by June Francis
‘Why?’ she blurted out. ‘You are lord of a manor now. No—two manors! Not a bad position for you to be in.’
Edmund stilled in the act of scooping up the rest of his clothes, and a muscle tightened in his cheek. ‘Are you saying that you believe I married you for your lands?’
She shrugged, her heart beating uncomfortably fast. ‘What am I to think, but that your standing in the world has changed now you are my husband?’ She prayed that she was mistaken in what she was thinking and he would confound her by denying her accusation and speaking words of love.
Frowning, he dressed swiftly. ‘I cannot deny that. Perhaps it is why I feel a deeper sense of urgency to speak with the king’s son. I cannot do that by staying here.’
He spoke with such a lack of emotion that Felicia’s heart ached and she could not bear to look at him. If she had done so, then she would have noticed how taut were the lines about his mouth and jaw.
‘Then there is naught else to be said but fare thee well, Husband,’ she said in a low voice.
‘Aye, may the Almighty preserve thee, Wife!’
She felt his lips brush her hair and that simple act moved her deeply. Then he was gone. She scrambled to her feet and looked about her for her shoes, only to realise that she must have lost them in the river. ‘Edmund—wait!’ she cried, even as she stood on a twig.
She winced but still she would have ran after him if she thought she could catch up with him. Her foot hurt and she stood irresolutely, thinking about what he had said to her. She sighed unhappily. What if he were not to return? She dreaded the weeks ahead with only her cousin for company. If Edmund had asked her, then she would have gone with him to Gloucester to meet the Lord Edward. Perhaps it was not too late! Her husband had yet to find Dickon and their horses to be saddled up! She wasted no more time but limped in the direction of the stables.
Edmund had almost reached the stables when Dickon came striding towards him. They stared at each other and Edmund sensed his friend was in as disturbed a state of mind as he was at that moment.
‘Time to go?’ Dickon ’s voice was terse.
‘Aye! I would have no further farewells,’ Edmund stated brusquely.
‘Some women cry,’ muttered Dickon.
‘Exactly.’ Edmund’s mouth tightened as he pushed open the stable door and went inside.
‘Mistress Joan spoke of having a black demon,’ blurted out Dickon.
Edmund shot him a glance. ‘How did you answer her?’
‘I suggested that she speaks to the priest.’ Dickon hesitated. ‘I deem you do not have to fear for your wife’s safety. For all Mistress Joan’s obvious resentment of you, I deem once we have gone, then her state of mind will improve. I could tell from the time we spent in the herb garden together that she enjoyed being there. She spoke of tending the plot in order to be of help to Mistress Felicia.’
Edmund sighed. ‘I agree there is healing to be found in gardens and it is not as if we were leaving the women alone with no men to keep watch over them.’
Dickon looked relieved. ‘I am glad you are not changing your mind about joining the Lord Edward,’
‘I cannot afford to do so,’ said Edmund in a clipped tones. ‘I must seek his aid if I am to gain my inheritance. Now let’s not waste any more time in talking.’
The horses were swiftly saddled. Swords sheathed. Saddlebags filled and fixed. The two friends mounted and urged their steeds in the direction of the highway.
*
Felicia came to the house and went into the hall, but it was empty save for Thomas and a lad whitewashing a wall. She did not pause, but made for the rear of the building. She heard the clatter of hoofs but could see no horses, only the dust raised by their hooves.
‘Edmund!’ The word rasped in her throat and she hurried after them.
But she did not go far before coming to a halt, knowing she was too late to catch up with them. Wearily, she sat down on the grass beneath a tree to get her breath back and checked her foot, knowing she would have to wash her feet and anoint the cut with salve and bind it. She sighed, listening to a blackbird overhead and bees humming in the flowers nearby. She caught the rise and fall of voices. Maids talking with lads from the village. They were supposed to be beating the hangings. Felicia made no move to rise and scold them, instead she was remembering, experiencing with a sudden flood of warmth, the moments her husband had made love to her. She was indeed Edmund’s wife, and nothing could alter that. All that was left to her now was to pray and wait for his return.
