Knight and the Witch 02 - A Summer Bewitchment by Lindsay Townsend Page A

her away. “Never run from cowards. That is when they shoot you in the back.”
    “What did you shout just now?”
    “When I stepped from the hall? An old Viking curse I learned from my granddad. It seemed fitting.”
    Relief, and the power that her spell had taken from her, made her light-headed. Around her, the setting sun was a glowing blood red, an unholy omen. Though she struggled against it, her vision was darkening. Blood thumped in her head and ears and sticky heat smothered her limbs.
    “We should hurry,” she said.
    Magnus whistled, a single, piercing note, a signal. She could not stop herself from shuddering. “Forgive me,” she tried to say, ashamed of her sudden weakness, but her throat was dry.
    He tightened his hold on her. “My men are here. Not far now, a few more steps to our horses.”
    The gathering night swirled closer, spiraling round into a single black point. She strained for the light, for her own sweetly whispering flowers, but saw and heard no more.
     

     
    Tumbling down into the dark, Elfrida dreamed of the Lady Astrid. In the dream they were outside the lady’s manor, strolling within a garden. Elfrida tried to see if any opium poppies grew there, while Lady Astrid sat on a grassy bank that sparkled with nodding cowslips. She did not invite Elfrida to join her.
    “Until I saw your tricks with the flowers and the gown I did not know you were a witch,” she said. “Is that how you got yourself married?”
    Elfrida shook her head. “Why the deliberate insults?”
    Lady Astrid plucked a cowslip and threaded it into her blond hair. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I deal with you according to our mutual status. I am a lady. You are a peasant.”
    “True, but you and your kin have a strange way of trying to win favors and of asking for help.”
    The lady tore the flower from her hair. “We never beg.”
    “Is a request the same as begging in your eyes?”
    “You should be honored to be any part of our company.” Lady Astrid dropped the yellow blossom onto the grass. “As for the gown, it was fitting. I suggested it to my cousin. I wanted to show you as you really are to everyone.”
    “Why?”
    “Because your peasant arrogance offends me. But now I understand. You are a witch who has bewitched your country knight into marrying you.” She smiled and brushed the rich silk of her blue gown. “What happens when the magic wears off?”
    She is a malicious fool, Elfrida told herself, but it made no difference. The scene changed. She was back at Magnus’s manor and a mass of armed and mounted knights were charging at the house. Lady Astrid materialized beside her. She wore full armor. Her chain mail sparkled in the blazing sun.
    “What are your orders, peasant? How do we stop them?”
    The earth shuddered beneath Elfrida’s feet and already the noise of the closing horses and men was such that she would have to shout. What magic have I to stop these horses? I charm and weave spells to cure animals, not harm them.
    An instant’s hesitation only but the screaming knights were here, slashing at her with swords and clubs.
    “You have lost your lord’s home,” Astrid mocked, then the dream folded into a different space and time, a midwinter courtly dance. Tall and strong beside her, Magnus whistled the dance plucked out by the lute players and offered her his hand.
    I do not know this dance . I know only country dances .
    “What are the steps, peasant?” Clothed in gold threaded with seed pearls, Lady Astrid passed in a scatter of rose petals and rose perfume, drawing Magnus with her. They danced to a dais. Colliding helplessly with the other twirling lords and ladies, Elfrida trailed in their wake.
    By the time she had reached the dais, Magnus was already seated next to the lady. He frowned at her. “Why have you not prepared the feast to my liking?” he demanded. “These dishes are a disappointment, a disgrace.”
    He indicated the bowls of stew and pottage, the