The Bastard, page 8
But she continued staring at me, waiting for a response. The witch wasn’t going to be put off.
“Revenge,” I said finally.
It was my first instinct, but there was more to it than finding some sort of justice. I had changed. The happy, opportunistic Mordie of old was gone, replaced by a man who had suffered a betrayal not easily forgotten. Meghan still waited, however, as if she expected me to elaborate. And so I did, telling her my whole story. How I’d lived my life, just doing what I needed to do to get by, following along whichever pathway seemed easiest. I spoke about meeting Rolf, the easy coin he seemed to offer, and how, because of that, because of the choices I’d made, I’d ended up dangling on the end of a rope.
“Rolf was supposed to be my friend. But he wasn’t,” I said.
“He was using you.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yes, and I should have seen it but didn’t. I was foolish, like a boy instead of a man.”
Meghan hadn’t said anything further, and after a while, I realized I was tensing my shoulders and tried to consciously relax.
“He wasn’t wrong, though,” I said finally, ready to admit a core truth. “It was my fault.”
“In what way?” Meghan asked.
“I let him use me,” I said. “Deep down, I knew what Rolf was, and I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be taken in.”
Meghan studied me closely, as she had developed a habit of doing. “And what is different now?” she asked. “If you were to meet another Rolf tomorrow, what would stop him from using you just as the original Rolf did?”
It was an important question. I’d been burned by Rolf and had barely survived. I liked to think it would be enough to avoid the same in the future. But really, it all came down to why he’d been able to deceive me at all. And I had been thinking about this, as well.
“I lacked my own purpose,” I said finally. “I let his purpose guide me and didn’t even blink twice.”
It was a relief to tell her finally, as if speaking it aloud was exactly what I needed to cement the idea of revenge. True, I could have been smarter, but Rolf deserved to be drawn and quartered, and not just for his betrayal of me, but because of what he’d tried to do to Anwen.
Meghan simply nodded, told me to come inside for my dinner and then try to get some rest.
But the conversation continued over the next couple of days. It became clear that she had been thinking things through.
“Rolf used you not because he had a purpose,” she said. “But because he set the rules, and you accepted them and played within them. I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think he would ever have been able to do so if you had your own rules to live by.”
It was a simple thought, but it was like an explosion of clarity in my mind. In one instant, the witch had redefined my whole problem. And she was absolutely right.
I’d never lived by my own rules. Not once. I’d just drifted along, accepting the rules of others as I went.
And in that moment, I knew that had to change.
As I regathered my strength, I thought about everything that had happened. Thought about the questions Meghan had asked, and the answers she had given. I thought also about Rolf, what he had done, and his shit-eating grin as he had left me to my fate.
Meghan asked me many times after what I planned to do. And during that time, I developed an answer.
I was going to live by my own rules. Which meant I had to define what those rules were.
The first one was obvious, but needed to be remembered. The second followed closely on the first.
Make your own damn rules.
Know what you want.
And I knew what I wanted now, beyond a shadow of a doubt. I had needed a purpose. After recovering from a close shave with death, I wasn’t thinking about the purpose of my whole life. Nothing so grand as that.
My focus instead was on my immediate future. And what I wanted was simple.
I was going to make Rolf and his pals pay for the torment they had put me through. And to do that, I needed a plan. Hence, rule number three:
Make a fucking plan.
18
Rolf could have saved me. Instead, he’d left me to my fate, had left me to die. In effect, he might as well have walked me to the gallows himself, placed the noose around my neck, and pulled the hangman’s lever.
But he wasn’t the only one who had earned my ongoing hatred. Bryce and Durstan had played their part as well. If they hadn’t taken it in turns to beat me into a pulp, then I might have been miles away from the storage room when the other Blackcoats had arrived.
I would had been in the wind and would have never been taken to jail at all.
So his cronies would taste my wrath as well, in whatever shape it eventually took.
When I told Meghan, however, she shook her head. “These men, they are Blackcoats, are they not?” she asked. I nodded. “Then they have the King’s backing for all that they do. Right or wrong. Going after them is dangerous. Did I bring you back from the brink of the abyss just so you could fling yourself over the edge once again?”
The more I thought about revenge, the more it consumed me. But I owed Meghan everything, and it seemed important that she give me her blessing. “Do you think I should let them get away with what they did?” I asked, feeling slightly resentful.
The enchantress frowned. “Of course not. But they are Blackcoats. They are the people you’re supposed to go to when seeking justice. Even Lancelot is rumored to be as corrupt as Rolf, even though they hate each other. If they are the cause of the injustice themselves, what are you going to do? Fight all of them?”
“Only if I have to,” I said.
Meghan looked aghast.
Then I shook my head. “For the moment, my focus is on just Rolf and his men. They are the ones who have earned my enmity.” Then I tried a small grin. “Of course, if others happen to cross me in the future, then maybe I’ll add them to the list.”
Later, after Meghan had settled in for the night, she asked, “Are you sure revenge is the way you want to go?”
