"I had not heard that," the king said. He stroked his long fingers over his jaw. "But he lied, and surely the spirits realized that and thus dispatched his soul to h.e.l.l."
"That is possible," Burnell said and nodded. "Of course, the fourth husband didn"t have any papers from you to back up his claim."
Bishop said, "Mayhap I should insist that the spirits read my writ."
There was a snicker from one of the servants.
Robert Burnell frowned.
"Still," the king said, his eyes on Bishop, "I really don"t wish you to die, even though that jest you just made didn"t amuse me. Robbie, what think you?"
"I think, sir," said Robert Burnell, "that Sir Bishop was striving to calm his own fears through making an unworthy jest. He is not a stupid man. Indeed, I believe he must have a plan."
"Is that true? Have you a plan, Sir Bishop?"
"Aye," Bishop said. "I hope it is a good one, sire, since it is the only one I have." Three days later, Sir Bishop of Lythe, now officially heir to Lord Vellan de Gay, Baron Penwyth, left London, which didn"t smell so very bad in spring, the wind off the Thames sweet in his nostrils. Still, it was a relief to leave the mobs of people, the stench of unwashed bodies and foul waste, the never-ending noise. The countryside stretched ahead of them.
He was off to Cornwall with his eleven men, both of the king"s two writs, rolled safely inside a sealskin against his chest. Tucked inside the writs was the Penwyth curse.
So she had red hair and green eyes, did she? Hmmm. This should prove to be interesting, if he survived it. He"d never bedded a woman with red hair. He wondered if her woman"s hair was as red as the hair on her head. Well, he would see once she was his wife.
But before he could bed her, he had to rid himself of this d.a.m.nable curse. There were ways to do things. And there were other ways as well. He was pleased that he"d come up with one of the other ways. It just might keep his heart beating.
3.
St. Erth, Cornwall.
DIENWALD DE FORTENBERRY, the very first earl of St. Erth, and the king"s d.a.m.ned son-in-law, didn"t like the look on young Bishop"s face when he rode into the inner bailey, his men following close behind him. He was carrying his helmet under his arm, and his hair, as long and black as an old hound"s teeth, was loose down his neck. He didn"t look happy. Those bright blue eyes of his were narrowed to slits, darker than Dienwald remembered. What he looked was, oddly, profoundly determined. What was going on here?
Dienwald called out, "Bring yourself and your men into the great hall, Bishop. You have news, and it doesn"t particularly please you. Don"t tell mea"the king, my blessed father-in-lawa"wishes me to build ships, set sail with every able-bodied man in Cornwall, and attack the d.a.m.ned French?"
Bishop shook his head, smiled, his blue eyes brightening. "No, it isn"t that, Dienwald. It isn"t all bad, particularly if I manage to survive it, but I would wish your advice."
"Hmmm," Dienwald said, stroking his hairless chin. "A mystery. My fool, Crooky, will weave a tale of it that will survive until our grandchildren." He called out, "Philippa, come here, wench, and welcome the brave knight who saved your hidea"and a beautiful hide it is. I added that in a loud voice so you will not be tempted to tell your father that I abuse you." He said to Bishop, "The king would flay me alive if I so much as harmed a curly hair on her head. He has told me that at least a dozen times over the past three and a half years. And I wonder. If I did hurt a hair on her head, how would the king know? She has so much hair, even I wouldn"t guess if one or two strands were missing."
Philippa de Fortenberry, a small boy tucked under each arm, walked down the steps to the great hall, waving one of the little ones at him. "h.e.l.lo, Bishop. Welcome to St. Erth. What is this? You don"t look like a man the king has rewarded. Come down, that"s right. Give Gorkel the reins, he will see to your destrier and your men. Our neighbor, Graelam de Moreton, has sent us some excellent wine from his father-in-law."
Bishop dismounted his destrier and handed the reins to Gorkel the Hideous, who gave him a very big welcoming smile, a smile so frightful it made gooseflesh rise on his arms. It was said that the sun was loathe to rise in the morning because it would shine on Gorkel"s terrifying face. Truth be told, though, this time Gorkel"s face didn"t seem quite so gruesome as it had when Bishop had first laid eyes on him three months before.
