The Sorceror's Revenge (27 page)

             
‘How can you know all that?’  Marta was terrified. Had he read her mind?  How was it possible that he could know all these things?  ‘I have never told anyone that I buried my man and my child.  No one knew everything…’

             
‘I know many things. Do not forget that I tended you as you lay close to death once before.  Human beings have a habit of revealing their secrets at such times. I have been searching for you for years.  I followed you and the child you stole from me for many months before I brought you here.’

             
‘She was not your child,’ Marta spoke hoarsely, her throat dry.  ‘Her mother died and I feared for her if  she was left alone with you. I thought you might cut her up and put her in those jars in your rooms.’

             
‘Foolish Marta.  I do not kill. I seek knowledge from the diseased bodies of the dead so that I may learn to cure the living.’

             
Marta pushed herself up against the pillows.  How soft they were, and how comfortable the bed.  She did not think that she had ever slept in such a bed, and her bones felt rested, the pain she had been enduring for months eased. The tightness in her chest was less and she was not coughing.

‘What happened to the woman?  What did you do with her body?’

             
‘Mary’s mother still lives.  She gave birth to a second child and she became my wife.  Her name is Anne and soon she will come to live with us.’

             
Marta caught her breath. Something about his calm voice fascinated her while it terrified her. ‘But the Earl of Devereaux looked for his daughter.  I thought the woman must be his wife.’

             
‘Mary, Iolanthe and Anne are mine,’ Nicholas told her.  ‘I shall take back all that was stolen from me – but you have a choice to make, Marta.  You may go from my house and I will give you money, but if you leave your illness will worsen and you will die.’

             
Marta stared at him, her heart beating rapidly.  Something about him drew her despite her fear; the deep timbre of his soft voice or the strange way his eyes seemed to hold her, lulling her to a sense of peace.

             
‘If I stay I shall die…’

             
‘No, if you stay I can show you how to live.’

             
‘I do not understand you…’ Marta was afraid and yet he seemed to be taking control of her mind and the fear was draining away.  She felt that she was drowning in the dark pool of his eyes, being drawn into deep water where she would either sink or be carried to a place of safety.  ‘Tell me how I can live please. I beg you to help me.’

             
‘I believe your sickness is of the mind.  Your guilt and your suffering are turning inward, attacking your body.  I can heal you if you will let me show you how.’

             
‘I…want to live…’  What use to fight him when alone she was vulnerable and defenceless?

             
‘Look deep into my eyes, Marta, and forget the things that trouble you.  The power of your own will can heal you.  If you believe and have faith, your spirit will heal and then your body will heal itself.  You believe in the power of God, do you not? And you believe in the Devil, who waits to steal the souls of the ungodly?’

             
‘Yes…’ Marta felt that she was helpless, swept away in a strong tide that carried her she knew not where.  She had no will, no pain or fear, only a feeling of peace. Her body felt as if it were melting and she was warm, free of pain for the first time in years.  ‘Yes, I believe…’  She did not know if it were God, the Devil or Nicholas Malvern, but she believed in the power that had taken over her mind.

             
‘Then, through the god you believe in, you will forget your pain and you will forget your guilt.  You will sleep now, Marta.  As you sleep your pain will go and your spirit will heal.  When you wake all the things that hurt you will be forgotten.  Your body will gradually heal by the power of your own will and by your faith in the god of your own belief.  It is not by my will you are healed but by your own.  May all the gods bless and keep you.’

             
Marta made no answer for she was sleeping peacefully.  Nicholas took a vial from inside his gown and poured a little of the liquid inside into the palm of his left hand.  He dipped a finger in the Holy water and drew the sign of the cross on her forehead.

             
‘May your god protect you.  If there be a price to pay then the paying is mine.’

             
Nicholas walked to the door, turning once more to look at her before going out.  Marta did not stir but in her sleep she smiled.

* * *

Nicholas massaged his temples as he sat at the board, where he wrote his journals.  Sometimes the headaches returned to plague him, and it took a lot of mental and physical strength to do what he had just done for Marta, leaving him exhausted.

             
After a while the pain eased, and he looked thoughtfully through the papers he kept in a locked box.  The power to heal, by suggestion and the patient’s own will, was something he had discovered in his search to conquer the blinding headaches that had been the result of the crashing blow to the head that Devereaux’s man had struck him. He had almost died of his wound the day that Anne and the child were stolen from him, and when he came to himself in the night he had been dazed and wandering in his mind.  For many months the pain had been so devastating that he had come close to taking his own life, but then he had discovered the papers amongst some ancient writings he had bought years before.  He had used the knowledge he gained to conquer the pain, and most of the time he could control it.

             
He did not believe the writings were the work of a sorcerer, though he knew that they might be branded as blasphemous and evil if they fell into the wrong hands.  Had Santos discovered these and sent them to the Church authorities, Nicholas would not have been given a pardon by the Pope.  He would have been arrested, tortured and burned at the stake for sorcery. Fortunately, they were hidden in Nicholas’s French house, not the villa in Rome.  Santos had been searching in the wrong place.

