Shadow of the Swan

by Judith Sterling

  She cleared her throat. “I’ve waited more than a moment, and we’re beyond anyone’s hearing.”

  Her sister paused, and Constance did the same.

  Jocelyn’s brown eyes twinkled. “I’m with child.”

  Constance gasped, then hugged her tight. “What glad tidings! And just what you’ve always wanted.” She pulled back. “Have you written to Mother?”

  “Not yet. But I shall the moment we return home.”

  “Who else knows? Your handmaiden?”

  Jocelyn nodded. “Alice was the first to suspect it, and she blurted the news to Wulfstan. Then we told his sister, Freya, and his manservant, and a kindly woman named Edith. Besides them, only you know. But now we’re here among friends, and truth will out.” She reached up to remove her headdress. “Fie, ’tis hot today!”

  They continued walking. Free from circlet and veil, Jocelyn’s red hair flickered like firelight.

  “I am happy for you, Jocelyn.”

  “As I am, you. Sir Robert is a fine man. Mayhap you’ll have children of your own soon.”

  Constance frowned as the weight of words unsaid pressed down on her. “I think not.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Sir Robert and I have chosen a spiritual marriage.”

  Jocelyn jerked to a halt. “Stop the mill! He never chose that. You did. Though why he allowed it, I cannot guess.” She started forward again, and Constance fell into step beside her. “Neither can I guess why you considered marriage in the first place.”

  “Well…”

  “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m delighted you feel better. And I rejoiced when I learned you’d entered the postulancy again, albeit somewhere new.”

  Constance trained her gaze on the grass. “Did you?”

  “Aye, and so did Mother. You were yourself again.” She hesitated. “You must know, you frightened us when you fled York.” Her voice was thick with emotion.

  “I never meant to—”

  “But you did, Constance. For weeks, you barely ate or drank…or slept, for that matter. You refused to speak, even to Mother.”

  “But as you say, I’m better now. And I know what I want.” Her stomach lurched. At least, I think so. Argh! Marriage. Am I ready for it?

  “You’re truly prepared to bind your life to another’s?”

  Constance cast her a sharp glance. Had Jocelyn read her mind? “Sir Robert will share my days, not my nights.”

  “Granted. But a bond is a bond.”

  “I’m aware.”

  Jocelyn waved the veil at her. “You must admit, ’tis quite a change from what you’ve wanted up ’til now.”

  “A welcome one, I hope.”

  “Certainly. I love you, nun or not.”

  They climbed a hill, atop which loomed a circle of nine weathered stones. At the center, three more formed what appeared to be a gateway. The neighboring forest emitted the scent of pine needles. The stones and the ground itself radiated a force akin to what Constance felt in certain churches.

  The energy was strong. Unmistakable. Sacred.

  She placed her palm on one of the ring-stones. The surface was warm from the sun and smoother than expected. “So this is…what did you call it?”

  “Woden’s Circle.”

  A rustle sounded in the woods. A raven emerged and settled onto the stone Constance touched.

  She pulled her hand away and stepped back. “Be my guest. Or am I yours?”

  The raven stared into her eyes but made no sound.

  “Constance.”

  She turned to Jocelyn, whose gaze was fixed on the circlet in her hands.

  “What happened to you in York?”

  Constance blinked. Her chest tightened. “I…” She’d left Newcastle and come all this way to share her story. But now the time had come, how could she?

  Jocelyn looked up and regarded her. “Pray, tell me.”

  Constance shut her eyes. The ground fairly hummed with energy that traveled into her feet, her legs, and the whole of her body. A familiar sensation swept over her: the peace of prayer and meditation. The truth had waited long enough. She was ready to tell it.

  She opened her eyes. “I trow I was raped.”

  Jocelyn’s face paled. Her veil and circlet fell to the ground. “You trow, or you know?”

  “’Tis hard to explain.”

  “Try.”

  Constance nodded. She clenched her hands, then shook them out. “There was a particular priest…Father Dominy.” Heaven’s angels! Even the sound of his name—the feel of it on her tongue—filled her with loathing. Calling him “Father” or “Archdeacon” was just as bad.

