The Gallows Curse

by Karen Maitland

  'What's wrong, Athan? I thought you'd be pleased to be alone with me. It's been so long since we got the chance.'

  'I've been trying to see you, you know I have.'

  'Then why won't you hold me like you used to?'

  He looked down at her stomach, pressing his fingers to her belly reverently like a pilgrim touching a precious reliquary. 'Mam warned me not to go messing with you while you're in this condition. She says if a woman's blood gets hot it can addle the bairn inside her.'

  'That's nonsense,' Elena said. 'If that were true there'd not be a babe born alive in this land. You think all the other men do without for nine months? Course they don't, and it doesn't do their bairns any harm.'

  'Mam's only trying to do what's best,' Athan protested. 'It's her grandson after all and she'd be heartbroken if he should come to harm.'

  'Your mam's only told you that to keep you away from me,' Elena snapped. 'Everyone in Gastmere knows she hated your father. I bet she told him sleeping with a pregnant woman would harm the baby just to make him take his hands off her.'

  Athan shuffled uncomfortably. There was no denying that although his mother raged at him, at the neighbours and at any passing stranger that her husband was a 'whoring, feckless son of a strumpet', she could barely conceal her relief when he did stay out all night instead of lurching drunkenly home to her door.

  Elena was shaking, but she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. They mustn't quarrel. She mustn't drive him away. She wanted Athan desperately, wanted to feel his arms holding her, and his hot, bare flesh against her own. She hadn't realized how much she needed the physical intimacy of his body until he had kissed her.

  But being kissed wasn't enough. If Athan didn't make love to her, where was she to get the white seed? Gytha had said I he mandrake must be fed before it would speak — her blood and a man's white milk - or it wouldn't reveal anything. Tears of frustration began pricking her eyes, which only increased her misery.

  Athan looked panic-struck, as young men do when faced with a weeping woman. He grabbed Elena's shoulders and held them tightly at arm's length as if he feared she was going to hurt herself or him.

  'Please don't cry, Elena. I can't bear to see you miserable.

  God in heaven, if you only knew how much I want you! You think this is easy for me? You've no idea how hard it is to resist you. You're all I think about when I'm working in the fields or lying in my bed at night. Half the time, I don't even know what the other lads are saying to me, because my head's that mithered with you. If you knew how many times I've made up my mind to march straight into the manor and carry you off right under their noses. And I would have done it too if I wasn't scared of hurting our bairn. Mam says ...' He broke off, evidently realizing just in time that this was no time for another of his mother's famous sayings.

  Elena scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve, took a deep breath and tried to smile. She lifted Athan's work-callused hand, cupping it to her mouth and kissing the warm palm. She drew his fingertips gently into her mouth, caressing the rough skin with her hot tongue, until she felt the powerful muscles of his arm soften a little in her grasp.

  'But I need you, Athan. It's been so long. I lie in bed every night just wishing you were holding me. If you're gentle and I lie still, then it can't do any harm. I know it can't. And ...' she couldn't stop herself from adding, 'I don't want you running off to my cousin Isabel because you can't get what you want from me.'

  He opened his mouth to protest against this outrageous slur, but she hastily put her small hand over his lips.

  'If you don't make love to me, I'll only fret myself sick that you're doing it with someone else, and that will be worse for the bairn, won't it?'

  She put her head on one side and tried to look up at him coquettishly as she'd seen the other girls do when they were trying to wheedle a man round, but she wasn't practised at it and only succeeded in looking even more like a child. But the look was enough to make Athan laugh. Scooping her up in his arms, he laid her gently down on the hay and began to unknot the drawstring of his breeches.

  'Where have you been?' The old widow Hilda stepped out of the darkness of the courtyard and grabbed Elena's arm, digging her sharp nails into the flesh.

  No, no! Elena wailed to herself. Not now. What was the old witch doing lurking about out here? Why wasn't she waiting on Lady Anne? Her heart thumped in panic as she felt the slippery wetness on her thighs drying even as she stood there. She had to get back up to the bedchamber now, before it was too late. But Hilda was gripping her too tightly, and though Elena desperately wanted to push her out of the way, she dared not lay hands on a free-born woman.

  'Answer me, girl!' Hilda shook Elena, trying to wrest out an answer to her question.

  'The privy ... I've been to the privy. Where else would I go at this hour?'

  'Don't you take that tone with me, girl. I saw you creeping out of the barn. Don't think I don't know what goes on in there: the filth, the shameless acts of lust, girls fornicating with men, boys committing unnatural acts with each other. So who was he, this man you crept off to meet? One of the stable lads, I suppose. They're no better than the beasts they care for; they'd pant after a pig if it was dressed in a skirt.'

  She thrust out her chin in disgust and the light from the guttering torches on the courtyard walls deepened every nook and cranny of her embittered old face, until you might have been forgiven for thinking that the church stonemason had used the old widow as the model for his malevolent gargoyles.

