The Wise Woman

by Philippa Gregory

  'Don't listen for me,' she said, her voice a low whisper. 'Don't hear my voice. Don't have pet names for me. Don't recognize my voice among all others. Don't listen for my singing. Don't waken when you cannot hear my breathing in the bed beside you. Don't harken for me when I am away. Don't listen for my step when I am close.'

  Delicately she stroked at one ear until it was smoothed quite away, and then she turned the doll around and stroked and rubbed the second ear until it too was gone.

  Then she put the doll on its back on her lap again and pressed her index finger to its lips. 'Don't speak to me,' she said. 'Don't whisper to me, don't sing for me, don't joke with me, don't pray for me.' With jerky little motions she scratched at Hugo's mouth. 'Don't call me,' she said. 'Don't call me. Don't dream of me and speak my name, don't wake and say my name. Don't let my name come to your lips.'

  His mouth was a smooth smear, but still Alys rubbed and rubbed at it.

  'Don't kiss me,' she said. 'Don't put your mouth on mine. Don't put your tongue to my lips. Don't lick me, or kiss me, or bite me. Don't take my body into your mouth. Don't suckle at my nipples until my breasts ache for you. Don't bite my neck or my shoulders or my belly. Don't take me in your mouth and tease me with your tongue and suck me till I cry out in pleasure and beg you to do more.'

  Hugo's mouth was a shapeless hollow. Alys had rubbed his lips until there was nothing there. The wax had melted and the mouth was eroded. An ugly little monster was all that was left of what had been a miniature copy of Hugo. An ugly little monster, blinded like some cave-dwelling fish, fingerless like an aborted baby, earless, toothless, gumless, lipless, with just a gaping hollow where his mouth had been.

  Alys laughed again and her laughter was harsh with a wild panic.

  'And now you, my Lady Catherine,' she said softly. Very gently, with infinite care, she took up the doll which was Catherine and set it on her lap beside the doll of Hugo. She turned them to face one another and jiggled the grotesque penis against the female doll. She rubbed it against the doll's mouth, rubbed it against her neck, her belly. Then she rocked them together in an obscene dance. She pressed the dolls together, and then took them apart again. She slipped the gross wax penis into the female doll, and took it out again. Then she laid the female doll on her back and pressed the male doll down on top of her so the penis slipped into the monstrous maw, and they stayed together.

  Alys took a scrap of ribbon from the purse at her girdle and fastened the two dolls together. In the firelight, the little female doll seemed to gleam with contentment, the flickering light made her cheeks pink and warm. On top of her, tied fast, was the eyeless, earless, fingerless, mouthless monster which was Hugo. Alys let them rest together on the floor at her feet and stared at the fire.

  After long, long minutes she shook herself from her reverie and bent down and took the two of them up.

  'So,' she said. 'Hugo is hot for Catherine. He cannot let her alone. He is like a man obsessed. He is a man half mad with desire. He itches constantly for the feel of his cock inside her.

  'And she…' Alys said slowly. 'She is contented. She is his beast. She is his brood mare, his whore, his dog for the whipping. He can do what he likes with her, she feels he can do no wrong. She forgets everything else -everything else,' Alys said with emphasis. 'She forgets fears and rivals and enmities because she is exhausted and drained and then filled with joy again as her husband runs back to her like a thirsty dog runs to his trough of water.'

  The bitterness of Alys' vomit was still on her tongue. She hawked and spat into the flames.

  'He looks at no other woman,' she said. She jiggled the two dolls together. 'He desires no one else. He thrusts into her as if he would fuck his way to paradise.' 'And she loves it,' she said with distaste. She held the little dolls together for a moment longer and then untied the ribbon which bound them. They fell apart at once, as if the male doll were glad to be rid of the binding. Alys frowned a little, wondering what it meant. Then she set the doll Hugo down beside his sire on the hearthstone and started to stroke the female doll's belly.

  'His seed is in you,' she said softly. 'And you conceive a boy. You get fatter, the baby grows.' Alys' clever fingers moulded the wax into a new shape. Catherine became monstrously large. 'You grow and grow,' Alys said. It sounded more like a curse than a spell for fertility. 'Nothing will stop you. No fear, no shock, no accident. You grow larger and larger and your appetites are gross. And then…' Alys paused. 'You take to your bed in labour. And from your pain and travail you bring forth a son who is the image of his father.'

