Cursed by a Witch, page 15
The desk was set with a pair of large drawers on either size to hold papers or books. I tugged at the knob on the front to pull it open. The terribly loud grinding of wood on unfinished wood made wince. It sounded like it could be heard halfway down the hallway even with the door closed. I paused once more. I didn’t hear anything other than the distant background buzz of activity throughout the castle.
I resumed pulling it open when the door swung gently open. A terrible chill ran down my spine as I froze in place.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
It was Donovan’s grouchy voice. I immediately stood straight up. Donovan was hunched over in the doorway. The Head Steward had decided to come do his paperwork.
My tongue froze in my mouth. What could I possibly say to explain my presence? If he realized I was snooping, I was done for. He could execute me right then and there, no matter what Edna might have to say. At best, I’d be locked up in chains until they could find another wet nurse for Wallerd, at which time I’d have an appointment scheduled in the courtyard with a very large axe.
He peered at me with cruel watery eyes. His saggy cheeks twitched with anger. I had to find a way to talk my way out of this.
“I-- I…” I stuttered.
“You’re the new girl.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, sir.” I said. My voice was quavering.
“Eergh,” he muttered as he walked in and closed the door, “whoever told you to dust in here was playing a prank. I always dust it myself.”
“Oh-- my apologies, sir.” He thought I was a cleaning girl. I hoped the relief in my voice wasn’t too suspicious.
“Go on,” he said, “you girls always mess it up when you’re in here.”
He shooed me out the door and closed it behind me.
My heart was pounding. I took a deep breath and decided that I’d had enough hunting around for one day and returned to Edna’s quarters.
I would definitely have to be back, though. Now, I knew exactly where to look for information. I had only pulled the drawer open an inch or so--just enough that I could look inside and see that it was mostly empty.
So why had it been so heavy?
◆◆◆
That night, when I returned to our quarters, I found that Morgan had hung up a curtain over the entrance.
“I thought we could use a little more privacy,” she shrugged. She was unwinding for the day, wiping her face down with water in the basin. She was sitting on the stool wearing nothing but a sheet wrapped around her legs and waist. I couldn’t help taking a moment to trace the curves of her back, thinking about how touchable that soft, brown skin was. She looked back at me with a coy smile.
The curtain didn’t do anything for noise, of course, but it did mean it was that much less likely that someone might happen to be walking by and find us writhing against each other underneath the sheets. Edna apparently usually called for Morgan’s “assistance” later in the evening after waking up horny and upset.
“What if she finds out that you’re already wet?” I asked.
“She wouldn’t care,” Morgan shrugged. “Besides, I’m here to take care of her. Not the other way around. She wouldn’t ever notice. Which is why I’m so glad you’re here. It’s so nice feeling like we’re actually sharing--ooh!”
I wiggled my fingers inside her warm entrance. On a chilly night like tonight, there was hardly anywhere my fingers would be than inside her body. She stroked the inside of my canal in answer, hitting just the right spot on the inside.
“Mmf--” I cut short a moan.
It wasn’t long before we had our heads between each other’s legs once more, devouring each other desperately. I couldn’t say that I was in love with Morgan, but from a purely physical standpoint, it was unbearable to keep my hands--and tongue--off her. Shoving my hips into my face as she brought me to another shuddering orgasm, I realized that this was exactly what I was needing. It wasn’t complicated or emotional. As far as I was aware, neither of us had laid a curse on the other. It was nice.
Inevitably, right as I was starting to drift off to sleep, Edna called from the other room. Morgan grunted in sleepy frustration as she crawled over my body to get out of the bed. An accidental elbow to the ribs made sure that I was as wide awake as she was.
I tried to close my eyes and ignore the sounds coming from the other room. I was surprised to find that I didn’t feel jealous at all about Morgan and Edna. Perhaps that was just because I knew Morgan didn’t enjoy it. No, that wasn’t it. Morgan clearly did enjoy it, or she wouldn’t have immediately started masturbating after returning last time. Maybe it was just that Edna did not return the favor. Regardless, Edna’s moans of passion were not my preferred lullaby.
I tried to count sheep to try to get back to sleep, with the added bonus that it made it easier to ignore what was happening in the other room. One, two, three… Around forty-three or so, I slowly became aware of the sensation of being looked at. I hadn’t heard anyone come in. The curtain would have rustled. And yet the paranoid sensation grew until it was stronger and stronger.
I opened my eyes.
Sitting just three inches from my face was the biggest rat I’d ever seen in my life. It was at least a foot and a half long if you included the tail. Torchlight filtering in from underneath the curtain glinted on its shiny black eyes, which were peering at me with an oddly lucid intelligence.
I gasped as I sat up quickly in the bed. Typical rodent behavior would have been to flee immediately after such a large movement, but this small monster held its ground.
“Lord Edward de Martin,” it squeaked at me. “Welcome back.”
I blinked in confusion.
“Thanks, I-- what?” I said back. I was so flustered, I could barely say it back in the Green Language.
“Oh, humans may not see through such clumsy disguises,” the rat chuckled, “but you’ll never fool a rat’s nose. We always figure it out.”
