The Sorceror's Revenge (6 page)

             
‘What are you doing to her?’ she cried.  ‘Iolanthe…’

             
‘My daughter is safe enough.  We have her.  Come with me now, Melloria.’

             
Anne stared at him as he held out his hand so imperiously.  A shiver of terror ran through her and she was seized by a premonition of impending doom.

             
‘No. I shall not go with you. I belong here with…’ She screamed as the man grabbed hold of her arm and started to drag her.  ‘Leave me here and let my child go.  I am not who you think me.  Nicholas is my…’

She screamed again and Nicholas sprang towards them, grappling with the man who frightened her so much.  Even as he tried to tear her from the earl’s grasp of iron, someone struck him a vicious blow to the head with a mace and he fell to the ground at her feet, blood seeping from his wound.  She could see his eyes open and staring at her and she knew that he was dead.  ‘Nicholas…I love you.  Nicholas, my love…do not die…do not leave me.  You promised me…’

             
Crying, screaming and calling Nicholas’s name over and over again, Anne was dragged and then carried from the chamber, which had become home to her.  As they went out into the courtyard, she saw men lying on the ground wounded and dying.  One of her serving women was dead, her stomach split open by a sword thrust, and another was weeping over her.  She held out her hands in supplication, begging her mistress to help, but there was nothing Anne could do.

             
Turning to the hard-faced man who claimed to be her husband, she raised tearful eyes to his.  ‘Please do not harm any more of my servants.  If they resisted you, they thought only to protect us.’

             
‘We have finished here.  No more harm will come to them.’  He turned to his men and ordered them to mount up.  ‘I am taking you to your sister.  You may rest there until you recover yourself, Melloria. I am not a harsh man and I shall not demand your obedience too soon.  I want you to come to me of your own will.’

             
‘I am not Melloria.  I am Anne and you have killed my husband.’

             
‘He was an evil man, a sorcerer that put a spell on you.  You are my wife and you loved me once.  You will love me again when your mind is your own once more.’

             
‘It is not true,’ Anne wept, her heart breaking as the tears trickled down her cheeks.  She did not like this cold hard man.  He had killed Nicholas.  Her husband had never harmed anyone despite what people said of him, and she did not believe that he had put a spell on her to make her lose her memory.  ‘I hate you for what you have done this day, sir.  I shall never forgive you.’

             
‘Never is a long time, Melloria.  You are mine and I shall have you.’  His eyes bored into hers, icy cold and yielding nothing as he threw her up on his horse and mounted behind her.  As his arms surrounded her, imprisoning her, she felt a crushing sensation in her breast and thought she might die of her grief.

             
Anne shook her head.  She wanted to deny him but was very much afraid he was indeed her husband, because Nicholas had told her the truth.  Oh, why had she not told him she would stay with him?  Why had they not fled before the earl came?

             
Nicholas was dead and she felt as if her world had fallen apart.  The pain of seeing the man she loved killed so brutally before her eyes was tearing her in two.  How could she ever have loved a man such as this arrogant earl?  He was harsh and cruel and his men had murdered her servants…her beloved husband.  Even though the church had never blessed their union, Anne felt that the man she loved was her true husband.

             
She would never forgive this man who had claimed her as his wife.  Her promise to Nicholas remained.  She would sleep alone until they were reunited, which could now only be in death.

6

Anne’s tears had dried by the time they arrived at the abbey.  She was silent and stony-faced as the earl lifted her down from his horse.

             
‘Your sister awaits you inside, Melloria.  Go to her.  Ask Beatrice for the truth.  You think me cruel because I have taken you from the man who held you prisoner.  When you are calmer you will begin to realise that what I have done was for your sake.’

             
Anne moved her head negatively but would not answer him.  Her eyes glittered with hatred as she went ahead of him into the convent.  A nun beckoned to her and she followed, a strange feeling of peace beginning to spread through her now that she was no longer with the man who had brought her world crashing down.

             
‘The child is safe with Mother Abbess,’ the nun said softly.  ‘Welcome back, my lady.  We are glad to see you well for you were sincerely mourned by all here.’

             
‘You know me?’

             
‘You are the Countess Melloria Devereaux, wife to the earl and sister to Mother Abbess.  We all thought you had died out there on the moors in the winter snows.’  The nun stopped outside a door.  ‘Mother is within and the child with her.  She is waiting for you. Please go in, my lady.’

             
Anne’s heart was beating so fast that she could scarcely breathe.  She knocked at the door and was invited to enter.  As she went in, Iolanthe screamed and broke from the Abbess running towards her.  Anne scooped her up and held her, comforting her as she sobbed and stroking her hair.  Over her head, she looked at the woman standing quietly looking at her and in that brief second she knew her.

             
‘Beatrice…’ Melloria said and the tears streamed down her cheeks.  She walked towards her still holding the child.  ‘My dearest sister.  I remember when we were children but I have forgotten so much…’

             
‘You lost your memory?’  Beatrice’s anxious expression cleared.  ‘He did not cast a spell on you?’

             
‘Nicholas was everything that is good and kind,’ Melloria said and stood Iolanthe down so that she could embrace her sister.  ‘For a long time I could recall nothing of my former life but gradually I remembered happy things…the way we played as children.  It broke our mother’s heart when you came here.’

             
‘I was sorry that Mother could not accept that I must devote my life to God.’  Beatrice stood back and looked at her.  To show too much pleasure in her sister’s resurrection would be wrong for a woman who had given her life to God.  It was enough that Melloria was restored to her family.  ‘Did I do right to tell Robert where I thought you might be?’