  Alys paused. Her lovely face was twisted with anger and with jealousy.

  'And then you reward me,' she said sternly to the grossly swelling doll. 'You pay me a purse of gold and your blessing. You give me enough money for me to go far away, wherever I will. And you and I part and I never have to see you or your husband again.' Alys gathered the three dolls on her lap. 'The spell is done,' she told them. 'And you brought it all on yourselves. These are the destinies you desired, or the destinies you forced me into making for you. The spell is done and it starts to work this very day.'

  She slid the three into her purse again and slipped down from her stool to the hearthstone before the fire. She pulled the cloak around her and closed her eyes. Within seconds she was asleep.

  As dawn broke, and the cocks crowed and the animals called and then the people awoke, Alys slept on. She slept without dreams to remember. But all night and all the early morning, the tears welled up from under her closed eyelids in a constant unstoppable flood. And her hands remained clenched in fists, the thumb between the second and third fingers, in the old, old ineffectual sign against witchcraft.

  When the bakers' lad came in just after dawn to stoke the fire he found her there, her tangle of golden hair dirty in the ashes, and when he shook her awake and she sat up, the ashes still clung to her, so that she looked like Morach, an old woman with a wild shock of grey and white hair. Her face was dirty and in the shadowy dawn the smears looked like hard lines from years of longing and no satisfaction. The bakers' lad had never seen Alys before and he recoiled from her.

  'I beg your pardon, dame!' he said swiftly, and when she struggled to her feet he took to his heels and was off into the courtyard where the grey light of dawn made the castle appear icy and white.

  Alys followed him out of the open door as far as the well in the centre of the yard. She crooked a finger at him. 'Pull me water,' she said, her voice a hoarse croak.

  The boy came nervously towards her but stayed out of reach. 'Promise you won't hex me?' he said.

  Alys laughed, a bitter sound, and hawked and spat. 'I promise,' she said. Then she looked at him and her blue eyes gleamed with malice. 'Not this time, at any rate.'

  The boy trembled but came closer and wound down the bucket. Three times he had to drop it before it smashed through the ice in the well. Then he wound it up, filled to the brim. Alys cupped her hands and scooped up the icy water and drank greedily.

  'Now go to your work,' she said. 'But tell no one you saw me.' 'I won't, lady! I won't,' the boy promised eagerly. Alys looked at him until he nearly shrivelled with fear. 'I shall know if you do,' she said with emphasis. Then she turned away from him and went wearily to the women's quarters to wash and change her gown and comb her hair. The purse with the three candlewax dolls knocked at her thigh with every step she took.

  Eliza fell on her the moment she was through the door, with the others not far behind. 'Where have you been? You've been out all night!' Eliza exclaimed. Then, when Alys started to reply, 'Never mind that!' she said impatiently. 'Never mind! You'll never guess what's been happening here. All night! All night!'

  The other women, bright-eyed and half hysterical, collapsed into laughter. Alys felt herself smiling, catching their amusement despite her weariness. 'What?' she asked.

  'Lord Hugo!' Eliza said. 'You'll never guess. He's been here, with my lady, all night long. And we saw, we saw…'

  'Tell
it right!' Margery reproved. 'Tell it from the beginning.'

  'I'll not hear it,' Ruth said. 'Lady Catherine is sure to come in and catch you tattling, Eliza.'

  'Well go sit with her then!' Eliza said impenitently. 'And if she comes – cough so we can hear you. But I've got to tell Alys. I shall die if I don't.'

  'Silly girl,' Mistress Allingham said indulgently. 'Not that we didn't have a night of it! Indecent!'

  Ruth went out of the room and Eliza dragged Alys to a footstool and sat at her feet.

  'After supper,' she began breathlessly, 'Lord Hugo came up here and said he would like to hear us singing and playing. Ruth played the mandolin and I sang, and then Margery sang. He said my voice was very sweet and he smiled at me – you know how he does!' 'Yes,' Alys said wearily. 'I know his smile.' Eliza winked. 'Well, you would of course. My, you're a sly one! I never knew you were hot for him. I thought you were wedded to the single state! And there you were all along…'

  'About last night…' Margery interrupted.