I could sense her next to me but couldn’t tell if she was wearing the flesh of an old woman or a younger one.
“All my life, I’ve been nothing,” I said. “Just a twig floating along in the river, content to go wherever it took me. I did no real harm, not really. Even the jobs I did for Rolf–he could have got someone else easily enough.” I sighed. “But that life is over. It ended with a rope around my neck and hundreds of strangers applauding their approval.”
Even though it was dark and there was no immediate threat, I balled my hands into fists. “I was inconsequential. I didn’t matter. But now, thanks to you, I live again.” I turned toward her in the dark. “This time, it’s going to mean something.”
Meghan was silent a moment, as if considering my words. Then she said, “And that’s the meaning you wish to attach to your life? Revenge?”
The way she said it, it did sound a little hollow. “Do you have a better idea?” I asked.
I expected that to be the end of the conversation, but to my surprise, Meghan gave me an answer. “Not specifically,” she said. “But revenge–it seems such a small thing. And I can’t help but feel you could do so much more.”
There were echoes of the last conversation I’d had with Rolf in her words, and I wondered what she meant.
On a whim, I asked, “Why did you take me through that marble hallway? Why did you give up part of your life to look after me? And why didn’t you stay?”
She grunted and turned over. “I have my reasons,” she said. But just like before, she didn’t elaborate.
“Revenge is all I have at the moment,” I said to her back. “And until someone offers me a different reason, well…” I trailed off, letting my words hang in the air.
And still Meghan remained silent.
“Otherwise,” I finished, “I am simply a bastard, with no purpose except the one I make.”
19
Shortly after that conversation, I felt healthy enough to resume my life. All I had in the world was my tunic and breeches. I had no coin, nothing to sell. I didn’t even have a pair of boots.
Still, I was ready.
I felt healthy. Almost strong. My injuries had healed, my bruises and contusions fading into nothing more than an unpleasant memory. Even the rope burn around my neck had healed, and if I was a few pounds lighter than I had been before, I was confident that time would take care of that.
My hair had grown long during my convalescence, and I’d let my beard grow out, too. The new look would be good for avoiding being recognized, until at least I could assess the situation in Camelot.
It was time, I decided. When Meghan was off looking after a patient, I spent a few minutes tidying her bed and putting all those things Sir George had bumped out of place to rights.
I could have simply vanished. I’d done it before, mostly to avoid the awkwardness of saying goodbye to various women I perhaps shouldn’t have been with. But Meghan had literally saved my life, and even though she seemed to want to keep some of it secret, we shared a history.
I owed her everything.
So I waited on her couch with Sir George curled up beside me, his wings fluttering every so often as he dreamed his small, dragon-ish dreams.
It wasn’t long before Meghan returned, and one look at me was enough for her to understand.
“You’re leaving,” she stated.
I nodded. “It’s time. Thank you for everything. If it weren’t for you… Well,” I said, but didn’t finish the sentence. We both knew what she’d done for me.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She seemed sad, as if she had grown used to me being there, but she didn’t try to dissuade me.
“Where will you go?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a big city. But I’ll find somewhere, don’t worry. I always do.”
She smiled at this as if she knew what I meant. And she probably did.
“And your quest for revenge? There’s no way I can convince you to give it up?”
I shook my head.
She paused, as if debating whether she should continue or not. “How will you go about it?” she asked finally. “As you said, it’s a big city. How will you even find Rolf and the others?”
It was a question I’d asked myself many times in the last few days. And I had my answer. It took the form of another of those rules I was planning to live by.
Use what you’ve got.
I grinned at the old woman. “By using everything I have,” I said.
Whether she fully understood what I meant, I couldn’t tell. But Meghan le Fay at least caught some of my good humor. Indeed, I was in good spirits despite the anger that had settled over me. Finally, I would be able to set some plans in motion.
Meghan returned my smile. “Well, I have enjoyed your company. You are welcome to return whenever you choose, and if there is any aid you might need from an old enchantress, all you have to do is let me know.” She hesitated once more and glanced at Sir George. “Unbelievable. I think I’m even going to miss your pet rat dragon.”
I smiled at this and stood to leave. But Meghan looked me up and down once again and seemed to come to a decision.
“You are a handsome one,” she said. With that, she touched the jewel on her necklace once more, and just like that, instead of a bent, wizened old lady, I was looking at the young, beautiful version of Meghan again.
She continued to smile, and my heart started to pound in my chest. “You asked me once which of the forms I take is my true one,” she said, removing the shawl from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “You wanted to know if I am really am an old woman, or if I’m still young.”
Then, she began to remove her other layers of clothing. Moving swiftly and surely, she stepped out of her dress, and then climbed out of more than one layer of undergarment.
In a surprisingly short time, she stood before me in her full, naked glory, wearing nothing but her necklace, her smile, and the dark powder around her eyes.
“Now, I have a question for you,” she said, looking me up and down. “Does it really matter?”
