Clambering out of the hidey-hole, he shoved through the gap in the tree trunks. "Come back from there before the swans have at you or you drown," he cried, using the same stern tone he saved for his sister.
The person on the bank turned and pushed aside the branches. It was Helewise, not Johanna, who looked at him from the river's edge. Rob froze in horror, waiting for her to call the guard to come fetch him. Instead, she smiled at him.
"Why, thank you for your warning, Rob, but the swans nest a goodly distance downstream. They let us be up here." Her voice was alive with warm affection.
Rob's horror died into confusion. Helewise didn't look at all like herself. Her gowns were orange and gold, their fineness and color saying they must be her best attire. As if she were some wee lass, not Master Walter's exalted housekeeper, she'd pulled her skirts high over her knees so she could dandle her bare feet in the water without staining them. So too, had she discarded her veil and band, laying them atop her shoes and stockings. With her head bared, the setting sun found reddish lights in her dark hair.
She patted at the ground beside her on the river's bank. "Hey now, it's a fine June even, this one. Come sit with me whilst I savor it."
It was the sweetness of her invitation that pricked Rob into taking a step toward her. He caught himself. This was no friend, but Master Walter's housekeeper who hated him. Aye, so she was. Did that not mean she might only hate him all the more if he refused her? Choosing a dry spot not too close to her, he sat, drawing his legs up to his chest. "I am sitting," he said.
She tilted her head to one side and studied him for a long moment. "Why did you run?"
However gently asked, hers was a serious question demanding an honest answer. Rob turned his gaze toward his shoes. He could hardly tell her it was she who'd driven him to it by being unfair and unjust. He tried a dodge.
"I am now an outlaw. If I return to Master Walter's home, I'll be arrested as a vandal."
Helewise's laugh was soft and low. "A simple misunderstanding, that, already remedied. At no cost to you, I might mention."
Rob's head popped up from his knees. He stared at her. How did she know he was worried over the cost?
Helewise only raised her brows. "By the by, I am not distracted. Why did you run?"
There was no help for it; he had to answer. Perhaps if he didn't tell the whole truth, it wouldn't be so grave a sin. "I hate it here."
"You haven't been here long enough to know that,” Helewise replied, moving her feet in the water. Droplets spewed into the air, turning to pink and gold before they returned to the river's gleaming silver surface. "Perhaps once you get to know us better, you'll come to like it."
Rob pressed his forehead against his knees so she couldn't see his face. "What choice have I but to stay? Master Walter bought me from Papa for ten coins. Now, I owe even more because I must pay for my clothing and a ruined meal."
Once again, Helewise's warm laugh startled him. He looked up at her. The lilt of her mouth was so gay it was hard not to smile in return.
"Oh, but I think me the master is going to find you an interesting sort of lad." She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him nearer until they sat hip to hip. Although he didn't fight her, neither did he relax against her. "Buy your clothing, indeed. And, why would you think you must pay the master for a meal Tom spilled?"
He looked up at her, his confusion growing until words burst past his lips before he knew he meant to free them. "Why are you being so kind now, when you hate me?"
Her eyes opened wide in true surprise. "Hate you? Why ever do you think I hate you?"
Guilt again twisted in his stomach. He stared down at his shoes. "Because I lied for Johanna when her cat spilled the cheese."
Helewise laughed. She crooked a finger beneath his chin to raise his head, forcing him to meet her gaze. There was nothing in her face save amusement. "So, it has been guilt eating at you. I thought I saw it in your eyes. Best you no longer lie for our little mistress if you cannot bear the weight of your sin, lad. Now come. It's time we were for home."
Home. Despair washed over Rob. Would that he could go home.
As his eyes teared, Helewise's gaze softened. She freed his chin to finger-comb his hair back from his brow. Her touch was so much like Mama's that Rob's lips quivered.
"Tell me." It was a soft command.
"Blacklea is home," he whispered, the corners of his mouth drooping.