  'Yes!' Eliza said. 'Well, after we had sung he called for some mead and he made us all have a glass with him, and then he took the bottle, as bold as you please, and said to Lady Catherine. "I think we will have need of this to quench our thirsts this night."' Eliza's eyes grew wide with double meanings. 'Then he said, "Though I will give you enough to drink, my lady, I promise you! Your mouth will run over with it!"' Alys swallowed convulsively. 'Vile,' she said softly. 'There's worse than that!' Eliza said with delight. 'They went into the room together and we were just left there, imagine how we felt! We didn't know whether to go or stay. Ruth was for going but I said – we haven't been dismissed, he might want something – so we stayed.

  'Then we heard it. First of all we heard them talking, quietly, so we couldn't hear the words. Then we heard Lady Catherine say, "I beg you, my lord, I beg you to give me a son. Do it to me!"' Eliza gave a squawk of laughter and clapped a hand across her mouth.

  'Ruth left then, you know how she is. But we stayed. And then we heard Lady Catherine moaning. She sounded like she was in pain so we thought we should go in, but then we thought not. Over and over again she was saying: "Hugo, Hugo, please, oh please.'"

  'What was he doing?' Alys asked. She thought she knew.

  Eliza licked her lips. 'We peeped,' she said. 'We opened the door really and she had the curtain drawn across it so they didn't know. I peeped around the curtain, I thought I could say we were worried for her if they caught me. Catch me! They wouldn't have noticed if we'd danced in singing.'

  'What was he doing?' Alys asked. She was very white. 'He had made her kneel before him,' Eliza said, her voice a delighted whisper. 'He had his cock out and he was hard as a spear -I saw it! And he was rubbing it all over her face, her eyes, her ears, her hair, everywhere. And rubbing himself on her neck and the front of her nightgown.'

  Alys was very still, she was thinking of the little dolls and the obscene dance she had made them do before she had tied them together with the ribbon.

  'He ripped her gown,' Eliza said. 'And she just knelt there and let him do what he wanted. And he rubbed himself against her breasts. She was shameless. She was there with her gown ripped to her navel and her arms tight around his bum just moaning and moaning for more.'

  Alys put a hand to her forehead, she was cold and wet. 'And then?' she asked. 'I suppose he had her?' Eliza shook her head. 'Worse,' she said. 'What?' Alys said.

  'He told her to get on the bed and spread herself wide,' Eliza whispered. Alys shut her eyes briefly.

  'She looked disgusting!' Eliza said in delighted shock. 'She stuck her legs right out and she opened herself with her hands.'

  Alys shook her head. 'Oh, enough, Eliza! I don't want to know.'

  Eliza was unstoppable. 'And he climbed on the bed and he rammed inside her as if he hated her,' she said in an awed whisper. 'Then he pulled out again and walked away.' 'What happened?' Alys asked.

  'She screamed,' Eliza said. 'She screamed when he thumped in and then she screamed again when he pulled out. She was writhing on the bed like a barrel of eels. She was wild! She kept begging him and begging him to do it to her.'

  'Did he?' Alys asked tersely.

  Eliza shook her head. 'Not properly, not like she wanted. Over and over again he went to the bed and mounted her once, and then pulled away. And again and again she screamed for more. Then he made her get off the bed.' Alys waited in silence.

  'He made her strip naked and tear her shift into pieces,' Eliza said. 'Then he told her to knot the pieces into a rope.'

  'Good God!' Alys said impatiently. 'Why did you not stop him? Why did you not at least call to her?'

  Eliza looked at her. 'Don't you know?' she asked. 'Are you so cold that you don't know that? She was loving it. She wanted him to treat her like that. She wanted to be his brood mare, his whipped dog. She was not his wife; she was his whore.'

  Alys sat very still and let the echo of her spell wash over her and around her. She wondered how deep an evil she had done.

  'He made her crawl up and down the floor,' Eliza said. 'He made her crawl on her hands and knees. He tied the shift over her eyes so she could not see and he made her crawl around. Sometimes he entered her from behind, sometimes he went to her head and forced her mouth on to him. And whatever he did,' – Eliza's voice was soft with delighted shock – 'she cried for more.'

