A Passionate Magic Page 5

  Emma left the stillroom in silence, trying to think how to convince Dain to oppose his mother’s wishes and allow her to make use of the room.

  When Dain rode out to intercept the brigands who had wrought terror upon Trevanan, his thoughts were sharply divided between schemes for ambush and capture of the outlaws, and memories of the bride he was trying to convince himself he did not want. He had originally agreed to wed a child of seven, his secret plan being to find an excuse to repudiate her and thus break the peace between himself and Gavin before the girl was old enough to consummate the marriage. Instead, he had been sent a bride who was a beautiful raven-haired young woman with mysterious eyes and an air of self-assurance equal to his own.

  He had come so close – so dangerously close! – to consummating their marriage and thereby making it completely legal. He was grateful for the emergency that called him away from Penruan, knowing that if he had stayed, Emma would have spent her first night in his castle locked in her husband’s arms. The lady was willing; he had seen longing in her incredible, gold-flecked brown eyes, and had felt it in the way she clung to him, hungry for more of his caresses.

  He had been all too eager to bestow those caresses. It was because of his shocking desire for the daughter of his sworn enemy that he deliberately prolonged the search for the brigands, whose villainy extended far beyond what the messenger from Trevanan had reported. Two village men were dead, killed defending their homes and families, and three women abducted, carried off to the moorland camp of the outlaws among the rocky tors, there to be repeatedly ravished and beaten.

  When they were found one woman was dead of her injuries, but the other two Dain at once returned to their grieving families. Whether the women would ever be fully received back into those families would probably depend on whether the coming months found them with child by their brutal captors.

  Dain’s mouth thinned at the possibility. He resolved to stay in even closer contact than usual with the village elders. If he learned from them that the women were scorned or mistreated in any way because of what had happened, he would remove them from Trevanan to Penruan and give them honest work there. He knew of several homes in the vicinity where orphans or unwanted children were joyfully received, and to those homes he would send the babes born of rape, if that was what their mothers wished.

  As their liege lord, obligated to protect and defend those who lived under his rule, it was his duty to see to the futures of all of those innocent victims. He knew his mother would disapprove of kindness to such women, but on this matter Dain was not concerned about Lady Richenda’s opinion. He felt completely sure that Emma, who insisted on proper treatment of her traveling companions, would care about the ravished and battered women, and she would commend him for what he planned to do. At the sudden realization of the direction in which his thoughts were leading he told himself with cold obstinacy that Emma’s opinion on the matter meant even less to him than his mother’s.

  During the next few days he and his men sought out and killed every member of that particular outlaw band. Beset by frustration over his unacceptable desire for Emma, fueled by impotent rage against Gavin, whom his king had forced him not to attack, Dain sought release from his conflicting emotions in violence against the brigands who threatened his people. He took grim satisfaction in the bloody work of retribution, offering no mercy to the criminals and fully living up to his reputation as a fierce, coldhearted warrior.

  When it was over he ordered everything his men could find belonging to the outlaws heaped into one huge pile, with the outlaws’ bodies tossed on top. At his command the pile was set alight, becoming a funeral pyre for those who dared to injure the people of the baron of Penruan. Let the other brigands who hid on the moors see the flames and take note of the fearsome vengeance they could expect if they chose to attack Penruan or Trevanan.

  As soon as the fire was reduced to ashes Dain gathered together his able-bodied men, his wounded, and the one who had been killed on the very last day of fighting, and he rode home to Penruan sunk in a grief so deep he did not think he would ever recover.

  At the cry from the sentries at the gatehouse, notifying everyone in the castle that Dain was returning with wounded, Emma hastened to the great hall to offer her help. She was relieved to see there were only four wounded men, and that Dain seemed to be unhurt. Then she saw and recognized the body of the squire being carried in on a litter and understood why Dain was so quiet and withdrawn, and why his attention was devoted to the mangled remains of what had once been a handsome young man.

  “I am so sorry,” she said, going to him with her hands outstretched. “On my first day at Penruan, when Robert came to the lord’s chamber to arm you, it seemed to me that you were fond of him.”

  “So I was.” Dain’s face was hard, his mouth grim, as if he was holding back strong emotion.

  Emma’s heart ached for his grief. Placing both her hands on his arm, she offered the one comfort she could give to him.

  “I can help Father Maynard to wash and prepare Robert for burial.” When Dain turned his head to look at her out of bleak eyes, Emma explained. “I have performed that sad task several times in my life. I will do it again now, with proper reverence, if you will allow me.”

  “No,” Dain said. “This is my work. I will do it.”

  “You?” Emma stared at him in surprise. “I know you loved him, but it’s hardly a lord’s duty to prepare the dead.”

  “Loved him?” Dain repeated. His burning eyes bored into hers. “Aye, I loved him. Robert was my son.”

  “What?” Emma’s hand pressed hard against her bosom. “Oh, Dain, I didn’t know. No one told me you were married before.”

