Fenn left next day but not before I had planted my rosemary bush. I saw how pleased he was.

"I know you are the sort of girl who would keep her promises," he told me.

Before he left he said that he wanted me to come and stay with his parents. He would arrange that they should soon invite me.

I waved farewell to him and then went right up to the ramparts so that I should see the last of him.

Senara came and stood beside me.

"You're madly in love with him," she accused me.

"I like him," I admitted.

"You show it. You shouldn't do that. You should be aloof; it is for him to fall madly in love with you. Now I suppose he will ask for your hand in marriage and then you will go away to that place of his and I shan't see you any more."

"What nonsense!"

"It's not nonsense. I shall be left here and I don't like it."

"When I marry-if I do-you shall come and stay with me."

"What's the use of that? We've always been together. We've shared a room. You've been my sister ever since I could remember."

She was pouting and sullen. Then her eyes were suddenly mischievous. "What if I made an image of him and stuck pins in it? Then he'd die because I'd pierce his heart. No one would know how he died ... except me."

"Senara, I hate to hear you talk like that. It's all such nonsense."

"People do die ... cows die, sheep die ... as well as people. No one knows what killed them. There is no sign at all ... They just die. It's the evil eye. What if I put it on your precious lover?"

"You couldn't and you wouldn't ... even if he were my lover, which he is not. He is merely a good friend. And, Senara, I beg of you do not say such things. It is dangerous to talk so. People hear it and take it seriously. You mustn't say it."

She dodged back from me and put out her tongue. A favourite gesture of hers which was meant to irritate.

"You are no longer a child, Senara," I said. "You must be sensible."

She stood still, her arms folded, mocking me.

"I am sensible. They are always saying my mother is a witch. Well, I'm a witch too. n.o.body knows where we came from, do they? How do I know, how do you know, who my father is?"

"Senara, you are talking dangerously. Your mother had the misfortune to be wrecked at sea. My mother saved her life. You were about to be born. It is all easy to understand."

"Is it, Tamsyn? Is that what you really think?"

"Yes, it is," I said firmly.

"You always believe what you want to. Everything is good and nice, according to you. Other people don't always think so. And one thing, don't imagine you are the only one who has a lover."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, wouldn't you like to know?"

I very soon did know. It suddenly occurred to me that Senara had inherited that indefinable quality from her mother. In the days which followed she seemed to grow more beautiful; she was pa.s.sing out of her childhood and she was of a type to mature early. Her body had become rounded, her long eyes languorous and full of mystery-so like her mother's. When she danced with d.i.c.kon she was so lovely that it was impossible to take one's eyes from her.

d.i.c.kon adored her. When he danced with her there was such happiness in his movements that it was a joy to watch them. He would sit and play the lute to her and sing songs of his own composing. They seemed all to be about the charms of a dark-eyed maiden, who tantalized him and tormented him while she enchanted him.

Enchantment! Bewitchment! These were words which occurred again and again in his song. She beguiled his senses; she had this elusive quality which he could not define.

One day in the music-room Maria discovered her daughter in the arms of d.i.c.kon, the music teacher. Senara told me about it afterwards. She was hysterical, half defiant, half fearful.

"d.i.c.kon always wants to make love to me," she had said. "He has a pa.s.sionate nature and so have I. You wouldn't understand, Tamsyn. You are so calm and dull about these things. I love d.i.c.kon. He is beautiful, do you not think so? And the feeling he puts into his songs ... and when we dance together, I seem to melt in his arms. I am ready to grant any request he might make of me. That's how d.i.c.kon affects me, Tamsyn."

"It sounds a very dangerous state of affairs," I had replied with trepidation.

"Dangerous? Of course it's dangerous. That's why it's exciting. When I am going for my lesson I make Merry curl my hair and I choose my ribbons very carefully to match my gown. Merry laughs. She knows."

Merry was the maid who had been given us now that we were growing up. She worked for us personally, looked after our clothes, did our hair and was in fact a lady's maid whom we shared. She was youngish-a little older than I was in fact, and she was in love with Jan Leward, one of the menservants who lived in the Seaward Tower. They were going to marry one day, she had confided in us, and she was very pleased with life because of this. Senara tricked her into giving confidences about the progress of her love-affair with Jan.

"Oh Senara, take care," I had begged.

"That is something I prefer to leave to others," she had retorted. "Care! It's dull, and I hate dull things. No, I shall never take care. I shall be bold and reckless. That is how I intend to live my life. I think d.i.c.kon is handsome. More so than your Fenn Landor and I tell you this, Tamsyn, you are not going to be the only one with a lover."

"What other people have has nothing to do with loving."