Bishop embraced Dienwald, then walked to Philippa, looked at the little boy she"d waved at him, and said, "Now, are you Nicholas?"
"This one is Nicholas," Philippa, waving the other little boy, who looked perfectly content. "This is Edward."
Bishop would have liked to embrace Philippa as well. Indeed, he took a step toward her, but Dienwald beetled his brows, and Bishop merely bowed, lightly stroking her hand that was around the belly of the little boy Nicholas. "You go well, I see, my lady," he said, and when she laughed that lovely deep rich laugh of hers, he smiled.
"What happened? You did see the king, didn"t you?"
"Aye, I did."
Philippa said, "I heard you ask for Dienwald"s advice. Surely you would prefer mine?"
Bishop, no fool, said, "I can use all the advice offered, for it is possible that your father the king has handed me over a beautiful plate of food that could prove quite rotten."
"Aye," Dienwald said, "but you"re smiling. I don"t believe this gift of the king"s gnaws at you overmuch." He ran his fingers through his hair, nice thick hair that his bountiful wife liked to stroke while she was kissing him and nibbling on his ear. "Did you stop at Wolffeton to meet with Lord Graelam?"
"No, the king told me I must make haste," Bishop said. "Also, I couldn"t be certain of my welcome."
"He would have welcomed you well enough," Dienwald said. "I suppose I must add that Graelam is a decent warrior. If he says he will do something, consider it done. Most important, he can also lie and cheat and steal quite well, but still he is not as good at it as I am."
"No one can lie and cheat and steal like my husband," Philippa said, and gave him one of the boys. She grinned up at Bishop. "Come and have some wine, and tell us what has happened."
Dienwald said, as he tossed his son into the aira"Bishop wasn"t certain which son it wasa""As for Graelam"s wife, Lady Ka.s.sia, she is a princess among women." Dienwald brought the little boy back under his arm, sighed and laid his hand on his breast, fluttered his eyes heavenward, then sighed again. "Unlike Philippa here, who would offer you but a single goblet of wine, I daresay Ka.s.sia would have given you the keys to her lord husband"s cellars."
Philippa punched her husband"s arm, hard. "Speak not too sweetly about the little princess. I am the princess, not she."
"You are my big wench," Dienwald said, gave her a fond smile, and took the other babe. "Where is my little Eleanor? I wish Bishop to look at the most beautiful girl child in all of England."
"He can admire her in due time, husband. Now, Bishop, my lord is mightily pleased that you saved me, even after three years of living with me and watching me waddle about with Eleanor and then our two boys in my belly. He claims that he very nearly did not survive when I was birthing them. He accused me of trying to kill him with guilt since it took so very long. Now, although he doesn"t usually do this, he is apparently willing to give you some of his precious stash of wine."
Bishop said, looking around, "Where is your son Edmund, Dienwald?"
"He fosters with Lord Graelam." Dienwald shook his head and snorted. "I saw the lad a fortnight ago. All he could speak about was the mightiness of Lord Graelam"s arm, his wisdom in settling disagreements. I tell you, it fair to burned out my gut."
Edmund, Dienwald"s son by his first wife, was now nearly eleven years old. Time pa.s.sed so very swiftly. Dienwald handed the small boys to Bishop, grabbed a fistful of his wife"s curly hair, pulled her face close and kissed her once, twice, big loud smacking kisses. He raised his head, laughed, and said, "It is time to fill our bellies, wench, see to it."
Philippa laughed as she called to the servants to fetch food and drink. Bishop carried in the St. Erth twins, who settled nicely on his forearms.
When only bones remained on the trestle tables, Philippa, her riotous head of hair confined beneath a lovely silver snood, said, "The time has come, Bishop. What has happened?"
"I am the new Baron Penwyth. The king has also given me Merryn de Gay to wed."
Dienwald, who"d been sipping from his goblet, choked and spewed out wine. "By all the saints" leftover bones, that"s not good, Bishop. Well, it is, but it"s scary, what with the d.a.m.ned curse."
