The Valcourt Heiress

  It didn’t matter. Merry was so afraid of this woman she felt she might choke on it.

  “You look quite stupid, Marianna. Have you nothing sensible to say? Ella told me you never shut your mouth, that you asked endless questions, of everyone, until your father boasted you knew more about shoeing a horse than the smithy. But you never asked about magick.”

  “Why should I?”

  “You heard whispers about me from your earliest years, do not deny it.”

  “Aye, I did, but it had no meaning to me since you had no meaning to me. You left me. You said that Ella told you these things about me. It appears I did not know her. Did she betray me and Father?”

  “Betrayal is nothing compared to loyalty. Loyalty is what counts, what has meaning. Ella came with me to Valcourt when I wed your father. She insisted upon remaining at Valcourt when I left, with you, so I would know you as well as she did. Ella has always owed me her loyalty.”

  Merry pictured the old woman’s face, sure Ella had loved her, hadn’t she? Merry wanted to cry, but she didn’t.

  She looked at the beautiful woman who held an ancient book in her white hands, held it as gently as one would a babe, or a lover. She slowly rose from the cot. “I am leaving now, Mother.”

  “No, you will not.”

  Merry walked to the door. She reached out her hand to grip the bronze knob, then she simply stopped. She couldn’t move. No, no, this was not possible. She closed her eyes a moment, then tried to bring her arm back to her side. Her arm didn’t move. She tried to take a step back. Nothing. It was as if she were being held by something she could not see. She concentrated on her hand, but her body seemed apart from her, not in her control. Her fingers simply wouldn’t obey her.

  “Let me go.”

  36

  She knew her mother was smiling, possibly smirking behind her. “Oh no, you will go nowhere unless I decide you will. How does it feel to be my puppet? Shall I pull one of the strings that controls you?”

  Merry looked at the bronze knob not six inches from her outstretched fingers. Were those her fingers? Was her mother controlling her, or was it something else? What did it matter?

  “I want you to turn around now and walk back to the cot and sit down. Do you understand?”

  Merry slowly lowered her arm to her side. She could move just as she could always move, but it was odd, she felt something vaguely cold lift from her. She wanted to scream, but she didn’t. She walked back and sat down on the edge of the cot. She said nothing, she was simply too afraid. She looked over at her mother, still standing at the window. Do not show fear, do not show fear. “That was very impressive, madam. What will you do next if I disagree with you? Make my tongue split apart?”

  “Who knows? I gave you but a taste of a simple spell. I learned it years ago.”

  Merry wished in that moment she could do that spell, that she could whisper strange words or flick her fingers and her mother would be held motionless for a hundred years. Maybe longer.

  “Why do you hate me?”

  A perfect brow arched upward. “Hate you? I do not hate you.”

  “You left me and Father.”

  “I had work to do, work more important than any earthly husband or babe. I took over Meizerling within that first year, and it brought me infinite freedom to do exactly as I wished. But now I need more silver, much more, so that I may do truly great things. And I thought of you, the heiress of Valcourt. Sometimes, I will admit it is possible to hate one’s tools. But I do not hate you.”

  She was a tool? “Why do you need more silver? Do you want to buy France?” She managed a sneer at her mother’s silence. “You are such a powerful witch, why do you not simply conjure up all the silver you wish?” And she snapped her fingers just as her mother had. “Why must you have that idiot Jason of Brennan try to steal it for you?”

  Her mother looked down at the book, and her lips moved. Was she reading a spell? When she looked up, she said easily, “Your ignorance is appalling, but how could it be otherwise? Your father wouldn’t have told you about my special abilities, he wouldn’t have told you anything at all. So, that means you do not know that magick is an odd science, giving unexpected insights and producing surprising results, some that even I cannot foresee or predict.

