[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]who entranced him. Morven knew it, though he bowed courteously saying how glad he
was to see her in such good health ... His self-possession hurt her; she knew that had he
been confronted by the bride of Jocelyn he would have become scarlet with tongue-tied
adoration.
She. turned away and spoke to Olaf, saying she knew not what: words coming
from her in little gasps of irrepressible dismay. "Thur, I ... we ... were talking of power. "
"Come to supper, try this pasty," Thur enjoined, cutting liberally.
"Speak no more of power." Jan's vehemence was marred by a full mouth. "Olaf
shall go no more into that accursed triangle, my heart fails when I think I nearly had him
slain."
"So," Thur retorted, "you give up?"
"Give up," said Jan, startled. "Give up!"
Morven watched him. across the table, her lambent eyes seeming to grow to twice
their size.
- 103 -
Jan marked their fire and her parted upper lip lifted from small even teeth. "No,"
he protested. "Go on I must, never will I withdraw while life is in me."
Morven's sigh of relief was audible; her mouth closed,to its normal curve of firm
sweetness with its extreme fullness of lower lip. Jan drank deeply of his ale cup; set it
down with a bang; then emphatically: "But not with my brother, I alone and you with me,
and you with Thur, but not Olaf."
"And Morven?" asked Thur.
"Morven ... ?"
"Were we not bidden to seek her?"
"True," Jan agreed, then went on ungraciously; airing his grievance: "What hope
have we? I thought we would get a powerful old witch, full of malice and evil who could
bewitch Fitz-Urse and his cursed following to death and damnation; but what do we get?
A terrified, starving woman who turns out to be a slip of a wench ... harmless ... useless ...
"
Again, Morven's grey-green eyes dilated; the fire in them flamed, the lip lifted. "I,
useless? Harmless?" She shot a queer, sly glance into the corner where Thur's harp stood.
"At least I can play the harp."
The remark seemed so inconsequent that Jan ignored it and went on: "Aye,
harmless, Morven. If you have malice in your heart and strength in our mind, you keep
them well hid, I have seen naught of them. " "Canst see this?" she cried. In a flash she
was round the table, flinging herself unexpectedly upon him as he sat sprawling
sideways. Perching herself upon his knees, her arms around his neck, she kissed him full
on the lips, then, drawing herself away, her arms still on his shoulders, she scanned him
narrowly beneath her lowered lashes.
"So did Mistress Delilah with her power overthrow the colossus Samson,"
laughed Thur, highly amused.
"Do you mean you would so use Fitz-Urse ... steal into his castle, play the harp,
subdue him so, then open to us? 'Tis a wonderful idea," said Jan wonderingly. He placed
a huge paw on each side of the slender waist to hold her steady on his inexpert knee and
looked at her with kindly interest: "Is that your plan?"
"The gods be good to us. I mean, Christ and all the holy saints," commented Thur.
Olaf guffawed: "Even the high gods and the holy saints can't mend a dolt."
Morven rose slowly; ignoring them superbly. "Yes ... if needs be," she muttered in
a dull tone, "I will do even that to further your ends, Jan."
"My thanks, Morven. "
- 104 -
A silence fell, which all felt in their bones ... save Jan. To break this Olaf cast
about in his mind. "What is all this story about Fitz-Urse, why rode he hither?"
"O, he oft comes here to see the Esquire; 'tis in his lordship after all."
"Have done with all this gossip about Fitz-Urse, his taxes and marketing," cried
Morven. "Him we need not fear, for is he not to be brought low after the manner of
Samson?"
The men nodded puzzled assent, and Morven continued: "Then it is to this that
our minds must be turned, especially as Alice told me (ere she left) that he had gone,
taking his esquire and half his men with him. "
"Here is the very voice of wisdom," Thur admitted admiringly. "Speak on, O
Witch of Wanda, for it would seem that yon comely head of thine bursts with knowledge.
"
"I have discovered that certain members of the witch cult live in the forest
hereabouts, and 'tis said that some be stout lads who shun not a fight. I may have power
to move them to our service, could I but reach them. "
"How many are there?" queried Jan eagerly.
"They may number fifty, I know not for certain," replied Morven.
"But who are they? What are they?" asked Olaf,
"People of the Old Faith are everywhere. By force they are made followers of
Christ (at least externally) but in their hearts they love the old gods, and them they serve,
in divers ways, when the call comes."
"Said I not that she had power?" Thur demanded proudly. "Power to think and
plan wisely in our cause? O Bartzebal, we owe thee much?"
Seeing that she had captured Jan's attention, Morven hastened on: "If, on the
morrow, I donned boys' clothes and rode with you and Olaf, would thy mother give me
shelter for the night? Thus would I meet thy mother, Jan, and with the dawn I would
depart, saying that Thur had bidden me to meet him at a certain hour and place. I have
heard that the people of the witch cult band together at St. Catherine's Hill, and that is but
a league beyond thy mother's farm."
"An you could get us help that way, 'twould be a godsend," said Thur. "But will
they help you?"
"I can but try," she answered.
"Then I will meet you in the forest where the main fork of the Stour crosses the
track. Olaf will show you the place, you must not ride alone into the town, I will bring
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