“Did you, madam?”
“Oh, aye, I danced in the moonlight, but usually alone.”
He smiled at her.
“Aye, I shrieked, too, and I was never alone, thank the merciful heavens, when I did that.” She paused, then said on a frown, “I haven’t shrieked in more years than I can count. I will ask Vellan what this is all about—not that he will tell me anything. He lies, fluently and cleanly, you see. So if you are not here to be Merryn’s fifth husband, then what is your purpose? Did Ranlief die and no one told me of it?”
“No, the steward still breathes. I am here at the king’s behest to rid Penwyth of its curse.”
“The king? The king sent you?” She laughed. The old lady threw back her ancient head and laughed and laughed. It scared him down to his toes, that laugh. It was all thin and sharp and, truth be told, there was something veiled and secretive buried in that laugh, something beyond what was real and expected.
Bishop didn’t like this at all. He was becoming as fanciful as a young girl. He wondered if she would swoon she laughed so long and hard—that, or just fall into a heap of bones on the floor at his feet. He held himself perfectly still, waiting to see if she would survive that mad laughter.
She did. She smoothed her skirt, pulled down her sleeves, clenched and unclenched her fingers. “If you have forgotten, my name is Lady Madelyn de Gay and I was once a great beauty. I remember my sweet mother told me I was a princess, the most beautiful girl in all of Cornwall.” She frowned, a far-distant cast to her eye, seeing something he couldn’t begin to imagine. “If I was a princess, then why wasn’t I married to the king? Why aren’t I living in London, in beautiful Windsor Castle, not here hidden away on witches’ land?”
“Witches’ land, madam?”
“Oh, aye, the Witches of Byrne. They first began on the small rolling hills hereabouts, dancing on the barrows, chanting into the hearts of storms. Then they moved to caves closer to the sea. They love to eat fish, you know.”
“No, I did not know. Madam, never in my life have I tried so diligently to understand, but what you say makes no sense to me.”
“You are a man,” she said. “Rarely do any of you look beyond the flesh to the grit and sinew that lie beneath.”
“Mayhap that is true of all people,” Bishop said. “Sometimes life is too pressing in its demands to look beyond what you are able to see. The curse, madam. Why did you laugh when I told you I was here to remove the curse?”
“Oh, you are so young, so innocent of evil. But there is evil, there will always be evil, whether it breeds and festers inside men or is an old evil that hovers just above the earth, swooping down to bedevil poor mortals, but always there, just waiting, waiting.”
“I might be innocent of all evil, madam, but I would know it if I saw it. Do you believe the curse to be evil?”
Suddenly, in a flash, something changed. She was no longer ancient, with the light of madness in her pale eyes. She was hard as steel and alert, standing tall, right in front of him. She said low, her voice harsh and deeper than it should be, “You know nothing. You know less than nothing. You will no
t do well here at Penwyth, not if it is your wish to rid us of the curse.”
“Why won’t I do well?”
“The curse will never die. It protects us, that curse. I have heard the witches talk about life after forever is finished and done with. Is there evil in life after forever?” The old woman shook her head. A delicate wooden pin fell to the stone floor. “It is enough to muck up a mortal’s brains.”
She paused, then just as suddenly she seemed to fade, to shrink back from him, to become the old woman she was. He fancied he could see that old heart beating beneath her shrunken chest. She said, “What is your name?”
“I am known as Bishop of Lythe. Sir Bishop now, knighted by Lord Dienwald de Fortenberry of St. Erth.”
She nodded. “Ah, the Scourge of Cornwall. Another fine boy is Dienwald. His is a spirit as wild as a witch’s curse rising to the black heavens. His is a brain that is fresh and perverse. He looks at things differently, does Dienwald, so I have been told. I have heard many stories about him. Is it true he is wedded to the king’s daughter?”
Bishop said, “Aye, for three years now. He knighted me because I saved her life.”
“If I was a princess, then why wasn’t I wedded to Dienwald?”
“He would not yet have been born, madam.” The old woman appeared to chew this over for a while, then floated away from him to stand looking out the narrow window.
“That was a jest that pleased me. Ah, just look. The land is dying. Isn’t that curious?”
“It will cease to die once it rains.”
“There won’t be any rain. Until my granddaughter is proclaimed the heir, there will be no rain.”
“There will be. Sometime tomorrow.”
She turned to look at him again. “I heard the servants whispering that you’re a wizard, that you understand ancient laws, that you hear old spirits at play, that you can speak to the old spirits. No good can come of that. Aye, and there’s your name—Bishop—a fine name. You will not remove the curse, you will not. You must leave Penwyth before it is too late. How do you know it will rain?”