A Widow Plagued

by Allie Borne

  “Ach, but ye were ready to bed him? I saw ye cuddled up to his bare chest as if ye were a prize trollop. Ye'll marry the man if he is at all eligible, I promise ye that, young lady.”

  Hannah's eyes filled with fat tears anew. “Thou art a cruel and unforgiving man, My Lord. We shall see what my stepmother says about this!”

  “Nay, we shan't. I am the Lord of the manor and tis my orders that will be obeyed! Do ye understand me?”

  Hannah hung her head and wept bitterly. Gavin drew her to her feet, and Thomas did the same with Sir David. Marching the two young people from the cave, they began the long trek home.

  ~

  Sir John Polk sat wallowing in a puddle of ale and self pity at The Hog's Head tavern. He would make Sir Gavin pay for this latest humiliation. Sir Gavin had stolen a life of ease from beneath his grasp and Sir John was not the kind of man to take such an assault mildly.

  Scratching a puss-filled sore at the opening of his tunic, Sir John sneered and narrowed his beady eyes. He might have lost his bid at the title, but the world was a most dangerous and uncertain place. Anything could happen to the new Lord Sanders, in much the same way he had insured that it happened to the old Lord Sanders. Then, he could marry the widow or her daughter and cement his holdings as Lord Sanders once and for all.

  ~

  Lord Sanders was filthy, hungry, tired, and cranky by the time he arrived back at the keep. He was very grateful that James had impressed upon him the importance of trussing the hog and bringing it back to feed the troops. Food was scarce, and the boar would go a long way to filling their empty stomaches.

  Besides, he had drawn pleasure in forcing the beaten and exhausted Sir David to carry an end of the pig the entire three-hour hike back to the keep. While Thomas and James took turns on the other half, Gavin kept a keen eye on Hannah. She would never again escape his protection, if he had anything to say about it.

  As much as he loathed the idea of linking his family with that of the Polks, this young man might just be the answer to his prayers. Hannah was not yet ready to marry in earnest, but that would not stop him from having the banns read and marrying them in the eyes of the church.

  Later, once the man proves himself worthy and responsible, he can take on the burden of being a true husband. If not, well, then, Hannah can be married in name only and David can be sent on a myriad of tasks all over the kingdom...

  Lady Sara came running, her golden hair flowing in soft waves about her, as they entered the bailey. Gavin smiled at his good fortune.

  Hugging and clucking over Hannah as a mother hen, Sara gathered her ward into her arms and ushered her upstairs for a much needed bath.

  Not much was said between the two young women as Sara washed Hannah's hair and applied witch hazel to her many scrapes and scratches.

  “They'll not scar,” she ventured as she towel-dried Hannah's shaking limbs. But what of her spirit?Sara wondered. Has that been damaged?

  She longed to talk to her husband and find out about the miscreant she'd seen hauled in by Gavin's men. She dared not leave Hannah alone, however, until she was safely tucked into her large bed and sound asleep.

  Elizabeth woke and began loudly demanding her feeding the moment Hannah's head hit the pillow, however. Sighing, Sara scooped up the little bundle and slipped into the rocking chair beside the fireplace. She'd have to wait just a bit longer to assuage her concerns.

  Not twenty minutes later, Millie came bustling in, bubbling over with information. “Well, isn't this a ripe twist to fate, don't ye think, My Lady?”

  “Whatever dost thou mean, Millicent?” Sara demanded.

  “Why the young rake stealing off with our Hannah, only to convince her and the Lord Sanders that he should be the one to marry our darling Hannah, what else, of course?”

  Lady Sara grew still and cold as a statue. “Explain thyself, Millie.”

  Taking a deep breath, Millie obliged. “It seems that the vagabond that absconded with our dear Hannah is not, in truth, a vagabond at all, but the right and true youngest son of Lord Polk. His name is Sir David, and he is truly, blissfully in love with our sweet Hannah. He has plighted his troth and convinced Lord Sanders to agree to the union.”

  “Lord Sanders has agreed to this, this farce? He has promised my precious child to her abuser?” Lady Sara whispered vehemently.

