The Sorceror's Revenge (8 page)

             
‘I must send you away, Rhoda.  You are not my wife.  My wife is still alive…’

             
Rhoda gasped feeling shocked and stunned.  ‘Melloria is alive - but why did she not come to you, tell you that she lived?’

             
‘She was ill and lost her memory.  It is recovered now and she is with Mother Abbess at the convent of Saint Innocent.  She needs a little time to recover her spirit and pray for peace.’

             
‘But she will come back one day?  She will be your wife?’

             
‘Yes, that is my hope and my intention.’  Robert cleared his throat.  ‘I must make recompense to you, Rhoda.  I have taken what was not mine to take.  I shall give you money and jewels and you may leave here…’

             
‘Not to a nunnery!  I shall not be made a prisoner with those grey women who smell stale and pray all day.’

             
A faint smile touched his mouth.  ‘I think you wrong them, Rhoda, but you do not belong in such a place.  What I had in mind was that Jonathan should take you away, perhaps to another country.  I believe he would wed you and restore your honour.  He has told me that he loves you and I think…you love him?’

             
Rhoda bent her head.  She had not expected this and the feeling of excitement was strong.  ‘You are not angry?  You will let us go?’

             
‘I am relieved that you have someone who loves you and will make you happy, as I never could.’

             
‘Thank you.’  Rhoda looked up, her excitement dying suddenly as she saw his face.  He still looked so serious.  ‘What is it that you have not told me?’

             
‘My son stays here with me.  He is my heir.  Melloria has a daughter, perhaps two – but I may never have another son.  I shall take Harry as my heir and he will inherit my estate…’

             
‘No.  He is my son.  I carried him in my womb for nine months.  I gave him birth.  He is mine.  I love him.’  Rhoda was angry, her fists curling at her sides.  He had offered her so much but it was not enough.  It would tear her apart to leave her son behind.  ‘Robert, you cannot do this to me.  Please, let me take him.  I will send him back to you when he is grown to a man’s stature.’

             
‘No, this I cannot do.’  Robert’s expression was implacable.  ‘You have my terms, Rhoda.  I shall give you gold and jewels and your freedom, but you must relinquish the boy to me.  When you leave here you will not see him again.  He will be brought up to believe that Melloria is his mother.’

             
‘That is unfair.’  Tears gathered in her eyes.  She wanted to rush at him, to scream and beat him with her fists but she could only stand and stare at him as the tears spilled over and down her cheeks.  She tasted their salt on her tongue.  ‘I love him…he is mine…’

             
‘Harry stays with me.  You must go.  I am sorry but I have no choice.’

             
‘You are cruel and heartless.  Did you never care for me at all?’

             
‘You were young and pretty.  I made a mistake and I regret it.  I shall pay for it, as will you, for you should have refused me and gone to the nuns.  Pack your things.  Jonathan will be ready to leave within two hours.  I shall not see you again.’

             
Rhoda watched as he left the room.  She felt a surge of rebellion.  Why should she give into his demands?  He was not her husband.  He could not command her.  She could simply take her son and run away and yet if she did that he would come after them.  He would take back his son.

             
‘It is not fair…’ Rhoda suddenly hurled a cushion at the door between her chamber and Robert’s.  He had wronged her and now he was taking her son from her.  She was to have gold and jewels and Jonathan but not her son.  Rage built inside her.  One day she would have her revenge for all he had done.  He was the powerful lord and she but a woman, yet one day she would make him suffer.  ‘I pray that you will suffer as I do.  I pray that you will never know a moment’s true content. I pray that you…’
             
The door opened and Joanne entered followed by two more serving maids.  Joanne bent and picked up Rhoda’s son, turning to leave the room.  The other servants began to gather Rhoda’s things and pack them into a trunk and bags that would be slung over a packhorse.

             
‘What are you doing with my son?  I want him here.’

             
Joanne turned to look at her, a hint of triumph in her eyes.  ‘The earl has given his son into my care.  I shall see that he wants for nothing, my lady.  You need not fear that he will come to harm.’

             
‘Wait!  Let me look at him,’ Rhoda said.  She ran to the woman, looking down at Harry’s flushed face for a moment before bending to kiss him.  ‘I love you. I shall not forget you.’

             
‘Forgive me, my lady.  I must take him to the earl.’

             
Rhoda nodded and stood back, a coldness coming over her.  She had never loved Robert but now he had given her cause to hate him.

             
She left the servants to their work and went down to the courtyard.  Jonathan was there, speaking with some of the other men.  He was shaking hands with them and seemed to be taking leave of old friends.  As she went up to him, he turned with a smile on his lips.

             
‘Robert has agreed to let us go, my love.  Is that not good news?’

             
‘Yes.  I am glad to be free – but he keeps my son.’

             
‘His son, Rhoda.’  Jonathan looked grave.  ‘I know this grieves you, my love, but we shall have other children.  Perhaps Robert will let you visit your son one day.’

             
‘Perhaps.’ Rhoda held her anger inside.  She knew that it would be useless to beg Jonathan to avenge her wrongs.  He loved Robert as a brother. She would need time to drip poison into his ear, but perhaps in time she would make him understand and if not she would find some other way to make the earl suffer for what he had stolen from her.  ‘Yes, we shall have more children, Jonathan.’

