Her Majesty's Wizard

CHAPTER 9

The sun was sliding down the sky toward evening when they spotted the mob.

It was quite a distance away across the open plain, but Matt could make out flashes of green and yellow skirts on one of the women in the vanguard. "Uh, hold on, Stegoman. Your Highness! Sir Guy!"

"What troubles you?" Alisande demanded, reining in and turning around in her saddle.

"Uh, about those people approaching us..."

"Good peasant folk, no doubt. What of them?"

"With all respect, Highness," Sir Guy murmured, "no matter what the folk, we should approach with caution."

"Yeah," Matt agreed, "especially since I think I recognize one of the outfits I magicked onto one of the refugees from Sayeesa's joy-house."

Sayeesa blanched, and Alisande's face turned grave.

Slowly, she turned back in her saddle, facing the oncoming crowd. "If that be so, let us await them here."

"What! Uh ... if you don't mind a civilian's opinion, your Highness, it might behoove us more to find the quickest hole to bolt into."

"There's sense in his saying," Sir Guy said judiciously.

"But more in mine." Alisande sat stiff-backed and somehow gave the impression she'd just put down roots. "These are my people, sirs; I know them. They will not harm their princess."

It must be nice, Matt decided, to have such unswerving certainty. "Uh, let's try it the other way, your Highness. Let's say trouble starts - not that it will, you understand, but just in case it does - Sir Guy's got armor and a sword, not to mention a horse: and I'm riding a dragon and just happen to have a pretty mean blade myself."

"You have the blade," Alisande agreed, "but do you ken its use?"

"Well, my swordsmanship's not up to your kind of cuts, I'll admit. Still, I do have a sword - and the heaviest weapon they're liable to have is a scythe. Have you considered what kind of damage they might suffer?"

"None." Alisande sat back in her saddle, relaxed and certain; "Fear not, Lord Wizard; 'twill not come to blows."

Sir Guy looked relieved, and Matt's heart sank. That Divine Right clause again!

Then he remembered it was apt to prove true, and sat back himself. Maybe the princess did know what she was doing. After all, this wasn't exactly a personal matter.

But he kept his hand near his sword hilt, just in case.

The peasants came close enough to see armor and stopped; startled; they hadn't expected the nobility to be out joyriding Then the girl in the yellow petticoat and green gown saw Sayeesa.

The ex-witch met her eyes, and fear was written on her face.

Hate curdled the peasant girl's face, and her forefinger jabbed out. "'Tis she, the witch who stole us all!"

The peasants stared; then a clamor of shouting broke out as they charged the companions. "'Tis she, the witch who corrupted my son!" "The sorceress who beguiled our children!" "Slay her!" "Slay her!" "Slay!"

They surged forward, a shouting bedlam, quilled with clubs and pitchforks, men and women shrieking for blood.

"Hold!" Alisande barked, like the best of drill sergeants; and the mob ground to a halt, poleaxed by the unexpected.

"I am she who freed your children," Alisande said severely "and I tell you now: Hold your peace!"

"You did not save my child!" one woman wailed. "They brought him home, a corpse!"

And the clamor started again, not shouts, but scattered cries of outrage. It didn't seem inclined to boost any higher, though; Alisande sat her horse, staring coldly at them.

"They see me shorn of my power and come for vengeance." The fear was gone from Sayeesa's face, washed under by a look of resignation, almost determination. "And I cannot gainsay them; for I have taken youth after youth and drained them all." She bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "Oh, dear Lord! If only..."

"Let us speak, instead, of how we'll meet this coil," Alisande said drily, "for I have no wish to harm them. They are good and worthy peasants, I doubt not, and their grievance is just. How shall we deal with them, Sir Guy?"

"Do you not see?" Sayeesa's head came up, wide-eyed in astonishment. "Surrender me to them! Let none more suffer for my sins!"

"Are you out of your mind?" Matt rounded on her. "They'll tear you to pieces! Sorry, lady - you don't buy free that easy. You've got some work left in this world, or the good Father wouldn't have put you in my charge."

