A Witch's Tale (9 page)

“You’re right. I would have refused.”

“Isn’t it better I kept that from you then?”
he asked with teasing in his voice. “This is much better than the horse trough
the men now bathe in, is it not?”

“It’s heavenly, but I dare not linger,” she
replied reproachfully to the screen. “Please hurry.”

“Are you done with the soap?”

She stood up from the tub and grabbed a
toweling sheet. After wrapping it around herself, she grabbed the bar of soap
and handed it around the panel. His large hand took the soap from her. Her
fingers felt burned by the touch of his. She drew back quickly, disturbed by
thoughts of him nude beyond the changing screen.

She used her time to dress. The lavender gown
was beautiful and fit her to perfection. Madeline smoothed the gown over her
hips, pleased that Sir Gaston had insisted. The gown was the finest thing she’d
ever worn and she felt giddy of it. The richness of the silver thread
embroidered into the sleeves made her want to exclaim in delight.

She combed her hair and plaited it, weaving
silver ribbon into her hair. She just tied off the long braid that hung to her
waist when she heard him get out of the tub. She tried the slippers she found
in the chest. She chuckled to see they nearly fit, if but a bit too big. Lord
Lyon had small feet, that much was obvious.

The thought of the nobleman cavorting about
in women’s clothes made her almost burst out giggling. She waited for Gavin as
she heard him dress. He came around the screen and handed her the rag and soap
and borrowed her comb.

Watching him rip through his long raven
tresses, she soon interrupted and offered to comb his hair. He sat at the edge
of the tub and handed her the comb. She painstakingly combed it free of
tangles. His gaze caught and held hers. She was assailed with the longings
again, mesmerized by his green-eyed stare.

“You have a gentle touch, Madeline,” he told
her, his lips curving appreciatively.

“You have no patience, Sir Gavin,” she said
and tore her gaze free of his. “What you need is a haircut, Sir Knight.”

“Aye, me and all the men,” he agreed as he
stood up, towering over her and eyeing her appreciatively, his gaze filled with
pleasure to see her new gown. “That color is more than cheerful. It is joyous
on you.”

She blushed at his complimentary words and
looked away. “Sir Gaston picked it out. I’m glad you approve.”

“You look lovely in it, Madeline,” he told
her with a warm smile. “Now wasn’t it worth it to come here for the pleasure of
a real bath?”

“I cannot deny it was worth it, but I have no
desire to meet those who frequent such a place at the door,” she countered with
an arched brow. “May we leave now?”

“In a hurry, are you?”

“Sir Gavin, I am about to run. Does that not
sum up my eagerness to get out of here?” she asked in annoyance. He laughed
heartily as he grabbed her bundle from her, guiding her out of the bathing
chamber.

****

They arrived back to find his men well into
their cups. Gavin joined them at the fireside. Gaston had a guitar and soon
their rousing singing brought her out of the tent to sit with them, chuckling
at their antics. Two of the knights were dancing together, making them laugh
loudly.

She was disturbed to feel Gavin’s eyes upon
her, caressing her much changed appearance. The other knights flirted with her shamelessly
too. For a time she could forget she was a condemned witch and not the fine
lady they treated her.

Gavin came near and handed her a cup of wine.
She hesitated and he grinned.

“A witch is allowed to drink spirits when not
conjuring them, Madeline,” he urged and smiled. “Let us not let the men’s
efforts be for naught.”

She smiled as she accepted the wine,
surprised he knew his men stole all they now enjoyed. “How did you know?”

“Lord Lyon would appear to be without a skirt
this night,” he drawled and she giggled.

“They meant only to see to your comfort,” she
said and smiled. “They love you.”

Gavin smiled indulgently as he viewed his
men’s drunken revelry. “They were raised with me from the time of their birth.”

Madeline frowned. “Who were all their
parents?”

Gavin shrugged and his expression tightened
in obvious sympathy. “They were the product of Elizabeth’s ladies liaisons with
her courtiers. Some of them know who their parents were; some do not. They hope
to put such mysteries to rest here. It’s the first time they’ve been here since
they were left in my father’s care.”

Madeline felt sad to think these five
handsome, engaging men were once infants, cast off at Rivenhahl to hide their
noble parent’s shame. She was touched to know they sought their fathers here,
eager to impress the men who sired them.

Gaston’s ditty grew louder and more lewd. She
cringed and laughed at the man. Gavin smiled and leaned near her ear, his
breath making shivers of pleasure run down her neck.

“You should always smile like that,
Madeline,” he whispered and the look of desire in his eyes made a stab of
longing form in her middle. She thought he would have kissed her then. She was
disappointed when he straightened and went back to watching his carousing men.

Her yawns alerted him later. He rose from her
side; his hand out to her. She trembled as he pulled her to her feet. The
moment she dreaded and looked forward to arrived at last. They would retire.
Sir Gavin would take his reward of her. It would clear up the mystery of what
to expect. Her confusion was obvious when he saw her to their tent, parting the
flap for her to enter and stood aside. She eyed him at the entrance with a
questioning look.

“Continue to look at me that way and we will
rush to seek my reward this night, Madeline,” he said quietly, his heated eyes
ravishing her where she stood.

Madeline was left to question his intentions
as he pulled back the flap and returned to the fire with his men. She removed
her gown and folded it away, confused by his behavior. She also felt
disappointment, she realized with dismay.

Madeline wanted Sir Gavin to rush in to seek
his reward, she admitted, coloring slightly in discomfort. From the moment he
saved her she was beset with such incredible feelings she forgot her own purposes.