  “I have never been married,” Dain said, in a tone that implied he still wasn’t. In a gentler voice he added, “Robert’s mother was the first woman with whom I ever lay. I learned a useful lesson from her, that it only takes one time to create a child. I was fifteen and a squire.

  “She was one of the kitchen maids at the castle where I was fostered,” he continued, speaking as if he could not hold back the words that would explain an apparently unseemly grief. “She was a maiden when I first lay with her, and for a few months she doted on me, so I never questioned her claim that I was Robert’s sire.”

  “Where is she now?” Emma asked, expecting him to say that his mistress lived in Trevanan, or perhaps in the castle itself.

  “After Robert was born she married the blacksmith of the castle where she lived. She died in childbirth two years later. When Robert was old enough to become a squire I brought him here to Penruan to serve me, with the intention of eventually making him one of my household knights. I believe he would have made a fine and loyal knight.”

  Emma heard the slight crack in Dain’s voice on those last words, and she knew beyond doubt that deep in his most secret heart Dain had cherished dreams for his illegitimate son.

  “I am certain what you say is true,” Emma said to him. “Judging by my brief knowledge of him, Robert was a devoted squire.”

  “Thank you for those words, my lady.” Dain inclined his head to her, then turned on his heel and headed for the chapel.

  “Dain, wait!” Emma cried. “There is something I must ask of you.”

  “I have already told you that you may not attend my son,” he said in a low voice.

  “I understand your reasoning, my lord, and I will not quarrel with you about it. There is another matter on which we must speak, and this moment seems to me remarkably appropriate.”

  ”What is it?” Dain turned to face her again. He looked inexpressibly weary.

  “My lord, I am possessed of excellent healing skills. From the glimpse I saw of Robert’s wounds, no one could have saved him, but it may be that I can help others. It is your duty to protect and care for your people. As your wife, it is my duty to do the same.” When he made no objection to what she was saying, she went on, “While you were gone I borrowed the key to the stillroom.”

  �
��Borrowed?” he repeated, eyebrows raised in clear disbelief. “Are you sure that’s the correct word? The cook would never give it to you.”

  “She did not, so don’t blame her,” Emma said. “I did take the key, but I use the word borrowed because I kept it for less than an hour before I replaced it. It did not require very long for me to see that the stillroom is but poorly supplied with the herbs necessary to make medicines. Nor are the necessary plants growing in the kitchen garden, which is turned over primarily to vegetables and cooking herbs.” She paused, trying to think how to explain what was needed without appearing to criticize his mother.

  “What is it you want?” he asked.

  “Your permission to leave the castle, to explore the countryside in search of useful herbs. Some I can gather and bring back here to dry in the still-room. Others I can dig up and transplant into the kitchen garden. Once I have an adequate supply, I can begin to prepare various tinctures for open wounds, ointments for rashes or sore muscles, mixtures of dry herbs to use for brewing hot drinks that will clear stuffy noses and sore throats.

  “Dain, if you give your permission, I may be of some real use to our people, and all of us will be healthier when winter comes. When you first came into the hall I heard you tell Sloan that you have eliminated the outlaws from the vicinity of Penruan, so I should be safe from the threat of abduction that you cited days ago as a reason to keep me here at home.”

  For a few long moments she thought he was going to refuse her offer, and she feared if he did, she would go mad, for she could not endure many more days of nothing to do.

  “Our people?” he repeated softly. “Keep you at home? Do you truly see Penruan as your home?”

  “Since we are married, anywhere that you live is my home,” she responded, deliberately defying his earlier hint that he did not consider theirs a real marriage,

  “An interesting idea,” he said. “It’s a pity I have no time to discuss it with you just now. Very well; you may tell the cook that I have given the stillroom key into your keeping. Do whatever you want with the stillroom, and with the kitchen garden.”

  “Thank you, my lord. I will need a horse for myself, and one for Hawise. There are baskets in the stillroom that we can attach to our saddles to carry the herbs we gather.”

  “You will also need a man-at-arms for protection,” he said.

  ”A man-at-arms will only grow bored with my kind of slow, quiet work.” At that point in the discussion Emma noticed Blake standing alone in the great hall, staring after the men who carried Robert’s body to the chapel. Blake’s face was white and he held his slender shoulders stiffly. He looked as though he was trying hard not to weep.

  “My lord, would you give me Blake, instead?”

  “Blake?” Dain’s glance took in the boy, who chose that moment to sniffle loudly before bracing his shoulders again. “Blake is only a child.” Dain’s words could have been disdainful, but they were softened by the compassion on his face, which indicated his understanding that Blake, too, was suffering at the loss of Robert.

  “He is a page who soon will be old enough to become a squire,” Emma corrected her husband. “It is my duty as mistress of the castle to train him in manners and in how to attend upon a lady’s wishes. I can do so while he is assisting me. I do think fresh air and sunshine will be helpful to his growth. From what I have observed of young boys, I also think Blake will enjoy the chance to tramp around in muddy streams or dig up plants.”

  “As you wish,” Dain said. “Just be sure to tell Sloan or me when you plan to leave the castle, so we will know where you are. If anyone questions what you are doing, send that person to me.”

