Page 37 of The Guardian's Witch

He turned Prime and joined his men. Lisbeth ran to the castle wall and up the steps to the gallery. The troop came into view as they crossed the field. Alex rode to the front to the shouts of his men and took his place at the head of the column. She stayed on the wall until the last man vanished into the forest on the other side of the field.

The excitement over, she returned to the castle, wondering when he would return. Before she went to the market, she climbed the stairs and went on to her room to set down the things her sister had given her, but her mind was on Alex. No, she would be very upset if he didn’t return. Her admission didn’t surprise her.

The stones Laura had given her rattled in her pouch. She took them out and put them on her chest next to her mother’s diary. The soft leather invited her touch, and she obliged it. Her fingers stroked the embossed initials—DR. She remembered her father gifting it to her mother when he returned from a London trip. He brought gifts for everyone. She wondered who enjoyed the excitement of his small gifts more, her father or his intended recipient.

“Beth,let me see those stones you carry,”her father demanded.

Surprised by his request,she opened the makeshift bag.It was no more than a square of cloth with its four corners knotted together.She handed it to him.

“If you insist on carrying your most treasured stones,you should have something worthy to carry them in.This will keep your treasures safe.”

How his eyes had twinkled when he handed her his gift.

She touched her leather pouch. “Father,” she whispered. She looked at the diary. Laura was right. Leave the book alone. What would she gain? She started for the door but hesitated. Just one look was all she wanted; one more time to be close to Mother, even if it was only her words.

She picked up the book and sat on the chair by the window to catch the sunlight. She carefully opened the diary and sucked in her breath when she saw the first swirl of her mother’s distinctive handwriting. Her hand ran slowly down the page. Contentment spread through her. She went on. The pages fanned when she opened the book fully and finally settled on one somewhere at the beginning of the book.

The page was spotted and soiled from much use. It was the recipe for lavender soap. She turned to another entry.

Wesley came home from court today. I didn’t expect him for another six weeks. He still makes my heart leap. The children were already asleep when he arrived. They will be so surprised in the morning. He is in the Great Hall hearing his captain report. I stood there as long as I could. I know it was devilish but I whispered in his ear exactly what I wanted him to do to me this night. I thought he would choke on his ale. My knight, my love, my heart. I must go, he comes.

Lisbeth remembered that morning. She and Laura had come down into the Great Hall arguing about something and stopped when they saw him at the table. Her heart pounded with the memory. She shook the recollection away, came back to the present, and turned the pages.

Lisbeth told me of her visions. They are almost fully upon her. I dare not wait too much longer but I do not want to burden her, not yet. She is so young.

Lisbeth stared at the words and reread them to make certain they were there. She was too startled by the message they carried to move on.

How can someone so young be expected to bear such a burden? Knowing the future is as much a curse as a blessing.

Lisbeth looked at the next entry. But there was no further mention of the visions. She quickly scanned the next pages, turning them faster and faster. Her mind clouded with a crazy mixture of hope and fear.

I failed her. I should have said something but I didn’t. I’ve started ten times for the door to wake her and tell her. Perhaps it would be better if I let her believe them to be dreams. If she would just order them to stop, but I don’t know if she has the strength.

Her heart skipped a beat. She looked at the page and read it over. A flash of excitement rushed through her.The visions can be controlled.“At last,” she said to the empty room and sat back, the book to her chest. “At last.”

She placed the book next to the polished stones. If she could control the visions, she need not have another one. She would be safe and so would everyone around her.Wait. Before she let things get out of hand, she would need to make certain it worked.It will work.It must work.

* * *

The usually crowded market was choked with activity, a by-product of the farmers and their families moving to the castle. Lisbeth picked her way through the crowd, overhearing snippets of conversations as she went from stall to stall.

“Perhaps he won’t come back. This one has certainly lasted longer than the others.”

“Perhaps. He’s not been so bad. At least he removed the border families to the castle grounds.”

“Yes, off our farms. Who’s going to take care of them if we’re all here? Who? And what will be left when we go back? The ground gone to seed, our houses sacked and burned. No I tell you, we should stay and protect our farms.”

“You’re a potter. What do you know of the fears we farmers face or how Lord Alex has protected us? His men helped to finish the harvest before we left.”

“For himself I say. The harvest is in his granary. He’s even set guards around it so you can’t take what you need. What are you and your family going to eat when the food runs out?”

The men continued on their way.

“M’lady, m’lady.”

The warm aroma of fresh bread beckoned Lisbeth to the baker’s stall.

“It’s good to see you. Can I help you?”

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