Hysteria Page 3

  Kenna was impressed. Her husband was a brave and seasoned warrior, but he was still young and, as the king’s bastard, the respect he was due was not always given. She stood proudly by his side, staring down the village elders while he spoke.

  “As you can see, the village is quite confident of the witch’s guilt.” Duquesne gestured at the crowds of people who had fallen back into place, blocking any possible exit from the village square. “I conducted the questioning and tests myself. The girl will be put to the stake tomorrow at dawn.”

  Kenna spoke before she could stop herself. “Tests?”

  Duquesne raised an eyebrow at the woman who dared speak to him without having been spoken to—that was not how things were done in his village—but replied all the same. “The standard,” he said. “The touch test, the prayer test, and the pricking test.”

  “Elaborate,” Bash commanded.

  “The touch test is where the witch is made to lay her hands on one she has cursed. If he shows evidence of being possessed, she fails. The prayer test says that a witch will be incapable of speaking scripture aloud, and the pricking test involves, well, pricking the marks upon the witch’s body. A witch will not feel pain.”

  “That’s barbaric,” Kenna breathed. “And you did all these things to a young girl? You did it yourself?”

  “With the help and support of my priest and the villagers who have suffered her evildoing,” he clarified. “Not that it is any concern of yours.”

  “It is every concern of mine,” she snapped back. “As it should be the concern of everyone here when a man in power exercises it in such a way that puts a young girl in danger.”

  Bolstered by pride in his wife, Bash stepped forward exactly as Duquesne stepped back in shock.

  “Send your people back to their homes.” He met the village elder eye to eye. “I will question the girl myself and then you and I will speak further.”

  “You have a great deal of experience with testing witches?” Duquesne asked.

  “I have a great deal of experience in testing liars,” Bash said. “Disperse this crowd.”

  Duquesne rolled his lip into a sneer as Bash handed him Francis’s royal seal.

  “Do it now,” he said calmly.

  “Everyone, return to your homes.” The elder’s voice was suddenly booming and full of anger. Kenna jumped as the people around her immediately began to disband. “We will reconvene.” Duquesne stared pointedly at Bash. “Tomorrow at dawn.”

  “He has too much power over these people,” Kenna whispered to her husband as the square cleared quickly and quietly. “Something isn’t right here, Bash.”

  “Agreed,” he said. “We need to get this girl and get out of here before nightfall.”

  Kenna turned to stare at the enormous pile of wood behind her and nodded.

  “Are you a friend of Mary’s?” A tiny voice interrupted her dark thoughts and an even smaller hand wound its way into hers.

  “Ada!” Madame Février rushed to Kenna’s side, pulling her younger daughter away. “My apologies, my lady. Ada is worried about her sister and she is so young, she doesn’t know proper etiquette yet.”

  “Alys is your sister?” Kenna looked from Madame Février to the little girl and back again. “You met Mary today?”

  “Yes,” Ada answered, a smile on her shining face. “Everything is going to be all right. My parents are scared because the man wants to set Alys on fire, but they won’t.”

  Madame Février turned to Bash. “My lord,” she began, scooping Ada up off the ground and passing her to a stricken-looking man who must have been Ada’s father. “I am Mélanie Février, Alys’s mother. I cannot thank you enough for coming here. I told Monsieur Duquesne of the queen’s promise but it did nothing to slow down his plans. Can you truly put a stop to this?”

  “We can and we will,” Bash said. “Can you tell me where Alys is?”

  “Yes.” Mélanie pointed over at a large stone house beyond the square. “They are holding her in a small stable behind Duquesne’s home.”

  “Kenna.” Bash placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Go with Ada and her parents. I will come and find you when all of this is resolved.”

  Although it made her anxious to be parted from him, Kenna took his hand in hers and nodded. “Find out all that you can,” he whispered into her ear. “We will get to the bottom of this.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Back at the castle, early that evening, Francis stood on the balcony in his chambers. All of his windows were thrown wide open and the heavy velvet drapes rustled in the wind. He stared out across the courtyard, out over the fields and forests and rivers that surrounded his home, and searched for unforeseen threats, hidden in plain sight.

