by R. R. Vane
For a while, Joanna tried to find her solace in piety, yet at last she gave up on it, because it had never been in her nature to be very devout. Yet when she finally allowed Tom back in her bed, their couplings became joyless. She still wished for a child, even at the cost of her own life, and this caused further strain between the two of them. Soon the couplings stopped altogether, and the talk and laughter and tenderness they’d once shared also simply ceased, as if there was nothing left to say to each other.
It was when Tom’s brother, Robin, came back from his travels with his tales of mighty cathedrals and wondrous towns, that Tom finally had occasion to see Joanna smile and laugh again. And he rejoiced in it, thinking that, at last, time had healed her wound. And in a way it had been so. Tom now raked a hand through his hair, remembering the deep rage and grief at the time when he’d found Joanna in his brother’s arms. He glanced upon the linden tree he’d planted over his son’s grave, recalling how the rage had subsided. Yet the pain over it and over his lost child had lingered, until a woman unlike any other he’d known had suddenly crossed his path.
He retraced his steps to the house and found Beth, who was, as usual, busying herself with a chore. She glanced at him rather warily, and he heaved a deep sigh.
“These past months you’ve been working hard, with nearly no respite,” he started artlessly.
She’d tried to talk reason to him, and he’d shouted at her. The price she’d pointed out had been fair, and he had been in the wrong to ask for less. And then he’d berated her for his own hurt pride.
Beth shrugged, straightening an errant tendril of her hair.
“It’s how I want it. Besides, you also work hard. I’ve not heard you complain. You are fond of your work.”
“Aye, and I know you also like to keep busy. But tomorrow’s Market Day. I thought we might walk through the Market together and spend a day of leisure looking at sights and wares,” he went on, only belatedly recalling that even at Mass they were always careful not to stand next to one another and they’d never even walked together in full view of others, knowing people were already gossiping about them.
“Fine. Yes, gladly,” Beth suddenly told him with a warm smile, and he nodded in return with a smile of his own, not having the heart to tell her he’d erred in asking this of her.
Chapter 11
Beth frowned, patting her well-worn gown, but then shrugging and deciding not to care what she was wearing. She’d seldom gone out lately, for fear Sir Lambert was still pursuing her. Sir Lambert hadn’t been seen in a while, but he was certainly dangerous enough to still want to harm her, and the guards were bound to turn a blind eye to it, just because he was a knight and she a commoner. Beth had learnt her lesson that day when Sir Lambert had pursued her, and had avoided leaving Tom’s household ever since, although of late Tom himself had told her to stop worrying at every turn about Sir Lambert. He seemed to believe the lord was no longer a danger, yet Beth was still cautious. And then there was the trouble of Tom accompanying her in full view of others. She already knew tongues were wagging that she was not just a mere serving woman, but was living in sin with the blacksmith. The priest in their church had already chided her for it and given her penance at confession. Yet the penance was light and consisted only of prayer, as the old priest in this parish was fortunately a kind and mild man, different from the churchmen of her own acquaintance. So Beth decided that the well-worn gown, which had seen better days, was the last of her worries now. She had already resolved to go to the Market with the man who now shared her life, and nothing was going to stop her.
Beth strived to put such bleak thoughts aside as she and Tom walked to the Market. And soon the bright day and the joyous hustle and bustle around them made her feel more cheerful and think less of how things truly were. Instead, she pictured Tom and she were married and had just decided to share a day of leisure at the Market. They strolled around for a while looking at the wares, yet Tom soon took her to the cloth merchant’s stall.
“Take your time to look at the wares,” he told her softly. “And don’t fail to purchase what you deem right for gowns and such. Next week we’re bound to visit a friend of mine who’s a master shoemaker.”
She blushed, knowing full well how well-worn her gown and footwear looked, but loath that he should think she would demand him to buy her new things to wear.
“I don’t truly need anything,” she muttered, because well-worn they might be, her dress and shoes had been bought when her father’s household was still prosperous, and they were her best, and still quite sturdy, because she kept them in good repair.
He cocked a dark eyebrow at her.
“Your work with the ledgers and figures of my trade has already brought me good coin I wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. Methinks you’ve already earned the things I urge you to buy.”
“But you need to remember that purse of money you gave me that day when you…”
He frowned at her, halting her with a gesture, and telling her softly, “Need I threaten a spanking as harsh as that one to make you cease your protests?”
Beth blushed scarlet, glancing warily around them, hoping no one around had heard their talk. Reluctantly, she inspected the bolts of cloth, deciding to choose a fabric that was cheap yet sturdy for her gown. When she inquired after it, Tom came to stand by her side, and pointed to a bolt of deep green, which was decidedly more expensive, and upon which Beth had earlier looked. She’d looked at it quite longingly, but it was expensive, and she didn’t want more expense incurred on her account at this time.
“How much is this one?” he inquired, and didn’t even think to bargain when the seller told him the price.
“Nay!” she protested, but Tom shrugged her off.
She glared at him when they left the stall with the bolt of cloth upon which he’d paid an outrageous price.
“I hope you know that merchant robbed you blind!” she told him pointedly.