  Elena glanced helplessly up at the window behind which lay her chest containing the precious shrivelled black root. If she didn't get to the mandrake now and wipe Athan's milk on it, all that effort would have been in vain. It had been hard enough to coax Athan to make love to her tonight, and even then he had crept away with a look of guilt and anxiety creasing his forehead as if he was already regretting giving in to her. He'd probably not trust himself to come near her alone again until after his son was born, thanks to that old termagant of a mother.

  'Let me go, you've got no right. . .' Elena tried to prise the old widow's fingers off her arm, but Hilda grasped her more tightly.

  'I've every right to ensure my poor mistress is not deceived by little cats like you. She is a good, pious woman. She doesn't permit harlots to remain in her service. So we'll see what she has to say about this, shall we?' She pulled Elena towards the stone steps, still shouting. Elena, trying to resist her, stumbled against the first step and would have fallen had not a pair of strong hands reached out from behind and caught her.

  'Say about what, Mistress Hilda?' Raffaele asked sternly. 'You're so eager to drag this girl to Lady Anne that you almost dashed her brains out on the stones. So it must be important, whatever it is.'

  In the light of the writhing yellow torch flames Hilda's eyes glittered with fury.

  'I saw her coming out of the barn. What business would a tiring maid have in that barn at this time of night? I can think of only one. I warned Lady Anne she was making a mistake taking a base-born villein as a maid. What can you expect from such as them? Their kind are like feral dogs out to grab whatever they can, when they're not scrapping and snarling at one another, they're fornicating. I don't blame them, it's in their blood, but like a pack of hounds they need the whip to control them and that's your job, Master Raffaele. The servants are supposed to be under your authority. Yet you ignore the shameless debauchery that goes on night after night in there, right under the mistress's window. You know they all laugh at you behind your back, and is it any wonder —'

  Raffaele shot out a great hand and, grabbing Hilda by her puckered neck, he pinned her against the stone wall, pressing down hard on her throat.

  You malicious old hag! Jealous, are you? Jealous that others are enjoying themselves when not even your poor husband was willing to bed you? No wonder the poor wretch died so young, he probably bribed the grim reaper to take him early just to get away from you. I doubt you ever gave him a warm word in his wh
ole life. Your heart was shrivelled up like a dried pea long before the rest of you withered up to match it.'

  Hilda was making a strange gargling sound and her eyes were bulging wide in fear. She struggled in vain to tear Raffaele's hand from her throat, but her movements were becoming more feeble.

  Elena tugged at Raffaele's arm with all her strength, terrified he was going to throttle the old woman. 'Stop it, please, stop! You're choking her.'

  The sound of Elena's voice seemed to snap Raffaele out of his rage and he slackened his grip. Hilda tipped forward, clutching the wall for support as she gasped for air and massaged her bruised throat.

  Raffaele, breathing hard, seemed to be struggling to control himself. His fists clenched and unclenched, but his words to Elena were spoken softly. 'You should get yourself inside, girl, the mistress will be calling for you.'

  Elena nodded gratefully and was half-way up the steps before Hilda lifted her head and snarled, You . . . you think she's so innocent, Master Raffaele, don't you, pure and pretty as a little white dove? Well, you take a good look at her belly. You feel it and tell me if the little whore's as sinless as you believe. She's taken you for a fool, Master Raffaele, right here in this manor, only you were too besotted with the little cat to see what was going on right under your nose.'

  Night of the Full Moon,

  December 1210

  Crickets — Twenty crickets steeped in white wine are said to cure the wheezing of the breath and, if eaten, ease the colic and also pains of the bladder.

  A cricket thrown into the fire will not burn. If they enter a house and dwell there they must never be killed or driven out, for they will bring good fortune and their chirruping on the hearth will warn of a gathering storm. A cricket will even tell a mortal woman when her lover is approaching her house. But should the cricket suddenly depart, ill fortune will follow.

  But take heed, if a white cricket should chance to appear upon the hearth, one of those who warm their hands around that fire will surely die.

  The Mandrake's Herbal

  The Turning

  Walter, the gatekeeper, was never one to want to stir from his fireside after supper, even on a hot summer's night, and he certainly did not disguise his annoyance at being roused at this late hour in the bitter cold. He stamped his feet and blew ‹›n his hands, grumbling that the wicket door was very likely frozen solid and if he did manage to prise it open, he'd likely not be able to get it shut again for the rest of the night.

  "You'd think folks'd have the wit to get their business done in daylight,' he muttered, 'not go traipsing around the countryside when they should be abed. Second time this night I've been fetched out of my cot. All these comings and goings, it's enough to daul a man to death.'

  Raffe was in such a foul mood that he scarcely registered what Walter was saying, but the man's fumbling with the frozen latch only served to irritate him the more and he pushed Walter out of the way so hard that the gatekeeper slipped on the frosty cobbles and fell heavily to the ground. Raffe didn't even bother to apologize.

  Elena bent to help the man, but Raffe caught her arm and pushed her out through the wicket door. He ducked under the frame, following her. Elena stood shivering on the path outside, clutching her small pack of belongings and staring hack at the towering walls of the manor.

