She did not doubt his words. He had never
questioned her abilities. She knew she had Hugh to thank for
Gavin’s open-mindedness where another man might have accused her of
heresy or witchcraft. In Hugh’s absence, Gavin was the only person
she could trust. In the midst of danger and deception and dark
magic, they had only each other for strength.
“On the day of my tenth birthday my nurse
Cerra gave me a crystal sphere,” she began. She told him all of it,
from her first vision before her parents and Cerra died to the
image she had seen in the crystal just an hour before, when she had
watched while the walls of Wroxley fell into rubble and flame at
the climax of a terrible battle, and she recounted how she had seen
a dark shape laughing in triumph over the wreck of the castle.
“We must prevent this dreadful end,” she
finished. “I place my power at your disposal, Gavin. I am willing
to do whatever needs to be done to free Wroxley and its people and
to make you and Brice well again.”
“How are we to accomplish this when we don’t
know who we are fighting?” he asked.
“It’s possible that Ewain the blacksmith
could help us.”
“Ewain?” Gavin shook his head. “He’s a good
man and I think an honest one, but what can a blacksmith do against
a powerful mage?”
“Ewain works with metals,” she said. “He has
a strong affinity with the ores he uses and thus with the earth
itself. When I first began to experiment in alchemy, Ewain
surprised me by how much he knew that I did not. He may know about
those lines that made Alda so interested in this castle. I am going
to talk to him.”
“Not without me, you aren’t.” Tossing back
the covers, Gavin swung his feet to the floor.
“You are too ill to be out of bed,” Mirielle
protested. Hearing the squire come into the room she looked to him
to back her. “Philip, this madman thinks he can leave his bed.
Please tell him otherwise.”
“If he thinks he can, then he will,” said the
squire. “What are your orders, my lord?”
“You have both lost your wits!” Mirielle
cried.
When Gavin stood up she turned her back on
him because he was naked and she did not want to embarrass the
squire with evidence of her familiarity with his master’s body. She
had to fight the strong urge to go into Gavin’s arms. She wanted to
make love with him again. Telling herself that passion must wait
until a safer time, she spoke over her shoulder.
“This is irresponsible of you, my lord. We
need you healthy and you won’t recover if you don’t stay in bed.
Leave this matter to me. I will talk to Ewain.”
“Better to die armed and fighting,” Gavin
said, pulling on his shirt and hose as he spoke, “than to give in
to weakness and die in bed. Philip, bring my chainmail. I have a
feeling I’m going to need it.”
“No!” Mirielle yelled at the squire.
“My lady, I would remind you that I give the
orders here,” Gavin told her. “Philip, when you have finished
arming me you are to go to Sir Brice’s room and ask him to join his
cousin and me in the outer bailey. If he is well enough,” Gavin
added with a stern look for Mirielle, who had whirled on him in
anger at hearing these instructions.
She was appalled to discover how quickly he
had dressed. Philip was holding the chainmail tunic while Gavin
thrust his arms into it. Mirielle could see there was no stopping
Gavin. He was going to do what he thought was right. But perhaps
she could still protect her cousin.
“Tell Sir Brice he is to stay in bed,”
Mirielle said to the squire.
“Inform him that we have been coddled
enough,” Gavin interrupted, his face and tousled hair emerging
through the neck of the tunic. “Tell Sir Brice it’s time for true
men to be on their feet, fighting for their lives and their loved
ones. Say he can redeem any blot that he imagines still stains his
honor by fighting at my side.”
“Aye, my lord. I will tell him.” Having
adjusted Gavin’s chainmail so it would hang evenly from his wide
shoulders, Philip handed him his sword and belt. At Gavin’s nod,
the squire escaped the room in rather unseemly haste.
“You have frightened off the lad,” Gavin
complained, fastening his sword belt.
“Would that I could frighten you back into
bed,” Mirielle snapped at him.
“I thought you would understand that no
knight worthy of his title would let a woman fight his battles for
him while he lounges in bed.”
“I do understand.” Tears sparkled on her
eyelashes. She took a deep breath to calm herself before she
continued. “It’s my fear for you speaking. I know we are bound to
fight to the last breath.”