  “Oh, now, please don't take it like that,” Millie coaxed. “He is, after all, a young and dashing young man. He is right this very minute drawing up a contract with Lord Sanders, promising his loyalty. Can ye not see-”

  But Sara had heard enough. Placing the now sleeping Elizabeth firmly in Millie's arms she ordered, “do not leave this chamber and my daughters or I'll have ye whipped, do ye understand me Millicent Ann of Sanders?”

  Millie's face paled. Never, had Sara talked thus to her. She was struck dumb with the pain of the threat. Nonetheless, she nodded.

  Marching down the stairs to the hall's long table, Sara's vision turned red with rage. How dare he sell my daughter like a superfluous piece of baggage! After all we have been through to help him attain this keep for his own, this is the thanks my precious child receives?

  Gavin did not need to turn around to know what wrath stood behind him. He fully expected that Lady Sara would take exception to his plan without taking the time to listen to him first. Drawing a deep breath, he looked over his shoulder at his wife; one eyebrow raised in silent warning.

  “Might I speak with ye a moment, in private, My Lord,” Sara offered between clenched teeth.

  “Just as soon as we finish the necessary signatures, I will be happy to oblige yer slightest whim, My Dear,” Gavin murmured in a deceivingly soft voice. Despite his better judgement, he had thrown down the gauntlet.

  After two days of tracking down Sara's exhausting, spoiled daughter, Gavin was finished being yanked about by a woman's wiles.

  “How dare thee!” Sara breathed, aghast. “My concerns are of utmost importance; I assure thee.”

  “As yer concerns would surely feel that way to thee at all times of each day, I will not argue yer sincerity. If thou wilt await me in the solar, I will attend thee presently.”

  Turning, Gavin lifted his quill and began to sign the document. Stepping forward with unleashed rage, Sara grabbed the parchment from the table and tore it in two.

  Absolute silence ensued. Not a man servant so much as sniffled, awaiting Lord Sander's response.

  Lady Sara knew better than to face the inevitable wrath in the company of Gavin's men. Instead, she turned and ran.

  Gavin swallowed his rage and humiliation. Sliding the second copy of the agreement from beneath his leather pouch, he pulled out his second-to-last piece of parchment and painstakingly copied the contents once again. Pushing the anger that bubbled within him down several times more, he was finally able to turn both pages over to Sir David to sign, and Thomas to witness. A missive had already been sent to the priest to read Sir David and Lady Hannah's names in the banns each week, as well as to the Lord Polk, explaining the most recent development.

  The knot was tied, and no squalling by Lady Sara would unravel it. The manor must be saved at any expense. Sara would come to see the benefit of the untimely matrimony, despite her strong feelings at present. Women could be exhausting, with their emotional responses.

  Sir Gavin had himself been married barely a month, and he felt harried and hen pecked already...Is this what I have in store again, when Lady Elizabeth becomes a young woman? Heaven preserve me from having any more daughters! Why did I not wish for a son?

  ~

  Sara strode out to the back of the barn, eager to spend this excess energy coursing through her. This is what came of trusting a man! She had let her guard down for only a moment when this opportunistic, loathsome creature sold out her daughter for his own benefit.

  Gavin had promised in their very marriage contract, to allow Hannah time to wed. This contract was in direct violation of that promise. Sitting down upon the rottin
g, weed-infested bench, in the late Lady Sander's overgrown garden, Sara read over the torn marriage contract. The contract required evidence of Sir David's identity, and swore David's loyalty to Gavin as Lord Sanders.

  No mention was made of where Sir David planned on taking Hannah. She was just this week fourteen years old, not nearly ready to be a wife and mother. Sara had seen all too often what happened to the young women unlucky enough to marry at such a tender age. They struggled with their wifely duties-they died in child bed. She wanted better for her dear, sweet Hannah. Just a year or two more and she would be so much better equipped to deal with such expectations.

  “Hiding amongst the other wild flowers, I see,” came Gavin's rumbling voice about the corner of the barn.

  Sara jumped despite her resolve. “Nay, not hiding, My Lord.” She could barely stand to speak with the man, so betrayed and adrift did she feel.

