The Sorceror's Revenge (20 page)

             
Mary’s eyes widened and her heart beat faster.  She stared at him in silence for a moment.  Then, hearing Will’s voice calling to her, she scrambled to her feet.

             
‘Will the little girl’s father take her home soon?’ she asked breathlessly.

             
‘Yes, very soon now,’ the man said and stood up.  ‘You had better go, Mary.  Will is searching for you.’

             
Mary hesitated, hardly daring to hope.  Her eyes were on him, filled with unconscious appeal. ‘Am I that little girl?’

             
‘Yes, you are my daughter.  I shall come for you soon now, my sweeting.’

             
‘Will you take Marta with us?’

             
‘Would you like me to?’

             
‘She is sick.  I do not think she can look after herself if I leave her.’

             
‘You are a good girl, Mary.  Go to Will now but tell him nothing.  This is our secret, just as before.’

             
Mary nodded.  ‘I am glad you are my father,’ she said and then turned and ran towards the inn yard, just as Will came out to look for her.

             
‘Who was that man you were talking to?’ Will asked as she went to him.  ‘What did he want?’

             
‘He asked me the way to Rouen,’ Mary said and crossed her fingers behind her back.  She did not like to lie to Will, because he was her friend.  She liked him but he was not her father.  Her father would come to take her home soon but she must keep it a secret or it might not happen.  ‘Marta told me to make myself useful but I did not know what she meant.’

             
She did not mean anything,’ Will said and caught hold of her hand.  ‘It is time for our meal now.  You can carry some soup up to your mother. That is useful enough for one day.  If your mother is better tomorrow we shall move on.’

             
‘Shall we go on the cart?’

             
Will shook his head.  ‘Say nothing to Marta, but I lost it in a game of dice.  I must try to win it back tonight or she will be angry.’

             
Mary did not answer him.  She looked back towards the meadow but the man had gone.  She felt hollow inside, because she was not sure he would keep his word.  Will always broke his promises, but perhaps her father would be different.

             
She hoped very much that he would come for her soon, because Marta was very sick and she was not sure she could take care of her if Will left them.  She wanted to meet the mother who had wept for her and the sister she had never known.

27

‘I hate you, Harry!’ Iolanthe cried and stamped her foot as her brother took the wooden doll her mother had given her.  It had a painted face and a cloth body with wooden legs and arms, but its clothes matched what Iolanthe was wearing.  She and her mother had sewn them together out of some left over material. ‘She is mine and I want her back. Now!’

             
‘Well, you can’t have her. I’ve got her and I’m keeping her,’ Harry taunted.  He was two years younger than Iolanthe, but sturdy and well able to stand up to her.  ‘I am the heir and I can have what I want.  Joanne says so.’

             
‘Joanne is only a servant,’ Iolanthe cried and her eyes filled with tears.  ‘I want my doll.’

             
She lunged at him but Harry was waiting for her.  He threw the doll away from him and went for his sister.  In another moment they were rolling on the floor struggling, kicking and punching.  Harry pulled her hair and she scratched his face and bit his ear hard.  He bled and she could taste the blood on her tongue but she kept biting. It was as if she could not let go even if she wanted. Harry started to scream and yell.

             
The door opened and Joanne came rushing in.  She pulled Iolanthe off her brother and slapped her hard on the part of her leg that showed beneath her short tunic.  Seeing the blood about Iolanthe’s mouth she was horrified.

             
‘What have you done to your brother, you wicked girl! Let me see, Harry.’  She pulled his hand away because he was holding his ear and sobbing.  His hand was covered with blood and his ear lobe was almost bitten through.  ‘You deserve to be whipped!’ She rounded on Iolanthe, slapping her across the face.  ‘You have almost bitten Harry’s earlobe off.’

             
‘What is going on here?’

             
Melloria came out of her chamber into the hall.  Both children quietened as she moved towards them.  Iolanthe’s face was very white, except for the red mark where Joanne had slapped her. Melloria took hold of Harry’s arm, giving Joanne a look that quelled her.

             
‘Let me see, Harry.  Yes, that must hurt a lot.  Come with me. I shall bathe and tend you.’  Her eyes went to Iolanthe and they were very green.  ‘Why did you do such a terrible thing, Iolanthe?  Your brother’s ear may be infected and he could be ill because of this bite.’

             
‘I didn’t mean to,’ Iolanthe said, tears trickling down her face.  She looked the picture of innocence as she wiped her eyes.  ‘Harry started it, Mama.  He took my doll and he hit me hard.  I bit him to stop him.’

             
‘Well, you should have come to me instead of fighting.  I am not pleased with either of you – and if I tell the earl he may punish you both…’ Melloria saw the look of fear in her daughter’s eyes, though Harry just grinned, as if he did not believe his father would punish him.  ‘I shall deal with you myself later, Iolanthe,’ she said and took hold of Harry’s arm.  ‘I must tend your ear, Harry, and it will hurt very much.  Do not look so pleased with yourself, because you were wrong to take Iolanthe’s doll.  You would not like it if she took your wooden sword – nor would you like it if I said you could not go riding with your father this afternoon, would you?’

             
Harry stared at her and tears sprang to his eyes.  Melloria felt a pang of guilt.  No matter how hard she tried to be a good mother to him she could not love him as she loved her daughter, though she had tried to be fair to him.  It was not his fault that his father had taken a second wife when his first still lived.

             
‘I shall not punish you if you promise me not to take the doll again.’

             
‘I promise,’ Harry said but his right hand was behind his back and his fingers were crossed.