“If we do not,” he said, “this mage will
destroy us and use the power in those magical lines you talk about
to control Wroxley so firmly that he can never be driven out. I
know this as surely as if Hugh were speaking in my ear. Then what
will happen to the people who live here? What will become of you
and me?”
“I’m afraid you will be killed.” The words
were torn from her heart. They voiced her deepest, most horrifying
fear. If it were necessary in a good cause, she could give up her
magic, her alchemical experiments, even her simplest herbal
nostrums. She could give up her own life. But she could not live
without Gavin.
He caught her arms, drawing her near and,
despite his pale and gaunt face, there was in him a flash of the
Gavin she had seen on that very first day, when Mauger had refused
to allow two unknown pilgrims into the castle.
“Whatever happens to us, we cannot let the
evil mage win,” Gavin said.
“No.” She put her hands on his shoulders,
feeling the cool chainmail links and, beneath the armor, the
muscled strength of him. “I’m not afraid for myself, only for you.
Gavin -” She stopped, wondering if this was the right time to tell
him what she hadn’t said while they made love, or if speaking the
truth might weaken him by making him overly cautious for her
sake.
“I love you.” He said it for her. “And if you
love me, there is no magic on earth that can prevail against us.
Your love will give me all the strength and courage I need.”
“You are everything to me. You owned my heart
long before you had my maidenhood,” she told him. He caught her
closer still, and she did not care that she was pressed against
metal when she would have preferred his warm skin. His lips were
warm. His tongue was hot. The arms clasping her seemed as strong as
ever.
“Put down those bellows,” Ewain said to his
apprentice. “Get some water from the well and cool yourself for a
few minutes. Take your time about it, and when you come back bring
a bucket of water for me.” Ewain waited until the boy was gone
before he looked at Gavin again.
“Yes, my lord, I do know of those lines.”
Seen in the glow from his forge, Ewain’s broad face revealed his
puzzlement. “Master Hugh asked me about them, too.”
“Tell us about them,” Gavin commanded.
“They are ancient. The lines were here before
men came to this part of England.”
“What are they?” Gavin asked.
“It’s hard to explain.” Ewain scratched his
head, thinking. “You see, my lord, there is an energy that courses
through the earth, and those lines are the paths the energy takes.
‘Tis said the energy is greatest in the places where the lines
cross.”
“And Wroxley is such a place,” Mirielle
stated, recalling what Alda had said about the power that lay deep
inside the earth.
“Aye, my lady, it is,” Ewain agreed with her.
“The man who was smith before me told me when I started as his
apprentice that the energy of those lines gave added strength to
the metals he forged. Since I have been the castle smith, I have
only rarely had any problem with metals.
“It’s odd,” Ewain went on, “that the times
when I have trouble are the times of death. When Lord Udo died, I
could make no usable object for two days beforehand and for a week
afterward. The same thing happened when Sir Paul the seneschal
died. That was a bad time for me, with the seneschal’s death coming
so close on Lord Udo’s. For almost a month my forge did not heat
well and everything I made cracked or was so poorly shaped it had
to be destroyed. ‘Twas a long time to go without even a decent
horseshoe for all my work.”
“What of the weeks since I’ve returned?”
Gavin asked. “Have there been any interruptions since then?”
“I could not work well during Mistress
Donada’s last days,” Ewain said. “But, ‘tis strange, my lord, that
Lady Alda’s death has had no bad effect. In fact, my work goes
better now than it has for years.”
“Which is just what we would expect,” Gavin
said to Mirielle.
“My lord, may I speak plainly?”
“Of course, Ewain. Anything you can tell us
may prove useful.”
“From the questions you’ve put to me I think
you know that all has not been well at Wroxley for some time. I
date my own sense of uneasiness from the time of your father’s
death. After Lord Udo was no more, Lady Alda was in charge and, if
you will forgive me for saying so, my lord, your late wife was not
a good woman. I know she hated me, though why she should I never
could discover.”
“It was because of the lines, Ewain.”
Mirielle spoke because Gavin was frowning at the blacksmith’s words
and she did not want Ewain to think he was in any way at fault for
his master’s ill humor. “Alda had discovered how to use the power
of the lines. She probably resented the legitimate strength that
you are able to draw from them.”
