"You must go faster," she demanded, releasing him to run ahead once again.
If he'd had any breath left, he'd have told her he was trying to do just that. As it was his lungs felt as if they were tearing, his heart beating as if to burst. With her skirts held high over her knees, Johanna raced ahead of him around the mound.
"Stop, you!"
He shot a swift look behind him. The onion seller and another man burst out into the open area. From the tower's roof came a piercing whistle. Rob glanced up. Two armed men stood there. "They are going for the river," one of the guards called down.
It was only as he rounded the mound that Rob saw the river flowing through a gate in the city wall. On the far side sat a mill, the waterwheel turning with a steady clank and groan; on the near side were a line of what seemed to be large barns, each with a broad doorway set at water level. Willows grew between these odd dwellings and the river, their whip-thin branches trailing in the gentle current.
Johanna was barely panting as she tore around the last barn's corner, then thrust into the trailing branches and disappeared. Rob burrowed in after her. The trees' inner reaches had been thinned, leaving only an outer waterfall of green leaves and golden branches. Sunlight filtered through the mass to show Rob a long, narrow shelf of riverbank, carpeted with moss. The ground sloped gently downward from the tree trunks to the river's edge, its length completely empty; Johanna was gone.
"Where are you?" Rob gasped out, looking frantically around him for her.
"Here," came her whispered reply.
Johanna's head appeared out of the thick foliage from between two horny trunks. Barely visible through the dense branches behind her was the building's wall. Rob squeezed into the gap between the trunks and nigh on fell into a hole dug between the building and the trees. As Johanna yanked him down onto his seat, Rob's head disappeared beneath the surface of the earth. Overhead, the willow branches sifted back into place, concealing this odd hidey-hole.
He stared at the hole's moist earthen floor to distract himself from his discomfort. Near the edge of Johanna's skirt lay a wooden poppet; scraps of fabric and a broken wooden spoon were strewn at his feet.
"They're behind this one." The onion seller's winded call came from just around the corner. Willow branches rustled as their pursuers trotted along the water's edge.
"They must be here. We saw them round the corner," his accomplice gasped.
Their footsteps thudded on the earth above and behind Rob's head as they moved on down the bank without stopping. He caught back the desire to sigh in relief. He wasn't safe yet. Branches rustled and snapped ever more faintly as the men searched along the river's edge then a ferocious hiss filled the air, followed by the threatening flap of wings.
"Jesu! Swans!" one man cried. "Run!"
Rob's eyes flew wide in horror. An angry swan could kill a man, much less a lad. It was better to be arrested than to die.
"The swans," he managed to get out in warning to Johanna.
She shook her head. "Papa made this place just for me, so I could be busy whilst he's working in the warehouse," she whispered, pointing to the wall before them. "He told the swans they mustn't disturb me while I'm here."
Behind them, the men scrambled toward the warehouse's end. Hissing and flapping, the vicious waterfowl passed Johanna's hidey-hole without stopping. The birds followed the intruders to the building's corner then offered another round of honking avian threats. A moment's silence followed this.
"We must look again," the onion seller said at last from the building's edge. "I'm wagering they're hiding in one of these warehouses."
"I'm not going back there again," his companion replied, decisive in his terror. To hide his cowardice, he added, "Besides, there's no point to it. They're either so well hidden we'll never find them, or they've already swum beyond Stanrudde's walls by way of the watergate."
The onion seller's response was a relieved string of curses aimed at both Rob and Johanna's parentage. His voice grew fainter with each foul word. In another moment, there was nothing to hear save the chirp of birds as they darted from branch to branch overhead.
Rob's astonishment grew. This was a miracle, indeed. Not only had he escaped being arrested, but he now knew how to exit the city without being seen. He was free! As soon as he caught his breath, he'd be done with Stanrudde for all time.
Aye, but without Johanna he'd never have managed it. Mayhap having a girl for a friend wasn't so bad a thing. He turned to thank her.