             
Nicholas had destroyed the Book of Secrets, which contained the secret of alchemy, amongst others, but in the ancient manuscripts and scrolls he had hidden there was powerful knowledge.  In ancient Egypt there had been many sorcerers and magicians, some of whom were tricksters. There were some however with terrible power that if unleashed by the wrong hands could bring plague and pestilence and death. It was claimed that certain ancient Egyptian magicians had possessed the power to take the head of a beast and set it on the head of a human and bring both creatures back from the dead. The writings were difficult to decipher and took many hours of careful work, but they could not be translated carelessly for one mistake and untold damage might be done.

             
Had he been an evil man, Nicholas might have used this knowledge to kill rather than to cure, but he had taken an oath to save life not destroy it and he would not break it – even to free Anne from the monster Devereaux had become.  Niccolai’s spies reported to him regularly. He knew that the village girl Devereaux had despoiled was not the extent of the earl’s lewd behaviour.  He visited whores in London, and tales of his cruelty were enough to damn him. The King was a godly man despite his troubles. He would not care for such behaviour if these tales reached his ears.

             
Getting up, Nicholas went to the fire and looked down at the flames.  He took a handful of powder from a pot on the mantle and cast it into the flames.

             
‘May you suffer the torments of Hell, Devereaux,’ he said and his eyes were glacial.  ‘For what you did to her, may you writhe in the flames and feel the pain you inflict on others.’

             
For a moment in the flames he saw the face of the man he hated, then another image took its place.  It was the image of a creature with horns, a tail and cloven feet. He heard the faint echo of laughter.

             
‘
There is a price to pay…
’

             
‘When the time comes I shall pay it,’ Nicholas said.  ‘But that time is not yet.’

             
The images faded.  Nicholas went back to his board and sat on a chair with elbows and a high straight back.  Taking up his pen he began to write.  He knew that the Pope had already granted King Henry’s request to free him from his oath to the barons, therefore there would be war.  Devereaux had damned himself.  Niccolai need not be patient for much longer.  He had Mary safe and now it was time to put his long held plans into operation.

36

‘I have received the Pope’s blessing,’ King Henry told Robert that morning.  ‘He has issued a papal bull to release me from a vow that was not legal because it was exacted under duress.  I am not bound to keep the terms of the charter the barons forced on me.  I want you to deliver this letter for me.  It informs de Montfort and the others that I no longer consider myself bound to rule with the committee that was forced on me.  I am King and a king must rule alone.’

             
‘He ignored your edict, blamed you for the trouble in the shires, which was caused by the new laws they imposed.  If they will not yield now, this means civil war for the country will divide between you and the barons,’ Robert said.  ‘You know you can count on me, Sire.  I assure you of my loyalty to your cause. ‘Tis time these arrogant men were brought to account.’

             
Henry sighed.  ‘I fear that it will come to a civil war, Robert.  I wish that it could be avoided.  I have tried to appease these men, but in his heart, de Montfort believes he should sit in my place and he will never be satisfied.  If I give an inch he demands a foot.  I have no choice but to fight for my kingdom.’

             
‘Then we shall fight.  What more would you have of me, Sire?’

‘My son is returned from Gascony and presently at Winchester Castle.  I know he is anxious for news.  When they took him prisoner and tried to make him betray me, they made an enemy.  Edward has mixed in dangerous company of late, but I believe he would not take arms against me.’

‘I know that the prince loves you well, sire.’

‘You, I trust above most, Robert.  It is you that must carry the news to my son for I would know where he stands in this business.’

‘I am honoured by your trust, Sire.’

‘I will give you a letter for him.  It must go only to his hand.  No one else must read it.’

‘I swear on all I hold sacred that I will deliver it safe to the prince’s hand.’

‘Then go with my blessing.’ Henry smiled.  ‘Afterwards, you have my permission to visit your wife, Robert.  You must bring the lady Melloria to court soon for we should like to see her.’

‘You are gracious, Sire.’

Robert bowed, turned and left.  He frowned as he went out to the courtyard and summoned his escort.  Melloria had refused to accompany him to court the last time he had requested it, but she must learn to know her duty – in all things.

* * *

As she entered her chamber, Melloria’s spine began to tingle.  She could smell a fresh citrus scent that made her think of…Nicholas.  She looked about her but at first she could not see him, then, from behind the bed curtains, a tall dark shape moved silently towards her.

             
‘Nicolas?’  Melloria stared in disbelief as the shape became solid flesh and she saw him.  ‘How did you come here?  Were you seen?’

             
‘Do not fear, my dearest Anne,’ Nicholas said and smiled at her.  ‘I am not a ghost nor something from your imagination.  Touch me. I am real and here with you.  So many times I have been with you in spirit when you called to me, but this time I am here.’

             
‘I thought…for a moment you looked like a shadow…’ she said.  ‘I thought my mind played a trick on me.’

             
‘The mind is a strange thing, Anne.  When I was ill I called for you and sometimes I felt you were with me.’

             
‘You were ill? You called for me?  Oh, my love. Would that I had never been forced to leave you. I grieved for you. I have not ceased to grieve for you.’  Melloria moved towards him.  She reached out and touched his face, marvelling as she felt the warmth of his flesh.  ‘I thought you were dead, but then when I returned to Malvern I saw Griszelda and she told me you had disappeared.  Some of your things had gone.  I prayed that you were alive, that one day I should see you again.’

             
‘For some days I was dazed and close to death, but Cedric followed me and helped me.  He returned to the house and fetched the things I told him were important, and he brought some of my servants back with him.  When I was restored to myself, we took the horses and rode for the coast, from whence we found a ship bound for France.’