  “Very little have I asked of ye, Sara, but to kept yer opinions stated behind closed doors, not aired fer the whole of the keep.”

  “Then consult me afore ye promise my precious child up as a sacrificial lamb! Or are ye too great a coward to admit yer own betrayal like a man?”

  Gavin strode through the overgrown lilac to grab Sara about the arms and shake her. “How dare thee challenge me afore my men, accuse me of such atrocities without one question, without one shred of evidence!”

  Sara paled at the barely leashed rage coursing through Gavin's contorted features. “I trekked all day yesterday and today to find yer 'precious child' nuzzled up to the naked chest of the man in that hall there.

  “She has ruined herself in front of my men and the only way for her to marry well, if at all, was for me to agree to this contract. Have ye no concept of what yer own daughter hath done?”

  Sara stilled, “I-I know very well the power young men can hold over a young woman. If she was found in his embrace, I am certain twas not of her doing. The man is twice her size, Gavin!”

  “She was splayed across him, smiling, Sara. I know the difference between a terrified young lady and one well pleasured.”

  Sara struck Gavin across the cheek, then immediately regretted the impulse.

  Grabbing her about the waist, Gavin dumped himself onto the rickety bench and slammed his hand across Sara's backside. Sara refused to call out and alert Gavin's men, for fear she would have an audience for her ultimate humiliation.

  “If ye insist on acting the impulsive child, I will treat ye as such, Lady Sara.”

  Gavin vented his frustration on her backside. Every smack brought a fresh, stinging wave of tears tumbling down Sara's cheeks to wet Gavin's chauses. Standing her up to face him, Gavin sensed Sara's humiliation and his voice softened slightly.

  “Now let us hear no more about this marriage contract. I will keep yer errant daughter safe, if ye can be trusted to keep her in line. No more outbursts or I'll tan yer hide again, Lady Sara. I'll have order in my own household, whatever it takes.”

  Striding away, Gavin gave himself time to organize his thoughts before returning to the keep.

  “Sir David, ye'll stay in Adam's room until we leave for court. I'll have yer word that ye will see nothing of Lady Hannah, outside the supervised suppers in our hall; twill be a marriage in name only, until such time that I deem otherwise. Dost thou understand my terms and expectations?”

  “I would expect nothing less, My Lord,” Sir David bent his head, hiding an expectant smile. He could bear Lord Sanders cursory treatment and restrictions as long as needed. After all, he'd born much worse for much less. Lady Hannah was to be his wife!

  Lady Sara waited until Gavin rode out of the front gates with a small group of men before she slunk back into the keep and upstairs. Two hours had passed, and it was high time she fed her bairn.

  Sliding in the door to the solar, Sara walked resolutely to the basin and splashed some tepid water on her tear-streaked cheeks. Turning to Millie, she was instantly contrite. The older woman had clearly been crying herself and Sara was horrified to recall the nasty words she had spoken in her blinding panic.

  “Oh, Millie, please forgive me for my horrible words. I would never willingly harm thee, Millie; please believe that.”

  Millie sniffed a bit and handed Sara the cranky babe. “Aye,” she responded, reservedly. “If ye will excuse me, I have a supper to prepare.”

  Sara nodded and accepted the squirming infant. But before Millie could leave, she grabbed the older woman's arm in silent plea. Millie's face softened, and she patted Sara's shoulder.

  “Twill all work out in the end; ye'll see, My Dear.”

  Sara nodded to appease Millie, and sank gingerly into the rocking chair to feed Elizabeth. Her back side hurt far less than her aching pride, she supposed. What stung the most was that she had felt so certain of Gavin's chivalry, so valued by him, that it had not occurred to her that he would toss that trust and solidarity from the ramparts at the first opportunity.

  If what Gavin told her about Hannah's compromised position had even a shred of truth to it, then she might be inclined to at least understand his impulse to protect her through an impromptu marriage. Yet, knowing Hannah as she did, she was certain Gavin was turning an innocent victim into the wanton woman to achieve his own selfish ends.

