A Passionate Magic Page 15

  “Why do you think I would give you a seashell?” Dain asked, frowning at it.

  “Didn’t you give it to me?”

  “Of course not.” He sounded surprisingly impatient. His next statement explained why. “My mother is ill.”

  “I am sorry to hear it.” Emma closed her fingers around the seashell and tried not to let her disappointment show. If the gifts were not from Dain, then someone else was leaving them, and she would have to discover who. At the moment, there was a more important matter to consider. “What is wrong with Lady Richenda?”

  “According to her maidservant, she has a severe pain in her belly and a cough that will not stop. She has apparently been suffering for several days while hiding her illness. The maidservant came to me to report that Mother could not rise from her bed this morning.”

  “Then she is very ill, especially if she missed early morning Mass. Dain, I will gladly do what I can for her, but you know how she dislikes me. She may refuse to accept my remedies.”

  “I will go with you to her room,” Dain said, “and insist that she answer your questions in my presence, so you can determine what is wrong with her.”

  “Very well. Just give me a moment.” Emma opened her clothing chest and took out the linen in which she kept her mysterious gifts. She unrolled the linen and added the seashell to the other items.

  “What is this?” Dain was watching her, and he bent forward to pluck the blue bead from the collection.

  “That was my last gift before the seashell,” Emma said.

  “Intriguing.” He held the bead up to the light so he could see it better. “I saw something like this before, when I was a boy, but I can’t remember where.”

  “When I found it, I thought it was from you.”

  “No.” Dain turned the bead over and over in his fingers, staring at it as if his sharp gaze could uncover its mystery. “When I look at this, I remember someone weeping, and I recall an ache in my heart, as if part of me was wrenched away. It’s just a fragment of memory and I must have been very young, because I cannot connect what I remember with anything else.” He handed the bead back to Emma and she put it away with the seashell and the cornflower and the sprig of rosemary, both of which were almost dry enough to crumble into pale dust.

  “Could the weeping be a memory of your father’s death?” she asked.

  “Possibly. Whatever it was, I’ve forgotten it. Seeing the bead brought it back for a few moments.” Dain rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. “It cannot be important or I would still remember.”

  Lady Richenda’s chamber was sparely furnished. Her bed was narrow, and Emma suspected it was hard, too. In keeping with the ascetic appearance of the room, there were no hangings to draw around the bed to shut out drafts. A plain wooden clothes chest sat beneath a tightly shuttered window. The only other objects in the room were a crucifix on one wall, bearing a particularly contorted, agonized figure, and a prie-dieu placed directly beneath the crucifix. No cushion softened the hardness of the kneeling bench that bore the hollowed-out evidence of Lady Richenda’s years of frequent prayer.

  A wrenching cough brought Emma’s attention back to the emaciated figure on the bed. Lady Richenda glared at her with feverish eyes.

  “I do not want her here,” Lady Richenda said to Dain. “I gave Blanche orders to tell only you that I am not entirely well today.” She transferred her angry gaze to the meek-looking maidservant who stood by the bed.

  “Blanche obeyed your orders,” Dain said. “It was I who told Emma, because I want her to help you.”

  “I will not ask an enemy for help!” Lady Richenda exclaimed.

  “You don’t have to. I have already asked her,” Dain said.

  “I do not believe in treating illnesses,” Lady Richenda declared. “This affliction is visited upon me in retribution for a life that has not been completely holy.” With a gasp she stopped, her body going stiff under the covers.

  “My lady,” Emma cried, “I can see you are in pain. Please, let me help you.”

  “I can bear it,” Lady Richenda said. “Do not imagine you can soften my heart with offers of aid. I will not relent. I will have vengeance against your family before I die.”

  “While you are yet alive, you live under my rule,” Dain told her sternly. “I command you to answer Emma’s questions honestly, and to allow her to touch you as seems necessary to her.”

  “My lady, if you will tell me exactly where the pain is,” Emma began.

