The Sorceror's Revenge (4 page)

             
‘I think it possible.’  Beatrice looked at him with accusing eyes.  ‘Why did you marry again so soon?  I know that you needed an heir but had you cared for my sister you would have waited at least another year.’

             
‘My inquiries had led nowhere.  I believed she was dead for why else would she remain hidden?’  An angry look came to his face.  ‘Unless she is his prisoner…’

             
‘You think that Malvern holds both her and the child prisoner?’  Beatrice was silent for a moment, then inclined her head.  ‘It is possible.  There are many that think him a sorcerer.  He may have bound her by powers of which we can have no knowledge.’

             
‘I have no patience with such superstition.  If Melloria is his prisoner I shall discover it and I shall bring her back.’

             
‘Supposing she does not want to come?’

             
‘She is my wife and the child is my blood.  She will come whether she wishes it or not.’

             
Beatrice was silent as he went from the room.  Had she done the right thing in sending for him?  She felt uneasy because he was a powerful man and could be ruthless.  Supposing the child was truly Malvern’s – or that Melloria had chosen to remain where she was? Perhaps she ought to have asked to see the woman and speak to her before sending to Robert?

             
Beatrice made the sign of the cross over her breast.  She was beginning to feel cold all over and her stomach tightened with nerves.  Robert Devereaux was angry and she was afraid that something terrible was about to happen.

             
She knelt in front of the wooden crucifix that hung on the wall of her cell, bending her head in prayer.  What should she be asking?   Fearful of what she had set in motion, she could only pray for guidance and the forgiveness of her sins.

* * *

‘There is a peddler come, Anne,’ She was in the kitchen with the servants, helping to prepare the midday meal when Nicholas entered.  He was wearing a long black gown as was his habit, his soft indoor shoes slightly pointed and fastened about the ankle.  He had the appearance of a scholar, though she knew him to be of noble birth. 

             
‘What of the child?’ she asked.  Iolanthe was playing with a puppy he had brought home for her a few days earlier.  ‘I think she might like to see a peddler.  She is old enough now to enjoy such a treat.’

‘Bring the child for he has toys and trinkets that you may care to buy.’ Nicholas smiled indulgently.  ‘You must both have something pretty.’

             
Anne wiped her hands on the cloth she had been using.  She looked at him with pleasure, because a visit from a peddler was something they all looked forward to. 

             
‘Watch the pot, Griszelda,’ she said and took Iolanthe by the hand.  ‘Is there anything you wish me to purchase for you from the peddler?’

             
‘I am too old for toys and trinkets,’ the old woman replied sourly.  ‘Food and warmth is all I need, mistress.’

             
Anne nodded at her and followed Nicholas from the room, looking down at the child skipping happily at her side.  Iolanthe had never seen a peddler before, because she had been too young when the last one called, and would no doubt enjoy choosing something from his wares.

             
As they entered the courtyard, Anne saw that there were two men displaying wares for the servants.  They had opened their packs, spreading an array of goods on sheets of coarse brown cloth laid on the ground. Both were dressed in the short tunics of grey cloth worn by the lower orders, but there was something unusual about them, though at first she could not have said what was different. 

             
‘Look, Iolanthe,’ she said, glancing down at the child she loved.  ‘I believe you might like to see these…they are exquisite.’

             
Lying on the cloth of one peddler were an array of carved figures.  Some were formed of polished wood, others appeared to be carved from some soft stone of a greenish colour; still others were made from stitched leather.  One of these last was fashioned in the shape of a war-horse with a bridle covered with gold leaf and studded with semi-precious stones.

             
‘This is lovely,’ Anne said and glanced at the peddler.  ‘May I show it to my daughter, sir?’

             
‘Surely, mistress,’ the peddler said, giving Anne a strange look that sent a little chill running down her spine.  Why did he look at her as if he were trying to tell her something?  She did not know him…or did she?  The tingling was all over her now and she felt a spasm of something like fear in her stomach.  Those eyes were so blue and so compelling.  What was he trying to tell her?  ‘You may show the child anything you wish.’

             
Anne picked up the leather horse and offered it to Iolanthe.  The child took it and turned it round in her hand, showing little interest before returning it to her mother.  She bent down on her knees and began to pick up the various trinkets one by one until she found something she liked; clasping a tiny bird fashioned of a translucent pink stone, she showed it to Nicholas.

             
‘Iolanthe want this, Papa.’

             
‘Show me, my dearest,’ Nicholas said and bent down to pick her up in his arms.  Iolanthe held out the tiny carving, which was a thing of exquisite beauty.  He glanced at the peddler.  ‘How much do you want for the trinket?’

             
‘It is made of rose quartz and came from the house of a prince from the far east,’ the peddler replied, an angry glint in his eyes.  ‘You may buy it for one gold mark today.’

             
‘It is hardly worth so much.’ Nicholas frowned, then glanced at Iolanthe’s face.  ‘But my daughter wants it so I shall buy it for her.’  He took a coin from the purse that hung at his waist and handed it to the peddler.  Anne had wandered away to look at the other peddler’s wares.  She purchased ribbon and thread from his selection with money from her own purse, then returned to Nicholas and her daughter.

             
‘I have all I want,’ she said and smiled as Iolanthe showed her, her treasure.  ‘It is beautiful, my love.  Papa has spoiled you as always.  Come, we shall return to the kitchen and let others choose what they want.’

