She often went to the stables and I had come upon her once or twice in conversation with Richard Rackell.
I was sure they were lovers. Jennet was not the sort to hold out for marriage. That hazy expression in the eyes, that slight slackening of the lips, that air of knowledge told its own story. I discussed it with Honey.
“So Eve must have looked when she ate the apple,” I said.
“Perhaps we should get them married,” said Honey. “Edward does not like immorality among the servants. And Jennet, if she has lost her virginity, is the sort of girl who would go quickly from one man to another.”
I tackled Jennet. “I shall be going back to the Abbey very soon, Jennet.”
“Oh, Mistress, and what when he comes back?”
“Who?” I asked sharply, knowing full well to whom she referred.
“The master … the Captain.”
“Since when has he been master in this household?”
“Well, Mistress, he be master wherever he be I reckon.”
“That’s nonsense, Jennet. He is nothing here.”
“But he have spoken for you.”
“You don’t understand these matters. What I want to say to you is this. You go down to the stables often.”
The deep red stain in her cheeks told me I had come to the right conclusion. She cast down her head and her fingers plucked at her gown. I was sorry for her. Poor Jennet. She was meant to be a wife and a mother; she would never be able to hold out against the blandishments of men.
“Very well, Jennet,” I said, “you are no longer a virgin. You may well be with child. Have you thought of that?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“The master—the only master of this house—will be displeased if he hears of your conduct. He expects good Christian behavior from his servants.”
Her lips trembled and I put my arm about her. I had been brusque with her because with the utmost ease Jake Pennlyon had persuaded her to betray me. But now that she had become the paramour of Richard Rackell I could see her predicament more clearly. Poor Jennet was the kind of girl who was burdened—some might say blessed—with an overpowering sensuality. She was born to take and give sexual pleasure; and the reason why she would be a perpetual temptation to men was that they were a perpetual temptation to her. It was very much harder for her to stay on the path of virtue than it was for many others; therefore, one must try to understand and help her.
“Now, Jennet,” I said, “what’s done is done and there is no sense in mourning for virginity once it is lost, for that will not bring it back. You have been foolish and now you must make a decision. When I go back you would have come with me, but in the circumstances the man who has seduced you should marry you. I know who it is. I have seen you often together. Do not imagine that your creeping into the stables has gone unnoticed. If Richard Rackell is willing you shall marry him. It is what the master would wish. Does that not please you?”
“Oh, yes, Mistress, it does in truth.”
“Very well, I will see if I can arrange it.”
I was pleased really to see how relieved she was, for I was fond of the girl and I wanted to see her married and settled.
By the time Jake Pennlyon returned she would no doubt be big with child, for I imagined she was the kind of girl who would have a large brood of children. He would no longer be interested in her, so she would be saved from that ignominy; and by that time I should be at the Abbey.
I spoke to Honey about Jennet.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” I said, “if she were pregnant already. Richard Rackell must marry her.”
Honey agreed and she sent immediately for Richard.
When he came into the punch room and stood at the table, that air of breeding struck me afresh. I could not believe that Jennet would be a very suitable wife for him. Still, if he had seduced her he must marry her.
Honey said: “Richard, I think you might be eager to marry.”
He bowed; his face was expressionless.
“You and Jennet, I believe, have been overfriendly.” She stressed the word “over” and as he did not reply she went on: “In the circumstances the master would expect you to marry her. When will you do so?”
He still hesitated. Then he said: “I will, in time.”
“In time,” I said. “What do you mean by that?”
“In … three weeks’ time. I would need that.”
I wondered why, but there was such an air of dignity about him that it was not seemly to press.
“Very well,” said Honey. “There shall be a wedding in three weeks’ time.”
“We will have a celebration,” I said. I was very anxious to make up to Jennet for having been harsh to her.
So it was arranged. A priest should come to the house—neither Thomas Elders nor John Gregory should perform this ceremony; it would be too public for that.
I summoned Jennet and told her the news.
“I shall give you your wedding dress and we will get Luce working on it immediately.”
Jennet began to weep. “Mistress,” she said, “I don’t deserve such. I don’t indeed.”
“Well, Jennet,” I said, “you have been a little too ready, but that is over. You must be a good wife to Richard and bear many children and then the fact that you did not wait for the ceremony will be forgotten.”
I patted her shoulder, but that only had the effect of making her weep the more.
Because the days were inclined to be tedious we talked a great deal about Jennet’s wedding. Edward had said the Morris dancers should come and we would play games and even have a cake with a silver penny in it that the one who found it might be King for the day.
Since the departure of the Rampant Lion, Sir Penn had been laid low with some periodic sickness the nature of which no one was sure, and we felt safe from all the troubles which might come from that quarter.
In the kitchen they had started to prepare for the feast we should have. Jennet had never had so much made of her before.
The days slipped away. I said to Honey: “As soon as Jennet is safely wed I will begin to make preparation for my journey home.”
“The scene is set,” said Honey. “Jake Pennlyon is on the high seas; his father is laid low; there is great excitement about the wedding. It would not be noticed for some days if you decided to leave. Heaven knows I shall hate your going. It will be so dull here without you, Catharine. But if he cut short his voyage and returned then it would be too late and we could not hope to fool him again.”