"Charge?" Alisande swung about. "What geas is this?"

"Just a little matter of an oath," Matt explained. "The friar attached a rider to my penance, you see - I have to make sure Sayeesa gets safely to wherever he's sent her."

"And where is that?" There was a dangerous undertone to Alisande's voice.

Sayeesa turned to the princess. "I go to the convent of Saint Cynestria, there to spend my days in prayer and fasting."

Alisande's eyes held an approving glint. "Cynestria - the cloistered home of women who have sinned greatly, but now repent. You shall have high company there, wench."

Sayeesa nodded bitterly. "Aye, duchesses and ladies of high rank. Yet are there not many, too, of peasant blood? Is this not just?"

"Fitting, at least." Alisande turned back to look out over the mutinous, muttering peasants. Slowly, she nodded. "Yes, 'tis just, and may have some purpose in it, as Lord Matthew thinks." Her mouth tightened in chagrin. "I cannot deny it. You must needs journey there, Sayeesa. And we must see you come there safely."

Matt heaved a sigh of relief. "So what do we do, Highness? Lug out the swords? Tell Stegoman to whip up a bit of napalm?"

"I do not fear peasants, Lord Matthew. I protect them."

"Lady," cried a youth, "surely that is the dragon that aided in defeating the witch, and as surely you are the noble lady who commanded us to return to our homes. How, then, can you stand between us and the sorceress?"

"And why should I give her to you?" the princess countered.

"Why?" A portly man elbowed his way through the crowd to stand before Alisande's horse. "Why, because four of the children of this village went to the witch - and only three came home alive this day! She merits burning, Lady - 'tis the punishment for witchcraft!"

"What punishment is her desert, God shall give," Alisande said sternly, "for she has repented and confessed her sins, and the priest has granted her absolution."

An outraged clamor broke, but Alisande glared stonily at the crowd, and they subsided to an ugly muttering.

"Absolution!" the spokesman squawled. "For a witch? For one who has sinned as deeply and widely as she?"

"Even so." The crack of the princess's voice cut off the muttering. "If there is a sin so great it cannot be forgiven, I know not of it. Is this not even as our Savior said?"

The spokesman hunched up his shoulders, glowering. "What penance could the priest require that could balance so many sins?"

"She goes to the convent of St. Cynestria, there to spend her life in prayer."

The mutter started up again, but now it had overtones of surprise and consternation.

"If this be so," the spokesman said slowly, "we have small claim upon her, for she is God's."

"If it be so," a crone shrilled.

"You doubt me?" Alisande asked it with the full weight of regal hauteur.

The crone blanched and ducked back into the crowd; but some body in the back yelled, "The church!" Other voices took it up: "The church, the church!"

"Aye!" the spokesman cried. "If she is shriven, as you say, let her step within our church and take the Sacrament - for if she is' a witch unshriven, she'll not be able to bear a holy place!"

"I tell you, she is shriven!" Alisande's anger kindled. "Who are you to doubt me!"

The spokesman shrank back from the lash of her voice, but answered stubbornly, "I do not doubt you, Lady - but even one of noble rank may be deceived."

Alisande started to answer, then caught herself, and glowered down at him in fury.

But Sir Guy was nodding, almost in approval. "A point well taken, goodman. Yet we have seen her shriven."

The peasant shook his head stubbornly. "It is even as I said, Sir Knight: noblemen may be deceived. There are mirages, weirds, glamours, and other foul dreams."

"True, true." Sir Guy chewed at his moustache, then cocked an eyebrow at Alisande.

Her lips tightened.

"Oh, come on!" Matt snapped. "Are we going to sit here all day, debating the nature of reality? They've cited a fair test, and I don't see any harm in it. I could do with Communion myself!"

The crowd gave a shout of triumph, and suddenly people were running, leaping in from every side, to surround Sayeesa's horse and drag her down. Matt saw a tatter of gray cloth go flying, and bellowed, grabbing at his sword. But a steel hand clamped down on his wrist, and he looked up to see Sir Guy shaking his head. Behind him, Alisande cried out, outraged, "Now I command you, hold!"

