‘I shall leave the abbey in the morning,’ he said softly, ‘but I could not go without saying goodbye to you.’
‘You flatter me, lord,’ she replied.
‘I have wanted you since I saw you outside with your little friend,’ he went on. ‘That mad fool Olivier must have seen me watching you both and mistaken the object of my attention.’ Anger briefly contorted his face: there and gone in an instant. He moved closer to her, and she felt the heat of his body. ‘What I want,’ he murmured, ‘I usually get.’ He ran his fingers down her hair. ‘Such beautiful curls,’ he murmured. ‘You smell clean, Meggie. I like clean people.’
‘I smell of herbs,’ she said. ‘I work with them.’
He nodded. ‘Very laudable.’ His eyes seemed to bore into her. ‘You have light in your face, and your eyes flash like sun on the water,’ he murmured. Then he took her face gently in his hands and kissed her.
For a moment the temptation was strong to kiss him back. This man held Ninian’s life in his hands. If Meggie were to give him, willingly and generously, what he so clearly and so badly wanted, perhaps he would grant her the one thing she really wanted and spare her half brother’s life. Besides, man of broad experience that he was, the prospect of making love with him was not unappealing.
A voice like cold water spoke in Meggie’s head. It was a voice which, other than in dreams and visions, she had not heard for more than a decade. Her mother said, firmly and clearly: have no truck with kings, for they take what they want and do not give anything in return.
Meggie pulled away. The moment of weakness was gone. She knew her mother was right. He would not give up the pursuit of Ninian, even if she slept with him until he grew tired of her. More than that — worse than that — if she allowed him close to her, she might inadvertently give away some small fact that would lead him to the very person she was so desperate to protect.
He moved his hands so that he gripped her shoulders. ‘You would give me the sport of forcing you, would you?’ A cruel smile crossed his face. ‘Oh, Meggie, and there I was believing you were about to yield to me right here in the sanctity of my late and much-mourned mother’s chapel!’ He gave her a shake. ‘I will have you,’ he said, his voice as soft and dangerous as a snake’s hiss.
He released her briefly, dragging at the neck of her gown and at the lacings of his own tunic. She knew she had to act then or be lost. Grasping the leather bag, which hung from her belt, she loosed the drawstrings and took out the object within.
Then she held up the Eye of Jerusalem and, just as she had so desperately hoped, the light of the lamp burning on the altar shone on it, brought its incredible heart to life and flashed blue fire all around the chapel.
The jewel was her inheritance, coming to her from her father and her grandfather, accompanied by the prediction that she would be the first person in its incredibly long history to discover its full potential. She had worked with it as much as she dared, tentatively exploring its incredible power, nerving herself to push her experiments steadily further, even though she had frequently terrified herself and regularly caused herself at worst injury, at best a crushing headache that took days to dissipate. But magic was like that; she never complained.
One thing that she had discovered was that the great sapphire had the ability to send her into a trance. She had sat with it in the hut one night, idly swinging it to and fro so that the light of the fire burning in the heath caused it to flash intermittently. Transfixed by the sight, she had felt her eyes go unfocused and her mind empty itself of whatever she had been thinking about. She had only emerged from the Eye’s spell when she had fallen over sideways on to the floor.
Few people knew about the jewel. Her father did; so did Helewise. So did one or two others. Josse and Helewise had reluctantly agreed to allow her to try out her discovery on them, and both had succumbed to the stone’s trance-inducing power even more swiftly than she had done.
Now, when so much depended on it, she prayed to her guiding spirits that it would not let her down.
She swung it gently on its gold chain. He tried to grab it, but she flicked it up out of his reach. She went on swinging it, and the blue light flashed out so brightly that it was almost blinding. She remembered to look away; this was no time to entrance herself.
There was a change in him. His hands dropped to his sides, and the brilliant eyes followed the stone in its arc — left, right, left, right — their intense blue seemingly lit from within by the light radiating through the great sapphire.
She said, very softly, ‘You do not want me. This place is hallowed, and to make love to a woman in it would violate its sanctity. There is a power here that you cannot comprehend, and it does not do to offend it.’
She went on swinging the Eye. He was deeply under its spell now, his face blank, his eyelids heavy. She knew she must stop soon. If he went right under, he would fall on to the hard stone floor and possibly injure himself. The noise of his falling might bring the guards running, and she would instantly be arrested and taken away in chains for assaulting him.
‘Leave this place,’ she intoned, almost singing the words. ‘Go away from here. I am not for you, for my fate is connected with the secret of this place and I would not have you risk its vengeance by taking from me what I do not freely give you.’
The trance was deepening. Slowly, she lessened the Eye’s swing until it hung still. Then she enclosed it inside her palm, and its light went out. Now they were just two people standing face-to-face in a small, simple chapel.
His eyes opened fully. He seemed totally bemused. He looked around him, apparently searching for something. Finally, he turned to her. ‘Meggie?’ he said. He sounded as if he doubted even that.
‘I am here, my lord,’ she said calmly. The jewel was back in its bag, hidden in the folds of her skirt. ‘What do you wish of me?’
He shook his head violently. ‘Nothing! You are — you are-’ He frowned, clearly confused. Then, with the ghost of a smile, he said, ‘You, my dear, are a vestal virgin. Keep your fire burning…’ The frown deepened, and for a moment he spun round as if some memory stirred. ‘There was a fire,’ he muttered. ‘A blue fire.’
‘There is a lamp on the altar.’ She pointed. ‘I have observed myself how some trick of the light allows its flame to catch in the blue of the window there.’ She indicated St Edmund on his horse, the sky blue above his head.
He did not look convinced. He was eyeing her suspiciously. ‘I would believe there was magic here,’ he murmured, ‘and that you, my Meggie, were a witch, only I do not believe in magic and, whatever the ignorant peasantry may say, there are no such things as witches.’
She bowed her head. ‘No, lord.’
His hand was under her chin. She raised her eyes and looked at him. ‘I leave for London in the morning,’ he said. He looked momentarily puzzled, as if half-recalling that he had already told her. ‘I wish that I could take you with me.’ He leaned forward and kissed her mouth, gently, affectionately. ‘But you belong here, witch of the wildwood.’
He took one long, last look at her. Then he turned away and strode out of the chapel.
She made herself wait. She heard his voice, shouting out some command, and another man’s raised in reply. There was the faint patter of conversation, quickly fading. When she was sure they had gone, she hurried over to the flagstone trapdoor and, raising it, flew down the steps into the crypt.
She did not bother with a light. She knew every inch of the place and, besides, the goddess’s power drew her unerringly. She fell to her knees before the niche where she knew the Black Madonna sat, opening her heart and pouring out her gratitude.
A long time later, she rose to her feet, went back up the steps and left the chapel. She looked down at Hawkenlye, most of its lights darkened now. She sent King John a silent good night.
Then she hurried off through the woods towards the hut and her bed.
SIXTEEN
At Hawkenlye Abbey, the nun who had replaced Sister Martha in the stables was surprised one morning when a shabby-looking peasant brought in an extremely handsome horse. It was not in very good condition, for its coat
