Read Witchstruck Online

Authors: Victoria Lamb

Witchstruck (5 page)

I stared, speechless and dumbfounded. I understood why the Lady Elizabeth would be able to resist my spells – but a priest? Surely it was impossible that he could possess magickal powers to rival my own. After all, could there be a more unlikely warlock than a priest? Then Alejandro surprised me by folding the note carefully and handing it back to me.

‘This letter comes from a lover, I think. You should be more careful where you open such intimate messages, mistress,’ he said, his face expressionless. ‘But you forget. I am not yet a priest.’

‘Thank you for your advice,’ I snapped, and thrust the incriminating note back into the folds of my gown. ‘But you should not call me mistress either. Just plain Meg will do.’


Plain
Meg?’ he repeated. His gaze moved slowly across
my
face before dropping to examine my figure. ‘No. Such a word does not suit you.’

I thought he would say something else then. But suddenly Alejandro bowed and left me without another word, climbing the stairs until he was lost in the shadows above.

I stood a while after he had gone, my eyes narrowed, staring up at the empty stairway.

So Alejandro de Castillo dared to lift his eyes to me as a man, did he? Even priests in training were expected to practise strict chastity and keep themselves only for God. To do otherwise would be to commit a mortal sin, I was sure of it, for he would be committing that sin in the full knowledge of its wickedness.

I wondered what his priestly master would say to such a look. Did Catholic initiates still have to scourge themselves for impure thoughts?

I reached the Bull Inn without incident, though my gown was now almost as soiled as the previous one. I had been forced to cross the narrow stream that skirted the village and had slipped on the muddy bank. But there had been no other way to reach the inn if I wished to avoid the guards on the gate. At least the moon helped me find the stream in darkness, its pale light gleaming on the water.

The public taproom at the Bull was lively and well-lit. The men were delighted to see a woman enter the place,
sending
up whoops of excitement as I elbowed my way through the crowd.

Some hurried words with the landlord led me to the snug, a quieter room at the back of the inn. A small fire was burning in the hearth, filling the room with a harsh smoke that made my eyes sting. I found my brother playing dice with two young men I didn’t recognize.

At sight of me, William leaped up and embraced me, knocking the dice table to the floor. ‘Dearest Meg, I knew you would not fail me!’

We had not been in each other’s company more than twice in the past few years, since my brother had left to study in Oxford, making a home for himself there. Will looked more mature, his shoulders broader now, his narrow face filled out, with a full beard instead of the stubbly chin I remembered.

‘You’ve changed,’ I said, kissing him on the cheek.

‘So have you, little sister. Though by the Rood, you are not so little as you once were. Perhaps I was wrong to ask you here tonight.’ Will eyed my tight bodice as I swung the cloak off my shoulders. He frowned, glancing around at his friends’ faces in the firelight. ‘Don’t look at her like that. She is too young for either of you.’

I suddenly realized that one of the young men was my cousin, who had sailed from England to the distant Low Countries when I was barely twelve years old.

‘Malcolm?’

My cousin kissed me enthusiastically, though with much muttering from my brother, who accused him of being over-friendly and of putting his hand on my hip, at which all three men laughed.

Malcolm too had sprouted a beard since I’d last seen him, and had shaved his hair close to his head, a style which became him rather better than his previous boyish curls. I realized that he must be in his early twenties now, no longer a youthful student like my brother.

‘It is good to see you again after all these years, Meg,’ my cousin said soberly, pulling out a seat for me at the table. ‘Though Will is right. He should not have asked you here tonight. It is too dangerous.’

I sat down and looked searchingly at my brother. Now that the initial greetings were over, I could see that he was frightened, constantly glancing towards the door as though he expected men to burst in at any moment and arrest us all.

‘Why
did
you ask to meet me tonight?’ I asked Will suspiciously. ‘Your note said you had news for me.’

‘That was a ruse,’ he admitted, turning back to me with a sheepish expression, ‘to get you out of the house without drawing unwanted attention to us. It’s hard to know who to trust these days. The servant who carried the message may be loyal to the Queen for all we know.’

‘So what am I doing here?’

