The Sorceror's Revenge (40 page)

             
‘Nicholas…’ she breathed moving towards him, her hands outstretched.  ‘Is it truly you?’

             
‘Anne, my beloved wife.’ Nicholas reached her, sweeping her into his embrace.  ‘You asked for time and I have feared to come lest you sent me away. Are you ready to come to me now?’

             
‘I thought you were angry because I sent you away before,’ she said looking up at him in wonder.  ‘I wished so much that I had come with you but I was afraid that Robert would pursue us and take me back.  He warned me that he would kill us all, my children, you, and me at the last so that I should see you all suffer…’ She made a choking sound.  ‘I have been in such torment for I longed to be with you and our children.  You have them safe, do you not – all of them?’

             
‘Yes, I have them.  They are in France, waiting for me to bring their mother to them.  Mary is nervous of meeting you and Sebastien is a little vague for I think he was not well treated where he was and I have helped him to forget.’

             
Her eyes met his.  ‘Tell me, Nicholas. When my memory was lost when I recovered from giving birth to the twins and I did not know my name or who I was – did you help me to forget?’

             
Nicholas smiled and touched her cheek with his fingertips.  ‘I swear I did not, Anne.  Your illness and your grief did that for you, though for my sins I did nothing to help you remember. I wanted you to stay with me – was I wrong?’

             
Melloria shook her head.  ‘Had you not kept me and loved me I should never have known the true meaning of love.  Robert swore he loved me but he wanted to own me. You were so gentle and loving. When you read to me from The Song of Roland there was music in your voice and you touched my soul.  I could never love anyone but you, Nicholas.’

             
‘Not one hour has passed since you were taken from me that I have not thought of you and longed to hold you in my arms.’  He touched his lips to hers, his kiss soft and tender.  ‘You feared Robert, Anne, but there was no need.  I learned my lesson well that day.  I have more than an hundred armed men to protect us.  We shall not be taken off guard again.  I swear I shall protect you with my last breath.’

             
Her eyes were fast on his face as she asked, ‘Forgive me, but I must know – you had nothing to do with Robert’s death?’

             
‘I swear that I did not send the assassin to kill him.  I knew Kerrin of Shrewsbury and I knew that he hated Robert Devereaux, because he stole Rhoda Morgan from him.  I had no part in your husband’s murder, though I am not blameless for I might have prevented it had I chosen to lift my hand.’

             
‘I wished for his death so that I might be free,’ Melloria said.  ‘It was a sin but I cannot feel regret.  Is that wicked, Nicholas?’

             
‘After the things he did to you, many a woman would have taken the knife and cut out his black heart herself.’ Nicholas smiled.  ‘We are but human and we have human failings. Forget him now.  We shall return to France and then we shall be married…’ He gazed into her eyes.  ‘Would you be Melloria or Anne?’

             
‘I was happy as Anne Malvern and I shall be happy as your wife, whether you be Nicholas or Count Niccolai.’

             
‘Then you shall be Anne, my love and my wife.’  He took her hand.  ‘Come, we must make our farewell to Beatrice for she has done much for us.’

             
Anne smiled and took his hand.  ‘I have some of your journals, Nicholas.  I saved them in case you needed them.’

             
‘I saw the message you left for me at Malvern all these many years past.  It gave me hope that one day I would win you back again.  The waiting has been long and lonely, Anne, but it is ended at last.  There was much to do to prepare for this day but now the tyrant has fallen and we have our reward.’

             
‘Much to do?’  She was puzzled.  ‘Surely Robert brought his downfall on himself, did he not?’

             
‘Had he been a better man his life might have turned out very differently, for then you would have loved him.’ Nicholas smiled and led her from the chapel.  ‘You know that I want only your happiness, do you not?’

             
‘Yes, I do…’ Anne smiled at him.

             
She must not question what had happened.  At the back of her neck she could feel a strange tingling sensation and she had the feeling that Nicholas had not told her the whole truth.  He had admitted that he might have prevented Robert’s death had he chosen, but had he helped bring about Robert’s fall from grace with the King?

             
For one fleeting moment she recalled the book of ancient spells she had seen in Nicholas’s chamber at Malvern.  He had told her that he had destroyed it but was it possible that the tales told of him were true, at least in part?  Had he brought about the reckless mood that had driven Robert to his destiny by using the black arts?

             
No, such thoughts were disloyal.  Nicholas had found her lost daughter.  He had rescued her son and taken Iolanthe back, now he had come for her.  She put the last of her doubts from her.  The past was over and she would make an end to it. Melloria and all that had happened to her had gone.  She was Anne, Nicholas’s wife.  Her children and happiness waited for her in France.  She would not allow foolish thoughts or doubts to cast a shadow over that happiness.

             
Nicholas was a good man.  He might take risks when preparing his cures in the hope of discovering something to save life, but he was not a sorcerer.  His cures were the result of hard work and research.

             
‘We must say farewell to Beatrice.  I think she has been unlike herself of late.  Perhaps it has been a burden for her to have me here, though she has never said it.’

             
‘Your sister has her own burdens to bear,’ Nicholas said and his eyes were thoughtful.  ‘We can do little for her, Anne.  I fear she must wrestle with her conscience alone.’

             
‘Her conscience?’

             
‘She is a nun,’ Nicholas said.  ‘Her life is devoted to God but perhaps she has loved you too well.  Once you have gone she will be able to return to the old ways.’