All movement gelled. Then heads lifted, startled, staring at the princess in disbelief. She glared back, eyes half hooded, grimly; and slowly the people began to step back, muttering angrily.

"Stand away and let the witch come forward!" Alisande demanded; reluctantly, the central knot of men parted. Sayeesa stepped forward, pulling the tattered robe about her, trying to hold the rips closed. She was pale and shaken, but the determined resignation was still there. She glared up at Alisande, and her voice was low; but clear. "Let them take me, let them rend me as they wish! I will not deny them, though I die; for it is just."

"I shall say what is and is not just and when you'll die or live!" the princess answered.

Matt looked at Alisande with a new respect. Here, royalty was more than just a word.

Alisande raised her head, gazing at the crowd thoughtfully. "There is some sense in this test of theirs, and 'twill not delay us long." She looked down at Sayeesa. "How say you, wench? Will you go to church?"

"Aye, and gladly! I have a lifetime's praying to begin and am eager for the Eucharist!"

The crowd stared, totally shocked. Then the outraged murmuring began.

"Be still!" Alisande barked over the rumbling. "'Tis even as you demanded! We shall go to the church!"

Sir Guy grinned and held a hand down to Sayeesa. She caught his arm and swung up on her own saddle. They turned to follow, Alisande. The villagers crowded forward around Sayeesa's horse.

"Uh, Stegoman..."

"Aye, Wizard?"

"Not that I'm expecting anything, mind you -- but maybe we oughta kinda ride close to Sayeesa, just in case."

"Fairly said." The dragon waddled up next to, the peasants around the ex-witch.

One of the women spoke to her neighbor, not too far from' Stegoman's side. "Do you not wonder that the priest failed to come, Joanna?"

"Aye," Joanna answered, "and more so since such a mission as this would be strengthened by a man o' the cloth. Why did he not come?"

"Oh, a deal of nonsense about leaving such affairs to the shire reeve and his men," the first said, with disgust. " 'Mere peasants should not take justice in their hands, quotha. As if there were doubt of her guilt!"

"Aye. He hides his true reason," Joanna said darkly. "Think, gossip - he left us for a week in fair May. Might he not ha'..." she glanced up and saw Matt was listening. "Hist!"

The first woman also looked up and saw Matt watching. She turned away, glaring at the ground in front of her.

It was only a couple of miles to the village, which was the usual ramshackle affair, a single street of thatched huts with a larger daub and wattle but at the end-but this but had a steeple. As the crowd marched up to the church steps, the big double doors slammed open before them, and a tonsured priest in a cassock stood on the threshold, fists on his hips. His hair was black and hadn't seen a comb for a day or two. His face was jowly, needing a shave, and his eyes were bloodshot. He was broad, muscular, and a little paunchy. He glared down at the crowd.

Finally, the spokesman stepped forward, clearing his throat.

The priest didn't give him a chance. "What means this, Arvide? How come you to march on my church in this fashion, like an outlaw band? You'll not pass this door till there's reverence in your hearts!"

"Reverence!" Arvide sneered. "Should you speak of reverence? You, who cannot bear the sound of the morning Mass bell, for that last night's wine still thuds in your head. You, with your whoring and brawling..."

"Mayhap," the priest growled, "but I've never come in to say Mass till I was sober and remorseful."

"Aye," jeered a voice from the back, "and how many mornings have we not had Mass?"

A chorus of catcalls supported him; but the priest stood, glaring them down, and they quieted. Then he called out, "Aye, there you have it! If I can't be reverent, I'll not come to the church, and I'll ask no less of you than I ask of myself!" His voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "And is there a man of you thinks he can march in here past me?"

A sheepish mutter ran through the crowd. The men shifted from foot to foot, but no one stepped forward.

"That's not what we've come for, Father!" Arvide protested.

The priest fought against a sneer. "What, then?"

"The witch!" Arvide shouted, and the whole crowd yammered behind him. The priest kept his scowl, but his eyes widened, and there was apprehension in his voice. "A witch? Among my flock?"

