The Tudor Witch Book 1 Mistress

1523 Journey (Edited)

My body shivers. Though it is quite cold along this English shoreline, the shiver is not rendered by the frigid atmosphere, but from fear. It has been with me ever since my mother explained her plans and wishes for me. This deep coldness which has taken up residence in my soul—it is a feeling of dread and fear.

I have come to the conclusion: it is religion and perhaps greed which has motivated my mother. Our family has never been the conventional religion. We know the practices of the Catholic church and we perform their rituals—most passionately and devout—otherwise our lives would be forfeited.

We are not Catholics, nor are we part of this new Lutheran fire which has sparked up across some European countries. We are Pagan descent. Named witches, by those who would put us to the flame. Much like the Jews who hide their true faith behind closed doors, we do the same.

Religion is why I am in England. Mother convinced herself that the alignments she was seeing in the sky matched an old prophecy of ours, and Jean—the forever agreeing man— confirmed it.

The prophecy can be interpreted in many ways and according to my mother, it involves me baring a child to the King of England. My mother only believes this because she yearns for the glory of having a prophesied grandchild, not because it is the most plausible probability. And for some unknown reasons, she wishes the woman in the prophecy will be me.

This is how I have found myself standing on the cold shores of England, preparing myself to seduce the king of England and bare not only a prince, but a prophesied child. An impossible task, however, I am here in vain at her bidding.

"My lady." A strong voice materializes behind me. "The tide will be coming in shortly and you will not want to be standing here when it does."

My escort's voice is deep, and slightly raspy. He has been sent by my sister's husband to take me safely to their estate. I look upon my shiny escort whose body is covered from head to toe in plate armor. He seems ready to joust or do battle. His face is also clad, which only makes me wonder what kind of face hides behind his visored bascinet.

"Your kin are waiting. I promised that I would deliver you safely," he says.

He raises his head and gazes into the sky. His expression is unreadable, yet, by the heavy tap of his foot, I can sense his impatience. I wonder if he is fretting at the sight of the darkening sky.

"I apologize. I have gotten lost in thought. We shall leave now," I speak softly, looking up into his visor—trying to see the eyes behind the mask in vain. "I would not want for you to break your promise to my brother-in-law." I smile sweetly.

I instantly reprimand myself. I must be above reproach. I am here for the King and him alone.

"I need support," I speak firmly, my tone commanding.

Without hesitation, the man grips my waist and smoothly lifts me up from the ground, placing me upon my horse, side-saddle. He does not even make a sound of struggle as he lifts me so effortlessly.

"It is no longer safe to travel the broken roads after sundown and I fear we may have left it too late, My Lady," he says evenly.

I can not help but smile at the young knight. Could it be he feared the dark?

"I thought Joan would have sent me a strong knight to lead the way to her estate and protect her dearest sister." I look up at him.

I can hear his sharp intake of breath; I have offended him. "My lady can wait here if she likes until her sister sends another escort for her. However, with a number of thieves that travel these roads at night, I would assume you would not be here in the morning when that escort arrives. My instruction is to deliver you safely. If you get hurt I do not get paid." His voice is stern in response.