De Burgh, towering above, his face dark with fury, saw the mutilated lamb and reached out a punishing hand to grasp her. She glanced up and shrank back in terror. It was the Devil! She had seen him before in the crystal!
Jasmine trembled from head to toe. Fear gripped her heart. Why had she so willfully disobeyed and come to this wicked place? Satan had caught her in a face-to-face confrontation. Quickly she covered her eyes so that he would not be able to look into her soul.
He took hold of her shoulder and shook her roughly. “Wicked wench, have you no shame? Look at me when I speak to you!”
“No, no,” she cried, “if I look into your eyes you will be able to steal my soul!”
“What gibberish is this? You ignorant little peasant.” He took hold of her hands and forced them down from her face.
She saw the Prince of Darkness in all his splendor. He was richly garbed in black velvet, the hilt of his dagger encrusted with blood-red rubies. He was a head taller than a mortal man and broader too. His face was darkly, wickedly handsome, and his eyes gleamed with green fire. They narrowed suspiciously as he felt her silken, soft hands.
“These are not the hands of a peasant girl.” He pulled off the shabby cloak and looked at her closely. Though she wore the dress and rough linen coif of a servant, he knew she was no such thing. “You are a spoiled, bored lady come to amuse yourself in the guise of your servant,” he accused.
Her throat constricted as half a scream was torn from her. With all his cosmic powers of darkness, he would identify her any minute. When he discovered she was a white witch who practiced only good, he would surely kill her. “Please don’t kill me,” she begged, terrified.
“I should beat some decency into you,” he threatened. “You are a wayward little baggage, sneaking out at night for thrills. Your parents probably cannot do a thing with you.”
The moon came from behind a cloud and bathed them in its silvery light. He realized suddenly she was hardly more than a child and that she trembled with fear. Instead of the saucy, pert features he had expected, he was looking into the face of an angel. Suddenly his anger melted and turned to amusement. Obviously this was the first time she had ever dared come to this place, and her encounter with him had really put the fear of the Devil in her. Well, before he was done with her, he would make certain she would never venture forth again in the name of temptation.
He held her hands fast so there was no hope of escape. “Why did you come here?” he asked.
She swallowed hard. Her heart beat wildly in her throat, choking her words. “I … was … c-curious,” she managed to gasp.
His eyes glittered with amusement as he accused, “You came to dance naked.”
“No, no,” she denied, shocked at his words.
Beginning to enjoy himself, he teased, “You came to find a man, a lover.”
She shook her head in shocked denial, but words failed her.
“Well, you have found a man … you have found me.”
Lurid snatches of folklore came to her about Satan having his way with human females. “Do not take my virginity, I beg you,” she said, sobbing.
His lips twitched. “But surely that’s what you had in mind when you ventured forth tonight? Surely, ’t would be a shame to come here and miss all the fun?”
“Fun?” she whispered in horrified fascination.
“Admit the truth and shame the Devil,” he said, laughing. “If I hadn’t caught you, you would have thrown off your clothes and danced naked round the fires.” His fingers went to the buttons at the neck of her gown and deftly undid them. “Dance for me now,” he invited, peeling the dress down to bare her shoulders.
She was experiencing firsthand the power he had over a female. The touch of his hands was strong and persuasive. “You cannot tempt me, Satan!” she cried. She felt dizzy, but knew if she fainted she was lost forever. The moment she swooned, he would deflower her. To be raped by Satan would be a worse fate than death! “Rape!” she cried hoarsely.
He laughed again. “Rape? Do you know the old definition of rape is to ’affect with rapture’?”
Her eyes closed with anguish and he took pity on the little maid. “Well, well, when a pretty girl is caught by the Devil she must pay some sort of forfeit. You have refused me your life and you have refused me your virginity, what forfeit will you pay?” he mused.
She had no money, she wore no jewel, her mind took a quick inventory.
“Let’s see … you could dance naked.” He hid a smile at her look of outraged innocence. “Or you could pay with a kiss … you choose.”