"And, you are sick with longing for it." She sighed, her voice as low as his. "So was it for me when I first came to Stanrudde. Lad, let us chaffer a bit here. You give me your vow to stay, swearing that you'll run no more until the master has returned. In turn I will vow to beg Master Walter to release you from his service, should your sickness not have abated by that time."
She paused to point a warning finger at him. "However, you must vow to try your best to like it here until that time."
Rob's pain abated somewhat as the possibility of escape opened up before him. September was only two and a half months distant. More important to his heart was the discovery that Helewise did not hate him at all. He nodded his assent.
"Good," she said in brisk acceptance, then levered herself to her feet "Now we must be going, else we'll be out and about after all honest folk should be within their own walls."
Stepping from the water, she shook the moisture from her legs and thrust her bare feet into her shoes. After she'd stuffed her stockings into her belt, she caught up her veil and band. Tilting her head upward to a sky now streaked with mauve and orange, she fastened on the head covering. When the veil once again shrouded her soft cheeks, she looked down at him.
Rob's heart quirked in fear's return. Gone was warm and laughing Helewise, leaving only the cold housekeeper in her place. She held out a hand to him. It was a friendly enough invitation. He looked up at her again, squinting against the dying light to study her. Behind the cool expression, glimmers of the other Helewise remained.
"Why do you make your face blank like this?" he asked as he rose to his feet.
Helewise's brows peaked in surprise, her face warming back into its previous softness. "Do I? I didn't know."
Rob nodded in new understanding. So it had been with Mama. When his dam was busy at her work, her face lost the special expression she saved for him.
His heart at peace, he took her hand and let Helewise lead him around the warehouse's corner. As they passed the now quiet mill and started across the short grassy stretch before the tower's mound, he asked, "Will I be punished for running?"
"Nay, you did not know what you did was wrong," Helewise replied, leading him down a lane. Folk hurried past them, intent on finishing their last chore of the day before retreating to their homes and suppers.
"Is Johanna being punished?" Rob shot her a worried look. It would be unfair if Johanna was punished and he was not.
"She is, but not for aiding you. She should never have spoken so to a merchant, even if he is no more than a regrater."
"What will happen to her?"
The corners of the housekeeper's mouth lifted. "A terrible thing indeed. It's the chamber pots she must empty on the morrow. A rude and filthy job given to a rude lass with a filthy mouth."
Rob shuddered in pity for Johanna, but his easiness grew. If Helewise treated the master's daughter so, she would only ever be fair with him. Then, a new worry woke in him. Even Johanna had aught to do on the morrow while he had no job to his name. "What will I do for Master Walter if Tom is to be the scullery lad?"
Helewise glanced down at him. "Do you know, I think the master will be glad of Tom's suggestion that you work with Master Colin in the apothecary's shop. It is a great honor, this. You will be the youngest servant ever within those walls."
Although Rob wasn't certain what an apothecary's shop was, he very much liked the sound of being someone special. Pride teased at his lips, trying to make them lift into a smile, but he remembered the courtesy Mama had taught him to use. "My thanks," he said, borrowing
Wilfred's solemn tones as he continued. "I will endeavor to serve Master Walter and Master Colin well."
"I'm certain you will," Helewise replied graciously. After a moment's silence, she added, "By the by, Rob, there are no tally sticks in our household. Instead, we figure the worth of our accounts by beads strung on wires and scribe those amounts onto parchment. Do you think you might like to learn how to do this?"
Beads on a wire? He frowned up at her. What sort of counting was this? Mayhap it was the way Wilfred did his accounts. Rob had watched the bailiff use dried pea pods on a string to calculate amounts. If so, then it was no different than how Rob used a twig to mark lines in the dirt as he counted the bushels of grain Papa took from their fields. There were many different methods of counting, but the counting, itself, was always the same. No matter how it was done, there was great joy for Rob in counting.
"I would like that very much," he replied, savoring his first happy moment at Stanrudde.
