A Widow Plagued

by Allie Borne

  Precious time might be bought. Time in which they may be able to stay healthy and her bairn might have a chance at saving them all. So much rested on the outcome of this birth. Soon, she knew, a new master, with a new threat of contagion, would enter these walls. Soon, all that she had worked so hard to protect would be in danger. This, she surmised, is the cause of my nightmare’s return. The new master draws nigh.

  ~

  Sara was furious. How could they have abandoned all sense the moment the man’s boots struck the stone walkway of the courtyard? Dropping the blackberries she had picked, her basket tumbled and spilled the morning’s harvest about her tattered skirts. There stood the entire population of the keep, surrounding an imposing man. His dark garb and tousled brown hair attracted her eyes and her fear.

  “Who art thou, Sir, and to what do we owe this most unexpected visit?” Sara demanded of the intruder, an imperious lift to her chin.

  Turning from his conversation with the blushing Hannah and the beaming cook, Sir Gavin Williams encountered the sour face of his new dependent. Glancing from her bare head to her very pregnant belly, Gavin quirked an eyebrow and responded, “Why, I am the Lord of this manor, heralded by none other than my own personal assistant. He was turned away, however, a fortnight hence. Not even to be given sustenance in his Lord’s hall. I suspect this is the reason for thy lack of preparation?”

  The young dowager lifted her chin and looked into this self-righteous brigand’s sage green eyes. “Art thou aware, Lord Sanders, that death lurks outside these gates? Hast thou not seen the victims of the plague upon thy journey?”

  “If the young couple I found in the field a mile hence had anything to say, I am certain they would have told me their illness was catching. I suppose I should not have drunk from their water skin.”

  As Sara blanched and sank upon the nearby step; Gavin came to her aid, offering her a hand up. “I jest, My Lady; I jest. Of course, I am aware of the disease. I am alive and well because I have been cautious. Hadst thou bothered to ascertain, thou would have discovered that my assistant had also been cautious with his person. He had to ride two days back to me, without food and with little water. Ye at least could have provided him such.”

  “I apologize for our lack of hospitality. After two years of this dreadful plague, all men seem naught but walking corpses to us. Speaking with thee now, I am convinced we shall all be dead within the week.”

  “I pray God sees fit to preserve us, My Lady. Although, the young couple I spied was lying frightfully close to the river; I hope that ye have not been drinking from that source.”

  Again, Sara paled. “We dared not drink from the well. My late husband and his son drank from it before they fell ill. I have precious little cider left. What are we to drink?”

  “I would imagine that ye could drink from the river, or the well. I have heard that boiling the water over a cooking fire keeps it safe. It seems to have the same effect of cooking meat; it prevents the water from upsetting the humors.”

  “I cannot imagine how that will make much difference, but we can pray.”

  Smiling benignly at her young stepdaughter, Sara looped her arm in Hannah’s and directed the group toward the main hall. Taking side-long glances at the new Lord, Sara couldn’t help but notice that he towered over the lot of them. She had always felt large in comparison with her first husband. Even with her ever-increasing form, this man made her feel frail.

  “Adam is killing a hen for tonight’s supper, M’Lady. I had hoped to harvest the last of the yams,” Millie chimed in, in an obvious attempt to diffuse the tense interaction.

  “That will be fine, Millie. Lord Sanders, have ye washed since arriving? I would like to provide ye with some soap and boiled water.”

  “Aye. That would be appreciated. Hast the master chamber been aired?”

  Blushing, Sara responded. “The late Lord Sanders passed in that chamber, Sir. I had the bedding burned, along with his personal items. The chamber has been aired and resupplied…I will need to move my things from the solar, My Lord, as I have not quite accustomed myself to my role as dowager…I find that the light in the room is best for needle work and with so few of us here, Millie, Hannah, and I oft times slept in the chamber...”

  “Think nothing of it, Lady Sara, is it? Of course, the women made use of the space. I will take a smaller room, as I am yet a bachelor.”

  “Forsooth, thou wilt not. I have been ungracious, thus far. As we are already here together, then if we be exposed, so be it. Thou wilt have the master’s chamber, for thou art the master. I will move into Hannah’s room. Twill suit us fine, shan't it, Hannah?”

