The stone stairs beneath her feet were icy cold. She passed like a ghost out of the doorway and towards the gate which guarded the drawbridge. The soldiers were sleeping, there was no danger to watch for. Alys tiptoed across the bridge, her feet numb, and went to the moat-side.
She thrust her hand deep into her purse and pulled out the first doll she found. It was the Lady Catherine doll, grotesquely ugly with its monstrous sexuality and bursting belly. Alys shuddered as she held it in her hand and then she tossed it into the moat.
She had expected it to sink, to sink down into the green water and disappear. No one ever drained the moat, no one fished with nets. All sorts of rubbish and offal were thrown into it every day. Alys had thought the little dolls would sink to the bottom and no one would ever find them. Or if they did, the wax would be blurred and broken, and no one would ever think they were anything but candles, wastefully dropped by some negligent servant.
The little wax doll sank beneath the freezing water, and then, as Alys watched, it bobbed up again. Lady Catherine's mocking, ugly smile stared at Alys. The little candlewax eyes looked at her. 'No!' Alys cried aloud. 'Get down.' An icy breeze rippled across the moat. The wax doll bobbed in the waves. The face of Lady Catherine seemed to smile as if she was enjoying Alys' fear.
'Sink, damn you!' Alys dropped to her knees on the frozen bank, leaning out towards the bobbing doll. 'Sink down! Go down!'
The fitful little wind blew the doll closer inshore. 'Go down!' Alys breathed. 'Drown!' At once she caught herself. 'Oh God! I didn't mean that!' she said. In a frenzy of sudden anxiety she reached out towards the little doll. 'I meant the doll to sink, that's all!' she said, as if she were explaining herself to the darkness all around her. 'I didn't mean drown. I just want to be rid of it.'
The breeze was taking the doll away. At the same moment Alys heard someone hammering on the outer gate: servants coming to work, demanding admission.
Alys bunched up her nightshift in one hand and stepped into the glassy cold water. She gasped at the icy touch and reached out towards the little doll. It bobbed out further, just beyond her reach. 'I've got to get it,' she said.
She gritted her teeth and stepped out a little deeper. The water was swirling around her knees. Her feet were aching to the very bones with the cold. Something slimy and icy flickered across her calf. 'I've got to get it,' she said again.
The doll bobbed out further. Her little waxen white head turned away from Alys as if she were obstinate, as if she were playful.
'Come here,' Alys said. She clamped her teeth together to stop them from chattering, the cold seemed to be eating away at her feet, her legs, and now up to her thighs as she stepped further out.
The little doll bobbed in the winter dawn breeze and the face turned back to Alys. The doll was smiling at her.
Alys took one step further out and the little doll's smile widened as if it were about to burst into tinkling, malicious laughter. Her little arms came out above the water, she reached towards Alys. Alys stretched, her fingers just fractions of an inch away from the little wax hands. Alys took one more step forward and then stumbled on the greasy rubbish of the underwater bank of the moat. She heard the doll's tiny peal after peal of laughter as the steep side of the moat suddenly plunged downwards and fell away beneath her feet. Enticed into the depths of the moat Alys dropped like a stone into the slimy icy water, her scream cut short as water rushed into her mouth. Her hand closed over the little doll, her other hand was clenched on the purse. She thrashed helplessly in the water.
Alys had never learned to swim, she sank and then bobbed up gasping for air in a frenzy of panic. When her face broke free of the water she snatched at a breath but then choked helplessly and felt herself going down again.
The cold was her enemy. The icy green waters of the moat were eating her, her legs had gone numb and her thrashing thighs were powerless. Deep in her belly the cold moved in. Alys sank beneath the water and came up, coughing and retching. She opened her mouth to scream and a wave of icy green water swept into her face.
'No!' Alys cried out. She snatched for a breath but it was water she gobbled and it rushed into her lungs and weighed her down, thrust her under the surface. Alys choked and retched and breathed in a lungful of water. Then suddenly there were a pair of hard hands on her arm, and then under her armpit.
'Got you, wench,' a voice said from far away. Painfully, Alys was dragged from the water and beached, whooping and vomiting on the bridge. 'There, lass, there,' the man said. He flung his cape around her and rubbed her roughly, drying her and warming her at the same time.