My brother clasped my hand, his grip warm and damp. ‘Malcolm and I need to ask a favour from you.’ He indicated
the
third young man with a nod. ‘And Tom there, who’s an Oxford man too and another with no love for the Catholics.’

I was frightened now as well. I could smell a Protestant conspiracy in the air here, and knew my brother and cousin would not easily be dissuaded from whatever mad plan they were hatching. I was also uncertain of their friend, Tom, who had said nothing but was watching us closely, his watery blue eyes reflecting the firelight.

‘What kind of favour?’

My brother hesitated. ‘We need you to help us get into Woodstock. We have to speak to the Lady Elizabeth. In person and in private.’

I stared. ‘Are you mad?’

Malcolm leaned in, shaking his head. His voice was low and earnest. ‘It’s the only way we can be sure of our path ahead, to speak to Her Grace alone, without her watchers present.’

‘It will never be permitted.’

‘Of course not.’ My brother was impatient now. ‘That is why we need your help.’

‘But what can I do?’ I stared at them all in turn. ‘I am nobody.’

Will drained his tankard compulsively, then set it down on the table with a crash.

‘Don’t you care what is happening to this country, Meg?’ he demanded, ignoring his cousin’s hurried gesture to lower his voice. ‘In a short space of time, Queen Mary will marry
Philip
, and these green hills will no longer be ours. Philip is already King of Naples. Soon he will be King of Spain too. Then England will belong to Spain and we must become Catholics, living under Spanish law. The Inquisition will come into every house in the country to search for Protestants and will have no mercy when they find them. They will torture and burn those who refuse to take Mass, and will set up their Catholic idols in every church in the land.’

Malcolm hushed him, glancing anxiously at the open doorway into the taproom. He pushed his own full tankard towards my brother, who picked it up and began to drink without even a word of thanks.

I realized then that Will must have been drinking most of the evening, and no longer cared what he said or who might be listening.

My cousin turned to me. ‘All we ask,’ he told me quietly, ‘is five minutes’ private speech with the Lady Elizabeth. There are those who do not want this marriage between England and Spain to happen, and who plan to put a stop to it. But first we must know if Elizabeth will lend her support to such an uprising, and also whether she would accept the crown herself if her sister were no longer wearing it.’

‘But it was just such a conspiracy that brought her to this prison,’ I hissed, angry both for Elizabeth and for my impulsive brother, whom I had never known to be so interested in politics before. I suspected William had been
infected
by my cousin’s old obsession with ridding the country of Catholics.

‘Yes, and this new plot will release Elizabeth Tudor from her unjust prison and elevate her to the throne of England.’

‘It is more likely to land her back in the Tower of London,’ I pointed out to my cousin crossly, ‘and the rest of us with her. If you cannot see sense and drop this ridiculous conspiracy, none of us will live beyond the summer.’

I stood up, pulling on my cloak again.

‘The Queen will marry her Spanish prince at the end of this month,’ I continued, keeping my voice pitched low. ‘Two Catholic priests have been sent to stay with us, to ensure Elizabeth does not slip back to Protestantism. Though I cannot see why her faith matters so much. Once Mary has a child, Elizabeth will no longer be heir to the throne.’

‘Yes,
if
Mary has a child.’ With a shy glance in my direction, Tom joined our conversation at last, speaking low and hurriedly. ‘But if she should prove barren, and Elizabeth can be shown to be down on her knees, worshipping the Holy Virgin, then she can be married off to some Catholic prince, keeping the English line of succession within the Papist fold.’

I shivered at the thought of Elizabeth being married off to a foreigner without her consent, but had to acknowledge that Tom was probably right.

‘Once the marriage goes ahead, England will be a very
different
country,’ I agreed unhappily. ‘It is not what any of us want. But there is nothing we can do to prevent it. The sooner you three accept Catholicism and get yourself to church with the rest of us, the better your chances of survival when the Inquisition do come knocking.’

‘I cannot believe you are saying this, Meg,’ my brother exclaimed, jumping to his feet, ‘when a few words in the wrong ear would be enough to condemn you as a witch. Aye, and our aunt too.’