  “Verily, My Lady,” Hannah responded, in kind. “Has thee a betrothed, My Lord?”

  “I have not. Until recently, I had not the means to support a wife. I have lived my life by the sword, fighting for his majesty as a squire, then a knight. Now that I am titled and landed, I find that healthy brides are hard to come by. Many noblewomen are not as resourceful as thy mother. They cannot support themselves without the aide of servants. The result is that they are eating and sleeping around the contagion. Many noble houses stand empty.

  “Others are going hungry, as they cannot keep serfs who will work the fields. No serf wishes to work for a nobleman that cannot guarantee his security. Much is in chaos. Thy keep hast been blest to avoid the worst of it.”

  “We have done so carefully and deliberately, Lord Sanders. Thus was the reason for refusing hospitality to thy assistant. Has he accompanied thee?”

  “He died shortly after returning to me.”

  “And ye say I misjudged him by turning him away?”

  “Let us not dwell on the subject, My Lady. Instead, let us prepare ourselves for dinner. I ken ye have much to do to remove thy presence from the master chamber. Yet, if ye could spare a moment, My Lady, I would have words with thee, in private.”

  “Aye, My Lord, might we walk to the stream? Ye can help me to carry water to the kitchens.” Gathering three buckets from the side of the well, Sara directed their gate toward the stream at the back of the keep.

  The keep had been designed so that it was secure on all fronts. For practicality’s sake, it had not been completely walled off, however. The front of the castle displayed a guard wall and solid oak door. Yet, the northwest corner of the castle was protected by the geographical elements of a stream and rocky slope. The only way that a force could scale the slope would be to take a small boat upstream from a narrow, ocean-fed tributary, climb the slope, and cross the stream. It was an unlikely avenue of attack, made more unlikely by the vigilance of Lord Sander’s dogs. Any small onslaught of soldiers would be immediately discovered and picked off, as they climbed over the rocky embankment. The keep itself sat on a rise, making it impenetrable from all but the largest of forces. Small and nondescript, the fort had never inspired any sort of military acquisition. In fact, the original Baron Sanders had given up the comfort of a walled manor house in favor of a small castle more from fear that northern raiders would threaten his food stores and life stock, than of any real need to protect the land from an over-seas invasion. Such fears were foreign to Sara. Nay, if death came to visit their small strip of land, t’would be the apocalyptic horseman, Plague.

  The new lord interrupted Sara’s thoughts by demanding, “Lady Sara, how old is thy daughter, Hannah?”

  Stiffening, Sara replied cautiously. “Hannah is in her thirteenth summer. She is just now become a woman. She will not be ready to wed for at least two years.”

  Laughing, Gavin responded, “I am not interested in wedding thy daughter, My Lady. I only ask to determine her need of a suitor, and, I must admit, I was attempting to determine thy age. Ye seem not much older than Hannah. I cannot imagine ye having a grown daughter.”

  Sara looked at her new Master, assessing. There was nothing overtly menacing in the set of his wide jaw, so she openly explained. “Oh, ye misunderstand, Lord Sanders. She is my daughter by marriage. Lady Hannah is my husb
and’s child. She is my stepdaughter. I myself am five and twenty.”

  “And what of yer plans, Lady Sara? Ye have been widowed. Plan ye to wed again?”

  Just what scheme does this giant have in mind? Sara wondered. Aloud, she replied, “Aye, Lord Sanders, I suppose I must wed again. I do not plan on being a burden upon thee. Tis only that, until today, I had the manor to maintain. Tis improper to discuss, but I am also certain thou hast noticed that I carry the deceased Baron’s child.” What Sara dared not say was that if the babe were a male, he would be the new Baron, and not Sir Gavin. “When the time comes, I will remarry as ye see fit. Do ye have a match in mind? I would think that, with the plague about, eligible gentlemen are few.”

  “Aye, that they are. Matching ye, though, should be easy enough. Tis thy daughter that concerns me. Perhaps we should wait to find her a match until the worst of this contagion is past.”

