Witchstruck (11 page)

She made a noise under her breath, and I felt sure she did not believe me.

‘You know why he was sent here, of course,’ she bit out, still staring out of the window. ‘He and his “holy” master.’

‘To . . . to instruct you further in the ways of the Catholic faith?’

‘To spy on me!’ Her jewelled hands gripped the windowsill convulsively, then Elizabeth seemed to force herself to relax. She beckoned me closer and lowered her voice again. ‘My sister does not trust me. Nor does Prince Philip, her Spanish husband-to-be. These two Catholic priests have been sent here to watch whatever I do and say. I am observed at every turn, and my movements reported to my sister. Who then tells me she keeps me prisoner here for my own safety and well-being!’

Father Vasco was a hostile and unpleasant man who seemed to hate Elizabeth and the Protestant faith she had professed under her brother’s reign. I could well believe he was here to make mischief for the princess. But could Alejandro be spying on Elizabeth and sending secret reports back to London? Was such a thing possible?

I thought of those cool dark eyes, his swift and calculating intelligence, the way he had bribed that guard so he could speak to me last night . . .

Oh yes, it was possible.

‘I have no proof,’ Elizabeth continued under her breath, her voice bitter. ‘Nor can I send them away without sinking
myself
deeper in trouble, for I promised to offer hospitality to any priests who should come to instruct me. But I would have you befriend Alejandro, since he finds you of interest. Watch him for me, both him and Father Vasco. Let me know if my suspicions are correct. Only be cautious. Do not grow too close to him. These priests are dangerous and not to be trusted, you understand?’

‘Yes, my lady.’

She turned away from the view, seeming to shake off her anger. ‘Now, I imagine the boy is still waiting outside to discover the outcome of this interview. Better call him in quickly, before Bedingfield returns.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

I curtseyed and opened the door to find Alejandro de Castillo waiting there, two guards blocking his way with crossed pikestaffs. His dark eyes searched my face.

‘The Lady Elizabeth wishes to speak with the priest,’ I told the men coldly. They dropped their pikes aside and let him enter.

I closed the door in their faces, though I knew that as soon as Bedingfield returned he would demand the door be left open, so there could be no secret discussions between us. Elizabeth was, after all, still under suspicion of treason herself.

‘Alejandro de Castillo,’ she addressed him formally, and signalled him to rise from his respectful bow. ‘You came here with your master to keep us all in the Catholic faith when we
are
far away from court. But will you pray for this girl too, priest?’ He began to reply, but Elizabeth cut him short. ‘Will you watch over one who has been accused of practising the dark arts?’ She looked at me, her voice shaking slightly, and I did not know why I had always thought her cold and distant. ‘I believe Meg to be innocent of those charges. But her immortal soul stands in some danger, I fear.’

We could hear Bedingfield returning. His familiar tread echoed up the wooden stairs, heavy in his outdoor boots. Blanche Parry’s voice was raised as she followed him, perhaps as a covert warning to her mistress that she would soon be under observation again.

Alejandro bowed again, his face solemn. ‘It is a great honour to serve you in this way, Your Highness. I shall indeed pray for Meg Lytton, and watch over her immortal soul while I am here at Woodstock.’

Elizabeth’s mouth twisted in a smile. ‘Sir, I thank you, but you must address me as “my lady”. I am no longer a princess.’

‘You are the daughter of a king, Your Highness. Until you are Queen yourself, you must always be . . .
una princesa
.’

‘Hush, sir, are you trying to land me in trouble too?’ But Elizabeth laughed, and already she looked better, her cheeks lightly flushed, her eyes sparkling at this flattery. She allowed Alejandro to kiss her hand and, as Bedingfield and Blanche Parry entered the room, even addressed him in fluent Spanish, which I had heard she had learned as a child.

Alejandro smiled at the princess with sudden, glowing warmth. He replied in the same language, only falling silent when Bedingfield interrupted, asking him irascibly to ‘Speak English!’ before adding to the princess, ‘You are fortunate, my lady, in your gift for foreign tongues. But alas, I have been instructed to hear all your conversations and so must request you to stick to plain English when you speak in front of me.’

Alejandro bowed again to Elizabeth, and led me from the room, still doffing his cap with great courtesy.