  'All night?' Alys asked coldly. She was thinking of the two dolls tied together and then their abrupt falling apart.

  Eliza shook her head. 'He took the blindfold off her and he put it around his own back,' she said. 'He did it around her so they were bound together. Then he lifted her up and lowered her on to him.'

  Alys could feel vomit again rising in her throat from her empty belly.

  'She screamed,' Eliza said.' A long really loud scream, as if he had really hurt her that time. And the two of them dropped to the floor and he humped her on the rushes until her back bled.'

  Alys hawked and spat into the embers of the fire. 'Give me some ale, Margery,' she said softly. 'This story of Eliza's makes me sick to my very heart.'

  'It's done,' Eliza said with quiet triumph. 'The story's done. I said you should have been here.'

  Alys sipped the ale. It was warm and stale from standing all night in the pitcher. 'Did he spend the night in her bed?' she asked, but she already knew the answer. Eliza shook her head. 'He untied the rope when he had done with her and sprang away from her as if he hated her,' she said. 'Lady Catherine was still lying on the floor and he slapped her – one cheek and then the other – and then he pulled up his breeches and left her, like that. With her back all bruised and bloody and his hand print on both her cheeks.'

  Alys nodded. 'And is she grieved?' she asked, detached.

  Eliza shook her head. 'She was singing this morning when I took her cup of ale in to her. She had her hands on her belly and she told me she is sure she has conceived a child. She is sure she is going to bear him a son. She has begged her way into paradise and she is content.' Alys nodded and sipped at the ale again. 'Good,' she said. 'Hugo is back with his wife, his wife is carrying his child. Neither of them will trouble me, I am spared her foul jealousy and his dangerous lusts. I can do what I ought to do – clerk for my lord and keep him and his household well.'

  She got up from the stool and shook the dust from her gown. 'It has a bitter taste,' she said quietly to herself. 'I never knew it had a bitter taste.'

  'What has?' asked Eliza. 'The ale? It should be sweet enough.'

  'Not the ale,' Alys replied. 'The taste of victory.'

  Eleven

  It was bitterly cold all February. The river froze into great long slabs of grey and white ice. When the ladies walked along the path beside the river they could see the water dashing along beneath the thick skin. Alys shuddered and drew as far back as the snowy banks would allow. In the second week a thick mist blew across the moors from the south-west and the women stayed indoors for one long winter day after another. It was dark w
hen they woke, then pale and cloudy and brooding all day, then dark again at three in the afternoon. Sounds were muffled in the fog and from the window in the gallery you could not see the river below – from the old lord's room high in the round tower you could neither see nor hear the castle courtyard.

  Alys spent all the time she could with the old lord in his little room in the tower. It was warm there and the lord and his steward David were quiet easy company. She wrote as she was bid, restrained condolences to the Princess Mary for the death of her mother, the Dowager Princess Catherine of Aragon, she read to the old lord from bawdy, unlikely Romances and listened to his anecdotes and memories of battles and jousting and of the time when he was young and strong and Hugo had not even been born.

  The mood in the women's gallery above the great hall was ominous. Lady Catherine plunged from hysterical gaiety, when she commanded the women to play and sing and dance, into a deep sullen anxiety when she would sit at her loom without weaving and sigh. The women bickered among themselves with the fretful irritation of caged animals. And once or twice a week, like a water-wheel turning against its will, Lord Hugo would come to the women's chamber, bearing a jug of mead.

  The evening would start merrily enough, with the women dancing and Lady Catherine in a flutter of excitement. Hugo would drink deep, his jokes would grow more bawdy. He would grab Eliza if she was within reach and fondle her openly, before his wife and the other ladies. Then he would up-end the jug and fling it towards the fireplace, take Lady Catherine by her wrist and drag her off to the bedchamber. As the women tidied the room, sweeping up the broken pottery and setting the glasses to one side on the cupboard, they would hear Catherine's loud shrieks of pain and then her gasping unrestrained sobs of pleasure. At two in the morning, without fail, Hugo would loose his wife from the rope of linen which he always tied around them, and stagger, blear-eyed and foul-tempered, for his own bed.