             
‘There is something the beautiful lady of the manor has not yet seen…’ Anne turned in surprise, looking at the peddler who had spoken.  It was unusual for a man of his lowly class to speak unless addressed by his betters, and yet as she gazed into his face something told her he was not what he seemed.  From his build and the air of command that seemed to emanate from him she felt he had been a soldier of some standing.  She felt the chill spread over her.  Something about this man made her very afraid.  There was anger in his eyes and haughty pride in his face.  Why was he pretending to be a humble peddler?  ‘I have a jewel worthy of such a woman if you would care to see it, sir?’

             
‘Show me.’  Nicholas commanded and held out his hand.

Anne saw the frown on her husband’s face and knew that he did not like this peddler, who seemed arrogant and disrespectful.

‘I have all I need, husband.  You have spent enough on trinkets for today.’

‘I will see this jewel, Anne.  If it is truly worthy of you, I may buy it.’

The peddler took a pouch from inside his jerkin and shook the contents into the palm of his hand.  The ruby was mounted in gold and had a deep rich colour, sparkling with fire as the sun’s rays touched it.

Nicholas picked up the jewel, holding it to the light so that Anne could see how magnificent it was.  ‘This is a wonderful thing, my love.  Should you not like to own it?’

‘I have no use for such things,’ Anne said.  The fear was growing inside her, though she did not know why the jewel should have this effect on her.  She felt the peddler’s intense gaze on her face and something about him made her want to run away and hide.  ‘I shall go in, Nicholas.  The meal is almost ready and I would not have it spoil.’

Nicholas returned the jewel to the peddler.  ‘My wife does not wish for your trinket, though it is truly of rare worth.’

The peddler returned the stone to the pouch, tucking it back inside his jerkin.  He turned aside without answering Nicholas and motioned to the other peddler, who immediately bent and gathered up his goods.  The two men left, carrying their packs over their backs even though servants had not yet finished making their purchases and protested with disappointment.

After they had gone, Nicholas ordered the gates locked.  Something about the peddler had disturbed him.  The man’s wares were of good quality but that jewel was almost beyond price.  How could a peddler come by such a precious thing?

He went into the kitchen.  Iolanthe had placed her new trinket on the table and was once again playing with her puppy.  He smiled as he watched her, his unease lifting in the comfort and warmth of the familiar surroundings.  It seemed that like her mother, his daughter was more interested in living things than precious stones.

             
‘You did not wish for the jewel?’

             
Anne turned her head to look at him.  She touched the little garnet cross, which hung on the chain Nicholas had bought for her.  ‘I have this, which I treasure, as you know – why should I need more?’

             
‘You are so lovely, inwardly as well as your face.  It is no wonder that I love you so much, Anne.  I think I should not want to live if I lost you.’

             
Anne turned to look at him, a question in her eyes.

             
‘Why do you fear it, Nicholas?  Surely you know I love you?’

             
‘Yes…’ Nicholas felt the stabbing sensation in his chest.  He should tell her now but the fear was so strong it almost choked him.  She loved him now but if he told her the truth the love would turn to disgust and hatred.

4

Robert felt the rage build inside him as he prepared to return to the Abbey.  His ruse had worked even better than he had hoped.  Malvern had fetched out both the woman and the child to see the trinkets he had brought for their pleasure.  The ruby was Melloria’s own, a gift on their wedding day, which she had sent with other jewels to the Abbey when her women fled the castle, and the other trinkets he had acquired on his travels in Spain and France as gifts for his wife and child.  He had given none of them to Rhoda, buying other trinkets to please her and keeping these to one side.  Melloria had shown no sign of recognition when he showed her the jewel.

It was true that she had changed for the white streak in her hair, wisps of which just showed from beneath the wimple she wore on her head,  had not been there when he took his last farewell of her.  Also, there were changes in her manner.  She seemed less fiercely proud than when he knew her, more content and quieter, and he thought she had suffered for her face was thinner, older than he remembered.

             
She was still so beautiful that she made him burn with love and desire.  It had taken all his restraint not to make a passionate declaration and snatch both her and the child.  Had she shown any sign of knowing him, he would have told her who he was but she seemed not to recognise him or the jewel, of which she had been very proud.

             
What had happened to change her?  Robert pondered the difference in her nature.  The Melloria he knew had loved pretty jewels and rich materials.  To see her dressed in a sober fashion unlike her usual habit was something of a shock. Why did she dress in dark blue when she had loved crimson, yellow and gold?

             
Had she been afraid to speak out?  He thought he had seen a hint of fear in her eyes when she looked at him.  The wife he adored would not have looked at him in such a way.  That Devil Malvern must have bewitched her.  Robert had not thought it possible but now he realised it must be the only explanation.

             
‘Stay here and watch,’ he told the man who had played the part of the other peddler.  ‘I need to know when the gates are unlocked – on what days produce is taken into the house and what kind of folk visit there.’

             
‘Yes, my lord.  I looked about me and I think we could easily take the manor for it is hardly guarded at all, just a handful of men and none of them wore swords.  Malvern is a fool not to take more care for anyone could breach those walls in hours.’

             
‘I shall not make a full attack unless I am forced,’ Robert replied.  ‘If we bombard the walls people may be killed – perhaps the child or my wife.  We must take them by surprise.  I want to snatch Melloria and the child, though we shall kill Malvern.  I know not what he spell he hath used to bind her mind but it must be broken.’

             
‘You are certain she is your wife, my lord?’