“A k-kiss,” she said quickly, willing to pay such a price to be rid of him. He smiled at her slowly and her heart turned over in her breast. He reached for her and she knew she would never be the same again. She had never been kissed before. His mouth was warm and persuasive, inviting her to lose control of her senses as his kiss took away her breath, her thoughts, her very will. But in truth he was the one most affected. He could tell she had never been kissed before, and her mouth was as sweet as wild honey. Her fragrance filled his nostrils and his head until he was dizzy with the scent and taste of her. He realized in that instant that a virgin’s kiss was a thing to treasure.
His voice roughened with a peculiar protective need she had aroused in him. “Begone from this place and mend your wicked ways,” he bade her, loosening his hold on her shoulders.
She made the sign of the cross and flung herself back from him into the deep shadow of a mighty stone and sped off in the darkness to where her pony was tethered. At that moment Lightning screamed and de Burgh, uttering a foul oath of frustration, reluctantly tended to his frightened war-horse.
Estelle, busy in the stillroom, kept glancing over at Jasmine. She was very quiet and subdued this morning, and her grandmother decided not to dose her again with a sleeping draft of poppy. Estelle had made dyebaths of marigold orange, day-lily yellow, and walnut brown, and had picked dozens of early purple saffron crocus, one of the world’s best dye plants. She was busy dipping skeins of yarn and lengths of cloth. Jasmine was silently occupied mixing the dyes and pigments into her paints, while the air was redolent from boiling beeswax and bayberry as Meg made candles.
A steward arrived from Salisbury Castle bringing a cartload of supplies for the manor and wool freshly sheared from the sheep to be expertly dyed by Dame Estelle. He was bursting with the news that William was returned from Wales because King Richard had been wounded in Normandy.
Estelle nodded knowingly. “So,” she said portentiously, “it has begun.”
Jasmine shuddered. She knew that when the steward had loaded his wagon with the things that were going back to Salisbury Castle, her grandmother would prepare to do magic this night. Usually Jasmine looked forward to participating in the rituals and spells, but to see what the future would bring would necessitate crystal gazing and suddenly she was afraid of a vision that had appeared to her twice. Once in the glass ball and once in living flesh and blood!
Jasmine made a special visit to the herb garden to gather plants to make herself a “tussiemussie.” She would carry it as a talisman to protect her from all evil. She picked sprigs of sweet basil, wild thyme, rosemary, spiderwort, bloodroot, and tansy and bound them together with a red thread. Each was renowned for its protective quality and fragrance, which wooed the senses with an almost sacred promise.
Later, as the veil of darkness descended over the tower room, Jasmine was visibly relieved when Estelle said, “I will do the seeing tonight, child, but it is most important that if I go into a trance you must write down everything I say. My visions will need interpreting and every detail will be vital.”
The circle of candles was lighted and Jasmine robed her grandmother in the black cloak covered with cabalistic symbols in silver thread. The old woman wore wide amulets of copper studded with amber and turquoise and anointed her forehead with sacred oil from an ivory vial. She stepped inside the circle of candles and with long, slim fingers crushed the h
erbs and set them to smolder. The air was filled with the scent of cloves as if the room had been suddenly filled with pinks and carnations.
Estelle took up the chalice majestically to drink the wine and began her chanted command. “I call upon all the Powers of the Universe to enlighten me tonight. Reveal to me the future.” She caressed the crystal globe and suddenly it began to swirl with brilliant colors. A stillness came upon her as her concentration deepened into a trancelike state. Her voice became urgent and husky as she began to relay her visions to Jasmine, who sat with quill and parchment at the ready.