  “Aye, in the right hands, magick can manipulate the human brain, can stop the human heart, can freeze the body itself, as you now know, but unfortunately, no matter whose powerful hands mix together what metals, magick will not allow silver to come forth. But I doubt not there will be those alchemists who will continue to search for a magick formula to turn metal into silver, for most of them will be men, and men forever dream.”

  “Have you tried to make silver?”

  “Aye, once. I realized it was impossible almost immediately. You see, there was no feel of otherness in it, no scent of the miraculous hidden deep. Let the years pass and let the men dream their foolish dreams.”

  “With all the silver you say you need, what is it you wish to do that you cannot do now?”

  Her mother gently laid the old book down on the table. She ignored Merry and began to pace again, from the window to the door and back again, her stride smooth and long and young. She was treading upon a brilliant blue carpet covered with myriad strange symbols in black. What did those symbols mean, if anything, Merry wondered.

  Merry asked her, “That carpet, where did it come from?”

  “This carpet? Is it not beautiful? It was given to me by a special friend who came to manhood in that strange black forest that lies east of France. He wanted to command the wild beasts that roamed there, to make them all his minions. He wanted to explore the dark shadowed caves filled with fires that burn ice, or so he told me.” She shrugged. “Alas, he is no more. And in all the years that carpet has lain on these stones, it has never gathered dust, and never aged.”

  Merry didn’t want to understand any of this, particularly fire that burned ice, but she couldn’t help herself. “What are the symbols on it?”

  “They are a secret language from ancient Bulgar, Rostram told me one night when he had drunk too much of my special wine. It is a language that could, if interpreted correctly, grant more power than any mortal has ever known. I will admit I have not managed to unlock its secrets, but I am young, there is time.”

  “I am not like you, Mother. I do not wish people to fear me because I can blight them with a flick of my finger. I do not wish to spend my life mixing strange herbs together to see if the heavens quake. I want to marry Garron of Kersey. I wish to bear his babes and know life as his wife.”

  Her mother studied one of her white hands. “Perhaps you will marry this man you find so exciting, eventually. First, however, you will wed Jason of Brennan. You must learn patience, Marianna.”

  “No, I will not marry him. He is beyond evil.”

  “Evil? He has not the brains to be evil. He is only a foolish young man who wants more than his father has. He is a braggart who believes himself smart and important, invincible. He is of little account, really, and even his own father, Lord Ranulf, must know by now. Jason will maul you, but it will be over quickly, and he will soon tire of you. If you bear a babe or several babes, it is not important. If Garron of Kersey still wants you when it is done, you will have him.”

  Merry said, her voice steady, “I will not wed Jason of Brennan, Mother. I mean it.”

  “So you will poison him then?” Her mother smiled down at her thumbnail.

  “No, I will kill him straight and clean, and he will know why I am killing him.” She paused, just an instant. “Did you poison my father?”

  She saw surprise in her mother’s eyes. “Poison your father? Why no, I did not. I much preferred to have him alive. He was a smart man, your father. He knew me well enough not to interfere in what I wished to do. He was also wise enough not to cheat me. He always sent me the exact promised funds over the years to keep me away from Valcourt, away from you, his little angel. But most important, he kept our secre
t, and made certain that all those at Valcourt who knew as well also kept silent.”

  “Silent about what? What secret did my father keep for you?”

  Her mother ignored her. “Actually, I was saddened when he died. Do you know, the last time I bedded him, I bit his shoulder so deep he bled. Then I licked him, and within minutes, the blood and the bite mark disappeared. He was terrified for weeks.” She laughed, still seeing the look of horror on Timothy’s face.

  “But you were at Valcourt with Jason within a day and a half of his death.”

  “Ella sent me a message immediately upon his falling ill. And of course you sent a message begging me to come and heal him. Such faith in me. I know Ella believed I could make him well. Did you? Really? But the truth is I knew I could not. What Ella described to me, I believe some organ in his body simply ruptured. And of course there was my golden ball.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Helen held out her white hand. Upon her third finger was a ring with a small golden ball sitting atop it. “It looks like solid gold, and so it is, most of the time, but when I wish it, it becomes a mirror. I saw it all.” She shrugged. “Also, I was busy at Meizerling with a critical experiment and had not the time to spare simply to prove what I already knew. He was a dead man.”