  Raffe glanced sourly up at the swollen moon, which seemed closer and heavier this night as if it was taunting him with its belly-ripe fecundity. Holding the flaming torch aloft, he strode off in the direction of the village at a deliberately cruel pace, knowing Elena would almost have to run to keep up with him.

  How could she have done it? How could she have betrayed him, after all he had done for her? When he thought about how useless she was at almost any task in the house, her clumsiness, the pots and flagons she had broken — other stewards would have taken a stick to her long ago. But he had covered up for her, turned a blind eye to her slipping out of the manor whenever she chose, had even given her gifts to take home for her mother. By God, if he had a stick in his hand right now, that little fool would smart for it. If he'd a whip in his belt he'd have flogged her every step of the way from the manor to the village.

  Raffe's fury was not soothed by the knowledge that it was entirely his own fault that he was having to put himself through this private agony of delivering Elena into the arms of another man. For Lady Anne would have willingly allowed Elena to stay until morning when a cart could have been sent to take the girl home, but it was Raffe who had insisted Elena leave at once and now, though he told himself he'd gladly drown her in the nearest ditch, he found he could not bring himself to let her walk alone at night without protection.

  Raffe sensed Elena glancing fearfully up at him as she scuttled to keep pace, but he wouldn't look at her. He couldn't bring himself to speak. When he had dragged her into Lady Anne's presence, with that shrew Hilda triumphantly bringing up the rear, Elena had started sobbing. He didn't know if her tears sprang from her fear of Lady Anne's anger or from the pain of his vicious grip on her arm. At that moment he didn't care why she was crying, and he refused to slacken his grasp.

  But Lady Anne had not been angry. Raffe knew she wouldn't be, whatever Hilda had hoped. Anne had shaken her head gravely, but said it was only to be expected. Elena had done no more than any pretty girl would do, especially now that marriage was impossible because of the Interdict. Then she had turned her face away and stared silently into the firelight for a long time, a silence no one dared to break.

  Finally, she spoke without lifting her gaze from the flames. 'It is not that I disapprove of what you have done, my dear.

  Young love is not a crime to be punished. But you must understand that I cannot bear to have babies around me. It is too painful for me. Even a pregnant woman reminds me ... of what I have lost ... seeing life go on as if my son had never existed. I cannot do it.'

  Hilda, hovering protectively behind Lady Anne's chair, glowered at Raffe. 'You need your rest, m'lady. I keep telling everyone that, but they take no notice.'

  Lady Anne absently patted her arm and glanced up again at Elena. 'Perhaps it is for the best. I don't like the thought of having young girls sleeping in the manor when Osborn and his men are here. There are many in his retinue who believe that any comely maid is simply there to be plucked for their sport, like a squab from a dovecote, no matter how much she resists. And I can't keep hiding you out of sight in the kitchens. For your own safety, Elena, it is as well you should leave now.'

  Hilda crossed herself. 'I swear I'll not be able to close my eyes while those brutes are here.'

  Raffe snorted. You can sleep soundly, mistress. There's not a man alive who wouldn't sooner bed his own horse than try your virtue.'

  She flushed angrily. 'What do you know of being a man, you -'

  Lady Anne rose. 'Enough! There is nothing else to be said, go now. Leave me, all of you. Can't you see there are far more pressing matters weighing on my mind than a pregnant girl? I have lost my husband and my son, and now I have lost my lands too. I cannot bear any more. You cannot ask me to!'

  But as Raffe guided Elena from the chamber, Anne added more gently, 'God in his mercy grant you a safe delivery, Elena, you and the child.'

  Lady Anne was a good woman, Raffe thought, a saint, and she did not deserve to have that bastard Osborn foisted on her by King John in her own home, a home she'd spent a lifetime defending for her son. Raffe savagely kicked a stone on the track and heard it crack against the ice in the ditch.

  There was a shriek behind Raffe and he spun round. Elena was crouching on the icy path, rubbing her knee. At once he was by her side.

  'Have you hurt yourself?'

  She shook her head and Raffe lifted her to her feet. She stood swaying unsteadily for a moment. Raffe realized she was shivering. In the vastness of the darkness that surrounded them the tiny figure looked more fragile than ever. Her eyes, round and bright as the moon, glittered in the torchlight as she glanced fearfully up at him.

&n
bsp; Placing the torch into her hands for a moment, he unfastened his cloak and wrapped it around her. Then, taking back the torch, he clasped her frog-cold hand in his own. She stiffened, trying to pull away, and instantly his anger came surging back.

  'Stop that prudish nonsense! You're as bad as that old hag Hilda, thinking every man wants to ravish you. It's slippery. You've already fallen once, next time you might not be so lucky. But if you want to take that risk in your condition, go ahead.'

  He turned away and started off again, but he had not taken more than a couple of strides before he felt a small arm burrow into the crook of his own. His anger dissolved in an instant. He drew Elena close and they walked on, slowly this time. He felt a surge of unexpected joy as he sucked in the closeness of her and knew for the first time the warmth of her small body pressed into his. He could feel the movement of her slender ribcage against his arm, the bones so delicate that a man might snap them with his fingers. Her sweet breath hovered in a veil of white mist as she panted in the icy air.