She had her poppet in hand. Humming tunelessly, she danced the plaything up the hole's wall. Grimacing in disgust, Rob leaned his head back against the rooty wall of this odd place and stared up into the branches. From the warehouse roof a pigeon gurgled. Reeds rustled as the river chuckled along its banks, singing a merry song to the steady creak of the mill's machinery. The breeze lifted, tangling and sighing in the willow branches as it offered him the warm scent of moldering leaves.
Tension drained from him, replaced by an odd sort of peace. It sounded like home here. Soothed, he closed his eyes to drink in every bit of it and drifted into sleep.
The clanging of bells teased Rob from his rest. He opened his eyes to find thick, shadowy stripes on the wall before him. What sunlight yet trickled through the willow branches was tinged with rose.
He stretched. Although every muscle ached, he felt strong enough to swim a bit. He turned to bid Johanna farewell, only to discover he was already alone.
Coming to his feet, he peered through the curtain of branches for her. Someone sat on the river's edge; he could hear the splash of feet in the water. Rob frowned in irritation. Even his sister, as young as she was, knew better than to sit so near the river.
Clambering out of the hidey-hole, he shoved through the gap in the tree trunks. "Come back from there before the swans have at you or you drown," he cried, using the same stern tone he saved for his sister.
The person on the bank turned and pushed aside the branches. It was Helewise, not Johanna, who looked at him from the river's edge. Rob froze in horror, waiting for her to call the guard to come fetch him. Instead, she smiled at him.
"Why, thank you for your warning, Rob, but the swans nest a goodly distance downstream. They let us be up here." Her voice was alive with warm affection.
Rob's horror died into confusion. Helewise didn't look at all like herself. Her gowns were orange and gold, their fineness and color saying they must be her best attire. As if she were some wee lass, not Master Walter's exalted housekeeper, she'd pulled her skirts high over her knees so she could dandle her bare feet in the water without staining them. So too, had she discarded her veil and band, laying them atop her shoes and stockings. With her head bared, the setting sun found reddish lights in her dark hair.
She patted at the ground beside her on the river's bank. "Hey now, it's a fine June even, this one. Come sit with me whilst I savor it."
It was the sweetness of her invitation that pricked Rob into taking a step toward her. He caught himself. This was no friend, but Master Walter's housekeeper who hated him. Aye, so she was. Did that not mean she might only hate him all the more if he refused her? Choosing a dry spot not too close to her, he sat, drawing his legs up to his chest. "I am sitting," he said.
She tilted her head to one side and studied him for a long moment. "Why did you run?"
However gently asked, hers was a serious question demanding an honest answer. Rob turned his gaze toward his shoes. He could hardly tell her it was she who'd driven him to it by being unfair and unjust. He tried a dodge.
"I am now an outlaw. If I return to Master Walter's home, I'll be arrested as a vandal."
Helewise's laugh was soft and low. "A simple misunderstanding, that, already remedied. At no cost to you, I might mention."
Rob's head popped up from his knees. He stared at her. How did she know he was worried over the cost?
Helewise only raised her brows. "By the by, I am not distracted. Why did you run?"
; There was no help for it; he had to answer. Perhaps if he didn't tell the whole truth, it wouldn't be so grave a sin. "I hate it here."
"You haven't been here long enough to know that,” Helewise replied, moving her feet in the water. Droplets spewed into the air, turning to pink and gold before they returned to the river's gleaming silver surface. "Perhaps once you get to know us better, you'll come to like it."
Rob pressed his forehead against his knees so she couldn't see his face. "What choice have I but to stay? Master Walter bought me from Papa for ten coins. Now, I owe even more because I must pay for my clothing and a ruined meal."
Once again, Helewise's warm laugh startled him. He looked up at her. The lilt of her mouth was so gay it was hard not to smile in return.
"Oh, but I think me the master is going to find you an interesting sort of lad." She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him nearer until they sat hip to hip. Although he didn't fight her, neither did he relax against her. "Buy your clothing, indeed. And, why would you think you must pay the master for a meal Tom spilled?"