I blanched at his cruelty, but could not weaken now. To allow them into the lodge to speak to Elizabeth alone would be beyond dangerous. It would be an act of madness that would endanger my mistress’s life as well as my own.

I should never have come to the Bull tonight, drawn into discussing rebellion openly in this public place. My brother was too drunk to realize the danger he was running, and my cousin was too reckless to care. Who knew what ears these walls might have? It was already considered an offence to follow the Protestant faith. The country was full of Catholic informers, and even to think such things could be seen as treasonous.

‘We have ways of protecting ourselves,’ I told him.

‘Yes, I heard that the witchfinder Marcus Dent holds a special place in his heart for you.’ My brother Will was sneering at me now. ‘Does he know you practise the dark arts?’

‘You would not dare!’

‘Oh, I would never betray my own sister, not even if a
whole
host of Catholic torturers had me on the rack. But others would betray you for the price of a tankard of beer.’ Turning his mood in an instant, Will grasped my arm as I made angrily for the door, almost pleading with me. ‘I’m sorry, Meg. But you do not seem to realize the danger you are in. Remember that I am your brother and mean you no harm. Help us purge England of this Spanish disease. Give us five minutes alone with the Princess Elizabeth.’

‘Elizabeth is no longer a princess, but a prisoner of the Queen,’ I reminded him, and shook my head. ‘And I cannot help you, Will. Please don’t ask me again. Now let me go home.’

Malcolm stood up calmly, reaching for his woollen cap. ‘Wait, you cannot go alone. Are you taking the back road? I’ll walk with you as far as the old palace. It’s not safe so late at night.’

I wanted to refuse, but knew he was right. It would be dangerous to return alone at this hour, even on the quieter path behind the village. Besides, my brother had sunk down onto his seat again, his head in his hands, and no longer seemed to care if I was leaving with our cousin.

Even his friend Tom would not meet my eyes, staring down into his beer.

I bent to whisper ‘Farewell’ in my brother’s ear, wishing he would drop this madness before it proved his death, then let Malcolm guide me towards a back door so I would not have to pass through the noisy taproom again.

* * *

We took the streamside path that skirted the back of the village, only the moon was so bright now that we had to be careful not to be seen. Several times we had to wait in the shadows while a drunken man, staggering home from the Bull, stopped to relieve himself in the bubbling stream. Despite the lateness of the hour, the moon seemed to have kept the birds awake, for I heard what sounded like a song thrush high above us in the dark net of branches, and later, a white owl passed on broad wings, hooting softly into the night.

‘I thought you were gone for good, Malcolm, that you had made yourself a home in the Low Countries. Why did you return to England?’

Malcolm smiled and helped me across the narrow stream, his arm about my waist. ‘This is still my country. And it needs me.’

‘You cannot truly believe there is anything you and Will can do to stop this Spanish marriage.’

‘It is not just me and Will,’ he told me quietly, setting me back on dry ground. ‘There are many exiled nobles and gentlemen in the Low Countries who could be persuaded to return if they thought Elizabeth would support an uprising. But we hear so many rumours there, that the princess is now a Catholic like her sister, or that she contemplates a marriage to some Catholic prince, and people are nervous. All they need is a sign of Elizabeth’s support, some secret token to give the Protestant cause new vigour.’

While he talked, we followed the path on the other side of the stream, striking out cross-country for the dark, unlit lurch of buildings that was the ruined palace of Woodstock. Beyond that, unseen behind trees, stood the old palace lodge where Elizabeth lay imprisoned and under constant guard.

‘There are many who share a belief that this Spanish marriage is wrong for England. If you could only persuade the Lady Elizabeth to give us a sign, it will act as a rallying-point for other men like us. Trust me, many thousands will rise against Mary if they think Elizabeth would accept the throne after her sister’s removal and restore England to a Protestant nation.’

‘But why should she not accept the throne?’ I asked daringly, testing out the question on the still night air.

‘She is a woman,’ he replied drily. ‘And women are unpredictable, especially when offered power.’

I bit my tongue, not wanting to argue with my escort. It seemed to me that Elizabeth was not the kind of woman to refuse power.

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