  That was precisely what had happened to Sara, when the late Lord Sanders had discovered her defending herself against that vile young man. She had thought Gavin to be a valiant, true knight, a protector of the weak; she had dared to dream. Now, she knew he was simply a man-a man with faults and weaknesses like any other. He might be slow to anger, but he was capable of great, eruptive violence, if so driven.

  She grieved the loss of that feeling of partnership she and Gavin had created. She now felt firmly pushed into her place as dependent. She knew how to play the role of submissive wife. She had done so for the three years prior to Gavin's arrival. She could do so again. So, why did the idea of playing the martyr hurt so much more this time?

  Chapter 7

  Going Courting

  Due to Hannah's disappearance, the departure date had been pushed back a week. They were now slated to leave in three day's time. Sara did not have nearly the necessary clothing and food stores to accommodate such a trip.

  Gavin had explained to her that he was not interested in making an impressive showing at court. “Looking as if one has wealth is not necessarily a wise choice at this juncture. The war with France is expensive, and the good King Edward will find funds wherever they might be available. We will bring only our family, Millie, and two men to drive the wagons. I want to portray ourselves as the impoverished country gentry that we are. In this way, King Edward will unceremoniously grant our title and we can go back to eking out a living on our tiny corner of the realm.”

  Sara had nodded, beguiled into believing every self-serving word that had crossed Gavin's lips. Now, she was not so certain how competent Gavin would look with his motley crew of ragamuffins.

  Yet, she was not one to put stock in lovely, superfluous things. She would swallow her pride and show up to court wearing her hand-me-down gown. She would willingly be subjected to far worse, if it meant protecting her daughters' interests. She would get down on her knees and beg the king and country to spare her daughter, if she thought it would make a positive difference in Hannah's fate.

  She knew it would not. Instead, she would smile and nod and keep her mouth shut. A closed mouth was a saved neck at court, she was more than certain of that. Despite her reservations, Sara did hope to get a glimpse of the Black Prince and the newest fashions at court. Maybe she could model her next gown in a more proper style.

  T'would take a week to travel to court. Gavin had already sent a herald, one week hence, to announce their upcoming arrival and arrange time for their appeal to be considered before the court.

  Although the ravages of the plague were waning, Gavin hoped they would only have to stay so close to London for a day or two, not so long that they would risk contagion. The expense of such
an undertaking was also great. He would be forced to deplete the last of his coin to gain access to Lord Sander's capital.

  Gavin felt like the ghost of a man. His wife and stepdaughter were barely speaking with him. Sara had taken to sleeping in the rocking chair, holding Elizabeth through the night. It was a transparent effort to keep him at arm's length. How could he be bending over backwards to accommodate the long-term safety of this family and still be treated like a leper in his own home?

  It mattered not. He would do what was necessary to keep them safe, whether or not it was appreciated. There was much to do to prepare for the trip, as was. If all went well, he had a lifetime to smooth this ripple in his marriage. If all went ill, he may not have a wife to return to, elsewise. Gavin gazed over at Lady Sara; her head slumped against the back of the rocker; his resolve strengthened. Best to leave sleeping dogs lie.

  ~

  The sun shined, yellow and glistening atop the browning blades of grass. The small harvest had been reaped, the necessary repairs made, and orders given. Adam would maintain charge of the keep whilst Gavin was away. His soldiers would continue to care for and protect the lands therein. Gavin had given permission for two of his men to hunt the surrounding woods. It would serve the dual purpose of keeping eyes where they were needed and filling the larder for the upcoming winter. They would need several large kills to feed their ever-growing number.

  All was squared away. Hannah and Sir David seemed content with their current arrangement, exchanging furtive glances across the hall each eventide. Twas only Sara who could not seem to throw off this mantel of depression that had settled so heavily across her shoulders.

  A cacophony of black birds chirped the two wagons merrily on their way. Gavin had been nothing but chivalrous towards her since their altercation in the garden. In fact, he had made it a point to open doors for her and hold her seat at dinner. They still shared a trencher at every meal; he still reserved her the choicest pieces of meat. And yet, they never talked, were careful not to touch. Never in Sara's life had she felt more coddled, or more alone.