by Linda Sole
‘Are you my keeper now?’ Todd scowled at her. ‘If that is for my breakfast you waste your time. I’ll come in later for a slice of cold bacon and some preserves.’ He went to the bucket of water Marta had fetched in that morning and lifted the ladle to his mouth, drinking deeply. Letting it fall back into the bucket with a splash, he farted, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and went through to the shop.
Marta frowned as she spooned porridge for herself and the child into wooden bowls. She did not know what had come over Todd of late. He had not been himself since he returned from the Earl of Montroy’s house with the marriage chest unsold. He had said nothing but the bruises on his cheek told her that his reception had been unfavourable. His mood had grown steadily worse and he had taken to drinking and staying out until all hours. She knew better than to try and curb his excesses. In truth she was a little afraid of Todd these days. He had changed since the murder of Simon Malham, becoming someone very different from the brother she had always known and admired. Something was eating at him. She thought it must be guilt but there was nothing she could say or do that would ease his conscience.
For the sake of his soul he ought to confess but Todd no longer attended church. He had even stopped working on the bench he had been making for Father Andrew, leaving one panel unfinished. He still spent most of the day in his workshop but she was not certain what he was making and she did not dare to ask.
Marta regretted the change in her brother. She had become accustomed to comfort and the pleasure of being in her own home, but there were moments now when she wondered if she ought to leave while she could and find work elsewhere. Todd seemed to have lost interest in the child recently. He had not been violent towards her or Mary, but if that were to happen Marta would take the child and leave.
*
Todd stared resentfully at the wooden joint stool he had been making. It was routine work, simply made with thick pegs that held it together, but he had no desire to spend hours on the intricate carving and dovetailing that had once given him such delight. The marriage chest he had carved so painstakingly for the Earl of Montroy stood in the corner of the room mocking him. What use was it to put so many hours into his work when the man who had ordered the goods would not pay?
The sense of injustice burned deep in Todd. He had been humiliated and made to look foolish by the earl and his henchmen. His vows to get even seemed an impossible dream, because what could he do to an earl or even the earl’s steward? It had been easy to sneak up behind Simon Malham in the dark and stick a knife in his back, but as far as he knew neither Montroy nor his steward frequented whorehouses, at least none that he knew of. However, the previous night when he was stumbling home after drinking too much ale he had seen one of the men who had beaten him. He had been drinking at an alehouse in the merchants’ quarter and by the looks of him he liked his drink.
A gleam entered Todd’s eyes as he began to make his plans. The frustration of not knowing how to exact revenge on the men who had humiliated him had been eating at his insides. He had turned to drinking as a way of drowning the bitterness and rage, but now he saw that it was foolish. Getting drunk night after night would only complete his downfall. He knew where Montroy’s men went to drink now and he would keep watch.
It hardly mattered whether the men he murdered were the ones that had humiliated him. If he could kill Montroy’s men it would show folk that they were not invincible and if he killed enough of the bastards, it would sow terror amongst them.
Todd smiled as he realised that he would in his own way be taking revenge on the earl and his steward. He liked the idea of his own power and remembered the elation he had felt when the monk died. The death of one man might be mere inconvenience, but if it kept happening it must cause concern. The earl might have some difficulty in recruiting new men for he was not popular as a master and if his men were being murdered it would reflect badly on him. Revenge tasted sweet and if fortune smiled on Todd he might discover some other way to make the earl pay.
He glanced up as the shop door opened and a man entered. Recognising Father Andrew, Todd felt wary. Why had the priest come to the shop? Had he become suspicious about the death of Simon Malham? For a moment fear clutched at his insides as he wondered if he would yet be made to pay for his crime.
‘I wondered if the bench I ordered is nearly ready? I have heard that the Prior is coming to take a sermon in my church the Sunday after next. Will you have it ready in time, Master Carpenter?’