“It’s not a disguise,” I whispered back. “I really am a woman.”
The rat gave a gesture that could only be described as a tiny shrug.
“Never understood the distinction, really,” he said. “Regardless, welcome back. We missed you. Didn’t miss that Wallis much. He was truly a ravaging beast against ratkind.”
This was disconcerting. It seemed like Hopkin had been the only one who cared about me--I hadn’t heard the name Edward even whispered since I had arrived. Now, I was learning that the pests had also missed me. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. I hadn’t minded the rats much when I was younger. I had even fed them once or twice when I was a child, until the headmistress found out and made me stop. Beyond that, I’d never treated them with any extraordinary kindness.
“Thank you, I think?” I said, still a little stunned to hear that a rat knew my darkest secret.
“I hope you’re planning to take the castle,” the rat said. “Surely, to come back like this, you must have some clever plan to open a door and let your army in. We’d love a good sacking. Our grandparents’ grandparents passed on tales of the feasts they had after the last one.”
“I… no, not exactly.”
“Oh.” The rat sounded disappointed.
An idea came to me.
“Perhaps you could help me, though. Could you get some of the other rats to help out?”
“Of course,” he said. If a rat could look offended, this one did. “I am no mere cupboard rat. I am King Snaggletooth. Every rodent in the castle would lay down their life if I gave the order.”
It puffed itself up conceitedly. I’d never talked to such a human-like creature. I wondered if living around the humans had made the rats more like us.
“Okay, here is what I need…”
I spent a few minutes outlining the plan. Finally, the rat nodded and began padding toward the door.
Right at the moment, the curtain swung open, and Morgan walked in, still as naked as the day she was born. She glanced over at me, sitting straight up in the bed, and then down at the enormous rat suddenly frozen in the middle of the floor. We all stared at each other for a moment.
“I’m not even going to ask,” she said, shaking her head. King Snaggletooth scampered past her out the door.
Chapter 20
Two days later, I snuck my way back up to the abandoned wing of the castle to the old steward’s quarters. I found myself standing for a long time in front of the door to Hopkins’ old room. I’d chosen this place specifically because I knew no one would come here and interrupt me. If anyone decided to look for me, this was the last place they would check.
Still, standing at this door was a painful reminder that Hopkin was not here, and may never come back. I regretted my choice. There were other places I could have chosen. But it was too late now.
I pushed the door open and walked in. The room was incredibly dusty and empty. Clearly, Hopkin had grabbed every last one of his belongings before leaving. The only sign that he’d ever been here was the discarded hose in the corner. It was obvious why he had left it behind--there was an enormous hole in the seat.
Still, the bed was still here. It was an old mattress with suspicious brown stains set on a very low wooden frame. I bent down and peeked underneath. There it was--a little ways back, a high stack of papers almost as high as the bedframe. It was almost impossible to reach--it took me three minutes of reaching and straining to pull them out and put the stack of papers on the bed.
They were all loose, and each of them had one jagged torn edge on the left side.
Here it was. Donovan’s secrets, all in a single pile.
I’d had the realization after visiting Donovan’s quarters. The drawer I’d tried to open was nearly empty, but the drawer felt full. The only possible explanation was that there was a false bottom.
I’d requested of King Snaggletooth--that name would never get easy to say without giggling--that he or his “vassals” see if they could get inside. They simply gnawed their way in through the back, of course, and reported back that there was a heavy book inside. Last night, I had sent them in to bite the pages out and carry to this secret hiding spot. Had anyone seen them, it must have been a bizarre sight--a series of rats dashing through the castle with rustling sheets of paper in their jaws.
If anyone had seen anything like that, I would have heard about it. They would have been hunting for witches immediately. As the newest woman in the castle, suspicion would have turned to me immediately. It had been a calculated risk. Now I just hoped it would pay off. I turned the first page.
August 1, 3rd year of King John’s Reign
W in a fine rage again. Hunting party came back with only a hare. Worse, word from De Martin’s that Estella is with child. If she gives birth to a boy, W will no longer be first in line to inherit. W asks that we hire herbalist and poison her drink on next visit. I managed to talk him down, but that was two flagons of wine ago. At this rate, he will drink the year’s stores by October. Too much coin on imported wine for him to drink it all up like this. Perhaps we should tell him ale is more fashionable this year.
It was a diary. W was clearly my uncle Wallis. My heart had leaped when I saw the name Estella. That had been my mother. I had no memory of her. She had only had one child. The paragraph must have been talking about me.
I turned the pages rapidly. Most of the entries were trivial and mundane. Donovan complaining about Wallis’ drinking, and praising himself for his effective management of the estate--at least, when he could keep Wallis from taking an interest in running things. But here and there were revealing pieces of family history.
January 16, 4th year of King John’s Reign
W despondent today. Messenger came to tell of Estella and Robert’s first child being born. Male. St.-Martin-on-the-River is out of reach now. We are to visit for the christening in 10 days. Tried to console W that child may yet sicken and die. Pointless. He yet wails like an infant.