I gazed at her milky white perfection, my eyes feasting on her feminine flesh, pausing at her perfect, well-rounded breasts before sweeping downward, taking in the breadth of her hips, and the tight, dark curls at the cleft between her legs.
It wasn’t the first time a naked woman had stood in front of me, but along every measure I could imagine, none of them compared to Meghan le Fay’s astonishing beauty. I wondered briefly if it was real or if it was the product of her witchery ways, and knew that it was just a reframing of the same question.
My breathing had quickened, and I had to swallow before I could speak. When I did, I heard the rustiness in my voice.
“No,” I managed. “I don’t think it matters at all.”
Meghan’s smile grew even broader, and she held out a hand. “In that case, then perhaps you can postpone your leaving for a little while longer.”
With that, she drew me back to the bed I’d shared with her for so many weeks. Except this time, her intentions and mine were a long way from sleeping.
20
I pushed the beautiful woman onto the bed and climbed on top of her, kissing her lips gently before moving to nibble her earlobe, then working my way down her neck. I had no intention of touching her necklace. As far as I was concerned, it was an item of magic and power. I doubted that anything I could do would activate its enchantment if Meghan didn’t want me to, but it wasn’t worth the risk.
So instead of kissing the slight hollow at the base of her throat, I moved instead to her collarbone, then lower still, until I was teasing her nipples with the tip of my tongue, circling each areola before taking them, one after the other, into my mouth, flicking the tips of each with my tongue.
Despite the perpetual coolness of Meghan’s cottage, I felt my cheeks and forehead flush with unexpected warmth and broke away for a moment, leaning back to admire the view.
Meghan le Fay smiled up at me from the bed. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” she asked, her tone slightly teasing.
I grinned in return. “It’s been a while,” I replied, and it was true. I hadn’t been with a woman since the day before meeting Anwen at the market. Sure, I had been convalescing since then, but it still felt like a long time ago. “But I think I can manage,” I added with a grin.
Still smiling, Meghan plucked at the fabric of my tunic. “You might find it easier if you climbed out of your clothes. Or have you forgotten how it all works?”
I had to laugh. With my thoughts having been largely concerned with hate and revenge, it felt good to share a moment of joy with Meghan, even if she was in truth an ancient crone who kept her youth through magic.
She didn’t look like she was, though. She looked young and tender, a small, slim woman enjoying the first flush of womanhood, a maiden of no more than twenty or so.
And, really, that’s all that mattered. I just didn’t want her to change back halfway through.
With another laugh, I stood and quickly did as Meghan said, leaving my clothes in an untidy pile on the floor next to hers. And then I was back, exploring her smooth perfection with fingers and lips, tasting, kissing, and enjoying every last inch of her.
At first, the enchantress accepted my attentions as if they were due, closing her eyes and simply luxuriating in it all. I could tell my ministrations were having an impact by the sound of her breathing, by the way her cheeks became flushed, and the way she started to writhe on the bed.
It was as if she wanted to do even more but was afraid she might interrupt what I was doing. I noticed, and changed from a methodical exploration to a more teasing approach, using my fingers to caress the skin on each side of her at the same time as I kissed her hips, working my way toward the dark, damp patch of hair… but not quite taking that final step.
For long minutes, I continued in the same vein, enjoying Meghan’s frustration, which was becoming increasingly apparent in the way that she moved.
Finally, she reached the point where she could take it no more. She opened her eyes and looked at me with a mix of irritation and humor, and, showing surprising strength for a small woman like her, tipping me off her and onto my back.
She climbed on top of me, straddling my hips, giving me a taste of her damp womanhood pressed against my length.
I reached for her, intending to lift her hips just high enough for me to enter, but she pushed me back against the sheets with a smile.
“Two can play at that game,” she said, her eyes flashing. “Have you not heard of the dangers of laying with a witch?”
For the briefest of moments, I stared at her. I had indeed heard of the dangers. That laying with a witch could be fatal, that she could drain a man’s strength in one go, and leave him a withered husk with no hope of survival.
I admit, Meghan’s words took some of the wood from my tree. “What do you mean?”
My obvious concern made her laugh even more, but she made no move to hurt me. Instead, she moved herself against me in a practiced manner, which quickly returned me to full strength.
Then, with a smile of satisfaction, she leaned down and kissed me on the lips.
At the same time, she slipped me easily inside her, and, still kissing me, moved her hips in an almost circular motion.
I lay there, enjoying her dampness and warmth, relaxed and excited all at once, and placed my hands on her hips, not to guide her, but just to add another dimension to the sensuality to the moment.
In a surprisingly short time, Meghan’s movements gained an edge of determination, and she leaned back just a little as she concentrated hard. With her breathing becoming ragged and her eyes tightly clenched, she ground herself against me with all her strength, then uttered a stifled, high-pitched moan as she shuddered.
I realized at the same time that she was digging her fingernails into my shoulders. By conscious effort, she relaxed and smiled at me.