Todd hesitated, then inclined his head in assent. ‘It is almost done, Father. I could deliver it to you in the middle of next week.’
‘I should be most grateful.’ Father Andrew nodded to him. His eyes moved to the chest in the corner of the room. ‘That is a remarkable thing, Master Carpenter. For what purpose was it made?’
Todd hesitated. ‘It is for keeping valuables in – such as a Bible or silver for the altar.’
Father Andrew approached the chest, running his fingers appreciatively over the fine carving. ‘I suppose this was made for a customer?’
‘I made it as a display piece to show what I can do,’ Todd watched the priest. He was almost drooling over the chest. Clearly his love of fine things had not been set aside when he took his vows. Smiling inwardly, Todd wondered how much he could squeeze from the covetous priest. ‘I might sell it for five pounds.’
‘Five silver pounds?’ Father Andrew looked shocked. ‘Surely that is too much?’
‘I spent many hours on that chest. It should be far more but if it was for the church I would accept five pounds.’ Todd could see the speculation in the priest’s eyes but he was determined not to drop his price lower, even though anything would be better than seeing the chest every day and being reminded of his humiliation. ‘It should be more like six or seven but for you five is my price.’
‘I fear the price is too high,’ Father Andrew replied. ‘I will think about it but I believe three is nearer the sum I could afford to pay. You may tell me your decision when you bring the bench.’
Todd scowled as the priest left the shop, adding one more figure of hate to the growing list in his head.
One day all these high and mighty folk would pay for sneering at Todd Carpenter! He would make them suffer one by one…
THIRTEEN
Rhoda had never seen so many richly-dressed people in one place. The huge hall was a sea of bright colours, blue and crimson, gold, yellow and the rarer green that was so difficult to achieve in cloth dying. The stone walls were hung here and there with tapestries worked with threads of brilliant hues, and the torches flaring in their sconces reflected the glitter of gold thread worked into the fabric of gowns worn by the some of the wealthiest nobles in the land.
She could not help feeling a flutter of nerves in her stomach as she looked around at the company, feeling almost as if she did not belong amongst such exalted personages. However, she was wearing a tunic of emerald cloth brocaded with gold thread, a girdle of gold-embossed leather about her waist. Her shoes were of soft leather and just peeped beneath the hem of her tunic; around her neck she wore the heavy gold and emerald chain that the earl had given her as a wedding gift. Her hair flowed down her back and was covered only by a cap of gold and a fine veil. There was no doubt in her mind that she looked her best, and, as she began to realise that both men and women turned their heads to look as she walked through the hall, her confidence came flooding back.
‘I must present you to the prince,’ Robert said and took her arm.
He steered her towards a young man of perhaps twenty years. Prince Edward had an attractive face, especially when he smiled, his soft hair of medium length and neatly curled into a roll below his ears; he wore a simple circlet of gold on his head. He had a full beard, as did many of the nobles, and was richly dressed in crimson and purple banded with gold.
‘May I present my wife, Rhoda, Sire.’
As Robert spoke the words, she dipped into a graceful curtsey as she had been taught by her mother,
her head bent.
‘You have married again?’ The prince’s voice seemed to question. Was there a hint of disapproval? Rhoda glanced up nervously and then the prince smiled. She gave him a tentative smile in return and he offered her his hand, helping her to stand tall once more. ‘You are welcome at court, lady. The Earl of Devereaux is our true friend and we do most sincerely value him.’
Rhoda thanked him. She was easier now, feeling confident. Her husband was much respected at court it seemed, and, as his wife, she was attracting attention and admiration. Her feelings of resentment for the way he had treated her on their wedding night had eased a little. As yet he had not come to her again, but that might be because they had lodged at a monastery on the way here and the monks had separate quarters for men and women.
Her feeling of wellbeing continued throughout the evening. She was given a place of honour at the high table just a few places from the prince’s left hand. The food brought to table was rich fare, messes of meat and offal in red wine, roasted swan and oxen, also dishes of plums, crab apples, quinces and dates with nuts and a sweet substance made of almonds and honey that she had not tasted before.