  “Go on.”

  “His eyes were always upon me, and I did my best to avoid him. Then one day, we were alone in the sacristy. He said horrible things…that my thoughts were impure, that he’d sensed my adoration of him. Every word he spewed was a lie, but it mattered not. He’d convinced himself otherwise. He offered to help me slake my lust, then and there. I backed away. He kept coming. He clutched my arms and told me that God Himself would damn me if I cried out…”

  “Monstrous!” Jocelyn rushed forward and took her hands. “And then?”

  “Then I fainted. When I came to, he was gone. And I knew a part of me was also gone.”

  “Your virginity?”

  “I think so, but I don’t know for sure.”

  Jocelyn frowned. “Was there blood?”

  “No.”

  “Perhaps he managed to be gentle. There wasn’t blood my first time either. Were you sore?”

  “His grip bruised my arms. And I ached from the fall.”

  “But not between the legs?”

  Constance shook her head, then noticed they had an audience. Several ravens had joined the first and watched from atop the stones. “All I know is I lost a part of myself that day. I feel it keenly. The absence. The hole.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  Jocelyn wrapped her in the tightest embrace she’d ever bestowed. “My poor dear. If we’d known…if you’d but told us—”

  “I couldn’t.” She blinked back her tears. “’Twas all I could do to breathe in and out every day. To force enough food and drink down my throat to survive. Every waking moment, I fought the memory of his leering face…his putrid breath…God help me!”

  Jocelyn pulled back and held her at arm’s length. “Calm yourself. All is well, and I’m here for you. My husband is too, if ever you have need of us.”

  “Thank you.” Constance sniffled. “’Tis so good to see you again. Forgive me for marring the occasion with my troubles.”

  Jocelyn released her and backed away. “There’s naught to forgive. I’m heartily sorry that happened. And now I see why you never returned to York.”

  Constance paced. “But I had to go somewhere. Once you were married off and I started to heal, all eyes turned to my future. Whom should I wed? What advantage could be gained?”

  “Of course. And the hounds caught the scent of your dowry.”

  “Precisely. But I’d vowed no man would ever paw me again. So I made for St. Bartholomew’s.”

  “Will you tell Mother the truth?”

  Constance stopped pacing and hid her face in her hands. “I haven’t decided.” With a sigh, she dropped her hands. “I can only imagine Father’s reaction if he were alive today.”

  Jocelyn averted her gaze. “Perhaps ’tis best not to think on it.” She leaned back against a ring-stone, and the raven atop it fluttered its wings. “So where is this…no, I shan’t call him a priest. He’s a walking pustule. Is he still in York?”

  “No. He’s become an archdeacon. And he’s here.”

  Her mouth agape, Jocelyn pushed away from the stone. “Here? At Ravenwood?”

  “With the demons of Hell in tow. At least, that’s how it feels. Every look, every word from his mouth…argh!”

  Color flooded Jocelyn’s face. Her gaze pierced the shadowed woodland beyond the circle. “I’ll kill him.” She whirled in the di
rection of the castle.

  Constance bolted forward and grabbed her arm. “Stop!”

  “Why should I?”

  “I’ll not have you involved.” She released her sister’s arm. “Who knows what he might do?”

  “He’d best fear what I shall do!”

  Constance folded her hands as if in prayer. “Please. Leave it alone. My marriage will daunt him soon enough.”

  “Does Sir Robert know about all this?”

  “He knows Dominy has a singular interest in me. But I’ve divulged nothing more.”

  “Perhaps you should—”

  “No!” Constance held up her hands. “I’d perish if he discovered my shame.”

  Jocelyn planted her hands on her hips. “Your shame?”

  “I mean it, Jocelyn. Sir Robert must never know.”

  ****

  After supper, Robert lounged between his brother and Wulfstan in Ravenwood’s solar. They sat side by side in cushioned, high-backed chairs before the dormant fireplace. No need for a blaze on so warm a night, but servants hastened to light the multitude of candles. A soft, relaxing glow settled over the chamber.

  Robert stretched his long legs in front of him as the last servant scuttled out the door. “What a night. And what a supper! I doubt I’ve ever eaten so much.”