             
‘Yes, I think you may be right.’ Anne felt a cold shiver down her spine.  ‘We must leave at once for I cannot wait to see my children…all my children.’

* * *

Beatrice kissed her sister’s cheek and looked into her eyes for a long moment, then she smiled.

             
‘You are truly happy now, sister.  In the end all is well for you and I am satisfied.’

             
‘Much of my happiness is due to you.  Had you not protected me and cared for me when my son was born, Robert might have killed us both.  You gave me sanctuary and stood up to Robert for me. I can never thank you enough.’

             
‘I did my duty,’ Beatrice said.  ‘May God bless and keep you and all those you love,’ she said and made the sign of the cross over her sister’s head.’

             
‘Mother Abbess, I wish to add my grateful thanks to Anne’s,’ Nicholas said.  ‘I have been told of what happened to the money you should have had last month and I have purchased two small farms for your use.  In future your income will be sent in goods and you will have the produce of the farms to sell for anything more you need.’

             
‘You have been more than generous. I believed you were our benefactor but I was never sure.  When I helped my sister I had no thought of reward but the Church is always grateful for any gift.  You have named my sister Anne, and I believe it suits her.  Keep her from all harm, sir – and I mean
all
harm.’

             
‘Your sister will be safe with me,’ Nicholas replied, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.  ‘Whatever has been done was done for love of her, as you know well, Mother Abbess.’

             
He knew she had prayed for Robert’s death.  How could he know – unless he was a sorcerer?  She had let her sister go with him and the sin would lie heavy on her conscience.

             
She watched until the party had ridden from the abbey courtyard and disappeared beyond the high walls that cut  them off from the outside world. Then, suddenly, she clutched at her arm, sinking to her knees as the pain spread through her and she keeled over.

             
‘Mother…what ails you?’ one of the sisters rushed to her, kneeling on the ground by her side.  ‘You are ill?  It is the distress of parting from the countess.  Shall we go after her and call her back?’

             
Beatrice shook her head.  She tried to speak but the words would not come. Beatrice closed her eyes. She was not aware of her flock gathered about her, of the tears and weeping and anxiety poured out as the nuns lifted her with Brother Joseph’s help and took her to her bed.

55

Anne looked at the beautiful chateau with surprise and pleasure.  She had not expected anything like this when Nicholas told her they were to live at his home in France.  Malvern had been a forbidding place, once a monastery but built on the simple lines of a century or more ago. The chateau was like a palace; its walls of honey coloured stone blending into its surroundings with a warm, faded charm that immediately captured her heart.  Its spires and form made her think of a cathedral, and when she said as much Nicholas smiled and agreed that it had first been commissioned by a master builder who had worked on some of the great churches in France and Spain.

             
Inside, the ceilings of the lower chambers were very high and the formal rooms were spacious, the roof arched and beautifully painted with pastoral scenes or cherubs and mystical creatures.  The main hall had a colonnade of graceful marble statues and much of the furniture was ornate and of the Italian style: the kind of thing that might have graced a Roman villa.

             
At the back of the house several rooms opened through arches directly onto the gardens without doors or windows.  The grounds were extensive, the house hidden from curious eyes at the front and protected by a high wall and heavy iron gates.  At the back there were secluded walks, beds of scented flowers, trees, shrubs and a pool where Nicholas told her they could bathe on hot evenings when the nights seemed airless.

             
After she had caught her breath, she turned to him eagerly.  ‘Where are the children, Nicholas?’

             
‘They have their own apartments upstairs,’ he told her. ‘But listen, I think I hear voices.  They may be playing by the pool.  I know that Sebastien has a boat he likes to sail and the pool is shallow enough that they can come to no harm.’  He held out his hand to her. ‘Dearest one, let us go and find them…’

             
Anne took his hand, her heart thumping wildly.  She was about to see her son for the first time since she was forced to give him up and the daughter she had lost at birth.  Would Mary look like Iolanthe and was Nicholas’s son like him?

             
The children were playing at the edge of the pool.  Iolanthe seemed to be in charge and was directing Sebastien in his efforts to sail the small boat.  They were poking it with sticks, trying to make it sail across the pool.  The pool itself was beautiful, set amongst scented scrubs and roses, and tiled with a mosaic of ceramics in a pretty blue that reflected the colour of the sky.  Anne watched the two who played together for they squabbled, as children will, but seemed happy.  Glancing at the girl who stood alone, her heart caught for there was a look on Mary’s face that contained such longing it made Anne want to weep. Her daughter looked lonely and shut out, as if she felt she did not belong.  Then Mary turned her head and saw them.  Her expression changed to one of delight and she rushed at Nicholas, her arms outstretched.

             
‘Father,’ she cried.  ‘Father, you are home.’

             
‘Yes, my daughter,’ Nicholas said catching her as she flung herself at him and swinging her into his arms and holding her above his head.  He laughed up at her as she shouted her pleasure, then brought her down and, taking her hand, turned her to face Anne.  ‘And this is your Mama.  She has longed to see you for so many years.  Say hello to her, Mary.’

             
Mary’s gaze turned to Anne, uncertain and awkward, as if she feared her reception.  Anne dropped to her knees and held out her arms to her.  She had longed for her lost daughter, hearing her cry and feeling her pain and sadness for so many years.

             
‘Mary, my lovely lost darling,’ she cried, tears trickling down her cheeks.  ‘I am so glad that your father found you.  I have thought of you so often and wept for you.’

             
‘Mama…’ Mary approached diffidently.  ‘You are my Mama?’