             
He took her hands in his, looking down at her with love.  ‘Do not try to hide your pain.  I know and share it for I loved the boy as my own, but Robert has the right to keep his son.  He could have sent you to a convent but he has been generous.  We must accept what has happened and live for the future, Rhoda.’

             
‘Yes, we must live for the future,’ she said and smiled but inside she was raging.  Robert Devereaux was a careless, arrogant man who deserved to be taught a lesson, and one day it would happen.  ‘I shall be ready to leave within the hour.’

8

Melloria knelt before the altar in the chapel, her head bent in prayer.  She had spent the night asking for forgiveness and guidance, but as she rose to her feet and walked away her heart was laden with sadness.  Her grief was too overwhelming to be born, and yet there was a strange sensation of Nicholas calling to her.

             
Was he calling to her from beyond the grave or did he still live?  She was not sure.  All she truly knew was that she would not rest until she had seen his grave and said goodbye to him.

             
‘It was too cruel,’ she whispered.  ‘You did not tell me and when you did I was stunned.  I could not think clearly.  I would never have left you, Nicholas.  Though our loving was a sin I should have stayed with you.’

             
She knew now that she had never loved Robert as she loved Nicholas.  When she was married she had been proud, proud to be the wife of an earl, proud to be the mistress of fine castles, proud of her husband’s position at court – but she had never loved with her heart and body.

             
Robert spoke of loving her but she could not recall that he had ever shown her the tenderness Nicholas showed her every time he touched her.  She belonged to Nicholas.  Nothing could break that bond…not even death.

             
Yet her heart refused to believe it.  She had seen him lying there and thought him dead, but now he called to her.  As she lay in bed, waking and through every moment of her day, his heart called to her.  She knew that she would never rest until she was sure.

* * *

Melloria sat on the driving box of the cart next to Sister Selina and looked about her.  Once she would have been shamed to ride in a cart for they were reserved for criminals and murderers, but she had been grateful for the offer.  There were things she needed from Malvern and she would need some way of transporting them.

If she had not seen the signs of devastation with her own eyes she would not have known what had happened here.  The dead had been carried to a place of sanctuary and the blood had washed away in the heavy rain of the previous night.  She could see no sign of life in the courtyards, and the gate had been left open rather than closed as Nicholas preferred it.

             
Nicholas must be dead.  The grief washed over her, catching at her throat and stinging her eyes with tears she would not shed.  She thrust it from her.  The time for weeping was over.  She must make her plans for the future, and that included rescuing Nicholas’s precious journals.  Until they arrived, she had been afraid that the house might have been ransacked or destroyed but it looked much as it had when she was taken away.

             
‘Wait here for me, sister,’ she said to the nun as she got down.  ‘I must fetch some things from inside the house and see how things are left.’

             
‘Would you like me to come with you?’

             
Melloria smiled as she saw the fear in the nun’s eyes.  ‘I am quite safe here.  Nicholas did not hurt me in life and would not do so in death.  His servants may have run away for there seems to be no one here.  I shall not be long.’

             
Melloria walked up to the house and pushed at the door.  It swung back easily for it had not been locked or barred from the inside.  Looking about her, she noticed that some furniture was still lying where Robert’s men had thrown it in their haste to subdue the servant’s.  She thought that certain items of silver had gone but was not interested enough to try and remember exactly what had stood where.  She had not come here for money or jewels but something far more valuable. 

             
Walking up the twisting stair that led to Nicholas’s private chambers, she was aware of feeling an oppressive sadness.  Already the house had an air of neglect.  She suspected that once the dead were buried those that survived had taken what they could carry and fled.

             
Outside Nicholas’s chamber she paused, her heart racing.  What would she find inside?  Had someone destroyed it wantonly without knowing what treasure lay between the pages of his journals?  She held her breath as she went inside and then exhaled a sigh of relief.  At first glance, it seemed that no one had been here.  Everything was just as it had been the last time she sat here with her husband.

             
Her husband…
The tears stung her eyes, because she could still think of Nicholas that way.  Her heart ached with love and grief for the good man who had been so cruelly murdered.

             
She walked to the table where he had liked to sit writing in his journals and looked for the volumes she had come to find.  There had been twenty in all…but as she counted them she saw that there were only fifteen.  Five were missing.  Who had taken them?

             
She went through to the little room where many of his herbs and mixtures were stored.  Here she thought everything was as it should be…though perhaps one or two small vessels had gone.  She believed they were very precious substances, the rarer herbs and powders that might be difficult to find.  Frowning, she returned to the outer chamber and gave a start of surprise as she saw the old woman.

             
‘Griszelda.  You are still here.  I thought everyone had gone?’

             
‘I stayed and one or two others, but they hid when they heard horses approaching.  They are afraid the earl may return but they have nowhere else to go.  Have you come back to tell us what we should do, mistress?’

             
‘I came to collect some things.  Nicholas’s journals and some personal things.  I cannot stay nor can I tell you what you should do – though Nicholas would say that you are welcome to remain and use whatever you can find.’  Melloria frowned, her grief turning like the point of a knife in her breast.  ‘His body…he was given a proper funeral?’

             
Griszelda glanced over her shoulder, a look of fear in her face.  She made the sign of the cross over her breast.

             
‘He was dead when they carried him to his bed, mistress.  I would swear to it…but when they went to bury him the next morning he had gone.  That is when most ran away.  They thought he had made a pact with the Devil and believed he had come back from the dead.’