The Enchantress (Book 1 of The Enchantress Saga) by Nicola Thorne Page A

Church had claimed him forever.
    Now she gazed at the tall lean figure of Tom, his ascetic countenance, the hollow eyes. Why, he looked like a saint already, though his hair was long and untonsured and he wore the clothes of a sober merchant, a man perhaps of small property, and not those of a priest.
    ‘Tom, oh, Tom.’ He held her in his arms, his head resting on hers, his eyes gazing at his brother Brent and sister Emma who stood behind her.
    ‘There, Mother. There, it is all right. No need for tears. I am safe and well or is it ...’ He stood away from her and looked into her eyes, ‘or is it my grandfather you weep for?’
    ‘Oh, Tom! How can I mourn that evil old man? No, it is you for whom I weep. My second born whom I have not seen since you foresook the life of man for that of God. Oh, Tom, how has it been with you? You look tired and weary; has the life been too hard for you?’
    Tom’s face was transformed by a boyish smile.
    ‘Why, no Mother! I am weary because I have been travelling for a week, ever since I heard the news that grandfather was not expected to last the month. But I am very happy, both as a monk and ...’
    ‘Yes?’
    His expression grew secretive and he glanced at his mother as though wondering how much he could tell her in front of Brent and Emma. Of his mother’s devotion to the old Faith and the Stuarts he had no doubt; but what had the years done to his younger brother and sister? He knew quite well what they had done to George.
    ‘Is it something you would not have Brent and Emma hear?’ His mother saw the direction of his eyes.
    ‘Well ...’
    Brent, who had also been delighted to see his brother, looked puzzled. What news could Tom have for his mother’s ears only? What secret that was unfit for him and Emma?
    ‘If you would rather ... we will leave the room, Tom,’ Brent said beckoning to Emma who clung to the side of the brother she hardly knew, but about whom so much was said, as though she could not bear to leave him. She looked dismayed as Brent gestured to her.
    Tom sensed the solidarity that bound his brother and sister to his mother; they were united, as one. Surely his secret would be safe with them?
    ‘It is just that ... I have been in Rome.’
    Brent was the first to react and stepped forward.
    ‘Rome, brother? You are no longer a monk of Douai?’
    ‘Oh, yes. You know that a Benedictine monk joins a particular community, not just the Order of St Benedict. My allegiance is to Douai. However, I was sent by my superiors on a mission of the utmost importance at the request of the King ...’
    ‘The King!’
    ‘His Majesty James III of England,’ Tom said solemnly, watching the reaction on the faces of his listeners to his words. The expressions, at first puzzled then fearful, suddenly became transformed with understanding, even joy, and Susan went over to clasp Tom’s arm.
    ‘Oh, Tom. The King! You are serving the true King of England?’
    ‘I have that honour, Mother. You do not disapprove?’
    ‘Disapprove? Oh, Tom never fear. We are loyal servants of the same King – Brent and Emma here, and I. All my family too of course. John and Stewart with the exception of ...’
    Susan bowed her head.
    ‘I know, Mother,’ Tom said gently. ‘You do not need to say more. George. I know well how he feels about our sovereign Lord, King James.’
    ‘He has allegiance, like his grandfather, only to King George. He even announces that he will spend more time in London at the Hanoverian court in order to further his ambitions.’
    ‘And I am sure he will be successful, Mother! The Hanoverian Elector needs all the supporters he can get. People are restless, now that Walpole has gone and England is at war on the Continent. They are tired of the German influence at court, the licentiousness of the Hanoverian Prince and his mistresses.’
    ‘By “prince” you refer to the King I presume?’ Brent ventured.
    ‘We never acknowledge the Hanoverians as kings of England;