  Wulfstan gave him a wry look. “I doubt anyone alive has.”

  Robert patted his belly. “Such a variety of pasties. How could I choose one over another? I had to try them all.”

  William cocked an eyebrow. “Try them? You made love to them.”

  Wulfstan guffawed. “That’s taking it a bit far! But he clearly relished each bite.”

  Robert’s smile faded as he stared at the soulless hearth. Lovemaking. Marriage. He’d always imagined the two would go hand in hand, yet…

  “Why the frown?” William sounded alert.

  Robert dodged his gaze. “No reason.”

  “Wrong answer, Brother.”

  Wulfstan stood and strode to a side table. He grabbed a jug, poured wine into a cup, and handed it to Robert. “Here. Let this steady you. Lord Ravenwood, wine?”

  William gave him a nod. “Aye.”

  Wulfstan poured two more cups and handed one to William. Then he reclaimed his seat.

  Robert took a swig of wine. A hint of dates and honey tickled his tongue. “There’s no way round it but to tell you plain. Lady Constance wants a spiritual marriage.”

  William’s brow furrowed. “Spiritual. As in celibate?”

  Robert nodded. “And I agreed to it.”

  “What possessed you to do that?”

  “I cannot explain…except I feel compelled to have her in my life.”

  William shook his head. “But on such stiff terms!”

  “I’ll thank you not to use the word ‘stiff.’ ”

  The others chortled and gulped their wine. Robert sighed without sound. Oh, to be happy in marriage, as you both are.

  Wulfstan sat forward. “Gave she a reason for her choice?”

  Robert drained his cup, then cradled it in his hands. “Until yesterday, she planned to be a nun, so there’s that. And she wants dominion over her own body, which I can understand…to a point.”

  Wulfstan nodded. “If you’ll recall, I avoided Lady Nihtscua’s bed in the beginning.”

  “I well remember.”

  “Of course, I kept the door open to sharing it in the future.”

  Robert made a face. “My bride’s ‘door’ seems permanently shut.”

  William grabbed Robert’s cup and stood. “Don’t forget my trouble with Lady Ravenwood.” He crossed to the table, poured more wine, and handed it back. “’Twas you who encouraged me to woo her.” He sat down again.

  Robert grinned. “One could argue she wooed you in return.”

  His brother chuckled. “That she did. With time and the right persuasion, anything is possible. Have you given it any thought?”

  “How to persuade her?”

  “How to calm her fears. She’s sure to have them. You must hood the hawk if you’re to succeed.”

  Robert took another draught, then stared into the dark liquid. What scared Lady Constance? Archdeacon Dominy, for sure. Tomorrow’s wedding should slay that fear. Perhaps she believed—as many maids did—that sex was painful. But who knew?

  He regarded William. “She’s a mystery to me. But I’ll show her kindness and respect, and perhaps one day…”

  “You’ll have heirs?” William’s black eyes saw inside him.

  “You know I’ve always wanted them.”

  “And you deserve them.”

  Wulfstan cleared his throat. “Speaking of heirs…Lady Nihtscua is with child.”

  Robert’s eyes widened. “Most splendid!”

  William slapped his thigh. “Well, well!”

  “Thank you both.” Wulfstan beamed at them. “She’s elated.”

  Robert gave him a knowing look. “And you, my friend?”

  “Anxious, but exceedingly pleased.”

  Robert raised his cup. “A toast: to the lucky couple and a healthy babe!”

  “Hear, hear!” William added.

  They lifted their cups and downed the wine.

  William grinned at Robert. “And now for your wedding gift.”

  Robert glanced at Wulfstan. “Do you know about this?”

  “Don’t look at me.”

  He turned back to his brother. “There’s no need to give—”

  “But there is.” William raised a hand to silence him. “You’ve been more than a brother to me these many years. Your loyalty is unsurpassed, and I repay my debts. Druid’s Head is yours.”

  His jaw dropped. “What? Surely you jest.”

  William shook his head. “’Tis no jest.”

  “How can I ever thank you?”

  “By living there in happiness with your lovely bride.”