"So wise," she had mocked me. Then came this indiscretion. She told me about it. "The door of the music-room opened and my mother stood there. We were seated at the table. My lute lay on it and d.i.c.kon had his arms about me. He was kissing me and suddenly we knew that we were not alone. You know how silently my mother comes into a room. She stood there and looked at us. She said nothing. It would have been better if she had. d.i.c.kon started to tremble. You know how they can all be so afraid of her. Then she walked to the table. We both stood up. d.i.c.kon's face was scarlet. He has such beautiful fair skin. Mine doesn't change colour like that. But I was as frightened as he was. She picked up my lute and gave it to me. 'Play,' she said. 'Play a love song, a sad one, for love songs are often sad.' I took the lute and she said 'Play "My love has gone and forever more I mourn".' I did and she sat there listening. Then she looked at d.i.c.kon and said; 'How well have you taught my daughter?' He stammered that he had done his best and that I was an apt pupil. She sat there for a while. Then she got up and went out. We don't know what will happen but d.i.c.kon is afraid."

We soon discovered what had happened.

d.i.c.kon did not appear in the music-room again. He had been sent away.

Senara was violently angry and quietly sad in turns. She used to cry at night and talked constantly about d.i.c.kon. I had thought her feeling for him superficial, but this did not seem to be so, for as time went on she continued to remember him and speak of him with bitter and sorrowing regret.

Senara changed after that incident. She seemed always to be trying to score over me. I think there was a streak of envy in her nature and particularly where I was concerned. I used to remind myself that in the early days of her life she had been the waif about whom so little was known. Her very name betrayed that. The admiration she had had from d.i.c.kon had softened her considerably and when it was s.n.a.t.c.hed from her she had really suffered.

At first she had confided more in Merry than in me. She insisted that I had my Fenn Landor and she spoke of him as though we were betrothed. I must confess I did not stop her as I should. I was, I suppose, so enamoured of the idea of being betrothed to Fenn that I couldn't resist deluding myself into thinking that it was so.

Then my stepmother-no doubt influenced by the d.i.c.kon affair-said that now we were all growing up there should be more entertaining at the castle. She would invite the best of the neighbouring families. Some of them had eligible young men who might be interested in us, and there was Connell also to be considered.

My father evidently agreed. He seemed always to agree with my stepmother. At least I never saw any conflict between them. When I compared them with my late grandfather and grandmother I thought how different their relationship was and that there was something more normal in the bickering of my grandparents than in the quietness I observed between my parents-my father being the man he was. I sensed that when they were alone they were far from quiet; and sometimes the thought came into my mind that my stepmother was indeed a witch and even my father was in thrall to her.

"The young man who brought you from your grandmother's," she said, "was very charming. I believe he has a sister. Perhaps we should invite them both to stay here."

I was delighted. I said I thought they would be pleased to come.

"We shall see," said my stepmother.

The seamstress was working hard making new gowns for us. When we entered into a new reign fashions always seemed to change. In the country as we were, we were always a year or so behind but even so we were now getting what was called the short Dutch waist and the full farthingale. We had cartoose collars and tight sleeves under long sleeves hanging from the elbow. We had dresses with divided skirts to show barred petticoats usually much finer than the gown itself. Ruffs had disappeared-for which I was thankful-and in their place we had stand up collars. The sewing-room was littered with cloth of all kinds, taffeta and damask, some silk and velvet and a mixture of silk and some other thicker material called crash and mockado which was mock velvet.

The sewing-room was a symbol of the fact that there were three marriageable young people in the castle and weddings were to be expected. It was strange how gay that made everyone feel.

Merry was no ordinary maid, for we were both fond of her and she was very pretty too and full of life. She talked a great deal-particularly to Senara-of Jan her lover and how one day they were going to get married. There was great excitement when she was wearing a ring. It looked like gold-a thick band.

"It be my token ring from Jan," Merry told us solemnly.

Alas, her triumph was short lived, for it seemed Jan had stolen the ring. He had taken it from my father's possessions and when it was discovered there was a great upheaval in the castle.

Merry quickly lost her token ring and wept for it, but even more bitterly did she weep when Jan received his punishment. We three shut ourselves away so that we could hear nothing of it, but quite a number of the servants gathered in the Seaward courtyard. Jan was tied to the whipping-post and given ten lashes.

"'Twill be the shame of his life," sobbed Merry. "He be such a proud man. He only took to give to me."

Senara's eyes flashed with anger. "A curse on those who are beating Jan," she cried. "May their arms rot and ..."

I silenced her. "Whoever lifts the whip against him does so on orders," I said. "And, Senara, please do not say such things."

"I mean them," she cried.

I knew who had given the order for punishment. It was my father.

We comforted Merry as best we could. Senara prepared an ointment for she was interested in such things, and we sent it over for Jan's back.

"It will let him know that we are thinking of him," said Senara, "as well as help to cure him."

The atmosphere of the castle had changed. An air of melancholy had descended on us.

There was a letter from my grandmother.

She was glad to hear that Fenn and his sister were coming to stay with us.

