by Mary Lide
But while the others talked about their luck, even Lady Mildred unable to hold them quiet under such news, I let my thoughts run freely.
When there was a lull, I took advantage of it to draw Giles aside and explain to him what I wanted him to do. His face paled at the thought.
‘’Tis not fitting, my lady,’ he said, ‘not wise nor safe.’
‘But you will do it, Giles,’ I said. ‘God’s wounds, am I to be always cloistered like a child? Leave off your babbling, or I will do it all without you. And I can manage, as well you know. I will not have them mock me that I cannot have even a horse to my name.’
‘I do not think they mock you, Lady Ann,’ he said. But his eyes were troubled. He did not like to be laughed at either. Both he and I had had our full share of it these past months as we tried to fit into a new pattern of living. Both of us had had much to learn that went against our old ideas. So I cajoled and wheedled until I knew he would agree. Then was I able to rest happy. For all of us, and especially Giles and I, thrilled at the expectation of a hunt. Yet, I must tell you, when I saw one it did not appeal to me so much as I had thought. For us, hunting had always meant a search for food. There was the point of it. The Normans hunt for pastime, for pleasure, and there is never end to their sport. For that purpose do they set aside these miles of woodland for private use, and all their joy comes from the killing.
The day dawned fair as those autumn days do, the sun as bright as mid-July, a faint breeze to dry the dew, the scent clear. When I came to the great inner courtyard, the hunt was already gathered. Lord Raoul and his guards were mounted, he on the black beast that Giles had tried to groom, many of his chiefest nobles about him. No doubt, he was using this as a way to woo them to his plans, but I thought it too fair a day to be thinking of war and diplomacy. I watched Lord Raoul as his horse moved skittishly at the centre of his entourage. It was the first time I had seen him surrounded by his court since the day in the garden when we were children playing together. I noted how even Cecile pushed forward with Geoffrey beside her. I did not care to join them. It was enough that Lord Raoul had remembered his promise and sent me word. Now I would show him what Cambray and I could do.
The horse the Lady Mildred had chosen for me was a pony, so fat and small I daresay it could not have cantered a length. I said not a word as Giles helped me mount, although I could almost have straddled it from the ground. Half-puzzled, half-amused, Giles mounted his own bay that Lord Raoul had given him. He rode better than he had a year ago, but then he had practised in the meanwhile as I had not. We waited in the shadow of the wall as the rest of the hunt went across the drawbridge towards the forest. A brave sight they made in their finery and plumes, the horses leaping, the peasants shouting as they passed. When they were out of sight, Giles and I urged our own beasts as far as we could to the meadow close to the river’s edge. He had kept his word, too. The grey horse was waiting cropping grass. An old saddle was slung upon its back, and it was already bridled. But when I came beside it, and measured its height, and thought again how it, too, had been unused to riding these last months, my heart almost quailed. Yet I pulled up my skirts, Cecile’s skirts rather, and beckoned Giles to help me up. Finally we got the beast to stand still so that he could swing me high upon its back. I had always ridden bareback before, but this was a knight’s saddle, high in the front so that it would take a lance to knock you out of it. I rode astride and Giles helped me pull my skirts down about my knees, his face still mournful with doubt.
‘Good cheer,’ I told him. ‘If I am in at the kill you shall have the credit.’
‘And if you fall?’
‘No one will blame you, and I requite you here of my death.’ I laughed at him. ‘This will be better sport than you or I have ever known. Go and enjoy it. Tell them the truth if they ask, that I could not keep up with you on Lady Mildred’s pet, so found one more to my liking. And when you come to Cambray you shall have a grey horse of your own.’
He released the reins. I let the horse plunge forward. At first I was frightened. I had forgotten how fast it could run, and it had certainly forgotten me. And I had never let it go full tilt like this; only once, when it had saved us from the men in the clearing. But gradually confidence came back, and it was certainly easier to sit in the saddle than bareback.