He looked up at her, his confusion growing until words burst past his lips before he knew he meant to free them. "Why are you being so kind now, when you hate me?"
Her eyes opened wide in true surprise. "Hate you? Why ever do you think I hate you?"
Guilt again twisted in his stomach. He stared down at his shoes. "Because I lied for Johanna when her cat spilled the cheese."
Helewise laughed. She crooked a finger beneath his chin to raise his head, forcing him to meet her gaze. There was nothing in her face save amusement. "So, it has been guilt eating at you. I thought I saw it in your eyes. Best you no longer lie for our little mistress if you cannot bear the weight of your sin, lad. Now come. It's time we were for home."
Home. Despair washed over Rob. Would that he could go home.
As his eyes teared, Helewise's gaze softened. She freed his chin to finger-comb his hair back from his brow. Her touch was so much like Mama's that Rob's lips quivered.
"Tell me." It was a soft command.
"Blacklea is home," he whispered, the corners of his mouth drooping.
"And, you are sick with longing for it." She sighed, her voice as low as his. "So was it for me when I first came to Stanrudde. Lad, let us chaffer a bit here. You give me your vow to stay, swearing that you'll run no more until the master has returned. In turn I will vow to beg Master Walter to release you from his service, should your sickness not have abated by that time."
She paused to point a warning finger at him. "However, you must vow to try your best to like it here until that time."
Rob's pain abated somewhat as the possibility of escape opened up before him. September was only two and a half months distant. More important to his heart was the discovery that Helewise did not hate him at all. He nodded his assent.
"Good," she said in brisk acceptance, then levered herself to her feet "Now we must be going, else we'll be out and about after all honest folk should be within their own walls."
Stepping from the water, she shook the moisture from her legs and thrust her bare feet into her shoes. After she'd stuffed her stockings into her belt, she caught up her veil and band. Tilting her head upward to a sky now streaked with mauve and orange, she fastened on the head covering. When the veil once again shrouded her soft cheeks, she looked down at him.
Rob's heart quirked in fear's return. Gone was warm and laughing Helewise, leaving only the cold housekeeper in her place. She held out a hand to him. It was a friendly enough invitation. He looked up at her again, squinting against the dying light to study her. Behind the cool expression, glimmers of the other Helewise remained.
"Why do you make your face blank like this?" he asked as he rose to his feet.
Helewise's brows peaked in surprise, her face warming back into its previous softness. "Do I? I didn't know."
Rob nodded in new understanding. So it had been with Mama. When his dam was busy at her work, her face lost the special expression she saved for him.
His heart at peace, he took her hand and let Helewise lead him around the warehouse's corner. As they passed the now quiet mill and started across the short grassy stretch before the tower's mound, he asked, "Will I be punished for running?"
"Nay, you did not know what you did was wrong," Helewise replied, leading him down a lane. Folk hurried past them, intent on finishing their last chore of the day before retreating to their homes and suppers.
"Is Johanna being punished?" Rob shot her a worried look. It would be unfair if Johanna was punished and he was not.
"She is, but not for aiding you. She should never have spoken so to a merchant, even if he is no more than a regrater."
"What will happen to her?"
The corners of the housekeeper's mouth lifted. "A terrible thing indeed. It's the chamber pots she must empty on the morrow. A rude and filthy job given to a rude lass with a filthy mouth."
Rob shuddered in pity for Johanna, but his easiness grew. If Helewise treated the master's daughter so, she would only ever be fair with him. Then, a new worry woke in him. Even Johanna had aught to do on the morrow while he had no job to his name. "What will I do for Master Walter if Tom is to be the scullery lad?"
Helewise glanced down at him. "Do you know, I think the master will be glad of Tom's suggestion that you work with Master Colin in the apothecary's shop. It is a great honor, this. You will be the youngest servant ever within those walls."
