The Witch’s Kiss Trilogy. Katharine Corr

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СКАЧАТЬ complete, if only her father were still alive.

      Jack stirred, and the nurse went to pick him up.

      ‘No,’ Edith waved her away. ‘I’ll take him.’ She wrapped a fold of her mantle around the baby and carried him back into her chamber. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. She settled herself and Jack on one of the wide windowsills, opened the shutter a little, and waited for the sun to rise.

      A while later, after the darkness of the eastern sky had faded to grey, Edith felt Aidan’s hands on her shoulders. He wrapped another fur around her. ‘You’re going to catch cold.’

      ‘No, I won’t.’ Edith glanced up at her husband. She could see the concern in his dark-grey eyes: he always looked at her as though she was somehow ethereal, something fragile and precious that might be snatched away from him at any moment. Sometimes Edith found it suffocating. But it was also one of the reasons she loved him. She put her hand on top of his and looked back out of the window. The land outside was swathed in mist. Helmswick felt shut in, sitting on its hill above the woodland and farmland of the Weald like an island cut off from the wider world.

      ‘I don’t like this weather.’ She hugged Jack tighter.

      ‘Sea mist, that’s all. It will burn off soon enough.’ Aidan dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I must speak with the steward before our guests arrive. Don’t forget to eat something.’ He paused. ‘And do not sit there worrying. Today will be a good day, I’m sure of it.’

      Edith nodded. But she could not escape the sensation that something was waiting for her, out there in the mist. As she watched from her window she could see the torches being lit on her father’s burial mound, pale smudges of light flaring through the fog. And then she heard the summoning bell, muffled, calling all to the ceremony. Her servants came in to help her dress. It was time.

      Hours later, the great hall was filled with noise and light, heat and colour. The rulers of the neighbouring kingdoms, as well as all the nobles of the land, had gathered to celebrate the naming of the Prince of the South Saxons. All were dressed in their finest costumes, vying to outdo one another in splendour. All except one woman, simply clothed yet sitting in a place of honour, three small children clustered around her. Mistress Anwen was a witch, and had been a devoted friend of Edith’s mother. Until five years ago Anwen had lived at Helmswick, watching over Edith, guiding her as she grew. Aidan – whose people had embraced the new faith of the Christians – had not wanted to invite her. Edith had listened to all his arguments against witchcraft, and then invited her anyway.

      Now, Edith caught the older woman’s eye and smiled, but it was an effort; she felt herself flagging. The woollen overdress she wore was beautiful: elaborately embroidered with intricate designs in gold thread. But it was heavy, and her tightly-pinned hair was giving her a headache. She could not wait for the day to be over. Still, the christening ceremony had passed successfully. Jack had hardly cried at all, and now there was only the gift-giving to endure. As a new mother, she had decided she could leave presiding over the feast to Aidan. She glanced up at him and found he was watching her.

      ‘You’re pale, Edith,’ he murmured. ‘Do you feel unwell?’

      ‘No. Only a little tired.’

      He squeezed her hand. The steward continued with the presentation of gifts; already a table to one side was almost engulfed in a pile of gold jewellery, silver cups and bowls, fine cloths and barrels of Frankish wine.

      ‘From the King of Northumbria: a gold torc in a casket of silver. From the Kingdom of Gwynedd: two drinking horns with silver rims.’ And on, and on. Until, just when Edith thought she could not stand for another moment, the list ended. Aidan stepped forwards.

      ‘We thank you all, friends and neighbours, for your generous gifts to our son. And now, as is customary, we hope you will honour our hall by joining us for—’

      But the end of Aidan’s sentence was drowned in an enormous crash that reverberated through the room. For a second Edith thought a thunderstorm had started, but then she looked at the opposite end of the hall: the huge, carved doors had been thrown open so violently they had broken from their hinges. A number of those standing nearest the doors had been struck down; there were screams and cries as people tried to free themselves from the wreckage. And standing there, in the middle of the devastation, was Gwydion.

      ‘Edith, get behind me!’ Aidan had jumped up and drawn his sword. ‘Defend the queen! Now!’ The elite royal guards started to force a passage through the milling guests, forming a shield-wall in front of the dais where Aidan and Edith were standing. Edith snatched Jack from the nurse and clutched him to her tightly.

      Silence fell as Gwydion walked through the hall.

      For Edith, it was like looking at a ghost. He was in many ways the same young man she remembered; less gaunt, less wooden in his movements, but still with the same shock of thick, dark hair, the same slightly uneven gait. But he was not the same. For a start, he was dressed entirely in black. Edith remembered Gwydion as something of a peacock, taking a childlike delight in brightly-coloured dyes. The only ornament Edith could see now was a large gold ring, set with a sapphire, glinting on Gwydion’s left hand. His mouth and eyes were marked with such lines of suffering and cruelty as to make his features almost unrecognisable to her.

      ‘I pray forgiveness for my late arrival, your majesties. I had hoped to be here in time for the naming of the young prince.’ Gwydion halted in front of the guards and held out his hands, palm up. ‘Surely, you cannot think I mean to harm the child? See: I am unarmed.’

      ‘What do you want, wizard’s pupil?’ Aidan shouted. ‘Edith has told me what you are, what you threatened. You need no weapon to work evil upon us.’

      ‘You know me, do you? That is good. For I know you too, Aidan Whiteblade, Aidan of the flashing sword. Who has not heard of your exploits? A prince of Ireland. And now king over the South Saxons, since you took from me the woman who was promised me, the woman who owes me her very life.’

      ‘I do not choose to trade words with you. Leave my hall now, or die.’

      Gwydion laughed. ‘Oh, I think not. I am a pupil no longer.’ He leapt back and with his hands made a complex movement in the air: sinuous arcs of ruby light. Everyone – apart from Edith, who had already seen his skill with fire runes – gasped in surprise; some screamed, and started to run from the hall. The royal guards collapsed, unconscious.

      Edith saw Aidan raise his sword and begin to run at Gwydion, and she grabbed at his arm. ‘No, Aidan. Stay away from him. You must look after Jack, keep him safe.’ She kissed Jack, passed him to Aidan, and turned to face Gwydion.

      ‘Here I am, Gwydion. Punish me. Kill me, if you wish. But I beg you, for the sake of the love we once bore each other, do not hurt my family.’

      ‘Edith, do not be afraid.’ Gwydion smiled at her, but Edith thought the smile a mockery of how he had once looked. ‘I am not here to hurt your son. I am here to give him a gift.’

      Edith stepped back, placing herself directly between Gwydion and Aidan.

      ‘I want nothing from you, Gwydion. My only desire is that you should be whole again, free of this madness that has seized you.’

      ‘But I have not told you what my gift is yet. And it is a great gift. When your son reaches his eighteenth year, I am going to take him for my apprentice.’

      Edith’s heart was hammering in her chest, СКАЧАТЬ