“Animals … lions … three golden lions and a lion cub with a crown. A great black oxen … the lions flee in three directions, but the black ox tramples the first lion to death … it seeks out the second lion and kills it … now the third golden lion is trampled by the black ox … a pig, no it is a wild boar, drags the cub into a dark cave … now the boar picks up the crown where it has fallen … the black oxen comes to trample the boar but it swims across the water and escapes. The ox submerges into the water to await the boar at a future date … now comes a jackal to devour the dead lion. It is not satisfied and seeks out another lion’s carcass to swallow it whole. The jackal has a pup to feed … they seek out the carcass of the third golden lion and rend it to pieces and devour it … still their greed is not satisfied … they look toward the water and see the boar on the far shore … yes, they are going after the boar. They know it is weak and vain, caring for only the jewels in the crown rather than the power the crown represents. All is fading … come back, come back …”
Dame Estelle opened her eyes and shuddered. “Did you take down everything I said?” she asked anxiously. Jasmine helped her to a chair by the fire and handed her the parchment. Estelle read it carefully, considering the images she had spoken of. “I know what most of it means, but I will sleep on it and my dreams will interpret the rest. Tomorrow I will translate what is written and foretell the future.”
“Is it good?” Jasmine asked hopefully.
The old woman shook her head. “It is like everything in life—good and bad, kind and cruel, happy and sad. However, in this case there will be a veritable surfeit of bad before the ultimate good.”
Jasmine pondered her grandmother’s words as she undressed for bed. There was only one question to which she desired the answer. Would she go to court? She shrugged philosophically; tomorrow may give her the answer. She picked up a large chunk of amethyst crystal quartz that contained all the cosmic energy of earth and heaven. She pressed it to her forehead and to her heart and made a wish. Before she got into bed she took Quill, the little hedgehog that was curled into a ball on the hearth, and put him into her slipper for his own safety. She did not want a red-hot coal from the fire to fall onto the little creature and singe him.
The beautiful May sunshine was in direct contrast to the fateful picture Estelle was painting. Jasmine set the dish of luscious strawberries aside as Estelle’s words affected her appetite.
“The three golden lions are on King Richard’s shield. As we all know, the black ox is the symbol of death. King Richard is already dead, it is simply that the news has not had time to reach England yet. The lion’s cub with the crown is, of course, Richard’s nephew, Prince Arthur, Geoffrey’s son, who is next in line to be king. The wild boar who drags the cub into the dark cave and takes the crown must be Prince John of Mortain. The boar under cover of the dark cave must kill the lion cub in order to succeed.”
“Grandmother, you are saying that John will murder Arthur! You did not see the wild boar kill the cub!”
“You are correct, I did not. A great mystery will surround the disappearance of the cub, and it will be a long, long time filled with rumor and disbelief before anyone has the courage to charge John with the heinous crime.” Estelle took a deep breath and continued. “The boar takes the crown across the water, which means he will bring it to England and dwell here as England’s king.” She paused, hating to put the thought into words. “The jackal is Philip of France, his pup is his son Louis. By devouring the three lion carcasses they will swallow whole the Angevin possessions of Anjou, Bordeaux, and Gascony, then Brittany and finally even Normandy. Then because of King John’s weakness they will covet England itself and eventually try to invade us.”
Jasmine was shocked at the black picture Estelle had painted of John. After all, he was half brother to her father and thereby her uncle. According to Estelle’s prophecy he was to be the new King of England. “Is he truly so evil?” she whispered.
Estelle’s laugh cracked out. “Innocent one! All kings are evil. How else would they attain their high position and sustain it? Mayhap you have been kept too innocent for this world, child. You think a king would cavil at the stain of murder on his soul? There’s never been one yet who has! How many deaths lie at the door of the bastard William the Conqueror, or for that matter Richard Coeur de Lion? How many bodies paved the road to Jerusalem and back? Not only the bodies of the enemy, I might point out. Nay, child, it comes with the territory of kingship.”
Jasmine gazed with unseeing eyes at the red strawberries. “Will I go to court?” she whispered.
Estelle looked at her grandaughter long and hard, then said slowly, “I think perhaps you will.”