Although Rob wasn't certain what an apothecary's shop was, he very much liked the sound of being someone special. Pride teased at his lips, trying to make them lift into a smile, but he remembered the courtesy Mama had taught him to use. "My thanks," he said, borrowing Wilfred's solemn tones as he continued. "I will endeavor to serve Master Walter and Master Colin well."
"I'm certain you will," Helewise replied graciously. After a moment's silence, she added, "By the by, Rob, there are no tally sticks in our household. Instead, we figure the worth of our accounts by beads strung on wires and scribe those amounts onto parchment. Do you think you might like to learn how to do this?"
Beads on a wire? He frowned up at her. What sort of counting was this? Mayhap it was the way Wilfred did his accounts. Rob had watched the bailiff use dried pea pods on a string to calculate amounts. If so, then it was no different than how Rob used a twig to mark lines in the dirt as he counted the bushels of grain Papa took from their fields. There were many different methods of counting, but the counting, itself, was always the same. No matter how it was done, there was great joy for Rob in counting.
"I would like that very much," he replied, savoring his first happy moment at Stanrudde.
Stanrudde
Two and a half hours past None,
The eve of Saint Agnes's Day, 1197
Rob caught his breath as Johanna fitted herself to him, but it was more than this suggestive movement that sent him all the way to passion's edge. With every touch and kiss, she told him she loved him still. It was the need of his heart that rose to meet then match his body's lust. She was his wife, his to touch and love at his will.
Thrusting his fingers into her hair, he kissed her cheek, her ear, then nuzzled at her throat. Pleasure deepened into driving need. He dropped a hand to her hip, drawing her nearer still. Even with so much fabric between them, he could feel her thighs pressed to his.
She made a sound that was half sigh, half moan, then lifted herself in delicious parody of what he longed to do with her. It was a patent reminder that the whores he'd used these many years had offered him naught but the pretense of satisfaction. Only Johanna had ever made him ache in pleasure. He quaked, indulging himself in the full depth of his desire for her.
"Master Robert, where are you?" Will's frightened call pierced the quiet in the alley, shattering his master's lust.
Rob tore his mouth from Johanna's and stared at her in shock. "My God, my God, what am I doing?" he breathed. The answer came from deep within him: adultery in the eyes of the world.<
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Instantly, he released her and stepped back. Johanna murmured in complaint, extending a hand as she invited him to once again cradle himself against her womanly curves. Her body's heat flowed across the short distance between them, twining around him, a siren's song. His heart begged him to answer her. How could it be adultery to love his own wife? But, logic laughed that even if their secret exchange of vows had made a true marriage, no one would believe that now, not after so many years.
Swallowing, Rob took two more backward steps to assure temptation's death. She was safe now. It was time for him to go. He could send the guard to see her home. Even as he commanded himself to move, his feet rooted themselves to this spot. He stared at her, drinking in her image.
With her wimple gone, Johanna's hair hung loose and tangled around her. Time's passage had darkened its color to more red than gold, but it yet retained its willful wave. She was taller than he remembered, but just as slender, or so said her sodden and filthy gowns as they clung to her every curve. That was, save for where they hung agape, revealing the shadowy valley between her breasts. He forced his gaze to the safety of her face.
Her neck was scratched. Blood smeared her cheek, but it was not hers. Her passion for him set her fair skin afire beneath what would be the morrow's bruises. Under the graceful line of the nose she so despised, her lips were yet soft and warm with his kisses. Her eyes were just as blue as ever. In their depths, his heart swore it saw the reflection of his love for her.
As his mind-dimming passion ebbed, logic strengthened and sneered at such a fantasy. If there was anything to read in her face or her behavior of the last moments, it was but shock. He was misinterpreting the stunned outcome of a horrible experience as love.
Rob looked away from her to stare out the alley's end. In the field, folk cried for mercy from the town's guard. They had more hope of pity than did he. Even if Johanna loved him still, she was and would always be Katel's wife in the eyes of the world. To challenge that was to place her in harm's way, as her father intended.
A Love For All Seasons Page 8
