by Linda Sole
‘Why should I lie with another when you please me so well?’ she asked and ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. ‘If you are an attentive husband I shall have no need to stray, Robert.’
‘Damn you!’ He glared down at her. ‘Betray me and I shall kill you. I want a son, do you hear me? I married you so that you would give me a son. Do not give me cause to believe that child is not mine.’
Rhoda gazed up at him. She could see that his lust was not yet slaked. He wanted her and all his talk of sending her to the nuns was mere bravado. While she pleased him in bed he would never send her away.
‘Why don’t you make sure that I am carrying your child before the night is out?’ she asked, her voice soft and seductive. ‘The night is young yet, husband. Love me again and perhaps I shall conceive this night…’
‘Witch! Seductress!’ Robert reached out and pulled her into his arms. His kisses devoured her as he bore her back to the mattress.
Rhoda smiled as he tore off his night-shirt. Her husband might not love her but he wanted her. Robert was a natural man with lusty appetites and could not deny them. He pleased her as a lover and while he continued this way she would not think of taking another – but if he neglected her she might be forced to look for someone else. Rhoda knew that now she had experienced the true fulfilment of her body she could not lie alone for long.
FOURTEEN
Melloria woke with a start. For a moment she lay staring into the darkness wondering what had woken her. Straining to listen, she heard the sound again – as if someone stumbled and then a groan. Nicholas! Something must be wrong. Throwing back the covers, Anne left her bed quickly and went to the door that led into her husband’s bedchamber. For a moment she hesitated, then lifted the latch and went through. Immediately she knew that he was hurt for he stood close to the bed, hands pressed to his abdomen, half-swaying as if he could hardly stand.
‘Nicholas…does something ail you? Are you ill?’
‘Something spooked my horse as I rode home. I took a tumble.’ His lips forced a smile. ‘Go back to bed, Anne.’
She moved towards him anxiously. In the light from his candles she could see cuts and bruises to his face and instinct told her that this was more than a tumble from a frightened horse.
‘You are hurt, Nicholas. I beg you, let me tend your face…and your hands, for they are cut and bruised.’ Her eyes dwelled on his face and she sensed the pain he was struggling to control. ‘I think something more happened this night, husband. Were you attacked?’
Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed. His face was white, his mouth set in a grimace. ‘It was rogues after my purse. I did not wish to distress you, Anne. There is nothing to worry you. Go back to bed.’
Anne ignored him as she fetched water from the pewter jug, pouring it into a little bowl. Dipping a cloth into the cool water she gently bathed his face and then took his hands one by one into her own, soothing her cloth over them and smiling as he stoically allowed it.
‘There, the blood has gone but your cheek and mouth will be sore I think. Have you a salve that I may apply for you?’ Nicholas did not answer. Glancing down at him, she caught her breath as she saw the look of need in his eyes. Something deep inside her responded, and she bent her head, touching her mouth to his. The response was instant. Nicholas reached for her, pulling her close to his chest, his mouth fastening on hers with greedy demand. She moaned softly as her body surrendered to a need of equal intensity, pressing herself against him until she felt him flinch and drew away to see what ailed him. ‘What more injuries? Your chest…they have beaten your body…’
Nicholas tore the ties that bound his linen undershirt and Anne gasped as she saw the broken skin and deep welts, a spasm of fear in her stomach.
‘Who would do such a thing to you?’ She touched his bruised flesh tentatively, feeling him flinch as he held back the moan of pain. ‘I think you may have some serious injury here, husband.’
Nicholas moved experimental fingers over his ribcage, barely holding back a wince as he made his examination. ‘I may have a cracked rib or two.’
‘What can I do? Tell me, I beg you.’
‘In the coffer by the window…there you will find a roll of linen strips. Bring it to me. I shall take off my tunic and linen for I must be bound and tightly.’
‘I shall help you.’