  “Has there been any word from Bash?”

  He spun around to see Mary right behind him, a look of concern etched onto her pretty face.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” he replied, recovering himself and shaking his head. “No word. He couldn’t have made it to Auxerre and returned already, I don’t think; we won’t hear from him until later.”

  “I thought perhaps you were watching for him,” she said, approaching her husband slowly. Sometimes, she felt as though Francis had the air of an unbroken horse that might bolt when she touched him. Ever since his father died, something had changed between them, and she didn’t know how to fix it.

  Francis put on his best smile and tried to push the dark thoughts far away. “Just taking a moment,” he said. “I needed a break after the day we had.”

  “And we still have to survive dinner with your mother,” Mary joked. “You look very handsome.”

  “And you look very beautiful.” He returned the compliment easily. It was true. Mary had switched her stiff brocade formal dress for a flowing gown of ivory silk, embroidered with pale-pink flowers that made her skin light up and her cheeks glow. “What has my mother done to deserve such a vision?”

  “Nothing,” she answered right away, unable to keep a look of distaste from her face. Francis smiled; his mother and Mary kept an uneasy alliance but he couldn’t imagine a time when they might actually enjoy each other’s company. “You, on the other hand, have been a most patient and kind husband and a wise, brave king.”

  “Mary.” Francis let out a small sigh. “I can’t pretend I wasn’t angry with you this afternoon. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked you not to make promises or issue commands without discussing them with me first. And I do understand why you did it, but I wish you hadn’t involved Bash.”

  “He was the best man for the job,” Mary said, indignant. “The village would have to listen to him, as your second-in-command. And with his background and upbringing, he has a better understanding of things the rest of us might not see.”

  “The fact that he was raised with pagan traditions is exactly why he shouldn’t have been tasked with this.” Francis stepped away from the balcony to pour himself some wine. “Bash is conditioned to be suspicious of the Church.”

  “But he is a Catholic,” Mary argued. “A Catholic with a deeper understanding of faiths that are not our own. His open mind gives this girl the best chance of being found innocent.”

  “And what if she isn’t innocent?” Francis asked. “Bash is just as prejudiced as a priest, only in the other direction. What if she is practicing witchcraft? Or perhaps worse still, what if she did kill all those people? All those unborn babies?”

  Mary stiffened, her whimsical dress painfully at odds with the expression on her face.

  “I don’t believe it,” she answered. “I don’t believe she is guilty.”

  “You don’t want to believe it,” Francis said, his own heart hardening. “But people are capable of terrible things. Even good people can commit atrocities, if pushed.”

  He gripped the golden goblet in his hand tightly, pushing down the memories of driving a lance through his own father’s eye. A secret Mary could never know.

  “I’m not sure I feel like eating d
inner right now,” Mary said, gazing toward the floor. “Could you please apologize to Catherine? I think I might go and visit Greer instead. I haven’t seen her all day.”

  “Mary.” Francis set down his goblet. “Please, let’s not argue over this.”

  Already with one foot out the door, she turned to smile at her husband as best she could. “We’re not arguing, Francis. Please send for me when Bash returns.”

  “Of course,” he replied, sinking into a chair. He knew when a battle with Mary was lost. It was becoming a very familiar feeling.

  “Hello? Alys?”

  Bash crept into the small, dark stable, stooping so as not to hit his head on the low gabled roof. The straw underfoot was soft and smelled of its former animal tenants. This was not a place where human beings, prisoners or otherwise, should be kept.

  “Alys, my name is Sebastian. I have come from the palace to speak with you, by order of the king.” There wasn’t so much as a crack of light inside and Bash could not make out a single thing. He stepped carefully in the darkness, feeling his way forward, when he heard a soft rustling in the straw and someone who was trying her hardest to hold her breath.