She rose to her feet. Despondency would not serve her. There was much to do in the house, cleaning, cooking, mending. She had noticed that there was some woollen cloth of a deep green in the chest. Summer would pass and she would need warmer clothes and there was the garden—and there was Joan.
Joan! If it were not for Joan ...
She should not have heeded her. Or was it that Joan’s words had only voiced her own inner fears? Yet what had she to fear? It was natural for a man to desire land of his own. Most marriages were arranged for the most advantageous gain. As she began to walk back towards the house, she slowly realised the truth of some of Joan’s words. ‘You love him! So you are more to be pitied than I am.’ Was she to be pitied because she was in love with her own husband? There was pain—that was true. But there was also joy. She felt a glow thinking again of how Edmund had kissed and caressed her. If he were not killed—God willing he would not be—there could be many more moments. If—If! What did he really want from this marriage he had made with her? Land and power were the two goals sought by most men she had known—even by her father and brother. Honour—another! She frowned, thinking. Love! Men did not rate love highly—did not expect it in marriage. Coupling was for begetting. Children! Was it an heir he wanted? A child? The thought frightened her for a moment, then she remembered Harry. A son would be no bad achievement.
Reaching the house, she walked in and her eyes immediately met Joan’s and her heart sank.
Chapter Twelve
‘Where have you been , Flissie? The minstrel said that you were in the hall, but you were not.’ Joan scowled.
‘Down by the river. I went to call Edmund, thinking he should partake of food before he left.’ Felicia was suddenly conscious of her damp hair as well as her bare feet.
‘They’ve gone.’ Joan sighed and she ran a finger along the dusty edge of the table, made so by the maids’ sweeping.
‘I know. I heard them go.’ Suddenly Felicia did not want to carry on the conversation in case her cousin questioned her about why had she been absent so long. ‘Are you hungry, Joan? There is some of the beef and barley stew left.’
Joan smiled ‘I believe I am.’ She followed Felicia over to the fire. ‘I think this afternoon I would like to go for a walk, Flissie.’
Felicia turned round in surprise, a ladle in her hand. ‘You are feeling that much better?’
‘Aye!’ Then she seemed to notice that Felicia’s hair was damp and touched it. ‘Why is your hair wet?’
Felicia did not reply, filling a bowl with stew. ‘If you want to go for a walk, you will have to go without me. I have hurt my foot.’
Joan looked disappointed. ‘I’m sorry. Can I help you at all?’
‘No, I can manage. You go for your walk.’ Felicia handed a bowl of stew to her.
Joan thanked her. ‘I shall try not to get lost.’
‘I doubt you could,’ said Felicia dryly. ‘Chipbury is not large—and it would be sensible if you did not wander into the forest.’
‘You think there will be outlaws or—or evil spirits, demons or wolves there?’ She took a mouthful of stew.
Felicia sat down opposite her. ‘All I had in mind was you losing your way.’
Joan nodded. ‘Where do you think Philip is now?’
‘He’ll be with the Montfort.’
‘Will he return here, you think?’ Joan tore a lump from the loaf on the table with an unsteady hand.
‘No,’ said Fe
licia, forcing herself to sound calm. ‘He will not come again. There is a struggle for power taking place, Joan, and that is of more importance to him than us.’
‘Philip is already powerful.’ For a second fear flickered in Joan’s eyes. ‘More powerful than the minstrel and the physician.’
‘He is powerful only while the Montfort rules. If he falls, Philip will fall also,’ said Felicia firmly. ‘And why do you insist on calling Edmund and Dickon the physician and the minstrel? Edmund is my husband and Dickon is a wool merchant and only plays the lute for amusement.’
Joan’s eyes clouded. ‘He mentioned a woman called Nell and that you were friendly with her.’
‘Aye, I did not immediately take to Nell but I grew to like her.’
‘More than you like me?’
Felicia said in a teasing voice. ‘What a question! You’re my cousin and I love you dearly.’ She prayed that her words would reassure Joan so they could both have some peace. Felicia was feeling exhausted beyond measure. She had barely slept the night before, and the emotional content of her morning had laid her nerves exposed, so that she felt she could not cope with her cousin’s moods right now.
