“Sir William,” prompted the Abbess.
“Yes.”
“And so why are you here?”
“Because I am no match for him.”
The Abbess steepled her fingers and tapped her lips. “In what way?”
“In every way.”
“Is that why you lied to him?”
Alice looked up quickly and met the Abbess’s perceptive stare. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I say. He told me that you’d said you did not love him.”
Involuntarily, Alice drew her hands to her stomach and shook her head.
The Abbess narrowed her eyes. “Did you?”
Alice nodded. “I did.”
“And why would you lie?”
“Because it was for the best.”
“For him or for you.”
“For him.”
The Abbess released her hands and sighed. “Excessive mortification is a sin, Alice. A sin before God and a sin before me.”
“I did not intend it.”
“But you did it nevertheless.”
Alice bit her lip and nodded. “And you truly think William is better off without you?”
“Aye, I do. All men want families, and I’ve known William for long enough to know that he wants one more than most. Growing up, he always spoke of it.”
“That was a long time ago. Things change. People change.”
“William doesn’t. He’s as unchanging as the land around him.”
“You think that doesn’t change?”
Alice looked up suddenly, caught by the difference in tone.
“If your William is as constant as you say he is, you may find that, like the land, what he grows, produces, rears, changes according to the season. It is winter now, but spring comes soon. A time for growth and renewal. For all of us.” The Abbess reached out for Alice’s hand. “Including you. You think you fear men now, but you too will change. Given nurturing conditions, you still have the tender buds which will grow and become strong again.”
The Abbess’s eyes held such warmth and sympathy, that Alice’s eyes smarted.
“Now go, but you must think about what I’ve said. This is no place of escape, but a place to willingly choose to live that is not only for the benefit of all our lives and community here but for the benefit of the individual nuns. I would not have you be unhappy, Alice. You’ve suffered enough.” She withdrew her hand. “I also have a task for you,” she said with a small tweak of the lips. “I have heard that there is sickness at Wanham Castle.”
Alice leaped up, alarmed. “Sickness? What kind?”
“Not the plague. Be not alarmed. It is simply more of what we currently have here and that you are treating so effectively. But I would have you take your herbals and remedies and visit Wanham.”
“Who is sick?”
“Katherine says her sister, Lora, is very sick.”
Alice jumped up. “I will leave immediately.” She made a mental note of what she needed. “No, I will first collect some remedies which I think will work more quickly than the others. And I will return by nightfall.”
The Abbess shook her head. “It is a long way, and if you do that, you, yourself, will fall victim to the ague. No, I’ve sent word to Katherine that you will be staying a few nights. It is best, for everyone.”
The Abbess was correct. By the time Alice and her servants were on the road, the dark skies had gathered iron-gray and angry overhead. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and jagged lightning filled the sky. It was not yet upon them but would be soon.
They quickened their pace and thus managed to reach the gatehouse of Wanham Castle as large splashes of rain began to pelt down from the lowering, grumbling skies.
At a cry from the guard, Katherine came running out to greet her, a cloak held over her head for protection. They had to shout above the terrible rolls of thunder.
Alice looked around but saw no sign of William. Katherine gave her a quick hug, and they ran inside the Hall. A glance around the familiar home of only weeks before revealed everything to be in order. The dogs lay by the fire. The steward, Sir Harry, was at work on both the wine and the books. But there was no sign of the girls or William.
“They’re upstairs,” said Katherine, as if reading her thoughts. “In the bedchamber, where Lora lies.”
“What are her symptoms?” Alice asked as she followed Katherine up the stone steps, which led to the girls’ chambers.
“A dry cough and fever.” She shook her head. “She’s such a tomboy, out in all weathers. It was after a visit to Yarmouth that she fell sick. Goodness only knows who she’d been mixing with. She is as unaware of social niceties as Celestria, except in a completely different way. Anyway, I think she’ll get well, but when I told the Abbess she insisted that you come over straight away. Of course, Celestria backed her up.” Katherine opened the door and nearly stepped back—the heat of the room was intense after the cold outside.
Celestria released her sister’s hand and jumped up hugged Alice. For all Celestria’s dramatic ways, her heart was like gold, as was her loyalty. “Thank goodness, you’re here, Alice. I was afraid Lora would die if you didn’t come.”
Lora’s eyelids flickered, revealing her agitation. “Lora won’t die, Celestria!” said Katherine after an anxious look at Lora. “But,” she smiled at Alice, “she’ll certainly recover more swiftly under Alice’s care.”
Alice placed her hand on Lora’s forehead. It was hot but not desperately so. She opened her bag and assembled her herbs.
After sponging Lora’s face, Lora awoke and Alice gave her a drink, and she fell into an easier sleep.
Satisfied, Alice shooed everyone away, knowing they needed rest as much as Lora and made herself at home. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be leaving in a hurry.
A night and a day passed with Alice barely having left Lora’s side, pressing warm cloths to her brow, and feeding her brews of herbs to bring out the fever. It wasn’t until early evening of the second day that Lora’s breathing became quieter, and Alice felt her forehead and noted the fever had burned out. Lora fell into an easy sleep, and Alice left her in the care of a servant to give the news to the family.