  Robert’s heart swelled. “William. Your generosity. I’m…” Emotion beset his throat.

  “Say no more. You’ve earned a home, Brother. And Meg has gone ahead to make it ready for your arrival on the morrow. She insisted.”

  Wulfstan leaned back in his chair. “She lived there years ago and knows it well.”

  William’s smile fell. “Things have changed since then, according to my steward.”

  Robert frowned. “What said John?”

  “The servants think the place is haunted.”

  “Haunted?”

  Wulfstan sat up straight. “We live not ten miles north of there, yet I’ve heard nothing.”

  William nodded. “The news surprised Meg too, so the issue—whatever its nature—is recent.”

  Robert made a dismissive gesture. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  Wulfstan folded his hands. “But they exist, whether you believe or no.”

  Words evaded Robert as he stared at his friend. Despite the solar’s warmth, a chill ran down his spine. He shook it off and squared his shoulders. “No point dwelling on the yea or nay of it. I’ll be perfectly content at Druid’s Head. So shall my bride.”

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, the scents of meadowsweet and marjoram spirited upward from the guest bedchamber’s rush-strewn floor. They acted as a much-needed balm to Constance. An unshakable chill had stalked her since daybreak, despite the warmth in the air. Even now, as the wedding drew nigh, she shivered.

  Ridiculous! I should be sweating in a garment with this much brocade. Nerves, take your leave!

  Heat flowed back into her body. She frowned. How could a mere thought yield an instant change?

  Tilda, Lady Ravenwood’s plump handmaiden, adjusted the veil that covered the bride’s loose, hip-length hair, then stepped back to observe her. “You’re a vision, my lady.” She wrung her hands and cleared her throat. “What is amiss?”

  Constance forced herself to smile. “What could be amiss on so fine a day? I thank you for your help.” She looked down at Jocelyn’s handmaiden, who knelt before her, lengthening
the gold bridal gown by half an inch. “And thank you, Alice. You always had a way with needle and thread I could never duplicate, no matter how I tried. Lincoln seems a world away, doesn’t it?”

  The hazel-eyed handmaiden looked up from her work. “Aye, my lady. That it does. And I’m glad to lend a hand.” She glanced over her shoulder at Jocelyn, who watched on. “Have you told her yet?”

  Jocelyn grinned and shook her head.

  Constance looked from one to the other. “What don’t I know?”

  Jocelyn stepped forward. “Alice shall be your handmaiden now.”

  Constance’s eyes widened. “You’ve already given me the gown you wore on your wedding day. I cannot whisk Alice away, too!”

  “Hogwash! You can, and you shall.” She gestured to the masterwork of golden silk. “And the gown suits you more than it did me. It draws out the gold in your eyes.”

  “Done.” Alice smoothed the hem, then stood.

  Constance regarded her. “Do you truly wish to come with me to Druid’s Head?”

  “I do, my lady. I packed my things before leaving Nihtscua and have them here with me. So you see, ’tis all settled.”

  “Alice, why are you blushing?”

  Jocelyn chuckled. “I’d imagine a certain squire rules her thoughts.”

  Alice’s cheeks grew redder by the second. She tucked an errant strand of brown hair behind her ear. “Your sister is right. I’m partial to…or rather, smitten with…Guy.”

  “Sir Robert’s squire?” Constance smiled, recalling Guy’s urgent purchase in Newcastle. New cloth to impress a handmaiden he hoped to see again soon. “I trow your charms smote him, as well.”

  “Really?”

  “Upon my honor.”

  Alice bobbed up and down and turned to Tilda. Beaming at one another, they clasped hands.

  Constance sighed in silence. At least they take pleasure in this day.

  Jocelyn grinned at Alice. “You’ll have a chance to confirm it soon enough.” She turned to Constance. “She and Guy leave within the hour for Druid’s Head. Sir Robert arranged for them to travel ahead with your belongings and his. Meg is already there, so she’ll help them prepare for your arrival.”

  A knock sounded on the oak door. Jocelyn hastened to open it, then stepped back as Wulfstan crossed the threshold. She had eyes for him alone. “My lord.”