Philippa leaned forward and slapped her husband on the back, the force of it nearly driving him into his trencher. "She"s been widowed four times, Bishop. My father wants you to be the fifth sacrifice? Something is very wrong here."
Bishop settled back in his chair, his own goblet of sweet red wine in one hand, and told them about the meeting with the king.
"So my blessed father-in-law has made you Penwyth"s heir. You will wed Merryn. Don"t frown, Bishop. She doesn"t have rabbit"s teeth, rest easy. Hmmm. I like it, but not that you could die to gain it, and then, of course, it would be no gain at all."
"No gain! No gain!
Sweet Bishop must wed, But what will he have?
No gain! No gain! Just pain.
Lots and lots of very bad pain."
Philippa stared at Crooky the Fool, who was standing before them, his head thrown back, grinning like the fool he was.
Dienwald said, "What was that, Crooky?"
"It rhymed, that"s what it did. I did well, did I not, master?"
Dienwald scratched behind his ear, smiled, and said, "Crooky, about the pain part. Come here and let me a.s.sist you to better understand it."
"Oh, aye, you"ll cave in my poor ribs. I"m gone." Crooky fell into the rushes and scooped them over himself until only his nose was showing.
"He must needs break into song when the spirits strike," Philippa said. "Usually it is much worse. Now, I cannot imagine that you would willingly lay your head on the block. What are you planning, Bishop?"
Bishop said. "Before I tell you my plan, have you any idea why some long-ago Druid priests decided to weave a protective curse on a place that didn"t come to exist until centuries later?"
Philippa sat forward, her chin resting on her hands. "It is said that the Celtic Druid priests saw clearly into the future. I suppose that the priests could have divined a Druid descendant building a stronghold near to the edge of the sea, and that is why the priests created the curse, to keep Penwyth safe."
Dienwald waved that away. "I have heard that too. But I am not certain that I believe it. Now, there are other important things to consider. Your future wife has a nice chin, and beautiful hair. Not curly and wild like my wench"s here, but red as a sunset over the Pendeen Hills."
"Aye, and eyes as green as desire."
"Where did that come from?" Philippa said.
Bishop handed her the parchment. Philippa read aloud: "The enemy will die who comes by sea.
The enemy by land will cease to be.
The enemy will fail who uses the key.
Doubt this not, This land is blessed for eternity.
Maiden"s heart, pure as fire Maiden"s eyes, green as desire Maiden"s hair, a wicked red Any who force her will soon be dead."
Crooky bounded up from the rushes. "What a fine curse! What an excellent rendering! By all the saints" black toenails, I will write a curse as fine as that one, I swear it by every inch of my height!"
Dienwald said, nodding, "That"s quite some curse. It sounds like it"s directed at Merryn. Since I haven"t seen her for several years, I don"t know if she has a bosom to be remarked upon. Well, no matter, she cannot compare to my bountiful Philippa."
"I don"t know about her bosom either," Bishop said. As for the red hair and green eyes, he didn"t doubt for a moment that she had both. "Attend me, Dienwald. If the Druid priests did speak a curse to protect a descendant, mayhap it adds weight, but still, I cannot believe it. This Merryn, a descendant of ancient Druids?"
Dienwald said, "Four men have died because of the curse. You cannot discount it. Nor can you ignore the fact that Merryn is perfectly described in the curse, if indeed she does have green eyes."
"I don"t discount it, you may be certain of that. But I ask myself: is it really a curse, something otherworldly and deadly that has come down from the ancient Druids, or is it something we can understand? I think it must be poison. The old mana"Lord Vellana"is killing off these men, either he or his granddaughter."
"That means," Philippa said, "that Merryn knew enough to poison her first husband when she was but fourteen years old. That"s reaching too far, Bishop."
"Then it is Lord Vellan," Bishop said. "He had this curse all polished up and ready to read to the first husband upon his arrival."
"Aye, he was prepared," Philippa said.
"Mayhap," Dienwald said. "Lord Vellan is known for being a crafty old buzzard."