  “No! You will not put your hands on me.” Lady Richenda gave way to a fit of coughing that left her wheezing and clutching at her abdomen.

  “Please, let me help. It grieves me to see you in such pain.” Emma knelt by the bed and reached to press on Lady Richenda’s abdomen. When Lady Richenda attempted to strike her, Dain caught his mother’s wrists and held them. Emma shot him a grateful look and began to examine the sick woman.

  “Well?” Dain asked when Emma was finished and Lady Richenda lay with her eyes closed, trembling in outrage and pain.

  “She is suffering from severe spasms of the bowel,” Emma said, “and an inflammation of the chest. The hard coughing makes the spasms worse.”

  “Can you treat it?” Dain asked.

  “Yes, if only she will take the medicines I prepare for her,” Emma answered.

  “I will see to it that she does.” Dain fixed her with a cold eye and added, “I will trust you in this because I must for my mother’s sake. Do not disappoint me, Emma.”

  “I am disappointed to know you think you have to say such a thing to me,” she responded with considerable heat. ”I am bound as a healer to do all I can to alleviate suffering wherever I find it, and to cause no harm by my treatments.”

  “Then do for my mother whatever you think is right,” he said in a kinder tone.

  Emma sent Blanche to find some extra pillows, which she was instructed to use to prop her mistress into a higher position, so Lady Richenda could breathe more easily. While this was being done, Emma went to the stillroom. There wasn’t much poppy syrup left from the supply Emma had brought to Penruan with her, but it was definitely the best medicine for Lady Richenda’s severe abdominal pain, and to ease the cough that was making her pain worse.

  Since the syrup also acted to befog the mind, Emma hoped it would help Lady Richenda forget, at least while she was under its influence, how much she despised her daughter-in-law. Thus, Emma’s nursing tasks would be easier, and Dain would not be obliged to remain with his mother to be sure she followed Emma’s instructions.

  Two hours later Lady Richenda lay quietly in a half-sleeping state, suffering very little pain and coughing only occasionally. Emma sent the exhausted Blanche to her pallet to rest. The servant had been awake all night, tending to her mistress.

  “Dain, I know you have duties,” Emma said. “I will stay with Lady Richenda. Hawise will look in on us occasionally, and if I need your help, I’ll send for you.”

  “Tell me the truth, Emma. Will she live?” Anxiety showed in every line of Dain’s handsome face.

  “I am confident that she will recover this time,” Emma said. “However, Lady Richenda is not in good health. I noticed the first time I saw her how thin and drawn she is. There is an underlying ailment that I believe no physician can treat. I think she may live another few years, but not much more than that.”

  “I see.” Dain’s gaze was on his mother’s quiet face, taking in every detail of her shadowed, sunken eyes, her hollow cheeks, and the thin gray hair that was usually hidden beneath her wimple. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

  “If you wish,” Emma said, “I can talk to Agatha and describe Lady Richenda’s symptoms and explain how I am treating her. It will be a good idea for me to see Agatha in any case. What poppy syrup I have will only last for another day or two. I noticed poppies growing in Agatha’s garden, so she may have her own supply, or she may know of some combination of other herbs that will be almost as effective.”

  “My mot
her will not approve of Agatha knowing she’s sick,” Dain said. A faint smile quirked his mouth, then disappeared. “But we don’t have to tell her you’ve spoken to Agatha, do we?”

  “Of course not,” she agreed.

  “I’ll send a man to Trevanan and ask Agatha to come here.”

  “Ask her to come tomorrow,” Emma said. “I don’t want to leave Lady Richenda today. By tomorrow she ought to be recovered enough that I can leave her in Blanche’s care while I meet with Agatha.”

  Dain left her, and Emma settled down on the stool that Blanche had brought from the great hall. Lady Richenda slept for a while. When she woke she remained in the semi-lethargic state that often overtook patients treated with poppy syrup, and she made no protest when Emma raised her head to give her just a little more of the medicine. Even so, she soon made it plain that she was not going to allow Emma full control over her care.