The hunt was far ahead now and I could hear the huntsmen’s horns along the distant rides. But I knew the forest better than most who were riding there, and once I could quiet the horse enough, I steered it in a circle so that, guessing from wind and weather, I would come across them which way they must go to follow the game. For all that was said and done afterwards that ride was one of the memories of my life. I have said before that I felt strange kinship when I rode, as if my father and Cambray and I were one, and I thought of my brother’s prophecy that one day I should ride as well as they had ever done. So that when the hounds drove the quarry to bay, although I could not see what game we chased, at least I was there abreast with it, although farther to one side than the others. And without hesitation, I thrust my horse through the thickets that separated us from the main hunt, right into the middle of the milling, yelping pack. They had trapped some animal in the bushes at the end of a small open space. I recognised the place as one Giles and I had often passed but avoided, for it backed into some rocks at one end, thus shutting off escape. I knew at once what must be done. The cornered animal had gone in under the rocks and must be driven out for the men to kill cleanly before the hounds tore it apart. I hauled at the reins, bringing the grey horse almost to its haunches before it would stop, shouting the while to the beaters who were on foot nearby to come and help me. The grey horse reared and shook but I forced it to my will. A huntsman came running towards us from the main ride, but although I waited for him to come to lift me down, he stopped and would not approach closer. What with the hounds’ baying and my horse’s plunging, I could not make him hear me, nor could I hear what he said. Finally, in desperation that he would not do my bidding, I knotted my dress together, let go the reins, and threw myself to the ground. It was a long fall but I landed on my feet, without harm. I meant to keep hold of the reins, of course, but at the last moment had feared to pull the horse on me, so that now I had no way to catch it again; and even if I had, I could not have mounted without help, for it went thrashing past me to one side. I called again to the huntsman and walked slowly towards the outcrop of rocks. The man did not move from the shelter of the trees but I heard his shouts more clearly now. ‘Mount, mount,’ as if any fool could not see that was impossible even if I had wanted to. So I smiled at him and waved to bring him closer. And then, God help us, I saw why he had not moved and why the horse was plunging so and why the hounds milled and screamed underfoot. It was no deer or hare that we had trapped under the rocks, but a boar, a huge wild boar with tusks already stained red and small evil eyes that darted looks about to find where next to turn.
I stood alone, in full view, my skirts bundled to my knees and the trees a score of yards away. It was suddenly very quiet in the glade there then. The sun beat off the rocks, even the hounds seemed to halt their baying, and the grey horse at last stood calm. The animal under the rocks was still also, tossing its head so I could smell its fetid breath and for a moment know the paralysing fear of death. Then the hounds bayed again; and the boar shook at them as if tossing gnats and scraped its tusks upon the ground. Behind me came the thud of other hooves, shouts, the sound of running feet. But I could not take my eyes from this thing that moved half in the shadows, gathering its strength to charge. And then, as I waited, suddenly I heard Lord Raoul’s voice at my back; his arm, half-round me, was heaving me behind him. In one hand he held a wooden stave with which beaters knock down bracken to flush the game.
‘Feel for my knife,’ he whispered, ‘slowly. For your life, make no sudden move.’
He stood in front of me, his body edging before mine, as we backed towards the trees, facing the boar. And it was coming full into the sunlight
now, a great misshapen thing, its head lifted restlessly. But we were moving too. Lord Raoul’s dagger lay within my grasp. I pulled it gently, felt it catch, and heard his grunt of exasperation. Then it was free, and I slid it into his left hand.
We had moved back again, but the boar had kept pace, tracking us with its half-closed eyes. Hands about his waist, guiding him backwards, I could go faster now. Three steps would bring us into the shelter of the trees. But it was too late. The jerkin on his back was wet with sweat and the ends of his hair curled with it. Our hearts thudded as one.
‘My lord,’ I whispered, ‘put the stave here against the tree root. I will try to hold it as he runs upon it.’
There was no time for more. I felt him nod and tense at the same time. For the boar had come clear out; the hounds closed about it but it thrust them aside in a welter of blood. Now it was upon us, foam flying, tusks spread. I felt Raoul bend, the flimsy stick in his hand thrust upwards. My hands were about it, too—we held it loosely so it would run full tilt. Raoul had leaped to one side. The great mouth and hot breath and tusks were on me. The wooden stave sunk deep into its chest so that gouts of blood flared up. The butt of the wood held firm against the tree. Then my hands were torn off. Men rushed to jerk me aside. I saw a long knife flash once, twice. There were other men, dogs snarling, more blood, and the sun full in my eyes.