Bishop said, "I think it"s more likely that there was a vague sort of curse that came down from the Druids. Then it got woven into the beliefs of the Witches of Byrne. Mayhap it is the witches who turned it into a specific deadly curse. Doesn"t that make more sense? At least there are still some witches about, aren"t there?"
"Aye," Philippa said. "I"ve heard that the Witches of Byrne still cleave to their caves near the Boswednack forest. They don"t like to be seen."
"I don"t know, Bishop," Dienwald said. "Your idea is possible. I should like to know how each of the four men died."
"That"s a splendid idea, Dienwald. Surely their manner of death would prove either a curse or poison," Philippa said.
Bishop said, rubbing his hands through his hair, "By Saint Egbert"s shinbones, I don"t know how each died. But I must find the answer. I tell you, Dienwald, I would be slapping myself on the back for my good fortune if it were not for the b.l.o.o.d.y curse." Another sigh, then he said, "Robert Burnell told me Penwyth is a neat holding, nothing grand like Wolffeton or St. Erth, but it has strategic importance."
"Aye," Dienwald said, "that is true. Hmmm. This teases my brain, Bishop. The king has given you the witch and Penwyth. Edward must have great faith in you."
"So now she"s a witch?" Bishop said, and felt the very nice lamb he just chewed fall in a knot to the bottom of his belly. "A witch? By all the saints" swollen bellies, before, she had a chin and good teeth and beautiful red hair. And now you can call her a witch?"
"My husband is amusing himself," Philippa said. "Merryn isn"t a witch. At least I don"t think she is. She"s no longer a child. She was first wed when she was only fourteen; at least that is the legend that has grown up about it. The fact is, I"ve never seen her, and my lord here has seen her but once, two years ago, so you must give all his fine descriptions their proper weight."
Dienwald said, "Be quiet, wench. I feel things, deduce all sorts of brilliant conclusions from the barest of facts. Now, I can see from your face, Bishop, that you have no intention of riding up to Penwyth"s walls and announcing yourself as the fifth husband. I have always believed you clevera"at least I"ve believed it since you saved my Philippa. Come, tell us what you will do."
And Bishop sat forward and said, "All right, I"ll tell you."
An hour later, after Bishop had once again admired the small twin boys Philippa had birthed and lightly touched his fingertips to little Eleanor"s chin, he slept well in a narrow bed with a single window that gave onto the beautiful, still spring night and the rolling Cornish hills.
Before he left the following morning to ride the twenty-five miles to Penwyth, he thanked his host and told him, "I am not too young to be wed, but I am far too young to die trying."
Dienwald said, "Don"t whine, Bishop. I was first wed when I had but eighteen years on this sweet earth. Since Edmund was the result, now I am glad of it. But you"re right. If a man must die, he deserves at least a decent wedding night."
He yelled to his fool, Crooky, who was lying in the rushes, chewing on a bit of cheese. "Well, dimwit, sing a moving song for Sir Bishop of Lythe, who is now also Baron Penwyth. Aye, sing to the man who will battle ancient priests and curses."
Crooky quickly swallowed the cheese, pulled himself up to his full height, which brought him to Bishop"s armpit, and bellowed to the rafters, "The pretty knight goes a-wooing.
He hopes he won"t be fried.
Be she a witch? Be she a blight?
He hopes he"ll know afore he"s died."
"That was miserable," Dienwald said and kicked his fool in the ribs, sending him on a well-practiced roll through the sweet-smelling rushes. "A man isn"t fried, you codsbreatha"well, if not fried, it"s true that a man can be boiled. I saw that happen once. It fair to curdled my guts. Philippa, what say you? Is frying acceptable?"
Philippa said, "It wasn"t all that good an effort, my lord. Shall I kick him as well?"
"Nay," Dienwald said. "Nay, I hoved in his ribs and he did his roll, and did it well."
"I"d rather be kicked by an almost-royal princess," Crooky said, and gave a deep bow to Philippa. "The master has hard toes."
"The last time she kicked you," Dienwald said, "she nearly knocked your ribs out your back."