“It’s hard to remember. I think the weather began to change about that time. This last dry period started with husband number four, Sir Basil of Ware. There hasn’t been a drop of rain since.”
“It sounds like Sir Basil cursed you.”
She nodded. “Oh no, he was merely a man. It’s difficult to accept that the Druid priests are behind it, because truly I want to believe that God controls all things, including men’s fortunes.”
She was standing beside him now, looking toward Land’s End and the sea. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun was high and hot, the wind harsh and gritty against her face. “Truth is, I don’t really know what to believe anymore.”
“I told you that it will rain, which means that when it does, the people will believe that the ancient sprits have got their grit and strength back.”
She shrugged, then said without turning, “You are the first comely young man to arrive at Penwyth.”
“What?”
“I was only fourteen years old when Sir Arlan came to wed me and steal Penwyth. After that, no man who came here was young, comely, or up to any good. Once, about three years ago, there was a merchant whom we allowed inside because he had goods to trade and sell. What he had, really, was a wagon covering ten men, and they were out to take Penwyth. It wasn’t the curse that time, it was our own men who slew them.” She shook her head again. “We lost Rupert, one of Grandfather’s oldest friends. Grandfather decided after that to allow the curse to work its will.”
“I can see that. But about this comeliness, why do you say that about me?”
“You are excellent to look at. Surely you must know that. Are you blind?”
“No, I am not blind. Are there no young men hereabouts?”
She paused a moment, pushed hair out of her eyes. “So you want comparisons, do you? Well, no young men to speak of, at least none I could consider marrying.” She paused, then frowned. “I came to tell you that my grandfather is ready to talk about how long you will be staying at Penwyth.”
“I will remain here until everything is resolved.”
“Then you will leave?”
“Why are you so anxious that I leave?”
She said nothing to that. As for him, he didn’t say anything either, because he was looking into those green eyes of hers, the color of a spring leaf freshly rained upon, and he was as hard as the castle stone he was leaning against.
He said, “Do you fear that I will lift the curse and then another husband will ride in and force you to wed yet again?”
“Given that it’s happened four times, only an idiot wouldn’t be concerned.”
“What do you mean exactly that I look excellent?”
“What? Oh, you wish me to fill your gullet with compliments, do you? Very well. You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. The blue is so dark as to be nearly black.”
Beautiful eyes? A man with beautiful eyes? Hmmm. “You force me to be honest here,” Bishop said, looking down at her. “My eyes are nothing out of the ordinary. It is your eyes that make me want to—well, never mind that.”
“Make you want to what?”
“I have forgotten, and you would do well to forget it too. You know, Merryn, I really am quite competent as well as excellent-looking. I will lift the curse, then we will see. You could consider trusting me.”
“Trust a man who just rode
into Penwyth hours ago, flinging his orders about? I don’t think that’s possible. Not after the four husbands who did the same thing. It occurs to me that you are here to lift the curse and then take me, just like all the others, only you’re smarter.”
She was smart herself. He said, stroking his fingertips over his chin, “Do I have other excellent parts?”
“Your feet.”
He grinned. “What would you know about my feet?”
“Your feet are big and that’s good because you’re a big man. I think all of your parts work well together.”
“So my parts are in harmony.”