"Only as a wolf is brought in by the hunters, Father," Arvide said, preening himself. "Look upon her!"

The crowd parted, revealing Sayeesa.

The priest was braced for it, but his face showed a sudden softening - of recognition.

It passed quickly, but Sayeesa's eyes were wide, almost appalled. Then she seemed to relax; suddenly, without a line of her face changing, her eyes seemed to glow with an invitation. Matt found he was suddenly very conscious of the body hinted at by the drape of the rough homespun robe.

Then her shoulders straightened, her jaw tightened, and the aura of allure faded.

No one else seemed to have noticed, for Arvide was trumpeting triumph. "'Tis the vile witch Sayeesa, haled down from her throne of foul power, chastened and humble before you!"

The priest's eyes were riveted to Sayeesa. He muttered something under his breath, too softly to hear; but it might have been, "May the Lord forgive me."

He twisted his head, coming to himself with a start, and looked up at Arvide. "So. This is the witch?"

"She is, and I think that you know it," Arivde said somberly, eyes fixed on the priest. "Look to your soul, Father Brunel."

"I shall, be certain," the priest snapped. "Why do you bring her here?"

"I shall speak to that." Alisande rode forward, and the peasants cleared from her path.

Father Brunel looked up, frowning, then bobbed his head in salute. "Milady. Whom do I address?"

"A lady of high birth, and that is all you need know. As to the witch, she has repented and travels under my protection."

The priest stared, scandalized.

"She is shriven, Father," Alisande explained, "and travels to the convent of Saint Cynestria in the West."

Brunel's mouth tightened with some strong emotion; he swallowed heavily and turned pensive. "A fair tale, Milady - but hard to credit."

"So think your flock, and so have we come - to show that she may walk into God's church without shrinking, that she may gaze upon the blessed Sacrament, and that she may receive it in peace. Then will your villagers be content that she is indeed shriven and under God's wing again."

The priest lifted his head, unbelieving. Then he nodded slowly, turning away. "Come, then. The house of God is for those who seek Him: if she is in our Savior's favor, 'tis hers as much as any man's." He disappeared into the church, walking fast.

The peasants murmured to one another in surprise, almost outrage. Alisande turned to them, crying, "Come! This is what you wished, is it not?"

The crowd fell silent, staring up at her. Then Arvide spoke up reluctantly: "Aye. Bring the witch."

Dozens of hands reached for Sayeesa. She shrugged them off and walked into the church under no one's compulsion.

Alisande leaned down from her horse, caught the nearest peasant by the shoulder, and handed him her reins. "Tether this mare ere you enter." She dismounted and strode toward the church. Sir Guy followed suit, and Matt muttered to Stegoman, "Be ready for trouble. We might have to leave town a little suddenly."

"Have no fear," the dragon rumbled, and Matt swung down to follow Sir Guy into the chapel. The peasants pressed in after him.

Sayeesa was pacing slowly toward the altar, head bowed over clasped hands. The crowd fell silent, holding its collective breath, as she reached the communion rail and knelt, gazing at the tabernacle. After a few minutes, she bowed her head in prayer.

The crowd began to murmur, scandalized; but it cut off as Father Brunel stepped out of the sacristy. He'd taken the time for a quick shave and wore his stole. He walked slowly and, somehow, with dignity; and he gazed at Sayeesa with a pensive frown before he turned to the tabernacle and genuflected. If there was any emotion in him, it was saddened sympathy.

He knelt before the tabernacle in prayer, and the peasants began to mutter again. Arvide demanded, "Come, Father! The Sacrament!"

Father Brunel turned his head, frowning back over his shoulder; then he sighed and came to his feet. He stepped up to the altar, unlocked the tabernacle, and lifted out a ciborium. He removed the cover and turned to face the crowd, holding up the cup.