Stanrudde
Two and a half hours past None,
The eve of Saint Agnes's Day, 1197
Rob caught his breath as Johanna fitted herself to him, but it was more than this suggestive movement that sent him all the way to passion's edge. With every touch and kiss, she told him she loved him still. It was the need of his heart that rose to meet then match his body's lust. She was his wife, his to touch and love at his will.
Thrusting his fingers into her hair, he kissed her cheek, her ear, then nuzzled at her throat. Pleasure deepened into driving need. He dropped a hand to her hip, drawing her nearer still. Even with so much fabric between them, he could feel her thighs pressed to his.
She made a sound that was half sigh, half moan, then lifted herself in delicious parody of what he longed to do with her. It was a patent reminder that the whores he'd used these many years had offered him naught but the pretense of satisfaction. Only Johanna had ever made him ache in pleasure. He quaked, indulging himself in the full depth of his desire for her.
"Master Robert, where are you?" Will's frightened call pierced the quiet in the alley, shattering his master's lust.
Rob tore his mouth from Johanna's and stared at her in shock. "My God, my God, what am I doing?" he breathed. The answer came from deep within him: adultery in the eyes of the world.
Instantly, he released her and stepped back. Johanna murmured in complaint, extending a hand as she invited him to once again cradle himself against her womanly curves. Her body's heat flowed across the short distance between them, twining around him, a siren's song. His heart begged him to answer her. How could it be adultery to love his own wife? But logic laughed that even if their secret exchange of vows had made a true marriage, no one would believe that now, not after so many years.
Swallowing, Rob took two more backward steps to assure temptation's death. She was safe now. It was time for him to go. He could send the guard to see her home. Even as he commanded himself to move, his feet rooted themselves to this spot. He stared at her, drinking in her image.
With her wimple gone, Johanna's hair hung loose and tangled around her. Time's passage had darkened its color to more red than gold, but it yet retained its willful wave. She was taller than he remembered, but just as slender, or so said her sodden and filthy gowns as they clung to her every curve. That was, save for where they hung agape, revealing the shadowy valley between her breasts. He forced his gaze to the safety of her face.
Her neck was scratched. Blood smeared her cheek, but it was not hers. Her passion for him set her fair skin afire beneath what would be the morrow's bruises. Under the graceful line of the nose she so despised, her lips were yet soft and warm with his kisses. Her eyes were just as blue as ever. In their depths, his heart swore it saw the reflection of his love for her.
As his mind-dimming passion ebbed, logic strengthened and sneered at such a fantasy. If there was anything to read in her face or her behavior of the last moments, it was but shock. He was misinterpreting the stunned outcome of a horrible experience as love.
Rob looked away from her to stare out the alley's end. In the field, folk cried for mercy from the town's guard. They had more hope of pity than did he. Even if Johanna loved him still, she was and would always be Katel's wife in the eyes of the world. To challenge that was to place her in harm's way, as her father intended.
Only as Katel's name crossed his thoughts did Rob recall his reason for coming to Stanrudde. With it was the realization of the opportunity standing before him. Here, in the privacy and concealment of this alley, he would warn Johanna and, in doing so, resolve some of the debt he owed her. Turning back to the woman he dared not love, he said, "Johanna, I must leave you now, but before I go, heed me in this. Your husband has done something that places you in grave danger."
Her brows lowered as confusion flashed across her face. Rob watched her struggle with her thoughts as if she could not recall who or where she was. His heart fell; logic crowed in triumph. She was yet so stunned by her experience that she hadn't heard a word he'd said.
Confusion passed to be replaced by horror, and she stared at him as if only now recognizing who he was. Following this came blazing rage. Her mouth tightened, and she crossed her arms as every shred of softness in her disappeared.
"You!" she hissed, her eyes narrowing. "I cannot bear your presence. Move aside and let me pass!"
Rob flinched as her hatred stabbed at him. Rather than drive him away, it only made his need to be free of her memory all the more urgent. "Johanna, you cannot leave until you listen to what I have to say."
"Nay!" she shouted, trying to push past him.
He shifted to block her path, not daring to touch her. "You must," he insisted, "else I fear for your life and safety. I would not see you hurt."