'Holloa!' he shouted towards the guardroom. 'Let us in!'
He scooped Alys into his arms and carried her into the guardroom where a frowsy-faced lad threw open the door. 'Lass tried to drown herself,' he said tersely. 'Get some hot mead for her, quickly. And a sheet to wrap her in. And another cloak.'
The lad went running. Alys, hidden in the man's cloak, retching and vomiting, fumbled with her shift and thrust the dangerous little doll into her purse with the others.
The man held her. Water poured from Alys' mouth, she wept moat water, she pissed wetness into the wet shift, and her urine was as icy as the rest.
The man thumped her hard on the back and Alys struggled for breath, caught a gulp of air and then vomited a basin of water. 'Head down,' he said.
Water gushed from Alys' nose, her hair stuck like waterweed to her icy face. Remorselessly he held her, head down, until she had stopped choking, then he lifted her upright and thrust her into the chair and chafed her hands.
The lad burst in with a steaming jug and a billowing sheet. 'Good,' the man said. 'Wait outside.' He ripped Alys' nightshift from hem to collar and rubbed her body hard with the warm sheet. Her skin was rough with gooseflesh and her feet and fingers were blue. From thigh to ankle she was bleeding sluggishly from a hundred little cuts and scratches from the rubbish in the moat. Then the man wrapped her tight in his thick cloak, sat her in the chair, and held a mug of hot mead to her mouth.
Alys twisted away. The liquid was scalding. But he held her again and forced her to drink. It went down her sore throat like liquid fire. 'Here, don't I know you?' the man asked. Alys blinked up at him. Her teeth were chattering so badly and she was shivering so hard she could hardly make him out.
'Father Stephen,' she said, when she recognized the priest. 'It's me, Alys. Lady Catherine's woman. Lord Hugh's clerk.'
'More mead,' the priest commanded. He handed her the mug and Alys wrapped her hands around it. She was shuddering with deep chilled shivers.
'Drink it,' he said. 'I insist. It'll drive out the cold. You're looking better already.' Alys nodded. 'I'm grateful you were there,' she said. He frowned. 'Why did you do it?' he asked gently. 'It's a painful death, a nasty way to go. And hell at the end of it, for sure.' Alys nearly denied it, then she caught herself. 'I was afraid,' she improvised quickly. 'After the ordeal… Lady Catherine is suspicious of me… I am afraid of another ordeal, or another. She can make what claims she wishes against me. I could not sleep in the night and then I woke full of dread. I did not know what to do.'
Her teeth chattered as if denying the lie. Alys clenched them on the mug and sipped.
He looked distraught. 'Child, I had no idea,' he said. 'I am to blame for this! I had no idea that the lady's personal vengeance against you went so deep. I would never have allowed an ordeal to satisfy mortal malice! It's a sin to use the ordeal to pay some grudge. I should have known! And to drive you to despair!' He broke off and took two swift strides down the room.
Alys pushed her hand through her hair and squeezed out some of the icy water. She watched him, trying to measure his mood and the extent of her danger.
'You must confess,' he said. 'Confess and pray for the sin of attempting to take your life. It is a mortal sin, God forbids it by name. You must wrestle with your despair and your fear. And I will also ask you to forgive me. I have been too rigorous. I have sought for wrongdoing to
o eagerly. It is a sin.' He thought for a moment. 'It is the sin of vanity,' he said. 'I have been proud of my record of witch-taking, of hunting heresy. Many have come before me and few have escaped justice. But I must guard against pride.'
'I am innocent,' Alys said eagerly. 'And I was afraid that Catherine would force me to another ordeal. That you would support her and question me. And that some mistake – some innocent mistake – would mean my death.'
He nodded, stricken. 'I have been at fault,' he said. 'I am glad to be a scourge to the wicked, but not to an innocent like you. You must forgive me. I will never set an ordeal for you again. You can have my word. I will protect you against malice. You have proved your innocence, once with the ordeal of bread, and once in the moat. For if you were a witch you would have floated and you were assuredly drowning when I hauled you out.'
