The Penwyth Curse Part 33

Slowly she laid down the sponge, took a step back and opened her robe. She pulled it wide. He stared at her breast, the soft white flesh, buta"and then he saw the faint white line and knew it was right over her beating heart. He swallowed. "I don't have even a mark."

"I'm glad. This, it's nothing." She closed her robe. "I am here to bathe you, my soon-to-be husband. I wish you to lean back, be at ease, and let me attend you. I would say that you have had a hard day."

Bishop did just that, laughed. "Aye, I have. Do you love me, Merryn?"

She said without hesitation, without even slowing the smooth stroking of the sponge, "Aye, I love you. I love you more than I did just a minute ago. Soon I will have such love for you I will feel knocked about the head with it."

He opened his eyes and smiled up at her. He lightly closed his hand over hers. "I know that feeling exactly."

There came a knock on the chamber door.

Merryn called out, "Who is it? Who wishes to behold the bridegroom in his bath?"

"It is I, Crispin, my lady."

"Come, Crispin," Bishop called out.

Crispin came into the chamber, not looking at the two young people who'd so recently been older than his father, mayhap even older than his grandfather, but down at the strange stick he held in his hands. He thrust it out toward Bishop.

"My lord, one of the children found this, said that when you stood up, the stick dropped from the sleeve of your tunic. It's just a stick, only it's not, if you know what I mean."

Bishop took the wand. "Thank you, Crispin. I thought it was gone." And he wondered how it had gotten into his sleeve. No, he didn't want to know.

After Crispin closed the door after him, Merryn took a very deep breath. "It fell out of your sleeve? I thought it disappeared back at the cave near Tintagel."

"It did. But it's here now." They looked at each other. Merryn whispered, "We're both alive. Something happened, Bishop. Did the wand help it happen?"

He said nothing, merely held the wand, feeling its soft warmth against his palm. There was so much flooding through his brain, making his breathing hitch when he thought too deeply about what had happened.

"It's the same wand, isn't it?"

"Aye, it's the same." He sat forward and she soaped his back with the sponge. He looked closely at the wand, and then he stiffened straight as an arrow. He jerked about, splas.h.i.+ng water onto the floor, onto Merryn as well.

"What is it? Are you still hurt? Bishop, speak to me."

"Look, Merryn. Look."

He held the wand up, his thumb pressing against an indentation in the wood. She knelt next to the big wooden tub, laid her finger atop his thumb.

"Feel." He moved his thumb and her finger traced the indentations. "Let me hold it to the light," she said, took the wand from him, and stood. He watched her walk over to the window with it, hold it to the afternoon sunlight.

She read slowly, " *Ambrosius.' " She looked back over at him. " *Ambrosius?' What does that mean?"

Bishop stilled. "Is that all you see? Is there another name, another word?"

Merryn turned the wand slowly in her hands, examining each inch of it. "Here, wait. It says *Merlin. Merlin Ambrosius.' Do you know what that means? Is it a name, Bishop?"

Bishop said slowly, "When I was wounded once several years ago, Benedictine monks took me in and healed me. One old monk loved to read the tales written by Geoffrey of Monmouth, who lived more than a hundred years ago. He wrote about an advisor to Uther Pendragona"the father of King Arthur."

"Merlin," Merryn said. "Aye, I remember now. He was a magician, wasn't he?"

"Aye, and he was more than that. He was a wizard, so it was written," Bishop said. "A wizard," he said again, more slowly.

"I don't understand this, Bishop."

He didn't either. He didn't think he wanted to. The wand had belonged to Merlin? It was more than a mortal could bear.

A mortal. Aye, he was a mortal, but the prince and Brecia, they hadn't been mortals. And the prince had made Brecia pregnant in their first wild mating, just as he knew he'd made Merryn pregnant.

In that moment, Bishop sensed something. He knew he felt the prince close to him, heard the prince's voice, and he was laughing, softly, and then, suddenly, he was gone, and there was only the sweet warm air and Merryn at his side.

"Come here and kiss me, Merryn."

"We've been married for a full five days now and I am still very much alive."

"Aye, you are, husband. Have you written to King Edward?"

"Aye, and a messenger should be with him soon. Dienwald and Philippa and their children will be arriving tomorrow. Vellan and Madelyn wish to meet them."

Bishop rose and tapped his knife handle several times against a goblet from the Rhineland, one of Lord Vellan's prized possessions.

He waited until there was complete silence in the great hall, all faces turned toward him. He raised the goblet. "Here is to the end of the Penwyth curse. It is over and gone."

There was wild cheering and everyone drank.

Bishop smiled down at his wife. "I am the fifth and final husband!"