She was a witch, not some common wench to
whet the man’s appetites. Why then did she linger awake now in wait, hoping he
would come to her? She sighed in disgust and pulled back the fur blankets on the
bed. She slid in wearing only her shift and sighed with delight, finding the
bed heavenly to the ground.

Madeline was soon fast asleep, the day’s long
end finally taking hold, her sleep blessedly dreamless. She didn’t rouse when
she was gently pushed backward to the wall of the tent, or feel a dip in the
bed as her companion joined her in the late evening hours. The tender kiss he
placed upon her forehead was neither felt nor acknowledged. The weary knight
pulled her into his powerful arms, bringing her sighing in contentment against
his hard chest.

Tonight is the night

When dead leaves fly

Like witches on switches

Across the sky,

When elf and sprite

Flit through the night

On a moony sheen.

~By Harry Behn

Madeline felt wondrously rested when she
awoke. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw she was alone in the bed. She sat up
and looked about, frowning to see more added luxury showed up in the night. She
shook her head and frowned at the men’s daring.

A larger chest sat at the end of the bed now.
She got up and inspected it, delighted to find it filled with linens, pots,
pans, and other household items. A stack of crates and boxes sat in the corner.
They were filled with food items. She frowned to think the knights pilfered
among these nobles, worrying they would be caught.

She peeked out the flap of the tent and saw
the campsite was deserted, the fire dying in the dawn’s glow. She dressed
hurriedly and fed the fire, before returning to inspect the crates for what she
would feed six hulking knights to break the fast.

Madeline was delighted to find fresh eggs,
cheese, and blood sausages within. She took a large cast iron pan and before
long had a tasty porridge made. She was breaking bread for them when they arrived,
all looking hung over and hopeful, noses twitching to smell the food.

She passed out vials of a white powdery
substance among them, directing them to mix it with a cup of wine to cure their
ills. While they ate, she watched Sir Gavin brushing his horse, his large sure
hands drawing her gaze as he saw to the large black Destrier.

She approached with a bowl for him. He smiled
as he wiped his hands on a rag, accepting it gratefully.

“The men were busy in the night,” he said
with a roguish grin. “I have no control over them, as you can see. I apologize
for their thievery.”

“I worry they will get caught, Gavin.”

He grinned at her concern, expecting her to
chide them. “Look around, Madeline. We are the only ones up and about. There
was much merrymaking last night while you slept. I doubt my men’s late night
activities were observed. They did it for you, if you must know.”

“For me?” she asked with a frown. “But I
would not ask them to steal to see to my comforts.”

“The men see it as borrowing,” he interjected
and chuckled in delight. “They wish you to be comfortable here. You should have
heard Miles complain of you not lying upon proper linens last night. Henry
declared you needed more pots to cook with come morning. Gaston even managed to
find a chicken in this place, saying you would appreciate the eggs. Miles and
Alastair brought back some ladies items last night. Do not ask where they found
them. I didn’t. They took all upon themselves.”

Madeline was obviously touched by their
efforts, feeling unworthy of the risks they took. He saw her expression and
grinned.

“To be honest, they enjoyed themselves and
used you as the excuse, Madeline. Don’t let it trouble you.”

She left Gavin to eat and returned to the
fire. The men were eyeing her with gratitude as the effects of the wine wore
off. They all eyed her expectantly. Miles smiled charmingly at her.

“Did you find what we left for you in the
small chest, Mistress Madeline?” he asked and looked eager for her to go find
the mysterious items.

She shook her head in disapproval. “Don’t use
me as an excuse to engage in such activities. I have gone without much in my
life without the need to steal. I encourage you all to concentrate on the
tournament from now on.”

Madeline entered the tent and went to the
small chest. She opened it and saw a small wooden box within. She opened it and
her gaze widened to see it was a very fine sewing kit. She had threads of every
conceivable color, scissors, pins, and a thimble made of gold. It was
expensive, obviously some noblewoman’s prized sewing case.

She touched several stacks of fine cloth
there and gasped incredulously, her hand touching the fine multicolored silks
and velvets in wonder. The men had been very adept at getting her the means to
make a handsome wardrobe. She was further encouraged by a bolt of lace she
found within the chest.

Tears pricked at her lids at their misguided
kindness to her. Never had she been treated with such respect. She took a
moment to compose herself before she joined them at the fire, smiling at them
with real pleasure, putting them out of their misery.

“No more stealing,” she whispered as she eyed
them all. “What embarrassment your lord would suffer is worth a lady’s sewing
kit?”

“She won’t miss it, Madeline. I assure you
she looks for me and not it this morn,” Miles assured her roguishly. She glared
at his cocky innuendo.

“Be that as it may; you have better to do
here than see to me,” she told them all. “You have much to do these next weeks.
Sir Gavin needs you all to be on your best behavior when the tournament
begins.”

She was touched as they ducked their heads
and vowed to avoid stealing for the duration of their stay. They soon prepared
their mounts and suited up to go to the practice field. Gavin lingered, staying
behind as the five of them left for the field.

She was nervous of him as she cleaned up the
mess and went back inside the tent with the ruse of straightening up. The
chicken was in a cage and she fed it bits of crumbs left over from their meal.
His arrival made her aware they were very much alone. The look in his eyes as
they roved over her with appreciation made her color slightly.

“Is there something you wish, Sir Gavin?” she
asked hesitantly, self-conscious of being alone with him.

He smiled as he came forward, towering over her.
His green eyes were lingering upon her full lips, his expression rapt. “I would
ask for a kiss for luck, Madeline.”

She stared up at him in surprise, her heart
fluttering madly in her chest. The look in his eyes took her breath. The hunger
there made her grow aware of her own. The desire to do more than kiss the man
was becoming more than obvious to her.