The Penwyth Curse (Medieval Song 6)

A skinny child, dressed in boy’s trousers, a loose woolen shirt, hair scraped back in tight, thick braids, stepped around Lord de Gay. The old man grabbed her arm, as if to hold her back, but she shook him off and stood straight and tall in front of Sir Arlan.

“I am Merryn de Gay.”

“And I will be your husband come nightfall,” he said, reminding himself that she was still a child, and surely she would improve with age. He walked up the steps and looked at her more closely.

She wasn’t at all appetizing. But as long as he could fit himself between her skinny legs and breach her maidenhead, nothing else mattered. Sir Arlan didn’t have any problem at all with this scrap of humanity becoming his bride. He doubted a gown would make her any more toothsome, since she had no breasts or hips to draw attention, not a single curve on her small child’s body. On the bright side, he didn’t think she could get any worse.

“Aye,” he said, after looking at her, “I will be your husband by eventide. You may address me as ‘Sir Arlan’ or ‘my lord.’ ”

“I will not address you as anything. You are an intruder. If we hadn’t let you in, you would have been perfectly satisfied to kill everyone. You are here to claim what was my father’s and is now mine. Go away or the curse will kill you. The Druid priests who placed the curse owed a great deal to my ancestors.”

Sir Arlan heard his men speaking quietly behind him. He said, “I care not about such nonsense. There is no curse, or if there is, it is as meaningless as a goblet of wine that disappears quickly down a man’s gullet.”

She said very softly, leaning toward him so that she wasn’t more than an inch or two from his face, “It is really a very simple curse, Sir Arlan. If you don’t leave, you will die.”

“Ah, so, long ago Druid priests knew of you, Lady Merryn? Mayhap they saw you in the dead eyes of one of their sacrifices?”

“Mayhap,” Merryn said.

Lord Vellan grabbed her hand and nearly threw her behind him. He had rich white hair and an even more luxuriant white beard that cascaded down his chest to come to a point just above his wide leather belt. He yelled, “Listen, all of you. Sir Arlan may dismiss the ancient curse, but it is quite real. The Witches of Byrne, who are descendants of the Druids, have blessed it. They have claimed this land to be held apart from violence and strife. Aye, for hundreds upon hundreds of years Penwyth has been protected by forces mightier than a few paltry men astride horses.”

Lord Vellan heard a man ask, “What is the curse?”

Lord Vellan shouted, “You see my granddaughter, her red hair, her green eyes? She is the image of an ancient priestess who once lived on this site hundreds upon hundreds of years ago. The story goes that an enemy came to that ancient Penwyth and claimed both her and the fortress. The Druid priests collected here, outside the wooden fortress walls, and pronounced the curse. The enemy died a dreadful death, Sir Arlan.”

More murmuring voices. “What death? What happened?”

“The enemy fell into a cesspit and strangled to death on waste and rot, all his men looking on.”

“You weave a ridiculous tale, Lord Vellan! A cesspit with his men not aiding him? There is no damned curse!”

Lord Vellan smiled. “Listen, all of you!

“The enemy will die who comes by sea.

The enemy by land will cease to be.

The enemy will fail who uses the key.

Doubt this not,

This land is blessed for eternity.”

“What key? What key is there to use? What is this, old man?”

Lord Vellan shrugged. “I simply recite the ancient curse to you. If there is a key, its meaning is long forgotten. But you come by land, Sir Arlan, and that means you will die if you do not leave peacefully.”

Before Sir Arlan could spit, Lord Vellan called to the men grouped behind him, “I do not know how he will die because no one has ever before taken Penwyth, but Sir Arlan will die unless he leads all of you away from here at once. Will the rest of you die as well? I don’t know.”

Sir Arlan didn’t spit. He knew his men were frightened

; perhaps he felt a niggling bit of fear himself, but it didn’t matter, and so he threw back his head and laughed, loud and deep. “That’s it, old man? That’s the stupid curse? I heard nothing about your precious granddaughter in the curse.”

Lord Vellan shouted, “This is the rest of the curse. Look at my granddaughter, and know it is true!

“Maiden’s heart pure as fire

Maiden’s eyes, green as desire