‘A kill, a kill, my lord,’ they were all shouting. The clearing was suddenly full of horses and people. Under a tree, a great bulk jerked and heaved but could not rise.
‘By the Rood, lady,’ Lord Raoul said, pleasantly enough, although his breath came in great gasps and his face was pale. ‘You held that reed like a huntsman born. I drink to your health.’
He was smiling, his face streaked with sweat and dirt, but his eyes were cold, unsmiling.
‘God’s wounds, wench,’ he glinted at me, so none could hear. ‘What fool’s trick is this?’
I dropped him a curtsy with trembling limbs that would scarce let me stand.
‘My thanks to your lordship,’ I said. ‘I did but ride with you as you bade.’
‘We must hunt these woods more often,’ he was saying. To me, ‘Who set you on such a steed? Who bade you ride so far ahead?’
‘It was my pleasure, my lord,’ I said, still aloud.
‘Will you seek death before them all?’ he said to me. ‘Keep your voice down. What folly made you take such risks?’
‘I did but take what is my own,’ I said, with a coolness I was far from feeling.
‘Your own!’ he said, his voice breaking with rage. He moved closer, wiping his sleeve across his face so that the words came muffled. ‘Then for your life, which you hold so cheap, do you mount another horse to ride back with me. I will take that one, with or without your leave.’
He lifted up the wine they had given him and faced the others.
‘Ride on,’ he said. ‘The Lady Ann wearies of the sport. Change me that horse there, ho. Thank God that although she is slow at drawing sword, she can pluck forth dagger in haste.’
There was a flurry of laughter, easing the tension as he doubtless intended. One of his men helped me to another horse, the grey was brought round, and Lord Raoul swung himself upon it. I marked how it stood for him as I could never make it. And saw for the first time the gash from his hip to his knee, running red.
He raised one hand in salute, gathered up his reins and mine with the other, and urged us out of the clearing, taking the fastest way back to Sedgemont. Behind us his guard scrambled for their own horses. The rest of the hunt waited, chattering and curious.
‘I can ride without help, my lord,’ I said furiously, the more so that I was not sure I could, for I still trembled so. I was forced to hang on to the saddle, or be bounced out of it. Presently, when the castle came into view and we entered the home meadows, he dropped back to a walk and I could catch my breath. Only then did I venture to say what was most on my mind, although it galled to acknowledge it.
‘I have not thanked you, my lord, for my life.’
‘Thank me not,’ he snarled. ‘Save the thanks that I did not give way to my first impulse and let you be run through. Then would I be rid of much trouble.’
‘You speak unjustly, my lord,’ I said. ‘What have I done so amiss? I did but ride my horse. And if you had given me word what game we hunted, I should have kept well out of its way.’
‘Or look to be thrust through with a thistle,’ he snarled again. ‘Or be trampled at a fence or drowned at a ditch. Ill luck favours you, lady. Did you not revile me for being but indifferent keeper of my ward? Did not I set the squire of your own choosing to keep you safe? Where was he to let you run abroad? And all the vassals of Sedgemont there to take note.’
I was silent. Giles had said much the same.
‘A plaything was the pony of the Lady Mildred’s,’ I said at last. ‘I merit better than that.’
‘Yet such you will ride before you hunt with me again,’ he roared.
We clattered under the portcullis, his men close behind him. The watch sprang to attention as he hurled himself from his saddle, jerking me off as roughly.
‘Save your excuses,’ he said, forcing me to run beside him, his hand hard on my wrist. We passed the Lady Mildred hastening down from the castle walls where she had gone to watch the hunt, but he waved her aside, snarling at his men as he went.
‘My lord,’ I gasped, ‘you will harm your leg if you walk so fast.’
‘I have endured worse than that,’ he said, although he lied, for it was the leg that he had hurt before and that wound must have been scarce healed.
I thought desperately then of ways to curb his temper. Even my father had never been so angry as this.
He crashed into his room, thrusting aside the door with his shoulder. The pages who had been crouched before the fire scrambled to their feet as if fearing he would boot them from his path.
‘Who gave you leave?’ he said again. ‘Who helped you?’
‘I myself.’