Alys nodded, and wrapped the cloak a little tighter around her. Father Stephen caught the movement and handed her another cup of mead. 'Drink,' he said. 'And then you must go to your chamber and make sure you are warm and dry. Fear no more, you are safe from any ordeal ever again. I will never try you and no one will ever test you while I am near to protect you. You were drowning like a Christian, you are no witch.'
Alys nodded again, a small gleam of satisfaction hidden behind the mug.
'Will Lady Catherine be awake? Will she trouble you with questions when you go to your chamber?'
Alys glanced at the slit window of the guardroom. It was grey with the winter dawn. 'She may,' she said. 'She is suspicious of all her women. I have more freedom than the others because I serve the old lord. But she watches us close, and she fears all of us.'
Father Stephen nodded. 'She has much to fear, poor lady,' he said. 'Hugo does not always use her kindly and the old lord is weary of her complaints. He has asked me to speak to my bishop about having her set aside and the marriage annulled.'
Alys felt her interest quicken. 'Can your bishop decide?' she asked.
Father Stephen glanced quickly behind them to see that they were not overheard. 'Of course not!' he said. 'The King is the supreme head of the Church. All matrimonial decisions go before the Church Court and finally to him. But the young lord and Catherine are in close cousinhood, and their grandparents were cousins also. I daresay it could be argued that the marriage was invalid.'
Alys drew a little breath. 'If you were to recommend it, would the bishop do as you advised?' she asked.
Father Stephen smiled. 'I have a degree of influence with His Grace,' he said smugly. 'But I have not yet decided what advice I should give. I have to pray and think on it, Alys. I am Hugo's friend, but in this I have to be God's man before any other claim.'
Alys nodded sympathetically. 'It is a heavy responsibility for you, Father Stephen,' she said. Her face was turned up to him, her dark eyes guileless. 'It would be so wonderful if you could get the young lord released,' she said. 'The castle would be a happier place! And Lady Catherine would be spared the pain she suffers now.'
Father Stephen nodded. 'Marriage is a sacrament,' he said. 'It lasts until God ends it – unless it was invalid from the first. There can be no argument about suiting a man's or a woman's whim.'
Alys nodded. 'But no one knows what my lady endures,' she said. 'Dreadful acts against her. And she so deep in sin that she glories in them like a beast.'
Father Stephen looked appalled. 'That should stop,' he said. 'Whatever the means, I should stop that. That is mortal sin.
'Here!' he said, breaking off. 'You are shivering. Get to your chamber and some dry clothes.'
Alys turned to go.
'Alys,' he said hesitantly. She turned. 'Swear that you will never think to kill yourself again,' he said. 'It is an awful sin, the most dreadful sin. And it would lead you to a terrible judgement and an eternity in hell. An eternity, Alys! Think of it.'
Alys bowed her head, the sodden purse with the magic dolls safe in her blue hands. 'I do think of it, Father,' she said dully. Then she turned and went.
Twelve
In the warm chamber the women were still asleep. Alys cast off the cloak and crept naked into bed. She stuffed the sodden purse with the candle dolls beneath her pillow, and pushed her damp hair away from her face. Then she slept and dreamed of the castle as her own, her own ladies calling her Lady Alys, and Hugo's warm body sleeping beside her. She turned in her sleep and said his name very softly, and smiled. Even when Eliza roughly shook her awake Alys stayed within the joyful confidence of her dream. She smiled at Eliza. He loves me, Alys thought. He loves me and he has promised to find a way for us to be together.
'My lady wants you,' Eliza said dourly. 'She's shouting for you, complaining you're late. Best make haste.'
Alys shook off her lazy contentment, jumped out of bed, threw on her dark blue gown and stuffed her hair in a dark blue cap, and fled across the gallery to Lady Catherine's bedroom.
'My lady?' she asked as she opened the door.
Catherine was sitting up in bed, her fine linen shift torn beyond mending at the front, her bedding rumpled.
'Alys,' she said and bared her yellow teeth in a smile. 'Alys, I have need of your skills.'
'Of course, Lady Catherine,' Alys said evenly. 'What may I do for you?'