He shrugged, with an unconcerned smile.
“I do not truly like to haggle,” he told her, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.
“I do!” Beth countered.
“Then next time we purchase something you should,” he said in return.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“I most certainly will!” she warned him, understanding this was the only time in her life she’d acquired something without haggling.
Still, she glanced lovingly at the bolt of cloth that Tom was now carrying. She couldn’t help noting it was fine cloth indeed and acknowledged to herself with a suppressed sigh that the merchant wouldn’t have lowered the price by very much even if she’d haggled fiercely.
“Do you think I’ll look fine in it once the gown is cut and sewn?” she asked, unable to help preening a little.
Tom shrugged.
“What are you asking me for?”
She raised her eyebrows at him, but he went on, “You shouldn’t be asking me. For my part, I think you’d look fine even in sackcloth.”
“Sackcloth?” she asked with widened eyes.
He paused, then muttered, somewhat flustered, “What I meant is that you’re a fair-looking woman no matter what you choose to wear.”
Beth’s heart simply started fluttering in her chest, yet she couldn’t help teasing him:
“I declare, Tom Reed, this is the first time you have found a kind word to say about my appearance!”
They made several smaller purchases of bread and salt and vegetables, and Beth was satisfied to be able to haggle every time for a price she deemed was fair, while Tom rolled his eyes at her. The next stall that they should visit was that of the fishmonger, because Beth wanted to buy their Friday fare. Tom seemed to linger when she pointed out the stall to him.
“Are you coming?” Beth asked him with a raised eyebrow, unable to understand why he hesitated.
Tom still lingered for a short while as if he was making up his mind, but then he nodded. Beth at last saw he was rather reluc
tant for them to go visit the fishmonger’s stall, and soon had occasion to see why that was. The women who were tending it, the fishmonger’s wife and her sister-in-law, were from their own neighbourhood and were among those very women who already looked upon Beth with avid, malicious stares whenever she passed by.
“Good morrow, Master Reed,” the women called as soon as their eyes fell on them, and Tom gave a brief greeting in return.
As Beth was looking at what the fishmongers had to offer, Tom became engaged in talk with another neighbour who had just happened by and who wished to speak to him. The two women behind the stall kept chatting between themselves, as Beth was attempting to see if the haddock looked fresher than the plaice, yet they stared boldly at her from time to time.
“Mighty fine bolt of cloth Master Reed is carrying. Yet the green of it is a better colour for a woman such as yourself rather than for a man such as he is,” the younger woman said with a sly look in Beth’s direction.
Beth shrugged, choosing not to say anything, because she knew that, whatever she said, they had already judged her. The older woman stared away from Beth disdainfully, then muttered to her sister-in-law, as if Beth were not even there, “I bet I know how she earned that.”
“Aye,” the other woman replied in a lower voice, but she was now somewhat self-consciously patting her headdress.
“She earned it on her back,” the older woman muttered with a sneer.
The words had been spoken softly, yet they were loud enough for Beth to hear. Beth bit into her lip, straightening her spine. She simply pretended not to have listened to what had been said, because she understood if she started a quarrel, she would draw even more attention to herself. Instead, she looked at the fish deciding that instead of buying just haddock or plaice, they should have a bit of both.
When she inquired of each price, the younger woman told her the figures in a disdainful voice, not looking her in the eye. The older woman took over and came to stand right in front of Beth behind her stall. Her younger sister-in-law seemed relieved to let her deal with a customer she obviously didn’t relish, and began to busy herself tending to a basket of eel.
“What will it be then, mistress?” the older woman asked Beth in her sneering voice.
Yet again, Beth pretended not to hear the deep disdain in her voice.
She uttered loud and clear what she wanted, and listened when the woman added up the sum which she needed to pay. Tom had at last finished his talk and had come to stand by her. He reached for his purse at once to begin counting out the coin.
“Nay, that’s not four pence, it’s three,” Beth said, unable to stop herself.
She had, in truth, already decided it was not worth the trouble to bargain for a better price here, although she was aware the woman was asking a price which was somewhat higher than what she’d have ordinarily paid for this lot. Yet now the woman had added the numbers up wrong. And Beth knew she had done it on purpose.
Tom now counted out the new figure Beth had uttered.
“Here you go then, mistress,” he said handing out the money to the fishmonger.
The woman glared at him.
“I said four pence, Master Reed. That’s the fair price added up!”
“Is it?” Tom suddenly asked, and his voice was level, yet there was something steely inside it.
“Aye!” the woman shouted quite loudly.
“So add it up for me, once again. Because I know Beth here, who works for me, never fails to add numbers rightly.”
The woman scowled at him, and began to mutter the prices half-heartedly.
“That’s three for the lot, right?” Tom said with a raised eyebrow.
“Aye. I must have added wrong,” the woman said reluctantly, in a querulous voice, casting Beth a venomous look.
“No harm done then,” Tom said with a shrug, but his voice held the same steel as earlier as he handed the woman the coin.
Beth strived to keep silent, because it was wise to let Tom handle this. She didn’t truly want to draw attention to herself, but it seemed that now several curious gazes had been drawn by the small squabble at the stall.