Outside the door, I stared up into his bronzed face. I was suddenly breathless, aware of how lucky I was to have escaped with my life today.

‘What did she say to you?’

Infuriatingly, Alejandro shook his head, still smiling. ‘I will tell you one day. But not today. Come!’ He seized me by the hand and began leading me down the stairs.

‘Where are we going?’ I demanded.

‘I have been put in charge of your immortal soul,’ he told me firmly, ‘so we are going to take the Holy Sacrament. I shall wake Father Vasco from his siesta and he will hear your confession.’

‘But I don’t have anything to confess.’

‘Nothing?’

‘No,’ I insisted stubbornly, hanging back against the tug of his hand. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘
De verdad?
’ Alejandro stopped and looked back at me. ‘I
find
it hard to believe that, Meg Lytton. Especially when I was exploring the old palace early this morning and happened to find this.’ He felt beneath his jacket, and drew out my aunt’s black-handled dagger.

I stared, speechless.

‘Your immortal soul . . .?’ he queried again.

‘Is perhaps a little bit in danger,’ I breathed, nodding. How had he found my aunt’s athame? I thought I had hidden it safely. There were footsteps below us on the stairs. My eyes met his. ‘Put that away. Would you see us both hanged?’

He handed me the dagger. I drew up my heavy skirts, not caring what he might see, and hid the dagger in the top of my woollen stocking. By the time the guard passed us, I was respectable again, if a little red in the face.

We went downstairs together to find Father Vasco. Considering what the princess had told me of his mission here, I was surprised that Alejandro had neither betrayed me nor used the dagger to blackmail me. After all, he could easily have threatened to take the dagger to Marcus Dent.

What Alejandro might have demanded in return for his silence, I dared not consider. Though I couldn’t help but think that it would not have been a hardship to give in to
his
demands.

I caught myself staring furtively at my unlikely saviour during Mass, perplexed by Alejandro’s unexpected help in avoiding the hangman’s noose. I had never found it too hard to understand people, to see almost at a glance what they
wanted
and why. Yet Alejandro was a riddle I could not solve. It seemed as if I had been mistaken in thinking him my enemy, but yet I must remain cautious.

I was in the old palace herb garden a few days later, sent on an errand to gather fresh bay leaves for the cook, when Blanche Parry finally cornered me. She had been trying to get me alone all day and so far I had carefully avoided her. I did not know what she wanted, but I could see from her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes that she was angry.

‘Not so fast. It’s time you and I had a talk,’ Blanche insisted as I tried to slip past, a muttered excuse on my lips about the cook waiting for me.

I said nothing but waited, eyes downcast, herb basket cradled on my arm, to hear what I had done to offend her. There was never any point arguing with Blanche when she was in this mood.

‘You may have fooled the others, but you can’t fool me,’ Blanche said fiercely. ‘I know you for a witch.’

I raised my eyes to her face at that. Knew me for a witch, did she? I considered a few spells my aunt had taught me, methods of ensuring a person’s silence. But they were all dangerous and could easily go wrong. I knew Elizabeth would never forgive me for working magick against her faithful lady-in-waiting.

Although I had stayed stubbornly silent, my expression must have betrayed my anger. Blanche made the sign of the
cross
, as though afraid I might turn her into a toad at any moment.

‘Don’t look at me like that, Devil’s child.’ She saw my involuntary movement, and her face twisted with malice. ‘Oh yes, I remember the gossip about your mother. Cat Canley was a witch too, though she knew better than to flaunt it at court. But she was too friendly with poor Lady Elizabeth’s mother, and look what happened there. Queen Anne suffered a terrible death, her head struck clean from her body!’

‘That was not my mother’s doing,’ I said coldly, struggling to control myself.

‘Perhaps not.’ Blanche Parry levelled a shaking finger at me, her voice a vehement whisper. ‘But the same will happen to you one day, Meg Lytton, if you keep encouraging my mistress in the dark arts.’

A tide of red moved across my vision, and I could no longer see Blanche Parry; she was just a dim figure against the sunlight. The herb basket tumbled to the floor, spilling bay leaves across the narrow sandy path. I raised my hand, pointing at Blanche with stiffly outstretched fingers, and vaguely heard her shriek.

But before I could speak the words, a familiar voice cut across my rage like a dash of cold water, shocking me back to myself.

