by Jen Black
“Lance…”
She recalled how the boys had tried and failed to cover their tracks when Cuddy blurted out Harry’s name at the dinner table. Discretion, Alina, discretion! Don’t overburden your brother because you need to talk.
“Oh, nothing,” she said.
It was too much to ask such a young boy to keep silence. She would wait a while longer. The wedding was still three weeks away. If Harry failed to return, she might as well marry John. It would be the more sensible option. Father would see that she married someone, and rather John than some corpulent fifty-year old with acres of land and a family years older than her.
***
Two weeks went by with no word of Harry. At the beginning of the third week, Alina lay in bed as dawn crept in through the small round window above her head and watched the darkness turn to grey. The murmur of doves and the sharper song of the blackbird and finch blended together and told her it was time to rise.
Privacy was hard to come by at Aydon. Once she dressed and went downstairs her parents, three brothers, the servants, maids and farm hinds would all be bustling about. Better to stay where she was. Her gaze roved the patterns in the wattle wall between her and the boys, examined the knot holes in the wooden planks around the door, and settled on the stone wall to her right.
How long before Harry returned?
She lay still, folded her hands together and closed her eyes. Using words like an incantation, she focussed her mind on Harry’s blue eyes and urged him home. Come, Harry, come to me! Over and over the words whispered through her mind. Wherever he was, she must reach him. He must come, for time was slipping away like sand in the hourglass. If he did not come soon, she would be John’s wife, and that would be that. She would be trapped. Within months, or perhaps within weeks, she would be pregnant.
She opened her eyes. The effort of sending her message out into the ether made her warm and the day had moved on. A beam of sunlight hit the opposite wall. Small sounds told her the boys were stirring next door, and that meant the peace would soon give way to mutters and grumbles and the thud of feet on the floorboards. With a sigh she prepared to get up and meet the coming day.
After breaking her fast, Alina called for the cart and gathered the baskets she would need for a trip to Corbridge. Half an hour later, she held the reins and drove down the hill and through the ford into the village. Confident of her skill, she tipped her face to the sunshine and enjoyed the rush of air as the pony whisked the cart towards St Andrews grey tower. Joseph sat at her shoulder, one foot braced against the footboard and a wary eye on the way she handled the pony.
“Not so gentle, Miss Alina. He needs to know who’s master.”
“Mistress, you mean.” Alina pursed her mouth to hide a smile. Auld John had taught her to drive when she was ten years old, but Joseph always thought she needed more instruction. She flicked the reins and the pony obligingly picked up speed on the flat stretch. She glanced at Joseph. “He does everything I ask, so why should I treat him as if he’s naughty?”
Joseph sighed. “He refused at the ford back there.”
“No, he didn’t. He hesitated to make sure of his footing. It’s a mossy bottom.”
“Aye, it’s no good arguing with you now you’re grown, Miss Alina. You know everything.”
“Dear Joseph, I drive the cart well and you know it.” She leaned sideways towards him and smiled. “Auld John taught me, so how could I do anything else?”
He grinned but didn’t answer. His mild gaze surveyed the market place ahead of them. “There’s a spot, over there by the church wall. D’ye see it?”
She drove into the space at the end of a line of farm carts and shaggy horses and drew her pony to a halt with his nose a hand span from the church wall. “There we are. He’ll be comfortable here in the shade. We won’t be long, after all.”
She waited for Joseph to assist her down from the cart, and while he looped the reins and tied the cart to a ring in the wall she removed the woollen shawl from her shoulders and bundled it beneath a piece of sacking. The air was warm enough now. She slid her palms down the sleek sides of her green gown, checked for creases and decided she would do.
Tossing her thick chestnut plait behind her shoulders, she walked forward a few paces. It would not take long to make their purchases in a swift progress around the market stalls and then a steady journey up the hill and back home in time for the midday meal.