“If he ever knew how he had been fooled he would never forgive us.”
“His vengeance is something I would not wish to encounter.”
I shivered. “Yes, as soon as the wedding is over I will leave. Do you think Richard will be a good husband to Jennet?”
“He is a quiet, good-mannered boy.”
“He is strange. It is difficult to imagine his seducing Jennet.”
“I’d wager most of the seducing came from her.”
“Well, he is good and truly caught. I think she will be a good wife, though. She was overpersuaded by Jake Pennlyon to betray me, but I have forgiven her that, for I am sure she deeply regrets it.”
“For a girl like Jennet, Jake Pennlyon would be irresistible,” Honey said.
I changed the subject. I did not wish to think of Jake Pennlyon persuading Jennet. I had given too much thought to that matter already.
There came the night when for the third time I saw the Spanish galleon.
Such an ordinary day it had been—warm and sunny for the time of year, “unseasonable” they called it—a quiet, peaceful day. How was it that we could have lived through such a day unaware of the tremendous events which were awaiting us?
I was pleasantly tired when I went to bed and was asleep almost immediately.
I was awakened as I had been on other nights by unusual sounds below. I lay still listening. Shuffling footsteps, a scuffle. Some serving wench creeping out to meet a lover? I rose fro
m my bed and went to the window.
There she was in all her glory. Closer than I had ever seen her—the mighty and magnificent Spanish galleon.
I must go down. I was not going to allow anyone to say that I had imagined my galleon this time. I would awaken Honey and Edward and insist that they look. I picked up a robe and wrapped it around me, but as I crossed to the door it was opened suddenly. John Gregory stood there.
I said: “What is wrong?”
He did not answer. He was wearing a long cloak with a hood; his face was pale, his eyes brilliant. He spoke then in a tongue I did not know and then I saw that there was a stranger with him.
“Who is this?” I demanded. “What do you here?”
They did not answer me.
The stranger had stepped into my room. John Gregory nodded toward me and spoke again.
The stranger seized me. I tried to throw him off, but he held me firmly. I struggled. Then I screamed and immediately John Gregory’s hand was over my lips. In a few seconds he had taken a kerchief and bound it around my mouth. I was powerless to make a sound. I was put onto my bed. The thought flashed into my mind: Have I saved myself from Jake Pennlyon for this?
But there was no lust about these men, only a determination to complete a task. My arms were pinioned. They had ropes for the purpose. Likewise were my ankles strapped together so that I was trussed and helpless.
Then they carried me from my room.
Down the spiral stairs we went … out into the courtyard.
I saw a figure lying there. There was blood everywhere. I wanted to cry out, but I could not make a sound. I was limp with horror and fear.
As they carried me past that wounded figure I saw that it was Edward.
Honey! I wanted to call out. Honey, where are you?
Edward’s carriage was waiting there. Richard Rackell was holding the horses—three of Edward’s best and most fleet.
Richard Rackell! Traitor! I wanted to shout, but there was nothing I could do.
I was placed in the carriage. Lying there were two other figures. My heart leaped with an emotion of relief, yet horror, for they were Honey and Jennet.
They stared at me as I did at them. We could only communicate by looks. They were as bewildered as I. I wondered if Honey knew that Edward was lying in his own blood in the courtyard.
There were voices—foreign voices. Instinctively I knew that they were speaking the Spanish tongue.
The carriage had begun to move. We were going toward the sea.
We had been abducted as women sometimes were by marauding pirates. There had been traitors in our midst and the result was that Edward was lying in his own blood in the courtyard and Honey, Jennet and I were being taken out to the Spanish galleon.
Journey to an Unknown Destination
THEY CARRIED US INTO the boat which was lying ready. I saw Richard Rackell’s face clearly in the light of the lantern which he held. Traitor! I wanted to cry and felt a physical pain in my throat which was frustrated fury.
I was lifted into the boat and lay there helpless. They put Honey beside me, then Jennet. We could not see each other’s faces clearly because it was a dark night. There was no moon, only the faint light of the stars that were visible where there was no cloud.
I tried to think of a means of escape. I guessed what was happening to us. We had been abducted as women had been throughout the years. Pirates descended on the land; they plundered; they stole; they burned down villages and townships and they took the women for their pleasure.
If only I could talk to Honey! If only I could think of some means of escape! But I was helpless, trussed and on a boat which was being rapidly rowed out to sea by strangers, and two men who had posed as a groom and a false priest were watching over us.
A wild fantasy came to me. The Rampant Lion would appear suddenly—returned unexpectedly from the voyage; the galleon would be discovered. Jake Pennlyon would board her; I could see his eyes flashing, see him standing there, legs apart, a bloodstained cutlass in his hands; I could hear his laugh as he uncut my bonds.
But these were but dreams.
Relentlessly the little boat pushed its way through the water to the Spanish galleon.
The men had shipped oars. We had arrived and there was no Rampant Lion to sight us, no Jake Pennlyon to cut our bonds.