Anne went quickly to the coffer, lifting the lid to look for the bandages he had mentioned. She found what was needed and lifted them out, catching sight of a book lying beneath. Its covers were of fine leather studded with what looked like semi-precious stones and silver. Nicholas had many fine books but she had not seen this one before. She would ask him about it another day, but for the moment there was more important business.
Working under Nicholas’s instruction, Anne bound his chest tightly and fastened it with neat knot at the front where it would not press into him and cause more pain. Her fingers encountered old scars on his back, deep welts that had been there some years. Holding back the questions, she continued her task for now was not the time. He nodded as she finished her work, giving her a look of approval as she stood back, a question in her eyes.
‘That will be much easier, thank you. Now you must go to bed, Anne.’
Anne hesitated, remembering the kiss. ‘I would stay with you – if you wish it?’
‘Not tonight, Anne.’ A rueful smile touched his mouth. ‘Your kiss made me hunger for more but I do not think I am able to perform a husband’s duties this night.’
Her cheeks flushed hotly and she dropped her eyes for shame. ‘I did not mean…’ Nicholas’s soft laughter stopped her and looking at him she saw fire leap in his eyes. Desire snaked through her, making her mouth dry and her breath quick. ‘It has been a long time, Nicholas. I am your wife.’
‘I feared you were not yet recovered. You were so ill when the child was born – and a woman’s body needs time to heal after such an ordeal.’ He caught her hand, his finger moving over the palm with sensual strokes so that her breath came faster and the heat pooled low in her abdomen. ‘My patient almost died this evening. I fought long and hard to save him, and I believe he will recover, but there was too much blood lost. It will be many months before he can work again. I am tired now, my love, and I must write my notes in the journal lest I forget something that will help the next patient I have to cut for the stone.’
‘You are tired and I keep you from your rest. Goodnight, my husband.’
Anne left him and went into her own chamber. Her body was tingling with what she recognised as burning desire and she felt the moisture run between her legs. Her breathing was deep as she lay down. Her breasts ached and she moved her hands over their fullness, barely controlling a moan of frustration. Until this moment she had not truly been aware of her need, but now she could feel the ache of wanting deep within her and knew that she longed to lie with her husband. The thought of him lying so close and yet apart from her was sweet torture bringing a smile to her lips as she thought of nights to come.
Alone in his chamber, Nicholas cursed the rogues that had brought him from his horse. How many nights had he lain here aching with need, wracked with a torture that only Anne could ease? Yet he had resisted because he must. She had almost died. If she had conceived too soon she would probably died in childbed; he had been forced to wait – and at the back of his mind was the knowledge that she was not truly his to take.
*
On waking, Anne rose and went through to her husband’s bedchamber. The bed was rumpled, the sheets thrown back and cold to the touch. His tunic and linen lay on the floor beside the bed. She dipped down to pick the clothing up so that it could be washed. The linen was stained with blood, which meant it must be steeped in cold water if the stain were to come out. As she folded the garments into a pile, her gaze fell on something that had been beneath them. With a cry of pleasure, Anne saw it was the book she had noticed in her husband’s coffer the previous evening and bent to pick it up.
The clasp was heavy an
d difficult to open but after a short struggle she managed it, a cry of surprise on her lips as she saw the writing inside. This was not Nicholas’s writing, but a strange scrawl that she found difficult to decipher. The words appeared to be in Latin, but not in any form she had ever seen. She flicked over the pages but could make nothing of it, though her spine tingled for signs and drawings were easier to understand and seemed to indicate that this was a book a sorcerer might use.
‘What are you doing?’ Nicholas’s voice made her jump. ‘Give that to me, Anne. I do not want you to touch that particular book.’
Anne’s gaze flew to his face, her heart thudding for his tone was so cold. He was angry with her. ‘What is it, Nicholas? I think…is it sorcery?’
‘You should not have opened it. It is a dangerous book…evil. I should have destroyed it when it first came into my possession.’
Anne gasped for something in his manner sent a tingle of fear through her. ‘Nicholas…why do you need such a book? It would condemn you to the fire. Surely you do not dabble in such things?’