Joseph seized the big wicker basket from the back of the cart and caught up to her. “It’s crowded, even for market day, Miss Alina. You stay close by me.” He set off through the crowd. He’d barely gone a few yards when he slowed and turned. His expression hardened and Alina saw the glint in his eyes as he gestured over his shoulder.
“There’re a few wild types here, so don’t you be traipsing about on wee jaunts of your own, Miss Alina. That’s Footless Will Dodd over there and Dandie’s Hob next to him. They’re known reivers from up Otterburn way.”
Alina stared across the market place. “Which one’s which?”
Joseph regarded her with pity. “Don’t be daft,” he said, with all the warmth of a man who had watched her grow from childhood. “Why would a whole man be called Footless Will Dodd?”
Alina suppressed a grin and looked again. “Ah, I see. It’s obvious when he moves, for he drags that leg and his boot looks rather odd.”
She swung around and glanced at the pair of bog trotters waiting patiently alongside their cart “That’s why those ponies looked so rough and unkempt. They belong to those two, don’t they?”
“Aye, no doubt they do.”
Fascinated, she stared across the market place at the reivers. Both wore sleeveless jacks, a thick wool scarf, fustian doublets, leather breeches and thigh-high riding boots with cruel looking spurs. She eyed their beards and moustaches with distaste.
“They don’t look very clean.”
Joseph grunted. “Neither would you, Miss Alina, if you lived like they do.” He steered her through the crowds to the market stalls. “Never mind them. Let’s get on with the job in hand.”
“It’s not often I see reivers, Joseph.” She smiled at him and could not resist another swift glance over her shoulder. “Regard it as part of my education.”
“Education?” Joseph shot her a glance that said she was being foolish. “You’d regret it if they got a hold of you and no mistake.”
“I have no intention of being got a hold of, as you put it.”
Joseph scowled. “Get on with you,” he muttered.
Alina consulted her mother’s carefully written list. “What do you think that says?” She pointed to a word on the paper. “Mother’s written it so small and crabbed I cannot make it out.”
Joseph peered over her shoulder, frowning, proud of his ability to read a few basic words. “It’s lucky it’s not been written over three times already. I think it says salt. Aye, salt.”
Alina stared at the scrap of paper in her hand. “Joseph, you clever man. Salt it is.” She carefully folded the scrap and shoved it in her belt purse. “Now, where first? Fish, fowl or vegetables?”
They assembled what they needed inside half an hour. Joseph hauled the heavy wicker basket back to the cart, anxious to be off. A gentle tap on Alina’s shoulder made her turn. The woman from the silk and thread stall stood behind her.
“Why, Mary, how are you? I haven’t seen you since…” Alina’s voice faltered, for Mary’s plump, homely face reminded her of the day she had seen Harry and chided him for knowing nothing about needles.
“Ah, Miss Alina, I do well, thank ye for askin’.” She glanced at Joseph and lowered her voice. “I have a message for ye but ye might not want Joseph to hear it.” She stepped back a pace or two and drew Alina out of range of Joseph’s sharp ears. “There’s a bonny lad a-waiting under the church tower if ye’ve a mind to speak wi ’im.”
Alina stared into the rosy, smiling face and suddenly found it a struggle to breathe. Could it be…could it be Harry?
She could not frame the words to ask the question.
Mary nodded as if she understood. “Aye, it’s him. Off wi ye. I’ll keep Joseph company.”
Alina half-turned, casting about for an excuse that would pacify Joseph. “Mary reminds me I ought to say a prayer in church for Sir Reynold before we leave. I believe I shall.”
Suspicion clouded Joseph’s brows but before he had chance to complain, she was away, her skirts bunched in one hand as she winnowed through the crowd towards the church.
Chapter Twelve
She reached the churchyard gate, flung it open and sped along the flagged stone path.