  “I don’t want your help,” Lady Richenda said a short time after swallowing the poppy syrup. “I don’t need it. Go away.”

  “You are too ill to be left alone,” Emma said, “and I have sent Blanche to take a nap. There is no one else available to sit with you just now. Try to sleep again. Rest will do you good.”

  “I can’t sleep.” Lady Richenda tried to moisten her lips. Emma responded to the motion by providing a few sips from a cup of water mixed with wine. “Why should you take care of me? You ought to hate me, as I hate you.”

  “I cannot,” Emma said. “I don’t know how to hate.”

  “Fool,” Lady Richenda muttered. “Your mother didn’t raise you well. I taught Dain to hate, never to love.”

  “And I fear I shall spend the rest of my life trying to undo your teaching,” Emma said quietly. In a louder voice she added, “Other nobles have gone to war against each other, fought and been wounded or killed, and when the conflict was over the survivors returned to their ordinary lives without continuing their family hatreds. I do wonder why you are so set upon pursuing the feud with my family long after the men who began it are dead.”

  She knew Lady Richenda’s mind was wandering under the influence of the poppy syrup, so she did not expect a sensible response to her remarks.

  “You do not understand,” Lady Richenda said.

  “No, I do not.” An idea struck Emma. She wasn’t at all sure it was the right thing to do, to question Lady Richenda in her present state, when she was probably talking more freely to her daughter-in-law than she ever would again. But Emma could not neglect a chance to glean information that might lead to a peaceful resolution of the feud that had persisted for far too long.

  “Lady Richenda, perhaps I will be able to understand better if you will tell me your version of the quarrel,” Emma said.

  “Why would you care about my opinion?” Lady Richenda asked.

  “Because I am trying to find a way to make peace between our families,” Emma replied.

  “There is peace only in heaven,” Lady Richenda said. She lapsed into silence while Emma waited and tried to think of words that would encourage the older woman to reveal something of the past. It seemed that Lady Richenda was only pausing to gather her thoughts, for she slowly began to speak. Her words were a bit slurred from the effect of the medicine, yet they were clear enough for Emma to understand perfectly.

  “Thirty years ago, in the time of King William Rufus,” Lady Richenda said, “my father-in-law, whose name was Dain, laid claim to a piece of land in Shropshire. The same land was also claimed by Udo of Wroxley. Neither man would back down, nor was either willing to accept any other land in substitution. They were both incredibly stubborn.”

  “So that is how the feud originated?” Emma prompted when Lady Richenda fell silent once more.

  “Dain and Udo took their rival claims to the king,” Lady Richenda said, “to William Rufus, that wicked man. I heard whispers about him even as a young and sheltered girl, stories claiming he was no Christian king but a pagan. He levied forbidden taxes on church property and spent the money on jewels and silk clothing. He lured pretty boys to his bed and debauched them.

  “Worst of all, William Rufus scorned the very idea of knightly honor. He laughed and mocked both men when Dain and Udo insisted on settling the dispute by hand-to-hand combat. But he allowed it, and he sat in his chair of state and watched them fight, watched while Udo slew the older Dain. Then he granted the disputed land to Udo, clasping Udo’s hand over Dain’s bloody body. I thank all the saints I was not present. My husband told me about it years later.”

  “Even today it is not unusual for disputes to be settled that way,” Emma said. “The death of one of the combatants, and the king’s decision, should have been the end of it.”

  “Before he met Udo that day, Dain made his son swear to continue the battle if he should fall.”

  “Over a piece of land so far away from Cornwall?” Emma shook her head in despair at the stubbornness of men.

  “It was valuable land,” Lady Richenda said. “After his father’s untimely death, Halard continued to insist the land should be his.”

  “Halard, your husband?” Emma asked, fascinated by details she had never been told before and wanting to know all of the story.