“Let’s go,” Tom said after he’d paid the required price and Beth had placed this new purchase in her basket.
Yet, as they turned to leave, Beth heard malicious laughter from the stall they’d just left behind, and the word which was tossed, loud enough for several people around them to hear.
“Harlot.”
The word hurt, yet Beth held her head high, telling herself it was of no matter. It had hurt when both the priest and Sir Lambert had spread lies about her. And it still hurt, although now she’d indeed surrendered her virtue. But when she thought upon herself in Tom’s arms, there was no feeling of shame she could conjure up. She nearly smiled to herself. Because it was plain to her why she couldn’t feel any shame. She loved Tom and she’d probably been born to love him even before their paths had crossed that day when he’d spanked her in the Square.
“What did you say?” Tom suddenly uttered, turning to face the stall with a fierce glower.
The woman who’d obviously called the word shrugged, muttering something under her breath, as she drew away, pretending to busy herself with her fish. Beth placed a placating hand on Tom’s shoulder.
“Tom, let it go.”
She was aware that some of the people in the Market were staring at them, and she knew they were muttering or thinking the same ugly word which been uttered.
“I won’t have anyone malign this woman!” Tom said in a loud voice which was plainly daring everyone in sight.
Some of those who’d been staring returned to their business reluctantly. Yet others were still casting malicious glances in their direction, and Beth understood Tom was wrong to think he could protect her from their scorn.
“I do not mind,” she told him softly, attempting to lead him away. “There are far worse things in this world than being a harlot. Better a harlot than a thief. You saved me when I nearly became a thief. And I came to your bed willingly. So if they wish to call me your harlot, it will mean nothing to me. What lies between us is none of their business.”
She tried to smile and make nothing of it, although her cheeks had begun to burn. It was not the word that truly hurt. It was the people’s mistrust and scorn. And she understood it would be hard to cast away this brand of scorn. It would perhaps forever cling to her.
“Tom, let’s go home,” she said, making her smile serene and brilliant.
It hurt, but being with the man she loved made all of it bearable. Tom sighed, finally letting himself be led away. They headed home, and for a while they walked in silence, broken at last by Tom who suddenly said, “I’d wed you if I could. Right here and right now.”
The words were spoken in a soft, yet decisive manner, and Beth’s heart skipped a beat. The way they’d been spoken left no room for doubt. Tom Reed loved her, and in his heart he’d already acknowledged her as his wife, just as she’d already acknowledged him as her husband. She stopped in her tracks, forcing him to halt as well. When he cast her a questioning glance, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him ardently, not caring there might be people in the street who knew she was his mistress.
Tom first responded eagerly to the kiss, enwrapping her in his strong, blacksmith arms, but he soon became self-conscious and broke it, casting her a warning look.
“I do not care if they see us,” Beth said with a shrug and a smile, tracing the kiss on her lips. “I am so happy!”
Tom frowned.
“Happy I’ll never be able to wed you? Happy I’ve made you into a target for other people’s scorn?”
“You didn’t make me into anything,” Beth countered as they resumed their walk. “I chose this.”
Tom shook his head with a sigh.
“You didn’t know better. And I, who did know better, am fully to blame for how people now look upon you.”
“You flatter yourself, Tom Reed. I knew what I was wal
king into,” she countered, now making her voice both teasing and defiant.
“Oh, did you?” he countered, his voice now fully angered. “Did you truly understand you’d be forever forsaking a home and children of your own?”
“I’ve already found a home!” she countered.
“You know too well what I mean. Even if we have children, they’ll be branded bastards, and by my Guild’s laws, they may not even be entitled to a small portion of what I own. And you will certainly have nothing once I’m dead. They’ll cast you in the streets with nothing!”
“Then I truly hope it will be me who dies before you!” she said with a careless laugh, knowing too well what he was saying, but also acknowledging she would never part from Tom Reed in spite of it all.
He fell darkly silent, refusing to look at her, yet Beth knew his anger was born out of love. Her heart was light when they reached their home, because now she knew for certain she had Tom’s love and nothing in this world could ever part them, not even other people’s malice. Yet Tom was grim and tight-lipped all day, and he pushed her away at night when she tried to win him over with caresses.
“We’d better talk,” he said, raking a hand through his dark hair.
Beth nodded with a sigh.
“My wife…” Tom started, but it seemed he had trouble finding his words.
Beth opened her mouth to set him at ease, yet remembered her promise to Declan. The boy had urged her not to tell his master what he’d shared with her.
“What was she called, your wife?” Beth asked, attempting to set Tom at ease to tell the story that he now wanted to share.
“Joanna,” he answered with a rueful smile. “She… We wed young and we’d been promised to one another since an early age. In truth, I do not even recall a time when we’d not been promised. We grew up together and were a good match, knowing each other’s likes and dislikes by heart. She was my closest childhood playmate, after my brother Robin. Robin – who is the cleverest man I know in this world. He is a builder and dreams only of mighty cathedrals whose turrets soar as high as Heaven.”
