A Witch's Tale (6 page)

“I will take care,” she promised, her blue
eyes meeting his in understanding.

Gavin walked her to the cart and helped her
into the back of it. Two oxen pulled the cart. Miles and Gaston sat upon the
perch. They smiled knowingly as they saw his large hand linger upon her arm
possessively.

“If there is any coin left over, buy you a
fitting gown,” he said gruffly as he fingered the ugly brown wool and smiled up
at her. “Something bright and cheerful in color would suit.”

Madeline colored at his words. Miles and
Gaston snickered and earned a scowl from Gavin. As the cart moved away from
their cluster of tents, Madeline watched Gavin join Alastair as the pair
retreated to the tiltyards. She pulled her gaze away from his gleaming armor
clad form, blinded by his handsome, valiant image in those moments.

Oh, we wish we knew some
magic,

That would get us out of
here.

Or a secret spell to
corner them,

And make them disappear!

~
unknown

“Lady Blythe will be angered you brought the girl
with you,” Alastair noted as he watched the cart leave the area. They walked
their mounts to the practice fields.

Gavin hefted the rest of his armor and shield
and tossed them over his saddle. He frowned when his friend mentioned his former
lover. Lady Blythe was married to the Earl of Strathmore. He was master of
ceremonies for the tournament. The man was also directly responsible for his
father’s disgrace years ago.

Taking Lady Blythe to his bed on occasion was
done merely to tweak the older man’s pride. The lady had grown quite fond of
Gavin during her last visit to the Scottish court. She could be vindictive when
crossed, he knew. Younger than her husband by twenty years; she was hardly
satisfied in her marriage bed. She made the rounds at King James court until
her husband was apprised and she was ordered home.

“I already told you to pursue the lady with
my blessing,” he said and shrugged. “She is hardly free to argue it. No, she
will be too busy currying favor with the new king and queen.”

“It is not the fair Blythe I have on my mind,
but another, my lord.”

Gavin frowned. “I am no lord here yet,
Alastair. You must cease in this address of me while we’re here.”

His friend glowered back at him. “You are the
rightful Earl of Rivenhahl even if it was stolen from you, my lord. Forgive me
if I’d not belittle you when we are alone. It is bad enough I must do so when
others are around.”

Gavin sighed, seeing he was in a bad mood and
taking much of it out upon everyone. The stress of the tournament aside, his
money was now gone buying food supplies and another tent for their horses. The
enormous reality of being here made him tense, knowing he needed to win this
tournament.

“Pay me no heed. I let little matters nip at
me since our arrival.”

“Our coin is all but gone, my lord,” Alastair
reminded him with a sad smile. “Tis’ no little matter to be without funds
should matters arise. And you put all in the hand of our lovely witch. You do
not worry she will run with your purse?”

“Madeline takes this witch’s reward thing
very seriously,” Gavin informed him with a smug grin. “I think she really
believes she’s a witch. Just play along. I don’t wish to hurt her feelings.”

“Too bad she isn’t a real witch,” Alastair
commented as he saw the many knights and nobles practicing within the fenced
arena. “We will need all the help we can get.”

“What if I lose?” Gavin asked suddenly as he
watched the many competitors for a time. “We have planned all so well, but
can’t foresee the future. I can’t think of what that will mean to us all.”

Alastair smiled tightly. “You will reclaim
your title here, my lord. Strathmore’s arrogance shows for offering it as the
purse from the first. It is only right you win the day and restore your
family’s honor. You will win. You must stop fretting over what else is offered
besides your title, fortune, and lands.”

“Strathmore’s daughter Lucinda is the most
annoying woman I’ve ever met. It’s ludicrous I’d be expected to marry her if I
win.”

“I pity you a lifetime with said prize, but
that is what mistresses are for. Win the day; suffer the wench.”

Gavin fumed to know he could do nothing.
Besides winning back his title and lands; he won a wife. Strathmore’s daughter
was rumored to be the one they would offer as lady of the tourney. The winner
would be expected to marry her. The young woman was as round as she was tall
with a whine in her voice and braying laugh.

Gavin met her when she accompanied Lady
Blythe to the Scottish court and fumed to know Strathmore would pawn his
unmarried daughter off on the victor. The Earl was responsible for his Father’s
disgrace twenty years before when Elizabeth I held court here.

Strathmore was jealous of his father then for
being favored by the queen. He set him up to appear to have cheated in the
final rounds of the Tournament of Roses, as it was called then. Elizabeth was
infuriated and stripped Gregor de Mortaine of his lands and title and banished
him to Scotland. His father had barely enough time to get to Rivenhahl to see
his family to safety before a horde of her guards chased him to evict them from
the premises.

Gregor de Mortaine settled in Scotland near
Edinburgh. He soon found favor in the royal household there and earned his
spurs quickly, fighting the battles of great men to earn his way. With a wife,
two children, and five foundlings in his care; he had little choice. The man
who was once rumored to be Elizabeth’s favorite was now a mercenary for hire.

The knights who rode with Gavin were all
those foundlings dumped off at Rivenhahl at tender ages. They were in the same
boat as their benefactor when he lost his wealth. The five boys grew to manhood
fighting alongside Gregor de Mortaine, and swore fealty to his son before he
died. Every coin the men amassed in their years of service they contributed to
see this day met.

He felt the weight of it now that they were
here; felt the enormity of it should he fail. He had to win, thinking of his
little sister and her lack of dowry. His handsome face tightened.

Vivienne de Mortaine was soon to be nineteen.
It was high time his sister wed. She seemed content to mind his small,
crumbling keep. He’d not have it. His lady sister should be married, not
playing chatelaine to a penniless knight.