The heavy wooden door of St Andrew’s church stood open. She stopped abruptly on the threshold, panting lightly from the run, her palms flat against the stone door jamb to either side, and peered into the dim interior. Cool air flowed out of the building, bringing with it an overpowering smell of stone, wood and perfume from a huge bunch of meadow flowers someone had dumped in a wooden bucket by the stone font.
Her eyes ached. She blinked, then scanned the gloomy interior for any sign of Harry. The rapid hammering of her heart reverberated in her ears, through the bones of her skull, and pattered against the stiff buckram of her bodice. She inhaled, and listened to the silence.
Where was he?
She took a step over the threshold and pushed the door shut. The wood scraped across the flags and she had to put her shoulder to it before it finally closed. If he was here she wanted no witnesses to their meeting. She turned to face the tall Roman arch beneath the tower and her skin prickled in the cool, shadowy air. Was it her imagination, or could she hear her heart thudding like a child’s drum in the stone cavern of the church? Even her shallow breaths sounded loud in the deep silence.
A shadow moved in the space behind the stone font. A tall, well-built man stood there, naught but a silhouette against the sunlight pouring in through the paned window behind him. With her back to the empty nave, dazzled and unsure, Alina remained still.
“Alina? How are you?”
It was the exact timbre of his voice. He spoke softly, perhaps remembering he was in church, but he was real, he had returned. Her prayers were answered at last. She launched forward, her steps light across the smooth grey flagstones.
“Harry! It is you!” Her fingers clutched at his leather sleeve, tightened on the hard flesh beneath. He caught her in his arms, lowered his head and sought her lips.
Then she remembered that nothing had been decided between them. She ought to behave with propriety.
She drew back.
He chuckled. She had a fleeting glimpse of his dense blue eyes before he reached for her again, gathered her in and folded her tight against his chest. Her feet left the floor and all the air fled her lungs on a squeak of protest. She hesitated only a moment and then flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against the soft collar of his linen shirt. “Oh, Harry. Harry!”
Unaccountably, her throat swelled and she couldn’t breathe. She buried her face in his shoulder to hide her ugly grimace.
His palm pressed her against him. “Alina, what…?”
“I thought you were dead!”
His murmur of laughter sounded against her ear. “Oh, is that it? Didn’t you know I was safe? Surely you knew?”
She snuggled her face to his throat and breathed in the warm, dizzying scent of him. Then she pushed back in his arms and regarded every feature of his face. With one finger she traced the line of his cheek, found it led to his mouth. He kissed the finger.
“You look well,” she whispered. “And happy. Matho told me how you escaped—by landing as light as a squirrel on that fallen tree. But Harry—”
He laughed and swung her to and fro in his arms. “I assure you it was hardly that easy.”
“Put me down.” He lowered her but did not let go of her. With her feet firmly on the cold flags, Alina wrenched her head back to see him better.
“I looked over one day afterwards, when I knew you were safe, and I saw the tree, stretching across the ravine.” She shuddered and shut her eyes. “If you’d missed it…”
Harry shrugged. “I didn’t have much choice, did I? I slammed into that tree trunk like a sack of corn hitting the threshing floor and all but bounced right off again.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. He drew it slowly away. “Once I shuffled along to the beech tree it wasn’t so bad. The last six feet to the ground was easy.”
Suddenly aware that she was in his arms, she wriggled out of his grasp. Face flaming, she patted her hair smooth and stepped back. “I’m glad. Father should never have done it. He had no right at all.” She pulled a face. “He’s had the fallen tree taken down and chopped up for firewood, swears no one else will escape him in such a manner.”
“I’d never have got away without Matho’s help.”
“You’d never have known about the fallen tree, that’s true. But Harry, why did he go against my father to help you?”
“I owe him a great deal. Matho isn’t in trouble, is he?”
She shook her head.
He stepped towards her, his eyes alight. “I told you I would come back. Did you not believe me?”