Johanna went utterly still, her face whitening to a hue so pale he feared she would faint. In the next moment, bright spots of rage flamed to life on her cheeks. Ever so slowly, she raised her head to stare at him.
"You would not see me hurt?" These disbelieving and sarcastic words left her in quiet, furious gusts.
Rob stared at her. What sort of question was this? Of course, he did not wish to see her hurt. Had he not just shown her this by coming to her aid in these past minutes?
"You would not see me hurt?" she repeated, this time her words a quiet shriek.
Again, she made as if to move past him and, again, he blocked her way. She freed a squeal of frustration and whirled to show him her back. "You'll say nothing to me," she shouted to the alley's end. "Never again will I listen to your lies!"
Anger shot through Rob, tangling with the guilt and pain that already lived in him. Stung, his pride raised its pompous head. How dare she accuse him of lies when he sought only to protect her? "I have never lied to you," he snapped.
"Have you not?" she challenged, her gaze yet focused on the wall before her. "Are you not the same Robert of Blacklea who traded secret marriage vows with me, swearing to love me forever, but when my father offered coins, filled his purse and left me to my fate without a single word?"
It was not Master Walter's false tale that struck at Rob, but hearing it fall from Johanna's lips as if it was true. No matter that his mind had long been convinced she’d believed it, his heart had clung to the hope that she would not be so easily misled. This drove him back from her, step by step, until he stumbled over the thief's prostrate form and nearly fell. As he steadied himself, anger roared in to replace the pain. Why hadn't she trusted in his love for her? She should have known the only way he could have been separated from her was by force.
Although he wanted to scream at her for doubting him, he sought calm and reason. "Johanna, I did not leave you by choice, this I vow to you."
"Nay!" she shouted, hunching her shoulders in a stubborn refusal to listen. "Say no more to me! You cannot think I will accept this vow when your last one was so false."
This time her words dug past all his ability to control. Pride screamed in agony; anger flared to an even brighter life. Desp
ite that he had just proved his care for her she dared to spurn him and his concern on her behalf. Rob glared at her back. Jesus God, there wasn't a merchant in all the known world who questioned his word or his vow. If she chose to reject where her betters trusted, then whatever debt he thought he owed her was no more.
"I have done my best," he returned in cold fury. "If you choose not to heed me, so be it. I will trouble you no longer."
Whirling on his heel, he stormed out onto the coopers' lane. May God damn her for her blind arrogance. She deserved to hang with her husband, for no other reason than the insult she dealt him.
In the abbey's field a guardsman thought to challenge him, only to reconsider when Rob speared him with his gaze. By the time he thrust into the abbey's gate, he could not wait to be done with Stanrudde and all things connected to Johanna. Ignoring Brother William's cry regarding his well-being, Rob bulled his way through the crowd that now packed the courtyard, seeking his own servants. They were nowhere to be seen.
"Hamalin!" he bellowed. As his agent and his men were no doubt beyond the walls, still searching for him, there was no response.
This only sent his anger spiraling. With each breath he took, Johanna's slur and lack of faith drove deeper into him. As rage's heat grew, so did the need to slam his fists into a wall until either his hands or the wall were destroyed. Someone clamped a hand around his elbow. Rob whirled in wicked glee, ready to attack the one who dared maul Robert, Grossier of Lynn.
Colin looked up at him, his gaze taking in the jut of his former apprentice's jaw and what brewed in his stormy eyes. "You look somewhat the worse for wear," the monk said mildly. "Come, I have the abbot's release from services to entertain you as I will this night. We'll share a cup of plum wine. It'll help to ease what boils in you."
Rob had no desire to ease what ached in him. Instead he wanted to cherish it until it grew to consume him. From the distant corner where it had taken refuge, logic's voice rose, faint, but clear. It was better to go with Colin, who knew him of old, than to make himself a horse's ass before those who'd never before seen him beyond control.
The Seasons Series; Five Books for the Price of Three Page 138