Outside the bright sputtering fire and torch and candlelight of the Hall, a storm raged. But inside was a haven of peace. Katherine worked at a table by the fire, Celestria strummed a lute, while William talked with the steward. At another table, Warin and another squire played dice. Besides them, there was a constant flow of servants moving between the outbuildings and the Hall.
They all looked up as Alice entered the Hall. William jumped up and was beside her in an instant. He took her arm and brought her into the warmth of the fire and family circle. He poured her a cup of wine and bade her sit.
“How is Lora?” asked Katherine anxiously.
“The fever has broken,” she said.
Sighs of relief were followed by muttered prayers and laughter. Celestria jumped up and ran upstairs to see Lora, despite Katherine’s admonishment to leave her to sleep. William followed Celestria to the solar, leaving Alice alone with Katherine by the fireside.
“We’ve missed you, Alice,” said Katherine over her piece of embroidery.
Alice felt heart-warmed by Katherine’s comment. “I’ve only been gone a few weeks.”
“But it felt like forever; we thought it would be forever.”
Alice looked away quickly. “I must return to the Priory. I’m only here because you asked me to come for Lora’s sake.”
Katherine’s brow gathered into a frown. “But…” She trailed off with a shrug.
“But what?”
“Surely it was the Abbess who said you wished to come to help Lora. I tried to tell her that she would be well shortly. But she said you insisted.”
Alice’s eyes widened with surprise. “I…” She swallowed. She couldn’t bring herself to suggest that, for all her talk of truth, the Abbess had lied to return her to Wanham Castle. She shrugged and busied hers
elf with her medicines.
She stilled as Katherine laid her hand upon her. “William was surprised you came.”
She looked up but could think of nothing to say in return.
“I’m not sure he knew what to make of it,” continued Katherine. “Nor do I, to be honest.”
“I’m sorry to have given you such confusion. It was not my intention.” She screwed up her face as she tried to work out how she could tell Katherine the truth without suggesting the Abbess had lied. She couldn’t. “Please, tell me, how has William been? I thought he looked tired. Is he well?”
“When have you ever known William not to be well?”
It was an answer of sorts, but it told Alice nothing of what she wanted to hear. “Is he happy? I want him to be happy.”
“There’s only one way he’ll ever be happy,” said Katherine quietly. “And that’s if you come back to him.”
“Surely not, not after all I’ve said and done?”
Katherine didn’t reply. She looked up suddenly and rose. “I’ll leave him to answer that. I’ll go check on Lora.”
“Answer what?” asked William.
Alice thought quickly. “If you’d like some mulled wine.”
Judging by William’s expression, Alice wasn’t sure she was believed, but he didn’t question her further. Instead, he seemed content to sit with her and talk as friends, and gradually, she, too, relaxed. It was as if they had some kind of unspoken agreement that neither would talk of their feelings, but simply enjoy their time together.
By the end of the evening, the whole family, excepting Lora, was gathered by the fire, with the noise of the growing storm increasing outside the castle walls. Conversation was easy as they were all aware of her deafness. Katherine always spoke directly to her, knowing her problem with hearing, and Celestria spoke loudly anyway. Everything she said she seemed to declare as if it were of vital importance. She would have been good as one of the mummers if she’d been born into a different life, thought Alice with a smile. Her attention drifted as she imagined Celestria pacing the boards in a village. She would have loved it.
Suddenly there was a lull in the conversation as the evening drew to a close. It seemed no one wanted to leave the security of their small group to go to bed on that wild night.
Celestria suddenly shivered.
“You’re not coming down with Lora’s ailment, are you, Celestria?” asked Katherine in a worried voice.
Celestria shook her head and held up her finger in a dramatic gesture. “Listen!”
A silence descended, and they could hear the raging sea surge upon the shore, making the high tide even higher.
“I just pray,” continued Celestria in a low, urgent voice which sent corresponding shivers along everyone’s backbones, “that there is no one out at sea this night. For it will be the worse for them.”
Celestria had voiced what everyone else had been thinking.
Sir Harry took another sip of his wine. “The villagers might be hoping otherwise.”
Katherine shot him an angry look. “Then, they should not.”
Sir Harry shrugged. “People need to eat.”
“They have enough to eat,” snapped Katherine, uncharacteristically.
“Katherine, Sir Harry is right,” said William. “You cannot stop people lusting after things when they have so little.”
“They have what they need. We make sure that none of our people go without.”
“Going without is never enough for some people,” said Sir Harry.
“Sir Harry speaks the truth, Katherine, whether we like it or not. Some of our people will be waiting for a tragedy this night so they can line their pockets.”
Alice closed her eyes at the thought of greed on the back of such a disaster. “They would help the people aboard the ship, though?”
“Our people would. Or at least most of them wouldn’t stand by and see a man drown. But while the people were recovering, guarded by some, others would be looting.”
“But surely it is against the law.”
“That it is. But many a lawman will turn his back in exchange for a barrel of port or some such.”
“Then,” said Alice, “let’s pray that the seas rock no boats this night.”
Katherine yawned and rose. “I must go to bed.” She turned to Celestria, who was about to pour another cup of wine. “And so must you.”