‘You could neither catch nor saddle such a brute. Who?’
I was silent then, for the first time fearful for Giles.
But he had already remembered him, before I had. We waited without speaking, while the men below found Giles and brought him up, white-faced himself, hands bound together. They thrust him into the room so that the three of us stood apart, Lord Raoul, Giles, and myself, while the pages cowered in a corner.
‘Was this the man who helped you?’ he asked. I was silent again.
‘Did you do the Lady Ann’s bidding?’ he asked Giles.
I suddenly saw the trap that I had made for him. ‘It was not his fault,’ I cried desperately. ‘He only did what I asked.’
‘I took you from the stable,’ Lord Raoul said, ignoring me. ‘I gave you post as squire. Your duties were not heavy but clear. Think you that you have fulfilled them?’
‘It was not his fault,’ I said again. But both men ignored me.
‘Nay, my lord.’
Lord Raoul waved him towards his men. Then take him outside and thrash him,’ he said coldly. ‘You deserve worse.’
I threw myself towards Giles, not caring now what they thought or who heard. ‘You may not, you dare not,’ I cried. ‘It was my fault, I tell you.’
‘Lady Ann,’ said Giles, forced to speak although nothing would have made him plead on his own behalf, ‘I beg you. I knew the danger. I knew it wrong.’
Lord Raoul had turned away, his face set. Once more he gestured, and although I clung tightly, they put me aside, gently enough, and hustled Giles towards the stairs. Then did I turn and run at Lord Raoul himself.
‘You cannot,’ I screamed. ‘It is unfair to an innocent man.’
‘I do not hold him innocent,’ he said, ‘nor does he himself.’
‘Why not punish me,’ I cried, ‘if so great a wrongdoing it is? Punish me, if it please you.’
‘It would please me well enough,’ he said. ‘If you behave like a child, you must be
treated like one. But I am not your father to whip you as he ought these years ago.’
‘I will make a bargain with you,’ I cried as passionately. ‘Spare Giles and whip me. See, I am not afraid.’
I forced him to look at me, challenge and rage like weapons between us. Even the men watched open-mouthed. Fine tales they would tell this time, but I cared nothing for that. Even as he made signs for them to go, which they did reluctantly, I have no doubt, I shook the sleeves of Cecile’s gown from my shoulders so that the bodice hung to the waist. Then with a great breath, I tore the stuff of my shift so that it too came undone and my back and neck were bare.
My hair came untied; I gathered it before, and with head bowed turned my back on him.
I heard him breathing heavily, breath of pain and anger. I saw, under the cloud of hair, his hands fumble with his sword belt, until it swung free and I heard it snap in his hands. I felt his arm rise, heard the whistle of leather, and braced myself for the blow. The buckle crashed upon the wall behind me.
I spun round and looked at him. He was staring at it and at his hands.
‘No, Lady Ann,’ he said, and his voice was suddenly calm. ‘I have never yet beat a woman, although you have made me come close to it, near enough to have found pleasure in it. Had hurt come to you, God forbid, any kind of death, you cannot know the mischief it would cause. If you care not for your own safety, think of that.’
‘And Giles,’ I said, ‘what of Giles?’
He shrugged.
‘I pity the fellow,’ he said, ‘on my oath, I pity him. But he did not speak against the sentence. It is already done, easier, I think, than I would have done with you.’
‘It can’t be so,’ I said, stunned with disbelief. ‘We made a bargain. . .’
‘Not on my side,’ he said, suddenly smiling. ‘God’s teeth, I made not one. But he has felt worse, I warrant you. They will not kill him.’
His laughter made me lose what little restraint I had left. As I tell it, it seems mad that I should have thought to overthrow him, yet I sprang at him with that intent. Crying, screaming, what words I care not to repeat, I clawed at him, beating at him with all my strength. He tried to fend me off, but his leg buckled and we fell to the ground, he rolling underneath with a grunt of pain, I on top, scratching and tearing while I called him all the names that are vile in Celt and Norman-French. So we rolled on the floor, my legs locked around his, heels drumming in his side, oblivious of dirt and blood, bare flesh to flesh. Then, as abruptly, it was over. He straddled my body, pinning my arms to my sides, kneeling on my hair to keep me still.