There was more wild cheering.

Merryn rose to stand beside Bishop. Everyone fell silent again. "No more curses to haunt Penwyth!"

Bishop said after they'd quieted a bit, "All have wondered why people live so very long here at Penwyth. I will tell you. It is because anyone who loves Penwyth, who is utterly loyal, deserves a long life. And so it is."

"a"I can't lift my sword but I am alive, aye!"

"a"All of us deserve long life!"

Everyone was cheering and laughing and talking about the four husbands who'd all toppled over dead so quickly after their marriage to Merryn.

"No more curse!"

"No more curse!"

"Long life to those who love Penwyth!"

Lady Madelyn said, "I wonder if there truly was a curse. One that came from the ancient Druids? From the Witches of Byrne? No, I don't think there ever was a curse."

"Of course there was, Grandmother," Merryn said. "Bishop and I broke the curse."

Lady Madelyn just shook her head.

Vellan looked at his wife of so many years he would need more fingers and toes to count than were in the great hall, and said, his voice thick with disbelief, dread, and a dab of pleasure, "What do you mean, Madelyn?"

"I poisoned Arlan de Frome, that's what I mean. Then I prayed that the others would die as well since I couldn't manage to poison them. My prayers worked."

Epilogue.

Sometime Else.

THE PRINCE STOOD BESIDE Brecia, his hand lightly touching her shoulder, pointing. "See, yon, my love, is where we will live when we are not in your fortress in the oak forest."

They'd just stepped out of the prince's cave and were looking toward a promontory in the distance. On its very edge stood a large white structure that soared toward the heavens. It was like nothing Brecia had ever seen before. He said, "My parents wanted it like this. You see, my father said that an ancient people called the Greeks built many beautiful structures like this for their G.o.ds and G.o.d-desses. Now we have one as well."

"It is beautiful."

"Our son will grow up here. He will learn who and what he is within these walls," the prince said.

Brecia turned to rest her cheek against his shoulder. "What will we name our son?"

He kissed her beautiful red hair, pulled her closer. "We will see," he said, his voice a whisper of sound against her temple, his breath warm and sweet as the incredible scent of the blossom he'd just plucked for her and woven into her hair. "He will be known forever, that I do know. We will select a name to fit him."

"Thank you for coming to me in the oak forest," Brecia said.

He remembered for a blinding instant lying there on his back, evidently sleeping just outside her forest, Callas standing over him, and he'd had no idea how or why he was there. But maybe he had known and just forgotten. Whatever had happened, it didn't matter. He smiled, stroked his fingertips over her smooth cheek. "Aye, I came for you. Thank you for saving my miserable wizard's life."

She laid her hand over his, both lightly set against her belly, now swollen with their son. They looked toward the beautiful white fortress that wasn't really a fortress at all, and felt the sunlight warm them.

His hand stilled. "I can feel that all is well," he said, and smiled. "In all times." He looked back at his cave, and his smile widened. Then his full attention was on her. "Do you know, I feel like making you yell to the heavens." He leaned over, pushed Brecia's heavy hair away, and nibbled on her ear.

She turned quickly, laughing, and grabbed him. "This is madness, prince. It's magic, what you make me feel so quickly."

"No," he said, his mouth against hers, "it's us. Just us."

She laughed as she squeezed him tightly against her. "Then why can I streak my fingers through a cloud?"

Present.

Penwyth Castle.

Bishop felt a bolt of l.u.s.t so great he nearly fell out of his chair. He didn't understand, but he didn't care, not a whit. He lifted Merryn's hair away and nibbled her earlobe. She turned, laughing. "What is this, my lord?"

In the next breath, she was looking at his mouth, breathing hard, and pus.h.i.+ng out of her chair to get closer to him. Her eyes were nearly crossed, she was trying so hard to kiss him anywhere she could reach.

It didn't matter that the great hall was filled with people, that conversations were slowing, stopping, as their people stared toward the dais. Nothing mattered but that they have each other. Fast.

Bishop couldn't stand it, couldn't wait another second. He leapt up from his chair, grabbed his wife, who he happily saw was in as bad shape as he was, and dragged her across the great hall, but only for a couple of steps. She was soon running beside him. The racket of so many voices raised in laughter didn't really touch them. All is well, Bishop thought as he raced up the stairs to their bedchamber, Merryn breathing hard beside him. Aye, all is well everywhere.

And in every time.

t.i.tles by Catherine Coulter The Bride Series

THE SHERBROOKE BRIDE.

THE h.e.l.lION BRIDE.

THE HEIRESS BRIDE.

THE SCOTTISH BRIDE.

PENDRAGON.

MAD JACK.