‘No, I have no love or need of sorcery,’ Nicholas replied but a little nerve flicked in his cheek and she was not sure if he lied. ‘It is a book of secrets and has caused me much trouble. I would do better to burn it.’
‘How did it come to be in your possession?’
Nicholas hesitated. ‘It was given to me by the servant of a man burned to death for using sorcery. He told me that his master wanted me to have it. The book has caused me much grief and I regret that I did not immediately cast it into the flames.’
‘What do you mean – caused you much grief?’
‘There is a man in Italy who will do anything to gain this book. He has already tried to have me killed…’
‘Last night?’ Anne stared at him in dismay. ‘The attack on you last night – was that to do with this book?’
‘I think it may have been. My hope was that I had managed to disappear but if he has found me…’ Nicholas shook his head. ‘I have waited too long. I must do something I should have done long since.’
‘I do not understand you. Why does this man want the book so desperately that he would kill you?’
‘He believes that it contains the secret of turning base metal to gold. He thinks that if he had the secret he could be rich beyond his wildest dreams.’
‘Is that where your wealth comes from?’
‘No. I have seen the chapter devoted to alchemy but it is hard to decipher and I am not particularly interested in such a prospect. If gold were easy to produce it would lose its value in time. The fools who seek the secret think no further than their greed for riches. Besides, my fortune is based in business and trade.’
‘Then why not give this man the book?’
‘A book such as this in the wrong hands would be dangerous – evil beyond your imagining. It must be kept safe and protected from those who would misuse it.’
‘Or destroyed. Why do you not burn it?’
Nicholas looked rueful. ‘It is a man’s life – a lifetime of work and study. The man who wrote down those secrets did not use them for harm. He was unjustly accused. Yet I think he did not truly understand them or the price that must be paid for their use.’
‘Price…’ Anne shuddered. She felt that a dark shadow hovered over them and she was cold…so cold. ‘Destroy the book, Nicholas. Destroy it now before it destroys you.’ She moved towards him urgently. ‘I beg you, do this for your own sake.’
‘I was careless last night because of the pain. I shall put the book away where it can harm no one.’
Anne felt her chest constrict with fear. She wished that he would destroy the book for she felt it evil but the look on his face told her that he could not bring himself to do it.
‘Are you in much pain this morning?’
‘I have hardly felt it since you bound me. You are a good nurse, Anne.’
‘You are a good physician and apothecary. You do not need a book of secrets, Nicholas.’
She turned away, taking the stained clothes with her. The book fascinated Nicholas, not because he wished to use the sorcery it contained but because it was a mystery that needed to be deciphered.
He was a man of learning with an inquiring mind – but the book was dangerous. It might bring his enemy here in search of it but worse still was the knowledge that Nicholas could be tried for sorcery if it were found.
FIFTEEN
‘Where are you going?’ Marta asked as Todd pulled on a soft grey jerkin with a hood that covered his head and hid much of his face. He had been acting strangely these past days and she sometimes feared for his sanity. ‘I thought you had to finish the bench for Father Andrew?’
‘Shut your mouth, woman,’ Todd muttered. ‘Where I go is not your business. You nag more than a wife.’
Marta was silenced. She watched as he went out, her mind clouded with doubts. He had been muttering to himself all day and she had seen him sharpening the knife she believed he had used to kill the monk. What was he planning? Was he going to kill another man?
Todd had not been himself for weeks. She hardly dared speak to him sometimes, because the way he looked at her made her afraid. He had changed, becoming sullen and bad tempered and he never looked at Mary these days. When the child cried and held out her arms to him he simply glared at her and turned away.
Marta believed that his conscience must be torturing him. He had killed for her sake and Mary’s but now he was afraid for his immortal soul – and yet if he regretted killing the monk why had sharpened his knife that morning?
Todd stood in the shadows watching as men and women left the alehouse. Some of them were so drunk that they had to be helped to stay upright. He scowled as he saw a group of three men leave together. All of them were in Montroy’s pay but three together was too many for him. He needed one man on his own.