‘I could have had a husband if it were not for Philip! Now no man will want me. I have no lands or fortune—what will become of me?’ Joan’s hand shook so much that she dropped her spoon on the table.
‘There is no need for you to be anxious,’ said Felicia emphatically. ‘I would not cast you out.’
‘Your husband would!’ Joan’s eyes filled with tears. ‘He has all that was yours now he has wed you. Keeping it, of course, is another matter! When Philip ...’
‘Philip can do nothing!’ Felicia rose abruptly to her feet. ‘I think I shall go and wash my feet, and shall see you anon, Joan.’
Joan’s words had once more raised doubt in her mind. She had sensed that Edmund had not told her the whole truth when he had given his reasons for marrying her. She wanted to trust him—to believe in a future together; companionship, working side by side. Yet, now he had gone, she was aware more than ever that he had vowed vengeance on Philip. Was she just a tool? And Philip? For all her own words to Joan, she was not heedless of her cousin’s power. Men could change sides at the last moment in a conflict. If Philip threw in his lot with the Lord Edward and was accepted, his power could be as great as Joan had said—and what chance would Edmund have then against a knight of the realm and a mighty landowner? It was not unknown for a marriage to be dissolved whether it had been consummated or not. Philip could still win.
Her heart felt as if gripped by an icy hand, and she went over to the window and held her face up to the sun’s warmth, and thought of the strength in the arms of her husband when he had held her close. She felt a calmness come over her and without more ado went to heat water to wash her feet. Afterwards she spoke to the girls from the village, asking about the children who had the whooping cough, and momentarily she was able to dismiss Philip and Joan from her thoughts. She would not have felt so if she had known that Joan was heading for the forest.
*
Joan hesitated as she reached the outlying trees, remembering what Felicia had said about avoiding the forest. For an instant her eyes were wide and frightened, and she would have turned face and ran if she had not suddenly caught sight of the figure with golden hair. She took a deep breath and followed him into the trees, only to lose him. She frowned and hoped that she would see him again. The old religion said that trees had spirits and maybe they could help her? She wandered amongst the trees in a trance-like state, gently touching the trunks of the trees. Her long hair flowed about her shoulders and her thin face was pale; only her blue eyes gleamed with colour and light.
The grazing boar took her by surprise, then she remembered one of the holy stories told by the priest in church. She went up to the animal and spoke to it. The beast grunted, and moved away. Joan persisted, touching its rough hairy back and asking it to speak to her. The boar shifted, beginning to peer at her unpleasantly from small piggy eyes, tossing its head in a threatening manner. She backed away, now unsure of her actions. But the boar was roused, and it began to trot slowly towards her. There came a hissing on the air and a spear thudded into the animal. It faltered—tottered—and then sank to the ground.
Joan gasped in astonishment and relief, and then raised her head as she heard a rustling in the undergrowth. The next moment the figure she had spotted earlier appeared and she stared at him in a dazed fashion. His golden hair shone like a nimbus about his head. As for his face it was so fair and nobly sculptured, that she could not take her eyes from its beauty. An angel! What need had she of a priest when Almighty God had sent one of his angels to deliver her from the demon who would possess her.
His light green eyes touched her face in a chilling fashion and he gave the boar a prod with his foot, before withdrawing his spear. ‘You should not be tarrying here,’ he said in a strangely harsh voice. ‘It is dangerous for you, wench.’ Awe and fear gripped her and she gave a strangled cry and crumpled to the ground.
*
Something was touching Joan’s face, wetting it, lashing her cheek gently with flurried strokes.
‘Are you all right, Mistress?’ The words seemed to be coming from far away.
Joan’s eyelids slowly lifted and she looked up at Thomas. For a moment she could not remember where she was or what she was doing there. She pushed the dog’s head away with an unsteady hand, and attempted to sit up.
Thomas seized the dog by the scruff of his neck. ‘Give the lady air,’ he muttered, staring at Joan with a worried expression. ‘Would you take my arm, Mistress?’
Because her head was still feeling light and odd, she accepted his help to rise. She stood swaying a moment, clutching Thomas’s arm, staring into the trees, and her eyes slid over the flattened grass. A sense of wonder gripped her. Of the boar and the angel there was no sign: they had vanished like spirits.