“But I—”
But even Celestria obeyed the look which Katherine gave her. Alice realized that Katherine had been a mother to her sisters in a way their mother hadn’t. Sometimes she forgot how young Katherine was.
Katherine turned to Alice. “A bed is made up in the solar for you, Alice. Don’t hurry back to the Priory.” She glanced at William with a small smile and swept out of the Hall, making sure that Celestria came along with her. Sir Harry also got the hint and retired, leaving only the two of them.
William came and sat opposite her, by the fire. She looked at his dear face and saw suffering there that she’d never seen before. It was evident in the way he held his mouth, and in the deep line between his eyebrows. As if he were under siege, and he was doing all he could to repel the invader. She didn’t want to be his enemy. She reached out and took his hand. She had no thought of doing so, her body moved of its own accord.
He looked up at her touch. “What are you doing?”
She shrugged but didn’t move her hand. “Touching you. I…” She trailed off and tried to withdraw her hand, but he held it tightly. With his other hand, he cupped her cheek and swept his thumb across her lips. She gasped with surprise, and something more. It seemed he was awaiting her response as he immediately dipped his head to hers, paused, and then brushed her lips with his.
He drew away a hair’s breadth from her face and slipped his hand around her head, supporting her neck. She could have moved, but the panic which had always followed a physical advance upon her, wasn’t there. Usually, it manifested itself in a constriction of the throat, a ringing in her ears, but she experienced none of this. She had no thought of withdrawal. The opposite, in fact. She wanted him closer, much closer.
In the end, it was Alice who pressed her lips against his, and for two heartbeats they stayed that way. Unfamiliar tingling sensations rippled through her body, opening up a world of feeling from which she’d previously been excluded.
When he opened his mouth against hers, she didn’t pull away as his breath entered hers. Instead, she surrendered to the tender movement of his lips on hers, coaxing her to open her mouth to him. When she did, she gasped as heat flooded her body. It was as if her whole body was on fire, even though William did nothing further than caress her neck and kiss her.
It was as if sound bombarded her. As she relaxed in his arms, the noise in her ears, which was a constant companion in times of fear and stress, vanished. It was replaced by the sound of fire crackling in the grate and the whine of the wind outside as it rose in force, and the rain battering against the shutters.
It was only when he pulled away and looked toward the door that she realized that there was something more than the wind screaming. It was a guard, who’d come running from the gatehouse.
“A ship!” He stood before William, soaked to the bone. “A ship has foundered on the sands! All the villagers are there. You must come, Sir William, before any more people die!”
Chapter 10
William leaped to his feet, pulling on his cloak as he strode to the door. Alice followed, handing him a lantern to light his way through the dark, stormy night.
“Alice! You must raise the girls. Tell them what’s happened and that they’re needed,” said William as he opened the door, allowing a blast of cold air into the Hall. “I’ll go on ahead. And you must come. You’ll be needed too,” he said.
She lit the lantern and handed it to him. The lantern swayed in the wind. Its light moved back and forth over his face, casting it one moment into shadow, the next into the lantern’s yellow light, revealing the strength of his
jawline and cheekbones. Whoever was in need that night, thought Alice, they couldn’t ask for someone stronger or more determined than William to save them. And she lost her heart a little more to him.
She must have signaled something of her feelings in her eyes for he hesitated before plunging out into the maelstrom of the storm. Instead, he reached out and swept his thumb over her cheek in a brief caress. “And bring your bag of supplies. There will be injured people there.”
“Of course,” she said, smiling at his practical response while she’d been focused only on his touch against her skin. She held the door open for him. “Be safe, William.” But he’d gone, running out into the wild night before he’d heard the words, her voice carried away on the whining wind.
Taking the stone steps two at a time, Alice dashed up to the bedchambers, her soaking dress dripping onto the floor.
Katherine shot bolt upright. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“A ship has foundered on the beach,” Alice gasped for breath. “William has gone ahead, but he needs all of our help.”
Even before she finished speaking, Celestria was pulling on her clothes and racing out the door.
“Celestria! Wait! Don’t be hasty!” called Katherine.
But it was too late, Celestria had reached the bottom of the stairs and was already opening the door to join the stream of people running to the beach.
Leaving Lora behind in bed, complaining bitterly at her weakened state, Katherine and Alice followed Celestria minutes later with their arms laden with the remainder of the mulled wine and spare cloaks with which to wrap the survivors.
When they struggled up the dunes with their loads, they stopped at the sight before them. There was no light from the stars or moon, only black sky, a black sea and the white tips of the waves which crashed upon the shore, illuminated by the swinging lanterns of the village folk who lined the beach, excitedly watching the drama unfold before them. Suddenly more people ran over the dunes toward the sea, raising darting lamps, further revealing the awful scene.
The prow of a boat was stuck up at a strange angle, high in the sea. And as the lights flickered over the scene, Alice saw people wriggling like worms as they clung to the side of the sinking boat and then fell into the raging sea, their screams lost in the screams of the wind.
Honoring his Lady: A Medieval Romance (Norfolk Knights Book 5) Page 10