I'm afraid this could never have happened while his grandmother was alive (she wrote). Now, poor soul, she is at rest and perhaps the feud between the two families will be over. I could understand, of course, her bitter sorrow when her daughter died and some people must lay the blame for their sorrow on other shoulders. It's a great mistake. You will see Fenn again and I am sure you will enjoy his company. I believe his sister Melanie is a charming girl.

My dearest Tamsyn, how I should love to join you, but I fear the journey would be too much for me. Perhaps later you would come to me. I have not been very well. Edwina is often here. I shall look forward to your being here soon, my dear child. Let me know about Fenn's visit.

It was high summer when they came-Fenn, his sister Melanie, his mother and their servants. They were to stay for a week and my stepmother had made great preparations for them. She had evidently taken a fancy to the family; I was worldly enough to know that it was because they were rich. They had large estates about Trystan Priory and although in the beginning they had lost money in the trading venture there were rumours that that was now proving very successful.

When they arrived a warm welcome was given them. My stepmother was gracious and charming and my father too received them with a show of pleasure. Fenn looked pleased to be back and I was thrilled to see that when his eyes alighted on me they showed clearly his pleasure. There was something open and candid about him; he was the sort of man who would never be able to hide his feelings even if he wanted to. His sister Melanie was rather like him in appearance; she was quiet and gentle in manners; and their mother was a very gracious lady. I couldn't help thinking that Trystan Priory must be a very pleasant, comfortable household.

Fenn was put into the Red Room once more; and Melanie and her mother shared a room close by.

Supper that night was taken in one of the smaller rooms-so that we could talk together, said my stepmother, before other guests arrived. So there were my father, my stepmother, Fenn, his sister and mother, and Connell, Senara and myself. Conversation was of the estates and of the trading company of which Fenn spoke with such enthusiasm and how pleasant it was for families like ours to get to know each other.

I could scarcely sleep that night; nor could Senara. We lay awake on our pallets talking about the evening.

"What mild people they are," commented Senara. "They look as if nothing could arouse them. I have a good mind to set fire to their bedchamber. I daresay that girl Melanie would sit up in bed and say: 'How strange. I believe the room is on fire,' and then calmly walk out as though nothing had happened. Shall I set fire to it just to see if I'm right?"

"What a horrible idea! You do think of the strangest things."

"One day I shall do them."

"Please, Senara, you know I hate you to talk like that."

"Why should I care what you hate? I hate to see you looking at that Fenn as though he's Sir Lancelot or one of those knights who were irresistible to the ladies. You don't care about that."

"You have a very jealous nature."

"Anyone who feels anything is jealous. It is only people like you and your silly Landors who don't. They're calm because they don't feel anything. I think you're all made of straw."

I laughed at her, which infuriated her.

"Don't think you are the only one who knows about love." Her voice broke and there was a sob in it. "I wonder what is happening to d.i.c.kon now."

"I dare say he found another post teaching music and dancing to a susceptible young girl. They now gaze at each other over the table and he sings songs to her as he plays his lute."

"Don't talk so," cried Senara.

"I'm sorry. Do you still care about him?"

"Of course I don't, but I don't want him laughed at."

"I'm not laughing at him. I'm sorry for him. I hope he found a good post quickly."

She changed the subject. "That Melanie will soon be living here. They've chosen her for Connell."

"What!"

"It's true. Merry heard them talking about it and she told me. It's more or less arranged. They only have to like each other. Connell will, I dare say. His father wants him to, so he has to; and as long as he can frolic with the serving wenches he's ready to marry whoever is chosen for him."

"Where do you get such ideas?"

"I keep my eyes open. Servants talk to me more than they do to you. They'd be afraid to tell you. You're so proper."

"Connell and Melanie," I said.

"Don't sound so surprised. Is it not obvious? It's time Connell married ... you know, get sons to carry on the line. Connell will be rich-he'll inherit all this ... and she will have a good dowry, you can be sure. Just imagine, in a little while I'll warrant we have dear prim little Melanie installed as our sister."

"Well, I think Connell will be lucky."

"You would! And Connell, what of him? He won't get much fun with her, I'll swear. Well, the serving girls are always willing when it is the master of the house, which he will be in time."

"You talk too freely, Senara."

"What should I do? Cloak my thoughts as you do ... or try to. Don't think I don't know you, Tamsyn Casvellyn. I see clearly what is in your mind. You betray it and if you did not I have means ..."

I laughed aloud. "Oh, I see, this is the witch's daughter speaking."

"Never underestimate a witch, Tamsyn."

"How many more times do I have to tell you not to speak of yourself as a witch. It's dangerous and growing more so."

"This is only in the four walls of our bedchamber. I trust you, Tamsyn, not to betray me. You would never betray anyone. Least of all your sister, Senara. We are sisters, Tamsyn. Do you remember when I made you cut your wrist and I cut mine and we mingled our blood and swore that we would come to the aid of the other when that one was in danger?"