The Valcourt Heiress (Medieval Song 7)

“But you were at Valcourt with Jason within a day and a half of his death.”

“Ella sent me a message immediately upon his falling ill. And of course you sent a message begging me to come and heal him. Such faith in me. I know Ella believed I could make him well. Did you? Really? But the truth is I knew I could not. What Ella described to me, I believe some organ in his body simply ruptured. And of course there was my golden ball.”

“What are you talking about?”

Helen held out her white hand. Upon her third finger was a ring with a small golden ball sitting atop it. “It looks like solid gold, and so it is, most of the time, but when I wish it, it becomes a mirror. I saw it all.” She shrugged. “Also, I was busy at Meizerling with a critical experiment and had not the time to spare simply to prove what I already knew. He was a dead man.”

Merry was shaking so hard from rage and grief, she didn’t think she could stand it. The words spewed out of her mouth. “What you say is madness! You are mad! You cannot be my mother!”

“Mad, am I? Hmmm, how sad that you, my daughter, think in such common terms.”

“I also believe you are evil. Unlike Jason, you have the brains.”

Another laugh. “You believe evil is loathesome and good is righteous? Those words exist only for churchmen to equate evil to Hell and thus scare the common herd into giving credence to the drivel that comes from their mouths. They want obedience and power, like every other benighted man on this earth, and this is how they gain it—through threats of eternal torture, or, if a man is good, they pour on promises of eternal bliss.

“Good and evil, they having no meaning in the full course of time. Ah, well, nothing much has any meaning, truth be told.”

“You cannot mean what you said, you cannot.”

Helen turned to the window. “You will never know who I am or what I am, even with my little demonstration. You are really quite common, Marianna. Mayhap I should have kept you with me, made you into something worthwhile, but there was nothing in you to interest me, nothing at all. Could I have given you something to give meaning to your short number of years?”

“Why would you even think to bother, when you say nothing has any meaning at all?”

There was a spark of momentary interest in her mother’s eyes. “How odd that you caught me up in my own logic. I suppose that I am distressed at Jason of Brennan’s continued failures. But I have seen that Jason will likely succeed in securing the silver coins this time, with my help naturally, if only there is enough time.”

“What do you mean, if only there is enough time? Why is time important to you? Won’t you live forever? Can’t you stop time?”

“No, I can only extend myself so far. A pity, but mayhap there is a way, and mayhap I will be the one to find it. Could it lie in the secret language in the rug beneath my feet?

“Ah, it is dawn. I have always loved to see the sun burst into life yet again each morning. The black clouds thicken. It will rain soon now, enough rain to rut the ground. Soon now.” She sighed. “There is so much to study, so much to learn. No matter the number of earthly years, life is still too short.” She fell silent as she continued to stare out of the narrow window. She looked back over her shoulder at her daughter. “Mayhap he will come looking for you, Marianna, who knows? But it will not matter.”

“What do you mean?”

She paused a moment, then smiled. “In time, you may come to understand, although I doubt it.”

37

LONDON

Garron couldn’t believe his ears. He stared at the frightened young man Whalen had by the arm.

“This is Thomas, my lord, one of the king’s stable guards.” Thomas’s eyes were as wild as his tangled black hair, panting he was so afraid.

Garron leaned close in. “You say you actually saw two men sneaking past the stables carrying a bundle?”

“Aye, my lord, well, I almost saw them for it was dark with little moon overhead. I knew there was a body all wrapped up because it was bent in two, not all that big a body, but the men were breathing hard, like they’d walked a long way.”

“Why did you not yell for them to stop, Thomas?”

Thomas cast a sideways look at Whalen, lowered his head, and whispered, “I had no weapon, and I was afraid they would kill me.”

Garron’s fingers were close to wrapping themselves around his neck. “No weapon? You are a guard. Where is your damned sword?”

The young man’s Adam’s apple looked like it would leap out of his throat. He streaked dirty fingers through his black hair. “My lord,” he whispered, “I forgot it when I sat in the jakes with Old Claver.”

It was close, but Garron didn’t strangle Thomas. “Who in the secret name of the Devil is Old Claver?”

“Old Claver keeps the jakes clean and tells you a story if you must settle in.”