His eyes taunted her, and the problems of Matho and her father faded away. Nothing mattered as long as Harry was alive and well and at her side. “I don’t remember you saying anything like that. In fact, I’m perfectly sure you said nothing of the kind.”
“I thought I did. I certainly intended to do so.”
“Oh, Harry.” She shook her head at him. “Don’t tease me. Your nose is sunburnt. And your hair is curling over your collar. You’ve been away ages.”
“Did you miss me?” He grinned and checked her from her toes to her crown. “I think you did, for you are thinner than when I saw you last. And I remembered you in your pretty green dress.”
Alina glanced down and realised it was the gown she had worn the day she met him. “Do you wonder I’m thinner? Ever since the day Father discovered you I’ve been afraid for you.”
“Ah, yes.” He sobered. “But do you know what I remember most of all? What brought me back here?”
She shook her head. Surely he had come back for her? Words stuck in her throat.
“I remembered that you came to see me in my dungeon. How I held you through the iron bars…”
Heat swirled into her skin, crept into her cheeks. She steadied herself against rising hope.
“…how delightful you felt beneath my fingers. I couldn’t forget you, Alina, no matter how hard I tried.”
Her body remembered, too. The skin he had fondled that night rose and tingled in anticipation. She drew her lower lip between her teeth and saw his eyes darken.
“Alina, I have to find a way around your father.”
Was that a declaration? “What do you mean, Harry?”
He paced towards the nave. “How do you feel about me? Would you marry me?”
“I might, if you ever asked me.” Her eyes wide, she waited, and it seemed that the stones of the old church stretched out in the tingling silence. There was nothing she would like better than to marry him, but already she was promised to another. When he did not reply, she cried out. “Oh, Harry…Father insists I marry John Errington.”
The hint of laughter vanished from his eyes.
The sunlight crawled across the floor of the tower as they stared at each other. The shadow of the window leads bisected his face and gave her the odd sensation that there were two Harrys; one she knew and one she did not.
Of course, she did not know him well. Their bodies may match, and she might adore him, but what did she really know of him?
He walked out into the nave and gripped the rim of the stone font so hard his knuckles shone white. “Then I must find a way to face your father, and quickly. Perhaps with an army at my back, heh?”
She spread her fingers on the opposite side of the font. “Don’t joke, Harry.” The mockery in his blue gaze frightened her.
“Do you w
ant to marry this…Errington?”
He bit the name off with a snap of his teeth. Alina did not know what she had expected, but this did not seem right. “It isn’t John’s fault. I should have married nearly three years ago, but John—he was called John, too—died suddenly before he came of age. Father was…took it as a personal insult, and for a long time refused to do anything about seeking another match for me. I think he received several refusals, which didn’t help. Now he has settled on Errington, and I have no say in the matter. Neither does John. Given my age and the absence of other offers, I suppose it was inevitable. They are our neighbours.”
She spoke stiffly, staring at him. Could he not say what she wanted to hear? What she needed to hear? Exasperation burst through. “Did you not miss me at all?”
Her words resonated through the hollow church. His expression softened. “Oh, of course I did.” His hand lifted from the stone, but she backed away from him. “I missed you so much it brought me straight back here instead of presenting my report in Carlisle as I should have done.” He offered a small smile. “You see, much as I dislike it, already you have come between me and my duty.”
She eyed him speculatively. “What do you mean, you dislike it?”
“Oh, because I had planned to seek out and marry a rich heiress. I’m not a rich man, Alina. But it seems I am drawn to you like no other.”
“That’s something, I suppose.”
He chuckled. “I don’t suppose I told you why I was riding so close to Aydon that night?”
She shook her head.
He glanced at his feet, a smile curving his mouth. “Now, being of sound mind and whole memory, I can tell you. I rode by to see where you lived. I ran into the raiders that night. One of them pursued me, hurled his dagger at me. Bessie saw it flash in the moonlight, flung away so violently I flew straight on and crashed into the tree.”