  “Art thou willing to provide her with a dowry, My Lord? I would hope that she would be well provided for. Her father left her nothing but her mother’s personal effects. She is quite without means.”

  “Verily, I shall provide her with a dowry. As her father has left me the whole of his fortune, tis only just that I share some of it with his daughter, and with his widow.”

  “Thou will provide me with a dowry, Lord Sanders?”

  “I doubt that shall be necessary.”

  “Ye know of a man that would marry a penniless, expecting widow, My Lord?”

  “One that is expecting the baron’s get? Aye, I do. More to the point, hast thou wrote to inform the king of thy condition? I was not informed.”

  “Nay, Lord Sanders, I have not. I wrote a letter but was then at a loss for how to send it. Besides, a woman hardly speaks of such things and the chances of me baring a healthy son are not so high as for me to bother the likes of the king.”

  “Having a son would add greatly to thy security, My Lady.”

  “Therefore, waiting to expose my delicate condition was in itself a wise decision. I do not wish my child to be the target of fortune seekers. I have kept to myself, with the hope that I could deliver this bairn safely before my husband’s replacement could be found.”

  “Thou must have known that the king would simply assign a guardian for thee and thy children.”

  “I was hoping for a guardian who held more important estates, one that would assign this keep a steward and leave us mainly to our own devices.”

  “I believe I have a better proposal, my lady. As I am currently the Lord Sanders, I am also thy acting guardian. Art thou prepared to marry the man of my choosing?”

  “Tis for thee to decide, My Lord,” Sara humphed, switching the empty buckets to her left hand. “I have no living relatives. As ye say, I am thy dependent, as is Hannah. I ask only that I be allowed to visit Hannah and keep my child in my possession until he or she comes of age.”

  “Then, we are agreed. Please accept these tokens as a sealing of our betrothal.”

  Opening his shirt front, Gavin removed a bag from around his neck. From it, he pulled a golden opal ring, an intricately carved silver dagger, and a green silk scarf. Sara’s heart skipped a beat as she realized the significance of the gesture.

  “Ye mean to wed me?”

  “Aye, if thou art willing. Tis sensible to marry the current lady of the keep. Thou art in good health, young but not too young to bear children. Thou art currently in expectation of a possible heir. T’would make sense to marry ye, as ye will need to be near yer child and my dependent. I think we will suit.”

  “I see.” Sara responded, bending awkwardly to fill the buckets.

  Gavin lifted two buckets and turned towards the castle. The silence lengthened, broken only by the shush of a shoe against the grass, and the soft thud of the wooden bucket against Sara's thigh. Casting brief glanced at Sara, Gavin noticed how her jaw clenched and unclenched, as if she were perpetually forcing herself to bite her tongue.

  Sighing, he reminded her, “Ye agreed to allow me to choose for thee a husband. I have done so.”

  “Aye, My Lord. I did so agree.” Sara responded as she adjusted her grip on the metal handle. Hefting water buckets was beginning to require considerable effort.

  “Then why do ye behave as if thou art not satisfied?” Gavin pressed.

  Sara continued to stare ahead, trudging methodically toward the keep. Her voice was strong and without malice, however, as she shared her thoughts. “I do not mean to show ye disrespect, My Lord. I will be honest. I know ye not. I wish to keep Hannah and this babe safe. If yer intentions be honorable, then the marriage has much to recommend it. If I bear a son, then ye will be disinherited. I might fear for his safety.”

  “Nay, by marrying me, ye insure that I remain thy son’s protector. T'would be in my interest to keep him safe as my position as his guardian would depend on his keeping the title.”

  Sara stopped, set down her bucket and faced the new lord. “But ye and yer sons t’would have the title, if he did not.”

  Sara’s statement was met with silence. Needing to fill the stillness to avoid her rising unease, she stated, “Please, allow me to show ye to yer chamber. I will remove my belongings as soon as I have boiled yer bath water.”

  “Why remove yer belongings? If thou art to be my wife, this seems unnecessary.”

  “We will need to announce our betrothal and have the banns read, will we not?”

  Gavin shook his head. “It could take months before we could have a proper marriage. Yer child will be born by then. Let us not wait to finalize our union. We can pledge our troth tonight and have a priest honor our marriage as soon as he is able.”

