jonathan frowned when told of the Abbess’s letter.  ‘What of the child in Winchester?’

             
‘I am not certain but I think Melloria may have given birth to twins.  One was stolen by the woman Marta and the other remained at Malvern House.’

             
‘What makes you think there were two children?’

             
‘Melloria grew very big in the last months of her time.  She believed she was so big because she carried a son. However, it could mean that she was carrying two babes in her womb – and both of them daughters.’

             
‘You must investigate Mother Abbess’s claims, Robert.  Do you wish me to go in your stead and make inquiries?’

             
‘No,’ Robert reflected for a moment.  ‘Had I not been struck down by a fever I should have left before you returned, but I was uneasy at leaving Rhoda and the boy alone.  It will ease my mind to know that you are here to protect them.  You must know that there is no one in the world I trust as I trust you, Jonathan?’

             
‘Yes…’ Jonathan could not meet his eyes.  It sat ill with his conscience to speak like this with the man he called his blood brother and not confess that he loved Rhoda and meant to take her from Robert if he could.  ‘You may trust me to defend her and your son with my life.’

             
‘Yes, I know that…’ Robert was silent for some moments, then, in a tone heavy with meaning,  ‘We must talk about many things, Jonathan, but not until my return.  I know something needs to change…’

             
‘You are not thinking of making the journey yourself yet?’

             
‘I shall go in a day or so,’ Robert said.  ‘The balm Rhoda made for my shoulder seems to have worked better than anything else I used.  I may have misjudged her for I did not think she was interested in such things.’
             
‘I believe she is capable of much that you might not expect, Robert.’

             
‘Yes, I know you love her well.’  A wry smile touched his mouth, as Jonathan looked uncomfortable.  ‘If it were any other man I would think the worst – but we must speak of these things another time.  I need to rest if I am to leave for the north in a few days…’

2

‘I think that I should like to watch you as you work,’ Anne said as Nicholas rose from the table after eating the food she had prepared that morning.  ‘I have said nothing before this, because your knowledge greatly surpasses mine, but I believe I may have some knowledge of these things.  I know how to make cures and how to treat various illnesses.  I should like to help you in your work, if I could?’

             
‘Yes, I thought you might,’ Nicholas replied, his expression thoughtful as he looked at the woman who believed herself his wife.  She was his wife in every way that mattered!  Had he husband cared for her he would never have abandoned her, and yet guilt struck deep into Nicholas’s heart every time he looked into her trusting eyes.  ‘I have sensed that you were remembering more of late, Anne.  Is there anything you wish to tell me?’

             
‘No. I regret that I still cannot remember our past life together, Nicholas.  Perhaps you will tell me how we met one day?  It might help me to piece the puzzle together.  I believe I remember something of my childhood.  I had a sister called Beatrice and I think she became a nun.  I seem to remember that my mother wept when my father took her to the convent.  She felt that her eldest daughter was lost to her.’

             
Nicholas held his breath, and heard the faint echoes of laughter.  He banished them, as he had learned to do, and, since the book of the black arts was burned the laughter troubled him less and less.  He felt more himself again, and his only fears were for Anne and the constant worry that he might lose her.

             
‘Do you remember your sister, Anne?’

             
‘Vaguely.  I remember running in a sunlit meadow with a girl I believe was my sister.  If she left to live in a convent when I was young, I would not have seen her often after that day.’