‘Meg?’ It was Alejandro, suddenly at my elbow. ‘What’s this? You’ve dropped your basket. Here, let me help you.’

Blanche Parry had backed away into a privet hedge. She stood now, covering her face with her apron and blubbering. ‘Witch! Witch!’ She raised her head to Alejandro and gasped, ‘You saw what happened,
señor
. She was going to put a spell on me.’

‘I saw nothing,’ Alejandro said sharply. He bowed to her formally. ‘Give you good day, Mistress Parry. I must take Meg back to the house, for Father Vasco has urgent need of her.’

‘Father Vasco?’ Blanche echoed blankly, staring at him over the edge of her apron.

‘Some robes that need mending before tonight’s Mass. Bedingfield will spare none of his servants for the task, and I have no skill with a needle and thread. Forgive me, Mistress Parry. My master is waiting.’

Alejandro pushed the herb basket back into my arms and led me away from the garden, his hand firm on my shoulder.

I was still trembling with rage when we reached Father Vasco’s dark little room at the top of the lodge. Alejandro gestured me inside and shut the door. There was nobody there. He threw back the shutters and the tiny room was flooded with daylight.

I stood blinking. ‘Where is Father Vasco?’

‘In the chapel,’ Alejandro said calmly.

‘But you said—’

Silently, he indicated a pile of old robes on the bed behind me. I sat down beside them and began to turn over
the
robes, hunting for rips and tears as though my life depended on it. At least it gave my hands something to do while I cooled my temper.

‘What was all that about?’ he demanded. ‘What did you think you were doing, behaving like that in broad daylight where anyone might have seen you?’

‘Mistress Parry insulted my mother,’ I muttered.

Alejandro drew a sharp breath. ‘Did she indeed?’ I looked up to see him nodding, very sombre today in a plain shirt and hose, his dark jacket unfastened. He leaned back against the wall, watching me. ‘Then I can see how you might have lost your temper with the foolish woman. But that is still no excuse for working your . . . your . . .’

He could not seem to bring himself to use the word. ‘Magick?’ I suggested.

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘For working your magick against her. You cannot be too careful after last time.’

The room was silent for a moment. My skin prickled with apprehension. Why had he brought me here?

I glanced at the closed door. ‘We should not be alone together,’ I pointed out lightly. ‘Father Vasco would not approve. Nor would Sir Henry Bedingfield.’

Alejandro did not move, leaning at his ease, his arms folded across his chest. ‘True.’

So he was living dangerously now. I could not help some amusement at the thought and hurriedly bent my head to hide my smile, running my hands over the old priest’s coarse
robes
. There was a tiny rip along the hem of one white robe, barely worth the mending. But I would play along.

‘Where is this needle and thread, then?’ I asked.

‘Do you not have one?’

‘In my chamber, yes. I don’t carry them about with me,’ I told him tartly.

Our eyes met. I could see Alejandro was remembering the last time he had been in my bedchamber, just as I was too. I had thought that would be my last night on earth.

‘Promise me,’ he said softly, ‘you will not work magick again.’

‘I cannot promise that.’

Alejandro frowned, and came to crouch before me. ‘Do you not see how magick puts your life in danger?’

‘What is my life to you?’

‘I care what happens to you,’ he said simply, and took my hands in his.

I looked down at him mockingly. ‘What, will you pray with me now?’

‘If not with you, then for you. Your immortal soul is under my protection,’ Alejandro reminded me, ‘by order of
la princesa
.’

‘Magick is my power. You are asking me to lay aside my only power in the world.’

‘There is power in being a woman.’

I raised my brows at that, and Alejandro laughed. His hands tightened on mine. ‘Come, Meg. You are still young
in
the dark arts, not yet an accomplished witch. Lay magick aside before your soul is burned away for ever.’

‘I am not as unaccomplished as you think,’ I muttered.

He was smiling. ‘Have I touched a nerve? I beg your pardon, Mistress Witch. Do not hurt me, of your kindness.’

‘You want me to prove my skill?’

‘No more tricks, I pray you.’

‘Tricks?’

Anger stirred inside me, mingled with a certain pride in my skill. I narrowed my gaze on his. So he thought my power was that of a trickster, a street magician with his cups and cards, not a true witch?