  “I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to help you,” he said. “Your parents went to the king and queen to plead your case. I’m to take you back to the castle to be questioned there. You are safe from harm this evening, I swear it.”

  In the farthest corner of the barn, Bash heard a sharp intake of breath and a small sniff.

  Bash knelt down in the rancid straw. “Really, Alys, you’re safe, but I need to ask you some questions before we can leave.”

  “Questions, my lord?”

  Out of nowhere, a small green glow appeared at the back of the stable. Bash’s eyes widened as he saw the delicate features of a young girl appear before him.

  “How are you doing that?” he asked.

  “It’s a kind of moss,” Alys replied in a tiny singsong voice. “When you rub it with horse’s urine, it glows. Guillaume showed me. It helps if you’re tending to people in the woods and don’t want to be seen; the glow is softer than light from a torch.”

  Bash nodded, crawling slightly closer. Alys pulled back, holding the moss close to her face so that she could see.

  “I won’t hurt you, Alys,” Bash promised. “I just want to understand why the villagers think that you committed these terrible crimes. Are you covering for someone? Your teacher, perhaps? Did he ever teach you things that made you uncomfortable?”

  “Guillaume was the kindest, wisest man in the village,” she said, her face solemn. “He taught me never to harm anyone. He wouldn’t even use milk of poppy if he thought the patient wasn’t strong enough; he found a special blend of willow bark and belladonna that was gentler and everyone always woke up. All those people who died, the mothers who lost their babies, it would have broken his heart. I wish he were here now; he’d know what to do.”

  “Alys,” Bash said, “I don’t want to upset you but I have to ask: Do you know who might be responsible for all the deaths in your village?”

  The girl sniffed in the darkness, silent for a moment. Bash held his breath, hoping she was withholding something that would free her.

  “No,” she replied. “Who would want to hurt babies that haven’t even been born yet? Who would want to hurt our old people? I tried to help them afterward but no one would let me. I wish Guillaume were here—he would know what to do, they wouldn’t be afraid of him or call him a witch.”

  Sitting quietly for a moment, Bash looked at the girl. Slight and blond with enormous green eyes, she didn’t look as though she could harm a fly. And nothing she had told him convinced him otherwise. Perhaps all this knowledge was what was scaring the elders—the glowing moss, the belladonna potions. People were afraid of what they didn’t understand. Having been brought up with pagan traditions, he knew that as well as anyone. Perhaps the castle medic would be able to verify these claims. Like Alys, Bash also found himself wishing for this Guillaume; if only the healer were here to tell them more. Or even better, he wished Nostradamus had not left the castle. If anyone could have gotten to the bottom of this, it would have been the queen’s soothsayer.

  “I’m going to speak to the village elders now,” he said, rising back into his stooped crouch. “And then we will leave for the castle. We will ride in an hour.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ve been so afraid. Guillaume always said that good will come out, but no one would listen to me.”

  “I’m listening now,” he said. “And so are the King and Queen of France. I’ll be back soon.”

  Crawling out of the stable, Bash was convinced of the girl’s innocence, which only left him more confused. What was happening in this village and what could Duquesne hope to gain from murdering a child?

  “You have a very lovely home,” Kenna told Mélanie as Jehane busied himself preparing food for their guest. “We live in the castle now but I would love a home of my own, one just like this.”

  The Févriers’ house was small but, Kenna thought, very beautiful, set back from the rest of the village and surrounded by fields and woodland and beautiful gardens. She couldn’t imagine a more blissful country hideaway. Beyond the flower beds, the river ran across their land, slowing to a beautiful stream before rushing back into the forest. Closing her eyes, Kenna saw tiny versions of herself and Bash running around outside without too much trouble at all.

  “Thank you,” Mélanie replied with a smile, although the wear of the past few days showed on her face. “This house has been in my mother’s family for many generations. It is passed down to the eldest daughter as part of her dowry. One day, it will belong to Alys.”

  Jehane choked a little at the mention of his older daughter.