  Merry was shaking so hard from rage and grief, she didn’t think she could stand it. The words spewed out of her mouth. “What you say is madness! You are mad! You cannot be my mother!”

  “Mad, am I? Hmmm, how sad that you, my daughter, think in such common terms.”

  “I also believe you are evil. Unlike Jason, you have the brains.”

  Another laugh. “You believe evil is loathesome and good is righteous? Those words exist only for churchmen to equate evil to Hell and thus scare the common herd into giving credence to the drivel that comes from their mouths. They want obedience and power, like every other benighted man on this earth, and this is how they gain it—through threats of eternal torture, or, if a man is good, they pour on promises of eternal bliss.

  “Good and evil, they having no meaning in the full course of time. Ah, well, nothing much has any meaning, truth be told.”

  “You cannot mean what you said, you cannot.”

  Helen turned to the window. “You will never know who I am or what I am, even with my little demonstration. You are really quite common, Marianna. Mayhap I should have kept you with me, made you into something worthwhile, but there was nothing in you to interest me, nothing at all. Could I have given you something to give meaning to your short number of years?”

  “Why would you even think to bother, when you say nothing has any meaning at all?”

  There was a spark of momentary interest in her mother’s eyes. “How odd that you caught me up in my own logic. I suppose that I am distressed at Jason of Brennan’s continued failures. But I have seen that Jason will likely succeed in securing the silver coins this time, with my help naturally, if only there is enough time.”

  “What do you mean, if only there is enough time? Why is time important to you? Won’t you live forever? Can’t you stop time?”

  “No, I can only extend myself so far. A pity, but mayhap there is a way, and mayhap I will be the one to find it. Could it lie in the secret language in the rug beneath my feet?

  “Ah, it is dawn. I have always loved to see the sun burst into life yet again each morning. The black clouds thicken. It will rain soon now, enough rain to rut the ground. Soon now.” She sighed. “There is so much to study, so much to learn. No matter the number of earthly years, life is still too short.” She fell silent as she continued to stare out of the narrow window. She looked back over her shoulder at her daughter. “Mayhap he will come looking for you, Marianna, who knows? But it will not matter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She paused a moment, then smiled. “In time, you may come to understand, although I doubt it.”

  37

  LONDON

  Garron couldn’t believe his ears. He stared at the frightened young man Whalen had by the arm.

  “This is Thomas, my lord, one of the king’s stable guards.” Thomas’s eyes were as wild as his tangled black hair, panting he was so afraid.

  Garron leaned close in. “You say you actually saw two men sneaking past the stables carrying a bundle?”

  “Aye, my lord, well, I almost saw them for it was dark with little moon overhead. I knew there was a body all wrapped up because it was bent in two, not all that big a body, but the men were breathing hard, like they’d walked a long way.”

  “Why did you not yell for them to stop, Thomas?”

  Thomas cast a sideways look at Whalen, lowered his head, and whispered, “I had no weapon, and I was afraid they would kill me.”

  Garron’s fingers were close to wrapping themselves around his neck. “No weapon? You are a guard. Where is your damned sword?”

  The young man’s Adam’s apple looked like it would leap out of his throat. He streaked dirty fingers through his black hair. “My lord,” he whispered, “I forgot it when I sat in the jakes with Old Claver.”

  It was close, but Garron didn’t strangle Thomas. “Who in the secret name of the Devil is Old Claver?”

  “Old Claver keeps the jakes clean and tells you a story if you must settle in.”

  Garron wanted to kill Thomas and laugh his head off at the same time.