After the meal was done, a little page brought her a wooden bowl of scented water to dip her fingers in to rinse them and she dried them on his sleeve, as others around her did. More wine was served but then the pages and servants began to clear away the trestles and boards leaving only the high table in place.
Rhoda felt a stirring of excitement as she saw the group of musicians take their place on a little dais at the far end of the room. As they began to play, she realised that there would be entertainment and dancing.
First of all there was a display by the mummers, dwarfs performing somersaults and other tricks; then came the fire-eater and then a minstrel singing sweet love songs. When the dancing began, Rhoda saw that other ladies were being asked to dance. She turned to look for Robert but he had moved away from her and was deep in conversation with the prince, apparently unaware that others were dancing.
‘The earl is busy,’ a voice said at her ear. ‘Perhaps you would care to dance with me, my lady?’
Turning her head, she saw Jonathan and smiled. She had always liked him and something in the way he looked at her was pleasing. Accepting his request without hesitation, she gave him her hand.
‘Thank you, sir. I should like to dance with you.’
Rhoda’s heart lifted as Jonathan led her into the throng of merry men and women. They joined a circle with other dancers and began to follow the music, taking six steps to the right and then six steps to the left, then everyone gave a little cry and converged to the middle and out again.
After that the circle of men and women broke into pairs, the gentlemen swinging the lady round several times, before the circle formed once more. The whole dance was then repeated, and next time the pairing happened, Rhoda found herself being whirled round by a young man she had never seen before. The way he held her hands combined with the look in his eyes made her heart race. By the time the circle formed again she was laughing, thoroughly enjoying herself.
It was not until the dance had ended that Jonathan reclaimed her. He smiled as she took his hand and they moved out of the way of a fresh group of dancers.
‘You love to dance, my lady.’
‘Yes, I love it above all things,’ Rhoda said. ‘Thank you so much for asking me.’
‘It was my pleasure.’
The caress of his voice and the intense look in his eyes sent a little shiver down Rhoda’s spine. She sensed that he liked her more than he ought to like his lord’s wife. It gave her a thrill of pleasure, which intensified as she glanced across the room and saw her husband watching her. His gaze was narrowed, slightly displeased. He had ignored her often enough but she had his attention now. She saw him begin to walk towards her and turned to Jonathan, touching his arm.
‘Dance with me again,’ she begged.
Jonathan laughed and offered his hand. ‘I thought you must be tired after the last time, but if you wish it I shall oblige you, my lady.’
‘Rhoda,’ she said. ‘You must call me Rhoda…’
*
Watching his wife dance was sweet torment for Robert. He could not help feeling proud of her grace and her beauty, nor could he fail to notice that she was much admired. Her appearance had created a stir and there was no doubting that her beauty would attract followers. It would seem that Jonathan was the most favoured for the moment, but there would be others.
It might have been better to leave her at Craigmoor. Robert had brought her to court because he was torn between guilt, regret and a strong desire to lie with her again. He was well aware that he had treated her badly on their wedding night. What he had done was little short of rape and his conscience had nagged at him since that night. If he could not forget Melloria he should not have wed a young and beautiful woman. He made up his mind that he would do better next time.
When the dance ended he went to her, his gaze deep and intense. ‘It is time we retired, Rhoda. Once the prince leaves the company sometimes becomes careless and ribald. Come, take my hand. I shall escort you to our house.’
‘Of course my lord. Whatever you desire.’
The look in her eyes set a flame burning in Robert. He knew that he would lie with her that night. She was beautiful, warm and very much alive. Melloria was dead. He must put her from his mind or he would ruin any chance of happiness he might have had with his young bride. Above all, he was conscious that he needed an heir, a son to care for his estate when he grew too old to hold his lands and to inherit when he died.