  “Thank you,” she said again.

  “Is that all?” he asked.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Very well.” Dain raised his voice. “Blake, you are to obey Lady Emma’s orders and attend to her wishes. As of this day, I make you her page.”

  He left her then, and Emma thought he went to the chapel with a somewhat lighter look to him, and a less dragging step. Perhaps her genuine interest in helping the folk who lived in Penruan was of some slight comfort to him. Possibly, her mention of the grubby activities in which young boys delighted had raised some happy memories for him. She hoped it was so. She could see that Blake looked a bit more cheerful after hearing Dain’s order to attend her.

  “If you can do what you’ve promised,” said Sloan, pausing beside her, “if you can ease the winter aches and pains and stop the hacking coughs, then every person in this castle will be grateful to you.” With a warmer glance than any he had bestowed upon her during the past week, Sloan followed Dain toward the chapel.

  “Every person in the castle,” Emma repeated softly, “with the exception of Lady Richenda, who from all I have heard will be dreadfully offended by what I plan to do.”

  Chapter 4

  Dain did not join Emma in the lord’s chamber that night. He was keeping vigil in the chapel, where Robert’s body lay with lighted candles at the head and foot of the bier.

  The funeral was the next morning, and Dain spent the second night after his return in the great hall tending to his wounded men. According to Blake, Dain also served the dawn watch on the battlements. The day after the funeral he and Emma bid farewell to Gavin’s men-at-arms, who were returning to Wroxley. Once Gavin’s men were gone Dain rode off to Trevanan to oversee the rebuilding of the houses ruined by the outlaw attack. He stayed there for several days.

  Emma understood that he did not want to lie with her so soon after his son’s death. She could not imagine how terrible it must be to lose a child, and she longed to comfort him, but for the present she was not going to object to anything he did. She would not do or say anything that might increase his distress. In the meantime, until he was ready to think about lying with her, she held his permission to begin to make herself a vital part of life at Penruan.

  She started by ordering the stillroom cleaned, from its cobweb-hung ceiling to its dusty floor. At first the maids objected, but the cook and Sloan both bore witness that Dain had granted her the right to open and use the room.

  By midday after Dain’s departure for Trevanan the stillroom was scrubbed and all of the old, dusty herbs had been removed. It was time to begin replenishing the herbal supplies. Emma and Hawise spent the hours after the midday meal in the kitchen garden, cutting the few herbs grown by the cook.

  “We have made a good start,” Emma said as she hung the last bunch of mint from a ceiling beam. She jumped lightly down from the stool on which she had been standing. “Tomorrow we will begin searching the countryside for wild herbs.”

  The two women set out on horseback in early morning, taking Blake with them and heading for the high inland moors. The day was fair and warm, with only a few clouds dotting the deep blue sky. It was Emma’s first real look at the Cornish countryside, and she was surprised to see how few trees there were. Most of the moorland was covered in low bushes, heather, and grasses. What trees did grow in that wild landscape were clustered near the streams and they were poor, stunted things, their branches permanently stretching toward the south, having been shaped that way by the constant wind that blew off the sea.

  Most of this information was imparted by Blake, who possessed an apparently endless supply of knowledge about the area around Penruan. Emma supposed his knowledge was the result of boyhood explorations.

  “We must take care to keep to the path,” Blake said as they rode along. “Don’t ever go wandering on the moor alone. You will have to live here for a long time before you learn just where the dangerous bogs are. Once, shortly after I came to Penruan, I was almost sucked into a bog.”

  “How did you escape?” Emma asked. She expected to hear a tale of boyish courage that involved Blake desperately grasping the branches of a nearby bush at the very last moment and slowly, with great effort, pulling himself out of the muck by his own strength. His actual response startled her.

  “I am sure I would have drow
ned,” Blake said, almost somber in his unusual seriousness, “but my life was saved by the beautiful lady who haunts the moor.”

  “You were saved by a ghost?” cried Hawise, her eyes going huge and round at Blake’s words.

  “No, not a ghost,” Blake answered with a touch of impatience. “The lady is a benevolent spirit who warns travelers when they stray from the solid paths, and helps those who become mired in the bogs. Animals, too; I once saw her pull a lamb out of a bog while its dam stood by, bleating in fear for its baby.”

  “Then, you have seen this mysterious lady more than once?” Emma asked, her curiosity piqued by Blake’s story. Mirielle had taught her that there were beings of air or water or fire, creatures not of the human realm. Like people, though, some of them were good and some were evil. Thus, she was ready to believe what Blake said and to agree with him that the lady who pulled him from the bog was most likely one of the good spirits. Emma had never met a non-human spirit. She wondered if she would meet such a creature while she searched for herbs. The possibility was unsettling, but exciting, too. Blake was obviously not afraid of the spirit he had seen. But Emma could tell that Hawise was frightened.

  “I am not the only person who has seen her,” Blake said. “Sloan has spoken to her, though he says she did not respond when he asked who she was and where she came from, and Dain has seen her from a distance. I once heard him talking to Sloan about the lady.”