January 18, 4th year of King John’s Reign
Christening of Edward De Martin was without incident, thankfully. Child was of course quite healthy. The celebration was marvelous, and put W in quite good spirits. Seems W has finally put hope for his inheritance of St-Martin-by-the-River out of his mind.
The general attitude of Donovan toward Wallis astonished me. I knew that there had been some strife between them, but Donovan had always conducted himself with all appropriate respect and deference toward Wallis. He must have chosen to keep his disdain for his diary only.
For instance, I found the following passage astonishing.
June 12, 6th year of King John’s Reign.
In Aquitaine. W entered tourney held in honor of King’s mother. Hoping to impress regent and be appointed a new title. I cannot understand why he is not satisfied with his station, as he can barely manage his current estate even with my assistance. W knocked on his ass on the first bout. Crowd jeered. Brought a smile to my heart.
No wonder these pages were kept secret. If anyone found them, Wallis could have him hanged.
I thought briefly about finding some way to just send Wallis these pages with a messenger, but discarded it. I did not like Donovan much, but it wouldn’t do me any good to have him killed. It wasn’t Donovan who had tried to get me killed.
And then I came on an entry scrawled in large, uneven letters. It was clearly Donovan’s hand, but unsteady. The ink was slightly smeared in a couple of places, as if it hadn’t been properly blotted. And there were big round black drops from shaking the pen too hard while writing. Donovan had not been in a restful state of mind when writing it.
March 2nd, 7th year of King John’s Reign.
I write what I write now so I can put it out of mind. I will never speak a word of it to a soul.
Great fire at St.-Martin-by-the-River last night. Visiting for feast. All had retired to bed, and at midnight I was woken by a great clamor. Tragedy. Entire wing of palace burned. Robert and Estella roasted in their own bed. Baby Edward rescued. I found W at base of stairs w/Edward in his arms, covered in soot, mad eyes. W smelled like brewery. Child was wailing.
W ordered we leave immediately. I told him to give child to stewardess to be cared for. He did not. Madness in his eyes. I asked why he kept the child, and he did not answer. W ordered that we leave again, and so we immediately loaded carriage and left.
W began talking madness, saying he would kill the child and have St. Martin. I plead with him for an hour. Finally, after I told him for twelth time that God would curse kin killers, as that is what he would be for slaying his own nephew, W calmed down. W then insisted that we say that this was not Edward, but some other boy rescued from fire. He took water and rechristened child as I watched. He was so drunk, I feared he would drop the boy.
I explained that no one would believe that child disappeared from our charge and that we simply rescued a commoner. W listened over and over, and finally seemed to understand. I relaxed and fell asleep when it seemed he had returned to reason.
I woke some hours later to a woman’s scream. The carriage was stopped. The child was asleep on floor of carriage. I called out for W. My hand was on door to open it and see what had happened when W opened door and entered. He had another squalling babe in his arms, and was covered in blood. His blade was bare.
This will be Edward, see? We will not come back without a noble, he said. His eyes were insane. I had no words. He must have taken a babe from a commoner’s mother’s arms and killed the family.
He told the driver to go, and we were on our way. I was shocked. I asked how this would help W, since all would believe this new babe is the true heir of the Martins. W said that when time was right, they would reveal that the babe was a commoner. As he said it, I saw reason return to his eyes, as he realized what foolishness it all was. He said no more all the way home, but the deed was done. He had murdered a mother and possible more already.
When we returned to Dreadmoor, Wallis told all the kidnapped child was Edward, and he had also taken in out of mercy an orphaned servant child.
What horror I will have to bury in my heart, to look on a commoner each day and know that all with think he is a Peer, and to look on the true heir Edward, and hear all call him by the name ‘Hopkin’ and believe him a servant.
My hands were shaking as I put the pages down. I had come looking for a way to tear down Wallis, and I had found just that. These pages would have him stripped of all titles and privileges. All his estates. He would likely be executed. But it would tear me down as well.
The floor was crumbling underneath my feet. After everything I’d been through, to find out that at long last even the life before the witch had been a lie. I was shocked and confused. I cried out in rage. Rage for myself, for my mother that Wallis had murdered. Rage for Hopkin’s stolen heritage. For my own stolen future.
I vowed make sure that one way or another, Wallis would pay for all his crimes. And I would make it happen.
***
I nearly ripped the curtain down when I returned to my quarters for my bag. I had to get everything together. The plan I had forming was vague, but I couldn’t bear to spend another night under the castle’s roof.
My bag was lying in the corner with all my worldly possessions, but I hadn’t needed any of them since I had arrived. I opened it up and looked through it. Everything was there. The carved box was sitting at the top. For a moment, I was tempted to just open the box and run away. I was about to bring hell down on my own head. It would be easy to forget everything I’d learned--just open the box, abandon witchcraft, and flee to my cousins--or at least, the people I thought were my cousins. I could even just go live in the woods if I chose.
No. No easy way out. I set the bag on the bed and tossed a few extra dresses and warm shawls I’d been given into it.
The curtain rustled. I turned around.
“Oh,” Morgan said. She looked disappointed.
“I’m sorry, Morgan, I…” My tongue failed me. I didn’t know what to say.
“Oh, don’t worry. I was just looking forward to telling you first.”