  “He wasn’t my husband yet. At the time of the combat, Halard was married to a girl he claimed to love.” Lady Richenda made an irritated noise. “What foolishness. Love is a weakness and Halard was never weak, not for a moment. He could not have loved her, for no sooner did his first wife die in childbirth and her baby with her, than Halard arranged with my father to marry me. Halard was a hard man, but an honest master, and I respected him. I learned all about the feud from him, and I agreed with his claim that his family had been cheated. Halard got me with child at once, so he would have an heir, and then he rode off to wrest the land that was rightfully his away from Lord Udo.”

  Emma did not think it appropriate to inquire whether Lady Richenda had cared for Halard. It was clear to her that softer emotions held little sway over her formidable mother-in-law. Emma could not imagine Lady Richenda in an amorous embrace. She had probably thought of consummation as a matter of doing her duty and had found no joy in her husband’s attentions.

  And what of Halard? Did he grieve for his first bride and compare her to Richenda? Emma could not help feeling a degree of sympathy for the unpleasant Richenda. Perhaps she had once been an eager, naive young girl, yearning for the affection of a stern husband who had none left to give her after the loss of his first, best-beloved wife, and of the child who should have been his heir.

  “You gave your husband Dain for his heir,” Emma said, speaking out of pity for a life lived without love. “Halard must have been proud of his son, and of you.”

  “Such a beautiful baby,” Lady Richenda said. “That pale hair, those wonderful eyes. But she was always there, always present. He loved her. I could not bear it.” She made a sound as if she was about to burst into tears.

  “Lady Richenda, you have talked so much that you must be tired.” Emma laid a hand over the other woman’s thin fingers. Lady Richenda grabbed her hand, holding tight, hurting her. And she kept on talking.

  “Halard rode north and attacked Udo while Udo was visiting the disputed holding. In the melee Halard lost his left arm. He came home alive, but the wound never completely healed, and when Dain was five years old, Halard died.

  “Shortly before his death he made another attempt to have the ruling changed, but King William Rufus reconfirmed Udo in his possession of that cursed piece of land, and after King Henry came to the throne he also declared the land belonged to Udo. I swore to Halard that I would continue to fight Udo’s family on behalf of our son’s rights. I ruled Penruan while Dain was a child, and I taught him to hate the barons of Wroxley as his father and grandfather did, and as I still do.”

  Emma longed to say that the tale of the feud was the saddest, stupidest story she had heard in her lifetime. She wanted to say that no piece of land, however valuable, was worth three generations of bloods
hed and hatred, especially not after one king had twice made a decision on the matter and his brother, ruling as king after him, had made a third decision, all of them in favor of the baron of Wroxley. It was madness to continue the fight. But she could see that Lady Richenda was worn out by so much talking, and so Emma held her own tongue.

  When Lady Richenda became restless Emma gave her a few drops more of the poppy syrup, and when Blanche appeared in the room to say she could sleep no longer, Emma turned her patient over to the maidservant and went to the great hall to find something to eat. Having spent the day in a darkened room with the shutters closed, she was not aware of the passing of time. She was a little surprised to see that it was after sunset.

  “There you are, my lady,” said Sloan, rising from one of the tables. “I’ve a message for you from Agatha. She will meet you tomorrow afternoon on the beach below the castle.”

  “On the beach?” Emma repeated.

  “I think she’d prefer to stay away from the castle because of Lady Richenda,” Sloan said with a meaningful look.

  Emma smiled her understanding and sent the captain of the men-at-arms back to his evening meal. She thought it was far more likely that Agatha was planning to visit with Hermit and that was why she would be on the beach, rather than out of any fear of Lady Richenda.

  Emma was so tired that she went to bed as soon as she finished eating. But she could not sleep. After tossing restlessly for a while she got up and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. She was kneeling on the seat in the window niche, watching the moonlit sea below, when Dain entered the room.

  “I have been to see my mother,” he said, standing so close behind Emma that she could feel the heat of his body. “Blanche said she swallowed a little broth and ate some bread. She is sleeping peacefully now.”