Page 74 of Warrior’s Lady

Chapter Twenty-Two

"A message?" Bishop Berwick asked as he snatched the linen sheet from his clerk's hand. The man bowed once, twice, then a third time as he backed toward the doorway, then out of the chamber. The bishop smiled at the thought that he was perceived as powerful and dangerous. But his pride shifted in the next heartbeat to intrigue as he turned the message over to reveal the seal of the Church council.

Quickly he broke the wax and scanned the missive's contents. He read the letter twice, then tossed it into the hearth, allowing the flames to devour it. The Council would arrive on his doorstep in less than a day. Before they would agree to charge a child with witchcraft, they wanted proof.

He would give them proof all right. He smiled as he returned to his desk and pulled out another sheet of linen and wrote a dire warning to the Lockharts. Lady Violet would be charged with witchcraft. He would see to it. Then somehow, he would convince the Council to allow the girl to be reformed by him. He didn't want to hang a child, but he wouldn't let the Lockharts know that. Once complete, he set the missive at the top of his desk and turned to stare into the flames.

He withdrew a square of linen from the folds of his gown as a wave of heat swamped him. He stepped back, away from the hearth. The fire seemed more intense today than it had yesterday. He blotted the beads of perspiration that dotted his brow.

But succeed he would once he finally got the girl and the Stone away from the Lockharts.

His thoughts shifted to his mother's disease-ravaged body in the room down the hall. "How can You torment my mother with illness?" he asked the powers above, then flinched at the sign of his own weakness. He knew God brought illness to his home to remind him of man's fragility.

Sickness brought pain and burning. And just as nothing purifies gold like fire, nothing cleanses the soul like illness.

He wiped more perspiration from his brow and released a bittersweet sigh. He suffered the same fate as his mother. The remedy had always been patience and fortitude. "I will not fail You," he whispered to his master. "I will possess that Stone, and with the little girl's help I will once again be in Your favor."

He moved away from the fire. It was time to set his plan in motion. "Billings!" the bishop shouted for his chamberlain, as he adjusted the collar of his gown to allow for more airflow.

A moment later, his pale-faced servant arrived in the doorway. "Your Grace."

"See that my horse is brought around to the front door. Ask the warriors I hired to meet me there fully armed in less than a quarter hour. You will remain here and prepare the chamber next to Mother's for our future guest."

"Aye, Your Grace." He bowed once more before leaving.

The bishop leaned back against the wall of his study and crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling the need for support in order to remain upright.

He'd be seen as a man of miracles before the day was through.

The warrior who'd had black boils covering his body died less than a quarter of an hour later. In the moments after Camden had left Rhiannon, the man had experienced such agony that she was grateful when death finally took him. She closed the man's pain-filled eyes one last time before she sat back, numbed by the experience.

How had this monstrous plague ended up here? Would they all be destroyed? Or was it too much to hope that the Charm Stone could save them all? She had seen its healing powers with Rhys's wounds, Charlotte's baby, and her own burns.

Rhiannon closed her eyes, fighting back both terror and tears as she said a prayer that the Charm Stone would provide a cure for them soon — before anyone else died.

Orrin arrived at the cottage just as the bishop's horse was starting forward, leading a contingent of armed men.

"Stop!" he cried, and wheeled his horse in front of the procession of soldiers. "I have what you want, Bishop." Orrin might be betraying his best friend, but he hoped to avoid further bloodshed at Lee Castle.

The bishop stepped down from his horse, and Orrin dismounted as well. "You are dismissed for now," the bishop told his army.

"Come," the bishop commanded with a wave of his hand, moving back to the cottage. He seemed to weave a little as he walked. Orrin frowned. The man appeared drunk, yet his eyes remained clear and he did not smell of mead or ale.

Bishop Berwick led them to a dainty, feminine chamber. He appeared out of place in the room in his stark green robes and mitered hat.

Once they were alone, the bishop turned to Orrin, his cheeks flushed with excitement. "Where is the Stone?"

Orrin hesitated. Could he do this?

He forced away the pain that tightened his chest. Giving the bishop the Stone was the only way to guarantee that Camden and those he loved stayed safe. His friend had lost too much in the past few weeks. Orrin would not stand by and watch the torture continue.

He held the Stone out to the bishop. "I'll have you swear on the insignia of your office that you will never harm Camden Lockhart or any of his relations ever again."

"You have my word as a guardian of the Church." The bishop snatched the Stone away. An odd light filled the bishop's eyes as he stared into the bloodred Stone at the center of the coin. "How does it work?"

Orrin explained the simple process of preparing the healing water with the Stone.

"That's it?" The bishop frowned. He withdrew a square of linen from his robes and dabbed at his brow. "I do not need the girl to perform the deed?"