'I think I am with child,' Catherine said. She gleamed at Alys. 'Hardly surprising I suppose!'
Alys nodded, saying nothing.
'My lord has been insatiable these last weeks,' Catherine said. She licked her lips like a gourmet savouring a dish. 'It seems he cannot leave me alone. And now he has put me with child.'
'I am very happy,' Alys said thinly. 'Are you?' Catherine taunted. 'Are you really? I find that surprising, Alys. I thought you hoped for a little of Lord Hugo's attentions yourself! But he has had eyes for no one but me. Isn't that true?'
'I know he has been much with you, my lady,' Alys said. She could feel anger rising up in her and the blood drumming softly in her head. 'All your ladies have been aware that my lord has visited you often. We are all glad for your happiness.'
Lady Catherine's laugh rippled out into the chamber. 'I'll warrant,' she said nastily. 'And you, Alys? Have you given up all hope of him looking your way?'
'Yes,' Alys lied easily. 'I am here to serve the Lord Hugh as his clerk and his herbalist when he needs me. When he has finished with my services I will return to my home. I am a servant to his son, and to you, my lady. Nothing more.'
Catherine nodded. 'Yes,' she said, underlining the point. 'You are Hugo's servant. He might use you or throw you aside. It does not matter.' Alys curtsied in silence.
'He can have you if he wishes,' Catherine said simply. 'It does not matter now. I have been jealous of you and I was afraid you would take him from me. But now I am with child no one can take him from me. He can lie with you if he pleases, he can take his pleasure on you or desert you. But I have won him, Alys. Do you understand? He is mine now. I am the mother of his child. And neither the old lord nor Hugo will think of you as anything but a diversion.'
Alys kept her gaze down on the floor. When Catherine fell silent she looked briefly up.
'Do you understand?' Catherine asked. Alys nodded. She could not speak, she was willing the news to be untrue. She was willing Catherine to be barren, to stay barren. She did not need Catherine to tell her that if Hugo had a legitimate heir then Catherine had won and Hugo's soft-voiced promises of last night would be set to one side.
'I have need of you,' Lady Catherine said in a different tone. 'My own mother is dead as you know, and I have no women friends to advise me. My old wet-nurse died last year and there is no one in the castle who can tell me how to care for myself and the health of the child. Lord Hugh swears you are skilled with herbs, the best healer he has ever known. I expect you to care for my health and advise me. And I will expect you to deliver my child. I want a son, Alys. You will be responsible.'
Alys moved a little closer to the high bed. 'My lady, you need a physician and a midwife,' she said. 'I have had some experience in ch
ildbirth but for your health and the health of an heir you should have a physician.'
Catherine shrugged. 'Nearer the time I shall have one attend me,' she said arrogantly. 'But in the meantime I shall have your advice and your constant attendance. You have attended births, I suppose? You are skilled?'
Alys shook her head stubbornly. 'I am only sixteen,' she said. 'My Lord Hugh has been kind enough to trust to my herbs but he had thrown out his medical advisers and would see them no more. It pleased him to use me instead of them. But you have no quarrel with the wise women and midwives around the castle, my lady. You should speak with them.' She did not say that she would rather die than care for Catherine but the dislike between the two women was as tangible as Catherine's sprawling, half-naked body.
'What about that old woman at Bowes?' Catherine asked, prolonging the discussion for the pleasure of watching Alys' pale tense face and hearing Alys searching for excuses. 'Would she care for me well?'
Alys fell into the trap. 'My cousin Morach?' she asked. 'Oh yes, indeed. She is skilled. She has attended many births. She could come and see you at once and care for you. She is an excellent midwife.'
Catherine nodded. 'I'll have you both then,' she said in careless triumph. 'I'll send the soldiers to take Morach up. She can live with us here. She can guard my health and you can both serve me. I shall have you wait on me night and day, Alys. And now I want you to look at me and tell me. Am I with child? Is it a boy?'
Alys dipped a curtsey, hiding her anger and her fear, and went to fetch her little bundle from the women's room.
'What did she want you for?' Eliza demanded as soon as she stepped in the door. 'Is she foul today? Hugo stayed with her all night, did he not?'
The Wise Woman Page 20