*
Rhoda was excited as she allowed her woman to undress her that evening. She was wearing a gown of such fine material that the pinkish colour of her skin showed through it, its slender shape clinging to her full breasts and hips. Unlike her wedding night, she did not hide beneath the sheets, standing by the coffer where her brushes, combs and perfume flasks lay. Robert made his appearance seconds after her maid was dismissed. She saw that he had changed into a nightgown, and his feet were bare. As he approached she caught the musky smell of scented oils he had used on his beard and hair. Her stomach clenched with anticipation, because she knew he desired her and this time she was determined not to be treated as if she were a brood mare.
‘You are beautiful,’ Robert said, his voice hoarse. ‘I thought you would be in bed when I came.’
‘No, I refuse to hide like a timid child,’ Rhoda told him, her head up. ‘If you want to lie with me this night, husband, you must behave as a lover ought. I am not a brood mare to be taken to the stallion. I demand that you give me respect and love.’
‘What do you know of love? Have you had a lover?’ Robert’s eyes glittered with jealousy but also desire.
‘You know that I was virgin when you took me. I am a woman and I have heard other women speak of love.’ She raised her head proudly. ‘Do I not deserve tenderness at least?’
Robert was silent for a moment, then he inclined his head, ‘I believe you deserve much more, Rhoda. I was wrong to treat you as I did. I shall try to do better in future.’
Rhoda moved towards him. She had rubbed subtle perfume into her skin and it wafted about her, sensual and hauntingly fragrant. Robert’s face twisted with desire, his mouth loose and soft as he reached out for her. His mouth touched hers lightly at first but them with increasing hunger. She pressed closer to him, her arms about his neck, her fingers moving at the nape. Robert shuddered and caught her tight, his tongue invading her mouth, tasting her sweetness.
Suddenly, he groaned and bent to sweep her off her feet, carrying her to the bed. This time Rhoda removed her nightgown herself, revealing the generous curves of her body to him. She took his right hand and placed it on her breast, smiling up at him in such a way that he moaned once more and then bent his head to caress her with his tongue. He licked delicately at her nipples, which were highly sensitised and peaked under his ministrations. Her back arched as he stroked
and caressed with hands and tongue, his touch lighting a fire within her that soon became a conflagration.
Robert’s kisses were hungry, ravenous, as he explored her with his hands, kissing the insides of her thighs and licking at her moist centre. Rhoda cried out, her body tingling with need as she opened wide for him. She was hot and wet when he entered her. This time she was ready for him, taking his length in deep, her nails raking at his shoulders. Her body arched and bucked beneath him as he drove into her hard again and again, and she gave a scream of pleasure as they reached a glorious place together.
Robert emptied his seed inside her, lying on her with his face against her throat, their sweat mingling. She lay with her eyes closed, a tear trickling from the corner of one eye. He raised himself to look down at her.
‘Tears, Rhoda?’
‘I did not know it would be so good…’ she said and when she opened her eyes she was smiling.
Robert drew back. He rolled away from her and lay still, eyes shut. She leaned up on her elbow and looked down on him.
‘Did I not please you, my lord?’
‘You pleased me too much,’ Robert replied. He opened his eyes and looked at her. ‘Are you not chaste, Rhoda? How did you know how to please me so?’
‘You know that I was virgin on my wedding night. How can I not be chaste?’
‘I do not know – but I believe I am not your first lover.’ Robert turned over and then left the bed. She watched as he put on his night-robe. ‘I took your maidenhead but I think someone else taught you the arts of love.’
Rhoda lay back against the pillows. She was frightened but she managed a smile. ‘I was merely proving my desire to be a good wife, Robert. I am sorry that you think me immodest.’
He stood staring down at her, indecision in his eyes. ‘God forgive me, I still want you, whatever you are. I do not know what you have done in the past, Rhoda – but if I have cause to believe you have lain with another man I shall send you to the nuns.’