The peasants dropped to their knees, suddenly becoming a congregation, totally silent, every eye glued to the tiny white wafer as he lifted it from the ciborium; and there was only a warmth, an imploring earnestness, in his eyes as he held the Host out to his flock, murmuring, "Ecce Agnus Dei, ecce Qui tollis pecatta mundi." Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him Who taketh away the sins of the world.

"Domine," the people answered in a murmuring whisper, "non sum dignus ut intres sub tectum meam, sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea." Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldst come under my roof, but only say the word, and my soul shall be healed.

"Domine, non sum dignus," Sayeesa repeated in a whisper, raising her head; and Matt saw with a shock that her cheeks sheened with tears. Lord, these people really took this rule-and-rote seriously!

Father Brunel's face was gentle, almost tender, as he stepped down, lowering the Host to place it on Sayeesa's tongue. Her mouth closed around it, and she bowed her head, shoulders trembling.

The peasants stared, wide-eyed, unbelieving.

Father Brunel closed his eyes, bowing his head over the ciborium for a minute. Then he turned, to place the cup back in the tabernacle-

And the peasants erupted.

"'Tis a trick!"

"The Host was not consecrated!"

"Nay, nor is this church!"

"Aye! Father Brunel has defiled our chapel with his sinning!"

Anger gathered on Brunel's face. "Who dares say this of me?" he bellowed, and the noise of the crowd slackened to an angry muttering.

Arvide called out, "Can you deny it, Father?"

"I can and do! I've never been guilty of sacrilege in this church, as God is my witness!"

The muttering became uncertain.

Father Brunel lowered his voice. The anger was gone, but steely conviction remained. "I have sinned, aye, mightily and often, God forgive me! I'm a man of weak will and strong cravings." His eyes flicked toward Sayeesa - then past her, seeking out individual faces in the throng. "But when I've sinned, I've not set foot in this church till I've walked barefoot to another priest and been shriven! I? Desecrate this church? Never!" His voice cracked like thunder over the heads of his parishioners, and many of them winced.

But Arvide stepped forward doggedly. "So you say, Father, so you say! But we cannot be sure; nor can we be sure this witch does not deserve death at the stake!"

"Nay, there may be truth in it!" One peasant woman thrust her way forward. "For often have I seen him trudge out of town barefoot, fear on his face, as though hell's outriders pursued him!"

"But he was often gone longer than confession requires," another cried. "Where was he, neighbors? And why would he not join us in hunting the witch?"

The crowd caught the direction of her thoughts, and a very ugly murmur started up.

"Aye!" Arvide's eyes lit. "He was one of her visitors!"

Brunel swallowed heavily, fighting for composure. "I'll not deny it. In truth, I sought the witch's castle - but directly after I'd left her, I sought out another priest and confessed it. He shrove me; I still say my penance."

"Yet how did you escape her power?" a granny shrieked, her arm outstretched and pointing at the priest. "Nay, speak truly! Are you not a witch also? Why else were you not turned to stone, like my son?"

"Why, because I had small enough power over him!" Sayeesa snapped. "This is a good man, beneath his weakness and lust, one who gives hurt to none and seeks to help all! He is dedicated to God and therefore I could not hold him. Remorse overcame him, despite the strongest of spells!"

"Yet how could a man be a priest and still visit a witch of foul lust?" the granny shrieked. "Nay! He's defiled our church - and the test of this witch was no test!"

"Hold on!" Matt called out, before the crowd could react. "You admit he's always going to confession - so he couldn't have defiled the church!"

The crowd hooted derision, and the ugly mutter built up toward a roar.

"Nay, hold, good people!" Sir Guy shouted, and the crowd quieted, puzzled.

"How could he have defiled this church," Sir Guy asked reasonably, "if he was ever a-going to be shriven?"

The villagers turned to one another, murmuring uncertainly.

Matt felt the injustice of it burning his belly. He stepped over to Sir Guy. "Hey! You just said the same thing I did!"

"Aye, and I thank you for the words," Sir Guy said, sotto voce. "I'd never have thought of it, myself."

"But..." Matt fought down a surge of temper. "How come they didn't pay any attention when I said it?"