Chapter 4
Falcon de Burgh became a little uneasy as his troop reached their destination. He was loath to receive bad news about the king, and truth to tell, he was more than a little apprehensive about meeting Ela and Isobel. Salisbury Castle, however, was another matter. The vast wooded hills and meadows belonging to the castle were rich with cattle and sheep. The castle itself with its Norman keep was fashioned entirely of stone. The rooms were enormous, with high-vaulted beamed ceilings rising to a full second story, all topped by towers and crenelated parapets. It was a massive fortress, enclosing bailey, courtyard, stables, and numerous outbuildings within a thick stone wall.
There were a dairy and stillrooms, a spring shed and a buttery, laundry, outdoor kitchens, and baths. Salisbury had its own blacksmith’s forge and armory as well as tiltyards and gardens.
Walters, the steward and castellan of Salisbury, had obviously been told to expect de Burgh for in less than an hour he had taken charge of the produce and cattle brought from Berkley and Castle Combe, had shown the men-at-arms a fresh meadow by a stream where they could set up their tents, had settled Falcon’s knights into the knights’ quarters, and had shown young Lord de Burgh into the great hall where he was warmly greeted by William.
Instead of turning him over to a servant to show him his chamber, William put him into the tender care of his daughter Isobel. Falcon was startled at how lovely the girl was. All along he had been harboring a suspicion that William’s daughters might be ugly or, at the very least, plain. The young woman who smiled warmly at him had expressive dark eyes that showed humor. Her hair was obviously dark, but it was seductively hidden beneath a wimple, and when his eyes dropped lower to frankly assess her figure, he did not find it wanting in any way. Though Isobel was tall for a female, she still had to tilt up her head to look the dark knight in the face. As she led the way to an upper chamber, his eyes were fixed upon the swell of her buttocks as they gently swayed up the stairs. After she ushered him into a luxurious chamber she said, “Father insists upon you having his room while you stay with us. Please don’t protest, I assure you it pleases him to do this for you.” She smiled at him, assessing him as openly as he had her, and she more than liked what she saw.
“Demoiselle, you are too kind. What can I say?” He bowed formally to her before looking about him. The floor was covered by a silken carpet, the walls by rich colorful tapestries, and the huge bed by thick furs. A massive wardrobe covered one wall, and the far wall was fitted with a stained-glass window that filled the room with colored lights when the sunshine filtered through.
“I am sure you will find everything you need, from wine and ale to quench your thirst to soft leather slippers to ease your feet. But I imagine y
ou want nothing more than a warm bath to remove the stains of your travel and ease the ache of your bones.”
“Demoiselle, my bones do not yet ache, thank God,” he said, laughing, but he felt a definite ache in his groin at her mention of a bath.
“Please call me Isobel,” she said rather breathlessly as his maleness filled the chamber.
“Lady Isobel, you are everything your father has told me,” he said as formally as he could.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Ah, save your compliments until you have met Ela, I beg you, milord; her virtues are outstanding.”
The delicious play on words came back to him later when he was introduced to Ela, for apart from an attractive face and prettily pouting mouth, her most outstanding feature was a pair of breasts that could only be described as breathtaking. Falcon’s eyes sought out Isobel’s and they shared the humor with relish.
Ela had spent the afternoon with the head cook, Joan, a formidable woman who held sway in the kitchens with an iron hand and would have long since bullied William Longsword and reduced his authority to that of a small boy if it hadn’t been for his capable daughters. The result of the afternoon’s running battle between Joan and Ela was a culinary delight designed to seduce a man into wishing for such domesticity that turned ordinary food into manna.
The conversation flowed easily as they dined, showing de Burgh how pleasant a meal could be in the great hall of one’s castle when a well-trained chatelaine was in charge of a man’s comforts. He learned that each daughter had been trained by their late mother to review the accounts and inventory of the castle’s provisions daily. Controlling an enormous staff of strong-willed, capable servants and cooks was no small accomplishment. When necessary Ela and Isobel traveled from demesne to demesne gathering supplies needed for war, bullying the bailiffs and stewards into supplying money, supplies, and arms. They looked after the poor and set the moral standard for all the households on their vast properties.