  Thomas hurried on. “I saw my mother’s sad face and I knew my duty. I followed them, my lord, waited for my chance, for there are always a dozen guards patrolling near the east wall, so many eyes to see them and call the alarm. How could these two escape? As I neared the wall, I began to see the guards—they were all on the ground and I knew they were asleep and not dead because I heard a lot of snoring. I wanted to yell, but knew if I did and no one came, they would kill me.”

  Whalen’s stone face didn’t change expression. “They are all still unconscious,” he said to Garron. “We found wine jugs around them. The king’s physician will examine them but I believe they were given sleeping draughts. All of them drank.” His voice was colder than the ice that had covered the Thames the previous winter. Garron wondered what would happen to the guards once they awoke. Were it his decision, he’d lock them in a dungeon for a week with no food and no light.

  Whalen told Thomas to continue.

  He looked at Garron, then dropped his eyes again. “I went after them, my lord, I didn’t even hesitate, what with my poor mother’s voice speaking to me right in my ear. Just beyond the outside wall, there are a score of cooper shops. Beyond the shops at the end of a dark alley, I could make out that they tossed the bundle into the back of a cart and covered it with a blanket. I managed to climb in without them hearing me. I nearly gagged, it smelled like offal and sour ale. I felt the bundle and it was female, but she didn’t move.”

  Garron did not doubt that Merry’s mother had used a sleeping potion on the guards. What had she used on Merry? The same thing? Had Jason of Brennan been one of the two men who’d taken her?

  “It was a very long time before the cart horses stopped at the edge of a forest I didn’t recognize. I thought it was their destination, and I managed to slip out of the cart without them hearing me. Alas, they’d only stopped to relieve themselves. I wanted to relieve myself too, but I knew they might see me in the moonlight, and I saw again my mother’s sad face, and so I suffered.

  “When they continued, I had no chance to climb back into the cart. I ran after them until one of the men must have heard me and turned to look behind him. I was terrified he would see me, and mayhap he did, he called out. I ran.

  “I am sorry, my lord, but I do not know how much farther they traveled into the forest. I remember it looked black with only one path leading into it. I knew I had to come back to get help, and so I ran until I could steal a horse and ride back here.”

  Garron said very quietly, “You saw neither man’s face?”

  Thomas shook his head.

  “You heard th
eir voices. Did they sound old or young?”

  “Both sounded like older men, my lord, their voices hard.”

  So it hadn’t been Jason of Brennan or Sir Halric.

  “I memorized the way, my lord, I can take you there.”

  Garron felt a leap of hope. “Get your sword from the jakes. Hurry.” He turned to Whalen. “I wonder how they managed to get into the White Tower and down the many corridors to Merry’s room. Indeed, how did they know where she even slept?”

  Whalen said, “Four of my guards within the tower were struck down, one of them that patrolled near your betrothed’s chamber is dead. It shouldn’t have happened. By all that’s sacred, what if it had been an assassin who had sneaked in to murder the king?” Whalen looked like he would vomit, then he began cursing. Garron thought Whalen knew well enough that he wouldn’t be the captain of the king’s guard for much longer.

  Garron said, “No assassin could get to the king, Whalen, you know that. There are always three guards in the king’s antechamber.”

  “Aye, at night, they patrol for three hours, then sleep. But this—”

  “Gather men, Whalen. I need you. I will meet you at the eastern gate. Go.” Garron welcomed the anger now pouring into him, it was better than the awful impotence that had rubbed him raw. Now there was a chance. But how much farther had they traveled into the forest after Thomas had run away from them? What if Jason of Brennan had already forced her to wed him, what if he’d already raped her? No, Merry was smart, she would do something to stop him. Besides, even if she was helpless against him, it didn’t matter, nothing mattered—Jason of Brennan was a dead man, he just didn’t know it yet.

  When Garron jerked the saddle cinch tighter around Damocles’ belly, his destrier swung his great head around and tried to bite him, but years of experience saved him. He jumped back, smacked his horse’s neck. “I’ll strangle you if you try to bite me again. We have to fetch your mistress to her wedding.”