“She was a sorceress?” Ewain nodded. “I can
believe it. There were rumors that she used magic to keep herself
so beautiful through the years. But, Lady Mirielle, if that’s so
and Lady Alda is dead, then Wroxley ought to be released from her
spells.”
“It isn’t,” Gavin said. “Not yet. But it soon
will be, I promise you.”
“You are saying there’s someone else.” Ewain
spoke slowly, looking from Gavin to Mirielle. “Did you think I am
the second mage? Is that why you asked those questions?”
“Not at all,” Mirielle said at once. “I know
you too well ever to think ill of you, Ewain. You are a good and
true man. We have questioned you because Lord Gavin and I wondered
if you might know something that would help us discover who the
second mage is.”
“Perhaps I should not say this.” Ewain
hesitated. “It’s not my way to accuse anyone without cause, but I
have always wondered about Mauger’s unflinching loyalty to Lady
Alda. For a man of his rough character, his devotion seemed
peculiar to me. Of course, it was Lady Alda who insisted that he be
made watchman a few years ago, so his loyalty might have been
gratitude on Mauger’s part.”
“Mauger.” Gavin spoke the name slowly, as if
he were mulling over a thought he was as yet unwilling to
speak.
“Mauger knew Lady Alda all of her life,”
Ewain said. “He might know something about her, and about this
unknown mage, that could be useful to you, my lord.”
“Mauger first came to Wroxley with Alda, when
I brought her here as my bride.” Still Gavin spoke slowly. “We will
most certainly ask a few questions of that most loyal watchman and
insist on honest answers from him. I have no doubt that what he
says will prove interesting.” Taking Mirielle by the elbow, Gavin
stepped to the door of Ewain’s workshop.
“My lord!” Ewain’s voice rose in fear.
“Look!”
They did not need to look. From the silence
and the sudden darkness in the workshop it was easy to tell why
Ewain was afraid. A moment ago the forge had been roaring with
flames, for Ewain’s apprentice had applied the bellows just as
Gavin and Mirielle appeared. But now that same red-hot forge was
cold and dark. The oil lamps that Ewain kept hanging from the
rafters to provide the light he needed for his work had also gone
out. A cold wind gusted through the smith’s workshop.
“Stay inside,” Gavin ordered Mirielle. “You,
too, Ewain.”
Mirielle did not obey him. She followed Gavin
out of the workshop and Ewain was right behind her.
They found the outer bailey deep in gloom.
Heavy gray clouds loomed just above the battlements and the wind
was rising. The bailey, usually a bustling place, was deserted.
Instinctively, Mirielle knew that the inner bailey was also empty.
Wherever the inhabitants of Wroxley were in that dark hour, they
were not out of doors. She could only hope they were safe.
Those thoughts vanished when Ewain cried out
and pointed to the battlements. There, near the left tower of the
main gate, a lone figure stood looking down at them. There were no
men-at-arms to be seen, just that one man in a black cloak that
billowed outward in the wind.
“Mauger,” Gavin shouted. “Come down from
there. I want to talk to you.”
Mirielle could see Mauger throw back his head
and laugh, though no sound carried to her ears. An eerie sense of
recognition engulfed Mirielle. She had observed this scene before.
Watching Mauger, she comprehended the secret meaning of her
vision.
“Gavin,” she cried. “He is the second mage.
I’m certain of it. This is the scene I watched in the crystal
sphere and Mauger is the man I saw, who caused the downfall of
Wroxley.”
“I cannot allow that to happen.” Gavin gave
no sign that he was surprised by Mirielle’s words, a fact that made
her think he had worked out in his own mind who the evil mage must
be. “If Mauger won’t obey me and come down, then I will go to him.
Stay here, Mirielle.” Unsheathing his sword Gavin started for the
gatehouse, where the nearest steps were that led to the
battlements.
“Wait!” Mirielle went after him. “You cannot
overcome him with a sword. Gavin!”
It seemed to Mirielle that time was
unraveling. She was racing up the stairs to the battlements, the
same spiral stairs down which she had hurried on a foggy day in
March, to meet Gavin and her destiny. On that day, too, Mauger had
been on the battlements. Now she was running back up the stairs,
again hastening to Gavin and to whatever fate awaited them when
they reached Mauger. From the image she had seen in the crystal
sphere, it would not be a happy destiny.