It was a cold night and his feet were freezing. Todd blew on his hands and moved the fingers to keep the blood flowing. He had been keeping watch outside the inn for more than a week now and he had decided that it must be tonight. The bitterness had been eating at him all this time and he wanted his revenge. When he thrust that knife in the monk’s back he had felt a thrill, a sense of power and elation, the triumph of being omnipotent. He had killed his enemy and got away with his crime. Now he was going to kill again. He just needed his victim to be alone.
When he saw the man who had insulted him the day he took the marriage chest to Montroy’s house, he felt a deep satisfaction. The fool was alone and had obviously been drinking more deeply than was good for him. He staggered unsteadily along the street, weaving from side to side and muttering to himself. A man in his drink should prove an easy mark.
There were too many people here. Todd knew that he must follow his chosen victim, wait until the moment was right. He wanted to make sure that he was not seen, because he had no intention of being hung for murder. There was no sense of right or wrong in his mind, no guilt for his former crime. The man had insulted him, cheated him, and led the others in the beating that had humiliated Todd and made him thirsty for revenge. It was right that he should be the first to die, but there would be others. He had the taste for killing now.
Todd had an excited nervous feeling in his belly as he began to follow his victim, keeping a sensible distance between them. He did not wish the man to become aware of him until the last. To attack him now might be to invite discovery. There were darker lanes and alleys as the man wove his way back to the Earl of Montroy’s house; Todd would wait for the right moment before making his move.
*
Marta saw how low the candle had burned in its holder and realised the hour was very late. She had sat at her sewing for longer than she intended, wondering if Todd would come home drunk again. She would wait up no longer. He was a fool to himself, because he was neglecting his work and if he carried on this way he would lose customers. He had still not finished the bench for Father Andrew despite his promise and there was no telling how long
the priest would wait. Todd was a good craftsman but there were others in the district who could do similar work. If her brother kept people waiting for their goods they would soon go elsewhere.
She put her needlework into the bag she kept for the purpose and stood up. It was pointless leaving the candle for Todd. He might not turn up until it was nearly morning. Carrying the chamber-stick carefully, she went up the wooden ladder that led to the loft where they slept on mattresses of straw. If the spring had been coming she might have taken Mary and left her brother’s house but the worst of the winter was yet to come and she did not fancy wandering from village to village with the child after the soft living of the past year.
Sighing, she lay down on her cot fully clothed. Marta could put up with Todd’s drinking and his bad temper as long as he did not hit her or the child, but the thought that he might have murdered someone else played on her mind. How long would it be before his crimes were discovered?
*
Todd saw his intended victim stop and turn to the wall. The man was fiddling about with his hose and it was clear that he meant to piss up against the wall of the house. Quickening his pace, Todd saw his opportunity. He drew the long knife he had sharpened that morning and plunged it into the man’s back, ripping it upward for the maximum effect. The monk he had killed had died swiftly but this time the effect was not so sudden. The man’s scream was piercing and he jerked forward then turned and looked at Todd, his eyes accusing and terrible as the blood oozed out of him. Unbelievably, he moved towards Todd, reaching out and grabbing him in his arms while blood trickled out of his mouth and spurted from his chest.
Horrified, Todd jerked back. His hands encountered blood as he shoved against the wounded man’s chest with all his might and his victim staggered, then slumped to his knees and felt face down. Todd backed away, shocked and stunned. Instead of the elation he had felt the first time he could feel bile rising in his throat. He turned away and vomited into the gutter, dazed and shocked, unable to think clearly. His victim was lying still now but he couldn’t take his gaze away from the body. The look in the man’s eyes as he lurched towards Todd had been chilling, terrifying. He wasn’t meant to feel this way. His control went and he felt the hot sting of urine on his legs; then, as he stared stupidly down at his wet hose, he heard a shout from somewhere above him. Looking up, he saw that a man’s face had appeared at the window.