Gavin learned of the purse offered by
Strathmore from James Stuart himself. The king knew of Strathmore’s betrayal
and Elizabeth’s edict years before. Though sympathetic to his cause, the king
could hardly hand all back to Gavin without offending the English. No he would
have to fight to reclaim what was lost.

James did enjoy his petty entertainments. It
would only add to the drama of his coronation. The king commanded him to
participate. He could do no less. A pity his sovereign didn’t see the need to
fund his champion’s quest. Gavin was reminded of their poverty daily. The cost
of the tournament was a frivolity he could not hope to fund with his depressive
coffers.

His men and Lady Vivienne rose to the
occasion. They garnered every bit of wealth they could find to pay the entry
fees for all six and buy new gear. He didn’t want to think of his sister’s
lovely face crumpling in despair should they return empty handed. Their
mother’s jewels were used to buy the men new armor, forge new swords, and
decorate their mounts with pageant trimming.

She’d done it behind their backs when she
sold the collection. None of them would have accepted such a gift, knowing it
was all she had left from her mother, the Lady Eleanor. His sister reasoned her
sacrifice was fitting. That only added to Gavin’s stress now to win this
tournament.

Lord Strathmore was not pleased their new
monarch pushed the issue of Gavin’s being allowed to compete. The man began a
campaign to deny him admittance, citing his father’s cheating years before,
unearthing those foul accusations.

Gavin would cheerfully like to take his sword
to the man for insulting his noble father, but he would save his revenge for
the tiltyards. His supreme skills at jousting were mentored by his father for
years. Gregor de Mortaine insisted he master every aspect of the sport, saying
it would come to use one day. None of them could have known how soon.

Gavin wished his father could have lived to
see this day. Gregor only learned of the tournament the month before he died. His
final wish was for his son to reclaim all that was taken from them. He
suspected Gregor put a bug in James Stuart’s ear before he died, knowing the
pair grew to be close.

His father had a knack with kings as well as
he had with queens. James demanded he come to court within days of his father’s
death to demand he go to England to attend the tournament.

“You will win, Gavin,” Alastair said in a
soothing tone, knowing how troubled he was these last weeks. “Lady Vivienne’s
sacrifice will not be made in vain.”

“That reminds me of another matter, my
friend. Do not pretend to not care for my sister anymore. I’m not blind to it.
It is rather obvious and nauseating to us all.”

Alastair looked away from his knowing look as
they walked their mounts within the fenced off tournament grounds. He sighed
and cast his dark eyes downward.

“What have I to offer her, Gavin? I am a
nameless bastard knight.”

Gavin snorted contemptuously. “She would be
lucky to have you at all, shrew that she is!”

“That is your sister you speak of,” Alastair
protested with a scowl, even though both knew it to be true. “She deserves far
more than some landless, base born knight, and you know it.”

“My sister would take you if you were a
pauper,” Gavin argued. “You’re determined to find the man who sired you,
Alastair. What would you ask of the man if you find him here?”

“I would want him to claim me as his son,” he
said simply, “and offer me a place in his household so I can take a wife. I
will not offer for her any other way.”

“So now you would offer for her?” Gavin
teased, chuckling in delight. “Much went on under my nose while I fought in our
king’s service, I think.”

Alastair flushed and avoided his gaze. “I
have always held your sister in the highest esteem, my lord. No improprieties
were ever observed.”

“I’m sure they weren’t observed,” Gavin
tormented with a wry grin. “If I know my sister, she no doubt pounced on you
while you were unaware.”

Alastair looked appalled. Gavin chuckled and
clapped him on the back. He shook his head as he thought of his younger
sister’s domineering ways. Six years younger than him, she took after Gregor
the most. It was like her to orchestrate Alastair’s coming to London to find
his father, and hopefully improve their lot.

“She insisted I seek the man out to better
our cause,” Alastair grumbled resentfully. “How am I to know which one he is?
My sainted mother lists three possible candidates in her diary that could have
sired me. Fitzwarren is long dead and had a fondness for his squires. I believe
she might have been mistaken there. That leaves our malevolent sponsor
Strathmore and Lord Monteith. What was Vivienne even thinking?” And he shook
his head, spitting upon the ground in disgust.

“She was thinking you would not be satisfied
unless you found the man at last. She is right, my friend,” Gavin commented
with a frown. “Let us hope the Lady Anne did not lean towards Strathmore. I
cannot see him looking favorably upon someone loyal to my family.”

“Let us hope its Monteith then,” he agreed
readily. “I have not seen him yet. The royal household says it’s like him to
arrive late. He has five daughters I have learned, and no sons.”

Gavin smiled fondly. “You see there? You
worry for nothing. The man will likely accept you for that reason alone.”

Alastair regarded him with a pensive stare.
“It would be my luck my dear mother laid down for Strathmore and this was all
for nothing.”

Gavin grinned at his friend’s troubled
expression. “You wished to know, did you not? You must accept the good with the
bad. A pity you did not marry my sister already. Your wait has been
unnecessary.”

“She is determined, my lord. I would have
asked her three years ago if not for her insistence I find the man. And I
remind you; I’m not the only one seeking answers at this tournament. The others
look for their father’s here too.”

Gavin cursed under his breath. His men were
all the by blows of noblemen, sent to Rivenhahl to be raised, or hidden away,
as was the case. It became Elizabeth’s dumping ground for her
ladies-in-waiting’s sins. His father and mother treated them all like their own
children, but none of them would be dissuaded when they learned of Alastair’s
quest.

Miles and Gaston already knew who their
father’s were and planned to seek them here. Henry and Jasper didn’t know. They
had much less to go on than Alastair’s mother’s diary.