             
Melloria looked at her in silence.  ‘His men slaughtered innocent men and women.  They killed Nicholas.  If it were not for him I should have died giving birth to my children.  He helped more people than you can ever know, and he was always seeking knowledge for the good of others.’

             
‘God forgive me.’ The colour left Beatrice’s face.  ‘I did not think Robert would use violence to win you back.  Forgive me, sister?’

             
‘I do not blame you.’  Melloria looked into her eyes.  ‘Will you let us stay here, my child and I – at least until I am ready to leave?’

             
‘You are welcome to stay for as long as you wish,’ Beatrice said.  ‘One day you will have to choose between God and a different life, but we shall give you sanctuary until your spirit has healed.’  She looked uneasy.  ‘Will Robert allow you to stay here?’

             
‘I believe he will.’ Melloria’s face became cold, her eyes hard.  ‘If he wishes to have the wife he once claimed to love he must give me time.  I need to learn to forgive him and to make my peace with God.  Even Robert cannot deny me that I think.’

             
‘Do you wish me to speak to him for you?’

             
‘No…’ Melloria raised her head proudly.  She was the woman who had cursed Montroy the night the castle was taken, no longer Nicholas’s soft, gentle wife.  ‘I shall speak with him myself in a little while.  For the moment I wish to rest and to pray.  I have much to think about.’  She reached for Iolanthe, her eyes dark with anguish as she looked at her sister.  I have another child somewhere…’

             
‘So there were two?  We were not sure.’

             
‘Somewhere there is a child who has never known her mother.  She must be found.  If Robert wishes to have me back, he must find her.’  Melloria’s eyes were hard.  ‘He must do penance for the wrong he has done me.  He left me to follow his ambition and he alone is responsible for what happened to me that night.’

* * *

Robert knelt before the altar, his head bent in prayer.  He wanted to give praise because his wife had been restored to him but the words would not come.  He had found Melloria but she was not his wife.  She was not the woman he had adored but a stranger who screamed when he touched her and wept for another man.

             
‘Damn him!’

             
Rising to his feet, Robert left the chapel.  He could not pray because he was angry.  This should have been a day of triumph and happiness.  Melloria was alive and he had a daughter, a beautiful child who looked very like her mother.  Why then did he feel so empty?  If Malvern had been a sorcerer his powers would surely be broken now that he was dead.  In time Melloria would recover her true self and she would love him.

             
He would wait until the morning and then he would demand to see her, because this thing must be settled.  Robert’s thoughts were guilty as he remembered that he had another wife waiting for him at Craigmoor.  What was he to do about Rhoda?

             
He could not have two wives.  Rhoda must go, perhaps to a nunnery, though she might agree to live quietly in another country where no one would know her history.  Yet there was the child.  The boy was undoubtedly his.  Robert would have preferred that his heir was Melloria’s child but a man must have a son.  He could not be certain that Melloria would ever give him an heir, therefore he must keep Rhoda’s child and adopt him as his legal heir.

             
Would Rhoda agree to give up her son and leave?  He remembered the way she had pleaded with him not to send her to the convent and his conscience smote him.  He had wronged her enough and must listen to her wishes – but he would not give up his son.  The boy must stay with him.

* * *

Melloria stood with her head held high, her complexion pale.  She looked distant, calm but detached, as if her thoughts were far away.  Robert’s gaze was intense as he searched her face looking for some sign that she had softened towards him.  He saw nothing that gave him hope.

             
‘You wished to see me, my lord?’

             
‘Mother Abbess told me that you had remembered her.  Have you also remembered me, Melloria?’

             
‘Yes, I remember you, Robert.  I remember that I begged you not to leave me but you told me it was important that you attend the prince’s wedding.  You left me when I was close to giving birth to your child – and you left me to die.’

             
‘No.’  Robert took a step towards her in fierce denial.  ‘Do you think I would have left you had I known that Montroy would attack the castle?’

             
‘Would you?’  Her clear eyes met his accusingly, just as they had in his tortured dreams.

             
‘You should know that I would not.  I never dreamed you were at risk.  I have wished a thousand times that I had done things differently…’ He hesitated, then went down on one knee before her.  ‘I beg your pardon most humbly for leaving you.  My dreams have been haunted with the sight of you alone on that moor…’

             
‘And yet you married again soon after you returned to England.  My sister continued to search for me in the only way she could…you took another wife, who has given you a son.  I believe you owe me some recompense, Robert.’

             
‘Anything,’ he vowed and rose to his feet.  ‘I beg you, Melloria.  Forgive me and come back to me.  I never ceased to love you.  I married only because I needed an heir.  Rhoda is not my wife.’

             
‘Rhoda is a pretty name.  You have wronged her, Robert.  You should not have married until you were sure I was dead.  She is within her rights to demand compensation.’

             
‘I thought a nunnery…’

             
‘You would make her pay for your sin?’  Melloria’s eyes flashed with contempt, causing him to lower his head in shame.  ‘You must let her choose.’

             
‘Yes, I shall.’  He moved towards her, holding out his hand in pleading.  ‘Tell me what I must do to win you back, Melloria.’

             
‘I had another child.  My firstborn daughter was stolen by a woman called Marta.  She was to have placed her in the care of a wet-nurse in the village but she ran away and took the child with her.  My first condition is that you find my child.’