John Gregory was bending over me. He cut the rope about my ankles and removed the gag from my mouth. He pulled me to my feet, for my arms were still bound behind me.
I stood unsteadily; the galleon loomed over us.
Honey and Jennet were beside me, pinioned as I was.
“Honey,” I said, “we have been betrayed.”
She nodded. I wondered again if she had seen Edward’s body. Poor Edward, so gentle and kind.
I was aware of Jennet, who would have no wedding now.
A rope ladder was dangling from the side of the ship.
John Gregory said: “You will climb it.”
“Without use of our hands, traitor?” I asked.
“I shall untie you now, but do not attempt to do anything but climb the ladder.”
“For what reason?”
“You will discover.”
“You rogue!” I cried. “You came to our house… You deceived us. …”
He said gently: “This is not the time for talk, Mistress. You must obey.”
“Board that ship? For what reason? It’s a Spaniard.”
“Please do not force me to hurt you.”
“Hurt me! Have you not brought me here by force … and you talk about hurting me!”
Honey said: “Don’t lose your temper, Catharine. It won’t help.”
There was hopelessness in her voice and I believed then that she had seen Edward in the courtyard.
But I was incensed. “You are no priest,” I said to John Gregory.
He did not answer. He released my hands and propelled me toward the ladder.
Richard Rackell was waiting to guide me to the rope; I made out faces above looking down.
Someone called out in Spanish and John Gregory answered in that tongue.
The boat dipped. It would not be easy to climb that ladder. I looked down at the dark water and I thought of death by drowning. Perhaps it would be preferable, I thought, but not seriously. Whatever life was I would always cling to it. The rope was put into my hands and I started to climb. Hands stretched out and I was pulled onto the deck. There were dark faces about me; I heard the excited babble of voices. Then there was silence. A figure came forward. He spoke in an authoritative voice. He must have given an order, for I was seized by two men who dragged me forward; we were followed by the man who had given the order and I was taken to a cabin in which a candle in a horn lantern gave a dim light.
A door was locked on me and I was alone. I was shivering because I was in my nightclothes and it had been cold on the boat; and even now I was not sure whether it was the temperature or fear which made me tremble so. It was incredible that yesterday Honey and I had been calmly making plans for Jennet’s wedding and now all three of us were prisoners on a pirate vessel.
They had taken us—three women, for what purpose there seemed to be no doubt. But why three of us and why had they not burned down the house and robbed us? Perhaps they had. Perhaps they took us first. They had, I feared, killed Edward. It was not the first time the coasts had been raided. This was the sort of thing that Jake Pennlyon and his men did in foreign lands.
I should never have come to Devon. I should have stayed at home.
I looked into the future which all reasoning told me was looming ahead of me. I who had stood out so fiercely against marriage with Jake Pennlyon would now be used to satisfy men—any men—who were on a long journey from home and needed diversion.
I felt ill at the prospect. I wondered whether I would not have been wiser to refuse to climb the ladder: to have chosen death rather than this.
On the floor was a rug. I lay on it because my legs were shaking. The ship roc
ked on the water and I lay watching the horn lantern swing with the motion of the vessel.
I thought of my mother and of what she would do when she heard that I had been abducted. How she had suffered! And now this. And not only me but Honey too and she loved us both dearly.
I thought of Honey then, beautiful, dignified Honey, who was carrying Edward’s child; and to consider her submitted to a hundred indignities hurt me as deeply as did the contemplation of my own fate. I would fight. I would kick and scream. If I could find a knife I would defend myself. I would no doubt be powerless against strong men, but I would make it so that they never felt safe from me. I would make it so that when they slept they would never be sure that I might not plunge a knife into their hearts or drop some poison into their ale or whatever they drank.
I was sustained by thoughts of what I would do.
Wild cat, Jake Pennlyon had called me. They would learn that wildcats were dangerous.
The motion of the ship had changed. I knew that we had shipped anchor and were sailing out of the harbor.
The door of the cabin was opened and Honey was thrust in. She, in her night robes as I was, was clutching them about her. I saw that her robe had been ripped down the front.
Already, I thought.
The door was locked on her. I had stood up. We ran to each other and just stood holding each other tightly.
“Oh, Honey, Honey,” I cried. “What have they done to you?”
She said: “They have done nothing. There was one man…” She shivered. “He took me to a place like this. He tore my gown from my shoulders, then he saw the Agnus Dei. I always wear it about my neck, and he drew back as though afraid and I was brought here.”
“Honey,” I said, “this is a nightmare. It can’t be true.”
She didn’t answer.
I said: “Edward…”
She remained mute and suddenly put her hands over her eyes. It was a gesture of despair.
I touched her arm gently.
“He tried to stop them,” I said. “Where was the rest of the household? Are they all traitors like John Gregory and Richard Rackell? What are we going to do, Honey? What can we do? They have brought us here to be as camp followers are to the army. But they go willingly. We are abducted against our will. They will use us … until they are tired of us. Then perhaps they will throw us overboard. Perhaps it would be better to cheat them. To take that plunge ourselves first?”
Lion Triumphant Page 11