             
Melloria sighed.  She knew it would happen again. The two were like cat and dog, always quarrelling and fighting, but this was the first time a fight had been serious.  She was not certain who was right, though Joanne clearly thought her darling Harry was the victim.  Joanne had considered herself his mother until Melloria returned from the convent, and she resented that Melloria had precedence over her.  She had been particularly surly of late and Melloria had no idea why.

             
Taking Harry into her chamber, Melloria went to the oak coffer she used as her medicine chest and took out the things she would need to repair and cleanse the boy’s badly bitten ear.  She was not certain the wound would heal and tried to think if there was anything in Nicholas’s journals that dealt with an injury of this kind.  Over the years she had found his cures useful, and it was a joy to her to read the clear hand that had written out the recipes for cures and balms.  She wished she had the skill to treat some of the illnesses that Nicholas had treated successfully, but her own skill was limited.  She would do what she could for Harry and look in the journals later.  Robert might visit her when he learned of the fight, and she had to be careful that he did not see her reading the journals.  If he knew they were hidden in her coffer, he might force her to destroy them. They had belonged to the man he hated and he would not allow her to keep them if he knew of their existence.

             
‘This is going to hurt a little, Harry, but you must be brave like your father.’

             
‘Hate Lanthe,’ he muttered.  ‘Make her sorry.’

             
‘Harry, please do not say such things.  She is your sister and you should love her.’

             
‘No, won’t love her, hate her,’ he muttered stubbornly, looking so much like his father that she sighed.

             
Melloria bathed Harry’s ear first with a lotion that she kept for treating wounds.  It stung and Harry screamed, tears running down his face. Melloria did her work thoroughly for if the ear became infected, Harry might die. When she was satisfied, she placed a pad of linen soaked in a healing balm over the bite mark and wound a bandage over and across his head to hold it in place.  He stared at her in miserable silence when she informed him it was finished.

             
‘You will not be punished further,’ she told him when she had done.  ‘You have suffered enough.  You should go to your room and rest, but if you wish to ride with your father this afternoon you may.’

             
Harry looked at her sullenly.  She reached forward to kiss him, but he moved away.  Melloria’s heart ached for him.  He must sense that she did not love him as she loved Iolanthe and that was unfair.  Robert had allowed him to believe he was her son, and it must seem that she favoured her daughter, though she tried not to show her feelings.

             
‘Tell Iolanthe to come to me.  I shall punish her for what she did was unforgivable.’

A gleam of triumph came to his eyes and he ran off, eager to tell his sister she was to be punished. 

Melloria’s heart was heavy for she loved her daughter and feared that it was what had happened when she was forced to retire to the hermitage to have Nicholas’s child in secret that had made Iolanthe sly and spiteful. She had resented being taken from her mother and was terrified both when she was snatched from Malvern and again when Robert carried her off to his home.

             
Melloria looked at her daughter as she entered the room and saw the resentment in her eyes.  Her heart caught with pain and she knew that she could not beat her.  Iolanthe had her doll by the leg and was pale and fearful.

             
‘Give me the doll,’ Melloria said.  She looked at it as Iolanthe hesitated and saw that the head had cracked right across the painted face.  ‘What happened to this?’

             
‘Harry threw it across the room and it broke.  He deserved what I did to him.’

             
‘What you did was not worthy of you, Iolanthe.  Harry is younger even if he is tall and strong for his age.  Give me the doll.’

             
Iolanthe stared resentfully, then held the doll out to her. Melloria took it and threw it into the fire.  Iolanthe’s face went white as the flames took hold and it began to burn.

             
‘She was mine not Harry’s.’

             
‘When you behave in the way I expect my daughter to behave you may have a new doll.’

             
‘Yes, Mama.  I am sorry,’ Iolanthe said in a small voice.

             
‘Come here, my love.’  Melloria opened her arms and Iolanthe went to her.  She hugged her daughter and the child wept against her breast.  ‘There, there, it is not so very bad.  The doll was spoiled.  Harry will be with his tutors every day soon and he will have no time for dolls or fighting.  I shall buy you a new doll next time the peddler calls and you will be good and not make me punish you again.’

             
‘Yes, Mama…’ Iolanthe hugged her mother and smiled into her breast.  Her old doll was broken and she had done it herself in temper.  Now her mother thought it was Harry’s fault and she would buy her a new one – and all she had to do was say she was sorry and smile as if she meant it.

28

Alfreda’s heart caught with fright as she heard the twig snap behind her and she dare not turn round, even though she believed she knew who was there watching her.  She had not come to the woods alone since the last time the earl had found her, which was almost five weeks earlier.  She’d wrestled with herself, knowing that she wanted to see him again alone and yet fearing what would happen if she did.  So she’d stayed home and helped her mother in the house, but today her mother had told her she must go foraging.

             
‘You are stealing from me again,’ his voice said from behind her and delicious chills ran up and down her spine.  She turned slowly, her breath catching in her throat as she looked at him.  There was such a hot need in his eyes, such longing that her heart seemed to slam against her ribs and she could feel the moisture run between her thighs.  Rhys had never touched her, giving her only a chaste kiss on the cheek before he left to serve the King, but she’d heard the grunts and moans from her parents’ room, which was next to where she lay at night and she knew what went on.  She ran her tongue over her lips as she looked steadily at the earl.  This time she was not frightened, merely expectant as he moved towards her, catching her to him.  ‘You are so beautiful.  Do you know how your image has haunted me?’