“Not now, Davy,” Gallowglass murmured to his friend, though his eyes were fixed on Matthew.
My eyes were fixed on him, too, as an awful sense of clarity settled over me.
“Tell me you’re not,” I whispered. “Tell me you didn’t keep this from me.”
“I can’t tell you that,” Matthew said flatly. “I promised you secrets but no lies, remember?”
I felt sick. In 1590, Matthew was a member of the Congregation, and the Congregation was our enemy.
“And Berwick? You told me there was no danger of being caught up in a witch-hunt.”
“Nothing in Berwick will affect us here,” Matthew assured me.
“What has happened in Berwick?” Walter asked, uneasy.
“Before we left Chester, there was news out of Scotland. A great gathering of witches met in a village east of Edinburgh on All Hallows’ Eve,” Hancock said. “There was talk again of the storm the Danish witches raised this past summer, and the spouts of seawater that foretold the coming of a creature with fearsome powers.”
“The authorities have rounded up dozens of the poor wretches,” Gallowglass continued, his arctic-blue eyes still on Matthew. “The cunning woman in the town of Keith, Widow Sampson, is awaiting the king’s questioning in the dungeons of Holyrood Palace. Who knows how many will join her there before this business is done?”
“The king’s torture, you mean,” Hancock muttered. “They say the woman has been locked into a witch’s bridle so she cannot utter more charms against His Majesty, and chained to the wall without food or drink.”
I sat down abruptly.
“Is this one of the accused, then?” Gallowglass asked Matthew. “And I’d like the witch’s bargain, too, if I may: secrets, but no lies.”
There was a long silence before Matthew answered. “Diana is my wife, Gallowglass.”
“You abandoned us in Chester for a woman?” Hancock was horrified. “But we had work to do!”
“You have an unerring ability to grab the wrong end of the staff, Davy.” Gallowglass’s glance shifted to me. “Your wife?” he said carefully. “So this is just a legal arrangement to satisfy curious humans and justify her presence here while the Congregation decides her future?”
“Not just my wife,” Matthew admitted. “She’s my mate, too.” A vampire mated for life when compelled to do so by an instinctive combination of affection, affinity, lust, and chemistry. The resulting bond was breakable only by death. Vampires might marry multiple times, but most mated just once.
Gallowglass swore, though the sound of it was almost drowned out by his friend’s amusement.
“And His Holiness proclaimed the age of miracles had passed,” Hancock crowed. “Matthew de Clermont is mated at last. But no ordinary, placid human or properly schooled female wearh who knows her place would do. Not for our Matthew. Now that he’s decided at last to settle down with one woman, it had to be a witch. We have more to worry about than the good people of Woodstock, then.”
“What’s wrong in Woodstock?” I asked Matthew with a frown.
“Nothing,” Matthew said breezily. But it was the hulking blond who held my attention.
“Some old besom went into fits on market day. She’s blaming it on you.” Gallowglass studied me from head to toe as if trying to imagine how someone so unprepossessing had caused so much trouble.
“Widow Beaton,” I said breathlessly.
The appearance of Fran?oise and Charles forestalled further conversation. Fran?oise had fragrant gingerbread and spiced wine for the warmbloods. Kit （who was never reluctant to sample the contents of Matthew’s cellar） and George （who was looking a bit green after the evening’s revelations） helped themselves. Both had the air of audience members waiting for the next act to start.
Charles, whose task it was to sustain the vampires, had a delicate pitcher with silver handles and three tall glass beakers. The red liquid within was darker and more opaque than any wine. Hancock stopped Charles on his way to the head of the household.
“I need something to drink more than Matthew does,” he said, grabbing a beaker while Charles gasped at the affront. Hancock sniffed the pitcher’s contents and took that, too. “I haven’t had fresh blood for three days. You have odd taste in women, de Clermont, but no one can criticize your hospitality.”
Matthew motioned Charles in the direction of Gallowglass, who also drank thirstily. When Gallowglass took his final draft, he wiped his hand across his mouth.