  “Ada is a lovely girl,” Kenna said, changing the subject quickly. “So confident and sweet.”

  “Too confident,” Mélanie said with a little laugh. “She will talk to anyone. That girl is never afraid and there is nothing she will not try. I cannot count the number of times Alys had to make a salve for her burned fingers.”

  “My mother often told me I should be more reserved,” Kenna admitted. “That to talk to strangers wasn’t ladylike.”

  “I’m happy my girls aren’t ladies,” Mélanie said, pouring three goblets of wine. “I always imagine life at court must be very hard. Away from your family, so many obligations and expectations.”

  Kenna accepted the wine and smiled. “Most people tell me they dream of life at court,” she said. “They think it’s all beautiful dresses and feasts. Not many people realize how hard it can be.”

  Mélanie nodded kindly. “You miss your family?”

  “Terribly,” Kenna confessed. “Things have been better since my marriage to Bash but Scotland is so far away. I write often to my family but I don’t know when I will see them again. If I will ever see them again.”

  “I cannot imagine being parted from my children.” Mélanie closed her eyes at the mere thought of separation. “When Monsieur Duquesne came for Alys, I knew we had to go to the king. After all the things I had heard about him and the new queen, I knew they would help us.”

  “What sort of things have you heard?” Kenna was suddenly curious. It occurred to her that she had no idea what people outside of court thought of her friend. “What do people say?”

  “Oh, nothing bad,” Mélanie said quickly, remembering her guest’s status. “Only that they are kind and wise.”

  Kenna leaned forward, determined to find out more. “That’s all they say? Really, you can trust me. We only want to help you, Bash and I. I know you’re loyal to Mary and Francis or you would not have sought their help.”

  Mélanie looked around the room, as though someone might jump out of the walls. “They say King Francis is much kinder than his father, that the last king was mad when he died,” she said in a low voice. Kenna did her best not to react. The scars of Henry’s actions were still all too fresh in her mind.

  “
And they say Queen Mary is beautiful and sometimes a little too bold? But I think the people like this. We want a powerful woman on our throne beside a wise man. Perhaps King Henry won many wars but sometimes fighting is not the answer. I think they will be good for France.”

  “I believe you’re right,” Kenna agreed. “I am glad to hear they are so highly thought of in the village of Auxerre.”

  “Maman! Papa!”

  The door flew open and a wild-eyed Ada hurled herself inside.

  “Ada, we have a guest.” Mélanie rose to her feet as the little girl grabbed hold of her legs. “What is the matter?”

  “They’re taking Alys now,” she yelped. “Men came. The king’s friend left the stable and then men came and carried her away. Into the woods.”

  “Mon Dieu!” Mélanie looked to Kenna, who was frozen. “They cannot act now that the king has issued his decree, surely?”

  “If we don’t stop them, it won’t matter,” Kenna said, determined and fierce. “I have to go to Bash. Where would he be meeting Duquesne?”

  “His house? The church?” Mélanie looked desperate but Jehane hadn’t moved since Ada had entered the house. The little girl seemed wired, a concentrated bundle of energy waiting to explode. “I don’t know.”

  Kenna bit her lip, pushing her long brown hair behind her ears and bending down to look Ada in the eye. “Can you take me to the place where the men took Alys?” she asked. Ada nodded. “Then we will go there. You two find Bash and bring him to the forest. Try to find out exactly where they’ve taken her; I’m sure Duquesne will know.”

  “How will we know how to find you?” Jehane asked. “If he won’t tell us?”

  Ada grabbed Kenna’s hand and turned back to look at her father. “You’ll hear the screaming,” Ada said calmly. “That’s how you’ll find us.”

  Duquesne awaited Bash in a large, bright room at the back of the village church. While the rest of Auxerre was falling to pieces, still suffering from the difficult years that France had endured, the church was a testament to the villagers’ faith. Everything looked new, golden chargers and jewel-encrusted chalices lined the walls, and there were candles everywhere. The light was almost blinding.