  “I do not understand thy haste, My Lord. Ye are rightful heir, here. There is no need to establish yer claim, is there?”

  Gavin met her query with silence. Sara’s heart grew cold as she considered the possibilities of her situation. Was this man whom he claimed to be? She had not asked for any writ from the king. He had yet to produce any proof of his title. How could she have been so naïve? He had put her on the defensive from the moment she had returned to the keep. Had he manipulated her, in hopes of claiming a title he had not yet obtained? If so, he was more foolish than she.

  “My Lord?”

  “These are uncertain times, My Lady. Tis nay alarming that I take every precaution to protect my claim and my livelihood by wedding the mother of the potential heir. Ye have no cause for alarm. Tis a solution that will suite us both, unless ye would rather risk living in penury?”

  Sara shivered. The tone in Gavin's voice had grown cold, sending goose bumps up her arms and causing the hair on the nape of her neck to stand on end. This man was intent upon claiming this property. She was clearly an impediment to be overcome. If she had learned anything from her first marriage, it was to tread carefully around powerful men. So, why was she opening her mouth and speaking in ire to this one?

  “Penury is a small price to pay for a sense of safety, My Lord. If I have learned one lesson from my first marriage, tis that a woman should avoid an unsavory marriage at all costs. While I concede that yer proposal seems reasonable on the surface, I must follow my instincts, Sir Gavin. I withdraw my acceptance.”

  “An acceptance to a betrothal, once offered, may not be withdrawn. Ye will taint yer honor.”

  “What need does a lady have of honor? I need security. My word is backed by my protector. Ye have not the motivation to offer me protection. I will wed ye, only at the request of the king.”

  “The king has requested that I take over these holdings. I have done so by breaching these walls and taking thee in hand. I will have ye and wed ye, Lady Sanders. Yer daughter will be my daughter, yer bairn my bairn. I will have the title.” Grabbing Sara by the arm, Gavin marched her into the hall.

  “Where is the master suite?”

  Sara’s heart raced. Her frame shivered at the thought of what this stranger intended. She remained mute.

  “Mill-i-cent!” Sir Gavin bellowed into the great hall
.

  “Aye, My Lord?” Millie skidded up to his side.

  “Where is the-

  “Nay,” Sara interrupted. “Millie, do nay tell him; he is not to be trusted!”

  “Thy mistress is upset. She grieves for her late husband and is sore put to accept a new master,” Gavin responded, squeezing Sara’s arm in warning. “I would like to escort her to her chamber. Where is it?”

  “Just up the stairs there, to thy left, My Lord. When shall I serve dinner?”

  “Tis midday now, at dusk should be fine, Millicent,” Sir Gavin smiled, pasting on a false bravado.

  “Aye, My Lord,” Millie returned, bustling to continue with her errands.

  As he urged her up the stairs, Gavin kept his hand in the crook of Sara’s arm. “Please,” Sara whispered, “please do nay do this. Ye speak of honor, Sir, but thou art proceeding most dishonorably. Please consider thy other options. Ye can simply claim me as thy dependent.”

  “As ye yerself claim, ‘what need does a lady have for honor’? I can provide ye with security, my lady. I will do so by taking ye as my wife.”

  “Then marry me if ye must; do not debase me in this way.”

  “In what way, My Lady?”

  At her silence, Sir Gavin laughed. “Ye think that I am taking ye to thy chamber to ravish ye? Ha! I know better than to risk my inheritance so. I am simply depositing ye here until I can seek out a priest. I will go to the monastery and return. Thou wilt stay here.”

  “And if I refuse to marry ye, in front of the priest?”

  “Do nay be daft. As I have stated, these are uncertain times. There are others that wish to claim this land and will stop at nothing. If ye refuse to marry me, there stands a line of others ready to take my place. With any indication of weakness on my part, my cousin, the burly, pock-marked John Polk will gain His Majesty's permission to marry Hannah and usurp the title. He will rid himself of yer bairn and throw ye to the wolves. Yer dear Hannah will die in child bed or from some whore’s disease he gives her. Ye decide. Marry me, or Hannah marries him.”