‘I shall take you back to the house, Mistress. That would be best.’ Thomas patted Joan’s hand roughly. ‘You must have tripped over a root, and banged your head. Mistress de Vert will see to it for you.’
Joan nodded slowly. She would say nothing of what she had seen. Felicia would only ask questions that she did not want to answer. It would be her secret. She half smiled, certain that Felicia had never seen an angelic messenger. A hand pressed her arm, and she looked up at Thomas. How ugly he was in comparison with the angel! But she would go with him.
Felicia looked up from the green fabric spread on the trestle table as the hall door opened. Surprise replaced the pucker of concentration between her dark brows as Thomas entered with Joan clutching his arm.
‘I found the lady in the forest, Mistress,’ said Thomas softly as he approached the table.
‘The forest?’ Felicia’s eyes went to Joan’s face. How pale and strange she looked. ‘What happened, Thomas?’ She dropped the shears on the table and went over to her cousin.
‘I don’t rightly know, Mistress.’ Thomas helped Felicia to ease Joan down on the settle. ‘I found her in a swoon on the ground. She came round right enough, but she is so quiet that I think she must have banged her head when she fell.’
Felicia looked up at Thomas with a puzzled frown. ‘You did right in bringing her home. But why did she go into the forest? I warned her not to go.’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe she was tempted by the flowers. The forest can be right pretty at times.’
Felicia placed a cushion behind Joan’s head where she sat unmoving on the settle. Her eyes were fixed on a point somewhere over Felicia’s left shoulder. ‘You may go about your affairs, Thomas,’ murmured Felicia.
‘Thank you, Mistress de Vert.’ He twisted his cap straight. ‘I was thinking that I might set the men to cutting the grass in the Long Meadow soon. June is well in now, and the grass is lush and thick.’
‘Of course. You do what you think best, Thomas.’ Felicia gave him a preoccupied smile.
As he left the hall, she turne
d to Joan, wishing Edmund in his role of physician was there. Perhaps some woodland creature had startled her and caused her to flee, and by so doing she had tripped and been stunned. There was a graze on her cheek.
‘Joan,’ she said softly. ‘Does your head hurt?’
‘Hurt?’ Joan’s eyes moved in her direction and she took a deep breath, and shook her head slowly.
‘Did you trip?’
‘No.’ Joan smiled. ‘I feel perfectly well.’ She got up from the settle. ‘Is there aught I can do for you, Flissie? Perhaps I can help you to prepare supper. I am hungry!’
‘You’re hungry again so soon?’ Felicia stared at her cousin’s animated face. Perhaps the fall had only been slight and she did not think it worth mentioning. Even so she would keep a watch over her.
During the next few days Felicia tried to make Joan rest, but her cousin did not appear to want to do so. To Felicia’s relief, there was no more mention of Philip from Joan and she seemed willing, not only to help with the sewing but to work in the garden. She also accompanied Felicia to the village to visit the sick. But Felicia worried when Joan slipped away on her own and offered to accompany her.
‘I would prefer to be alone,’ Joan said firmly.
As solitude was a state that Felicia appreciated herself after her enforced imprisonment by Philip, she reluctantly allowed her cousin to have her own way. The days passed and there came no word from Edmund. After being in his company almost continuously for days, Felicia missed him. She longed for the sight of his face, for the teasing gleam in his grey eyes and the amused note in his voice. She yearned for the feel of his arms about her. Only in his reassuring presence did she feel that she would be utterly safe from Philip. Yet it was not only security that Felicia desired from Edmund. Somehow she felt that when they both came willingly together, the doubts and questions between them could be resolved. But the days passed without word from him and neither was there any news of the conflict.
The grass was cut and Midsummer’s Day dawned, heralding a feast day at Chipbury manor. Felicia would provide the food and the ale for the villeins. There would be games, and at the end of the day, a great fire would be lit. Several women from the village came to the hall to help with the preparations. They set to work willingly at Felicia’s bidding, looking forward to the merriment and entertainment, and the good food. There would be mutton and chickens, and plenty of white bread for a change. The thought of such luxuries made their mouths water and their hands work the swifter.
