pregnant mistress. But when his wife lay in her coffin, the foul deed was discovered. Warren swore that Gunilda had visited his wife and poisoned her while he was away from home. Gunilda was tried by ordeal and found guilty. She was strangled and her body burned in front of her little daughter. Before she died, Gunilda cursed Warren and all his descendants.'
Elena was staring in bewilderment at Gytha. The story shocked and saddened her. After her own trial, she could feel only too well the despair of the woman at not being believed, the cruel and bitter injustice of it. But she couldn't understand why Gytha was telling her this.
Gytha opened her palms. The bright blue-white flame darted upwards and vanished, leaving only a curling tongue of silver smoke in the form of a running fox. Gytha cocked her head on one side, watching Elena.
'You want to know what this has to do with you, don't you, lass? Before you bought Yadua, this story was nothing to you. But now it is your story. You belong to it, as it belongs to you. Before she was executed Gunilda gave the mandrake Warren had given her to her own little daughter. And now you own that very mandrake, because, you see, Gunilda's little daughter is my mother, my own Madron. And she was forced to stand alone in the square in front of the great cathedral and watch her Madron burned to ash. The priests wanted to make sure that Gunilda was utterly destroyed both in this world and the next. For without a body, the priests say she cannot be resurrected at the world's end. They wanted to obliterate any trace of her, any memory. She was nothing to them and they would make sure that nothing of her would remain.
'And in due course, Warren's mistress, now his new bride, was brought to bed of a boy, a precious son. Now that bairn is grown to a man. And you know that man, lass, you know him only too well. It was he who ordered you to be hanged. Warren's son is Osborn of Roxham.'
'Osborn!' Elena's eyes opened wide. For a moment all words fled from her. Then she whispered, 'It makes sense that a man as cold as Osborn should have such an evil father. Your poor grandam, and your mam too, she must hate that family.'
Gytha's mouth twitched in a flicker of a smile. 'More than you could ever know. But many have cause to hate him, especially you.'
Elena felt suddenly chilled. She had touched the mandrake that this dead woman had held in her own hands, perhaps even lying in a dungeon the night before her execution, as Elena had lain in hers. She felt as if the dead woman's hands were grasping hers and would not let go, but were dragging her back down into the earth.
Elena drew in a deep, shuddering breath. You said you wanted me to do something for you, but you still haven't told me what it is. When I get back to the village I could—'
'This will not wait till you return to the village, lass,' Gytha said. Yadua was bought with my grandam's life, a life taken by murder. I warned you that as the mandrake was bought, so she must be paid for. Warren's first-born son is coming here to Norwich to hunt for his brother's killer. And you must kill him. That is how you will pay for Yadua. She was bought with blood, and only in blood can you pay the price for her.'
Elena sprang to her feet, her eyes wide in horror. 'No, I can't! I can't kill Osborn. I'll give you back the mandrake. I'll fetch it at once and you can take it. I don't want it.'
She tried to push past Gytha to reach the curtain which concealed the trapdoor. But Gytha reached out a long bony arm and barred her way.
'I can't take her back, lass. She belongs to you. She has proved that, for she has been your fetch. If she had not truly been yours, she could never have shown you the dreams. You swore on spirit bones that you would pay the price for her. You gave your oath.'
'But I didn't know you meant this,' Elena pleaded. 'I can't kill anyone. I wouldn't know how. Osborn is a man, a knight, how could I possibly kill someone like him?'
Gytha smiled. 'But the dwarf tells me you have already killed