"Why, Lord Matthew," Sir Guy said, amazed, "you are not a knight,"

Matt turned away, fuming. If he ever found the guy who designed the rules for this universe, he decided, he'd send him back to his drawing board.

Father Brunel was nodding heavily with relief. "It is even as the knight says - you've yourselves admitted my remorse. Therefore your church is not defiled, and the test of the witch was a sound test! She has come to this House of God and received the consecrated Host under your eyes! I declare her no witch, but a woman of God, though a sinner - " His voice sank. "-like myself."

Then his head rose again. "And like everyone of you here! Aye, she's sinned far more heavily than most - but is there a one of you who can claim truthfully that he's not sinned every week of his life? Yet you're not damned for it, for you've confessed and been shriven, through the grace of our Lord! So has she!" He glared about him slowly, fairly daring them to contradict him.

There were some uneasy mutters and a lot of sidelong glances, but nobody spoke.

"Well enough, then!" Arvide glared, red-faced and furious. "She's shriven and in Grace again! But she caused many deaths and seduced many by foul enchantments! Should she not be punished for this?"

"Aye!" cried the granny. "Now burn her!"

"Aye, burn her!" The crowd took up the cry.

"Now I say nay!" Father Brunei roared. He glowered down at the congregation. "Death by burning is for witches and heretics. She is neither, now. If you wish the King's Law to judge her for what she has done, give her over to the king's men. But you shall not burn her for offenses of faith while I am priest here!"

"Aye, while you are priest!" Arvide shouted. "That can be changed, Father!"

"Aye!" a female voice cried from the back. "Burn them, burn them both! Let them die united by their sins, while the flames burn them clean!"

Father Brunel roared again. He tore off his stole, laid it on the altar, and charged into the midst of the crowd. They broke and fled from his path. He caught Sayeesa's arm as he passed, pulling her along behind him, and bulled his way through like a cannon ball, to the back of the church and out the door. The crowd stood a moment, galvanized; then, with a howl, they charged out the door after him.

Matt plunged into the back of the crowd. Sir Guy jumped in just ahead of him, ploughing his way through the mob by dint of steel elbows. Matt followed on his heels, with Alisande behind.

They broke through the front rank in time to see the priest turn at bay in the middle of the common, thrusting Sayeesa behind him. "Now," he bellowed, "we are out of the Lord's house! He who thinks he can take the witch, let him come and seize her!"

The mob jarred to a halt and milled about, yammering. Arvide glanced at the men to either side of him. They nodded, and he stepped grimly forward, with his two henchmen following a step behind.

Father Brunel seemed to set like concrete, waiting.

Matt tried to remember how the policemen on the cop shows sounded, and barked, "Awright, hold it right there!"

The trio jerked to a halt, staring up at him in amazement.

Matt strolled up toward them, his hand on his sword. "If you're coming in multiples, I'm stepping in on the priest's side."

"I, too!" Sir Guy stepped up brightly, his sword whisking out. "What's it to be? Our two swords 'gainst a mob? Well and good! An even fight, Lord Matthew, an even fight!"

Alisande had had enough. "Hold!" she strode into the center of the action. "Stand aside, Sir Guy! 'Tis not the office of a knight to strike peasants, but to defend them! And you!" She rounded on the mob. "The priest does naught but his office in protecting this woman - for she is a penitent and stands in God's grace again!"

Arvide's eyes widened. "Do you say this, too, Lady?"

"I do," Alisande answered, "and I am of noble blood. Here is my judgment in the matter: She is no longer a witch and goes free!"

Arvide, Matt thought, knew damn well that's what the lady thought; but it was a nice way out of the impasse, letting both sides back down without loss of face. Noble blood had said it; de facto, it was true. Maybe aristocracy had some uses, after all.

Arvide sighed, deflating. Then one of the villagers muttered something into his ear, nodding towards the princess, and Arvide's eyes widened to the size of dollars. He stared at Alisande as if he were seeing her for the first time. Slowly, he nodded, muttering, "Aye, she is! She is indeed!"

Matt fought down a surge of exasperation. There went security.

