Moraga turned to him with a short, grim nod. "That is even as I intend. You see well, lad—and clearly." Geoffrey frowned at the term "lad," but it didn't seem to bother Gregory at all.
For her part, Quicksilver wasn't sure whether what she was seeing was real—but as Moraga told them her tale, her defenses lowered, and she came alive with enthusiasm. The more vibrant she became, the more attractive she seemed to become. Surely it was all in Quicksilver's mind, and only the wariness of a potential rival, though poor plain Moraga certainly could be no competition at all.
But she did seem to be becoming prettier, and the suggestion of a figure actually seemed to be emerging from her voluminous garments as the wind blew them against her skin, showing curves that might well be more voluptuous than obese.
Quicksilver gave herself a shake. It had to be her imagination.
"Since then, you have conquered other villages?" Geoffrey asked.
"And set my mayoresses in them. Aye."
"This, in the space of only a few days?" Gregory asked. Moraga shrugged impatiently, "I must strike quickly, or the knights will strike me down."
"Does not the Church condemn you?" Gregory asked. "After all, they have some claim to these parishes, too."
"The pastors have not had time to send to the abbey to ask the Abbot what they are supposed to think," Moraga answered, "and I do not think they will, for I have made it very clear that I will not bother the clergy if they do not bother me. My quarrel is not with them, after all."
"Amazing, that we should discover two female rebels so much alike in so short a time." Gregory's tone was mild, but the glance he gave Geoffrey was significant, and both heard Fess's voice. So amazing that the possibility of random coincidence is negligible.
"I must admit that I have heard of you, lady," Moraga said to Quicksilver, "and I own I have sought to do as you have done."
That would account for it, Fess admitted.
Geoffrey looked up with alarm, and Quicksilver felt her heart sink—she knew that he was suddenly seeing her as setting a dangerous precedent, and that if she were not punished, disaffected women might rise in rebellion throughout the land. She feared she had lost his support suddenly, and the shadow of the noose seemed to fall about her neck. She stiffened, squaring her shoulders, bound and determined that he would not see a trace of fear or grief in her. If his love had no more foundation than that, or could be swayed so easily as by the animation of this very plain country wench, why, he had never been worth having in the first place!
But within her, something mourned.
"So Count Nadyr proclaimed you outlaw, in all the towns?"
"Aye," she said bitterly, "an outlaw, with my life forfeit to any who wished to take it. He set a price on my head, then marched against me with his knights and soldiers. You have seen the result for yourselves—though I will own I had not expected so easy a victory, and am somewhat suspicious of it. Still, I am glad my men did not have to strike, so that they are still clear in the eyes of the law."
"You care most amazingly for your people," Gregory noted.
She turned to him with a bitter smile. "Aye. That is another way in which I differ from the lords."
She said it with a glare that made it a challenge, and Geoffrey reddened. Quicksilver stepped in quickly, though she was no longer sure why. "It is a tale that strikes a chord on my own heart's strings, for it is much like my own."
"How?" Moraga turned, frowning—and her squint had entirely disappeared. "Were you despoiled by a knight?"
"Nay, but only because I struck harder and quicker than he," Quicksilver told her. "I was a villager myself, damsel, the dutiful daughter of a squire, waiting for adult life to begin. I was well liked, though, and loved my village in return, cherishing the thought of living thus all my days. Indeed, I looked forward to becoming a wife and mother, to being fully a woman..."
Even now, Geoffrey looked up alertly, a little surprised and very much interested. She noted it with bitterness, glad that she had realized in time how feckless he was, and went on. "But I was revolted at the thought of climbing into bed with any of the boys I knew. Nay, I fear I had only contempt for the callow youths who lusted after me, but could not stand up to me. I found that I could beat any of them—could even best the knight who sought to take me by force. I began to see that they were no better than I myself, and were lords only by accident of birth."
"Nay," Geoffrey said, frowning. "They were born as they should have been; 'twas you who were born in the wrong station, by accident."
She glanced at him, puzzled. "Thank you, Sir Knight—I think." She turned back to Moraga. "Despite what he says, damsel, I found most of them to be no better than my village swains. I began to think that I should be a lord myself."
"I said you were a lady," Geoffrey purred, but she no longer trusted the glow in his eyes, and went on. "At last my father died, and without his protection or that of a husband, I found myself far more vulnerable than I would ever have thought. My count summoned me to his bed, with a troop of soldiers led by a knight, to make sure I came."
"Why, the caitiff!" Moraga cried indignantly. Quicksilver gave her a grateful smile. "I determined to sell my virtue dear, and went along to the lord's bedchamber, then fought him off—and slew him."
"What a pity!" Moraga's lip curled.
Geoffrey frowned, unsure, so Quicksilver smiled warmly. "Is it not? I made good my escape—and knew that I was an outlaw. I could not go back to my village, and knew that with the outlaws of the greenwood, I must become either their base slave, or their master." Her smile widened. "By luck, skill, and Heaven's grace, I triumphed. The rest, I think you know."
"Aye—but not what went before! I had only heard that you were a forest outlaw who had welded the bandits of the greenwood together into an army, and marched against a knight, then his lord!" Moraga gave her a smile that was blinding in its admiration. "Oh, you have wrought wonders, lady!"
Quicksilver returned the smile, but was shaken by how much it had transfigured the plain, dumpy woman—plain no longer, but suddenly almost beautiful, and her clothes seemed actually to have shrunk upon her, revealing a figure that was lush indeed.
"We should be allies," Moraga said, "and should begin by overthrowing these arrogant boys who seem to have come to put us in what they deem to be our proper places!"
Surely it could only be the deep emotions the story stirred that made her face more lovely! Quicksilver knew it was not just her imagination, though, because she could see how Geoffrey was gazing at Moraga in fascination—though, of course, his younger brother was not. Quicksilver was surprised to find that she had to throttle a measure of jealousy, and told herself sternly that Geoffrey was not worth it, that his own behavior proved that!
But she was alarmed to find that she did not believe herself.
Gregory was speaking now. "Your place is with the Queen's Witches, Damsel Moraga, and ever should have been."
"Aye, even so!" Geoffrey agreed—fervently, Quicksilver thought, and why not? That way, he would always have the woman close to hand! And, she reflected sourly, she definitely did mean "hand."
But Geoffrey was still talking. "You are tremendously gifted, if what we have seen is any measure—not only in magic, but also in administration. Why should you carve out a petty kingdom here in the hinterland, when you could be instrumental in ruling a large one? You would find Runnymede very much to your taste, I think, for the Queen pays her witches well, and there are many shops in which to spend your money—seamstresses and modistes, milliners and artisans, and troupes of players performing in the innyards! You would be among your peers, among folk like yourself, not tolerated with condescension that depended upon hiding your gifts, but regarded with honor as one of Queen Catharine's Witches!"