Arvide yanked off his cap and came forward, almost shyly, dropping to one knee in front of her. "My Lady and my..."

" 'Milady' will do for the moment," Alisande said, with gentle firmness. She held out her hand.

Arvide kissed her ring and looked up at her, his face filled with devotion. He heaved himself to his feet, bowed, and turned away, striding back through the crowd. An avenue opened for him; then, one by one, the other villagers followed him, with reverent, almost frightened, glances back over their shoulders at the princess.

They filed on down the single village street; finally, the common ground in front of the church was empty. Matt turned slowly to Alisande. "I forget the kind of magic you can work in your own right, your Highness."

Alisande smiled, amused. "Be of good cheer, Lord Wizard; you shall yet learn our ways. Still, I find no fault in your conduct this day. I ... must own, there are few men I would liefer have riding by my side in such broils."

Matt stared at her in-shock. It seemed like an awfully abrupt turnaround. Then he realized it was a peace offering and he smiled back at her before he turned to Father Brunel. "Well, Father, the crisis is past."

"Aye, though he scarcely calmed them." Sayeesa turned on the friar. "I had small need of your aid. With any other priest, there'd not have been such a coil."

"True enough." The priest took it without flinching. "Yet `twas not to protect you that I acted, but to protect my poor people from your armored knights."

"Aye, verily! You did it so well that you all but bred that verb combat!"

"I did not ask the lords there to speak," Brunel growled. "If they'd stood by, I would have outfaced all my people."

"Well, it came out okay, didn't it?" Matt had to head them off, or they'd spend the entire day scrapping. "Sayeesa's unsinged, and your flock is safe."

"Aye." The priest frowned. "Though 'tis not done yet. While your Graces are here, there's no longer danger; yet there are hotheads amongst 'em who are swayed by the Devil and the vile forces unleashed in this kingdom. They will brood over not gaining their way in this matter. Then they'll start speaking aloud; and as the talk grows, so will their anger. By nightfall, they'll be worked up to rage, and they'll come to take her and burn her. None, even then, will move 'gainst your command, Lady, but 'twould be needless to see the coil bred. If you will take my good counsel - be on your way, and that quickly."

Alisande smiled sourly. "I assure you, Father, we had not meant to tarry even so long as this." She turned to the rest of the company. "Come, let us ride!"

She went toward her horse; so did Sir Guy and Sayeesa. But Matt reached out and caught Sir Guy's shoulder. The knight looked back, with raised eyebrows.

Matt turned to Father Brunel. "How about you, Father? If they're going to go witch hunting in the middle of the night and can't find a witch, they might take you as second choice."

The priest hesitated; then he nodded reluctantly. "There's truth in your words; they may seek to slay me. Yet if they do, there is justice in it."

Matt nearly blew his stack. Was everybody in this crazy country a walking death-wish? "You'll pardon me, Father, but you don't quite strike me as a hopeless case."

"Even so." Alisande had turned back. "Yet if penance you seek, we have a worthy endeavor that requires much hardship and sacrifice."

The priest frowned dubiously. "I have great need of such penance."

"Aye, even so," Sayeesa breathed. Brunel looked up at her, startled. For a moment, their eyes met, and the priest's face washed bleak with the naked craving of his hunger, while Sayeesa had suddenly become a magnet for male eyes.

Brunel tore his gaze away with a shudder. "Nay. If they come to hang or even burn me, 'tis for the best. I've shamed my cloth long enough."

"I will not hear of it," Alisande declared. "I think you to be a good man, in spite of your vices; and there are few such in this kingdom, in these dark days. You shall come with us."

The priest's face began to settle into obstinacy.

Alisande's tone warmed amazingly. "I will not leave a good man to a fate he warrants not."

Brunel caved in with a sigh. "I am not a good man, Majesty-"

"Highness, for this time," Alisande murmured.

Matt noticed how politely they both ignored the lack of a formal introduction.

"Highness," the priest amended. "And it is told that royal eyes, always see clearly; so what you command cannot be in error. If you command it, I will come with you."