by Linda Sole
‘I think you are beautiful and all that is good and lovely,’ Nicholas told her. He held her away and smiled. ‘Now, my sweet foolish wife, tell me what you have been doing this morning?’
SEVENTEEN
Rhoda rinsed the bitter vomit from her mouth and grimaced. It was the second time she had been sick in the past week or so. She thought ruefully of the night when she had invited her husband to make his son with her. He had taken at her word, and it seemed very likely that she was quickening with child.
They had remained at court for some weeks while the nobles talked and argued about the coming campaign. It seemed that there was already fighting. Prince Edward’s supporters putting up a spirited defence against the marauders, though an organised attack could not take place until the spring. The prince had gone ahead with an advance party to argue with the disaffected nobles who were causing so much trouble in the outlying fiefs. Robert had remained at Winchester to oversee the movement of the supplies the soldiers would need once the fighting started in earnest. He and his men were to escort the prince’s supplies and she was to go with them.
Rhoda had thought that her husband might say she must go back to Craigmoor and wait for him to return when the fighting was over. However, he had come to her bed every night since her first appearance at court. Seemingly, he could not get enough of her and he had been generous, giving her presents and money so that she could buy clothes and anything else she desired from the merchants at Winchester.
‘Make the most of your time here,’ Robert had told her when he gave her the purse of gold. ‘You will not get much chance for buying new clothes or trinkets when we move on.’
Rhoda had not expected to be taken beyond the borders of Wales, where the prince was preparing to attack his enemies. With each day that passed she expected to be sent home, but it had not happened. Robert seemed determined to take her with him. Had he known she was already carrying his child it might have been different but she had not told him and she did not intend to. It would be lonely and boring at Craigmoor. She liked being admired and she enjoyed flirting with Jonathan and other men whose eyes followed her wherever she went about the court.
She was determined to accompany her husband on the campaign, as were several other wives. Robert did not notice little things so she would keep her secret until she was forced to tell him.
She did not think he would mind too much. A satisfied smile touched her mouth. At the beginning of their marriage Robert had thought too much of his dead wife but now his eyes followed her wherever she went. When she gave him his son he would love her and think no more of Melloria.
Jonathan had told her that Melloria was beautiful. He said that Rhoda was even more beautiful. Yet sometimes, when she saw sadness in her husband’s eyes, she suspected that he still thought of his first wife with regret.
What kind of woman could still hold a man’s heart after she was dead these many months? Rhoda had never seen a likeness of her rival and it annoyed her sometimes, because she knew that even though Robert wanted her in his bed, his heart still belonged to another woman.
Was Melloria so beautiful that she held his heart even though she must be rotting in the ground, her flesh eaten by worms and stinking? Rhoda was determined to make her husband forget his first wife and think only of her and she feared that he might forget her if she retired to Craigmoor to have her child.
So she ignored her feelings of sickness and the tiredness that sometimes swept over her. Somehow she must hide her condition from Robert until it was too late for him to send her home. She was determined that he would forget his first wife and think only of her and the pleasure she brought him as they lay together in bed.
Melloria was dead. Robert must forget her.
*
Rhoda looked about her in dismay. The journey had seemed long; hours and hours of riding over roads made treacherous by the heavy rains of late, bitter winds driving into her face. They had been on the move for so long that she had lost count of the days but knew it must be well over two weeks since they left the castle at Winchester. In all that time she had been supported by the promise of warmth and a bed when they reached their destination for they would surely stay in one of the royal palaces. The news that the Welsh had overrun most of the territories under Prince Edward’s domain, leaving him only one or two fortresses still loyal was dismaying – but the discovery that they had been lodged in the old keep at Dyserth was the final blow for Rhoda.
Her body ached as if she had been beaten all over, though she was only being sick first thing in the mornings and in every other way felt perfectly well. She had been overjoyed to reach their destination, but seeing the tiny chamber that was to be hers, her heart sank. The thick grey stone walls ran with moisture and the bare floors struck a chill into her bones. It seemed much colder here amongst the valleys and dark brooding mountains of Wales than in the city of Winchester. The faces of the people they passed on the last part of their journey were sullen, thin and suspicious, as if they resented their English overlords.
‘How can we live here?’ Rhoda asked petulantly when Robert showed her the chamber she was to use. ‘It is too small and damp.’ She shuddered with cold, pulling her fur-lined cloak about her. ‘Surely there must be a comfortable manor house where we could lodge?’
‘This is the only place where I can be certain you will be safe,’ Robert told her. His face was expressionless, his eyes hooded and veiled. ‘You will not have to share it with me every night, Rhoda. I shall not be here often.’
‘Where are you going? You do not intend to leave me here alone?’
‘You will hardly be alone. Sir Jonathan and half of my men remain to reinforce the garrison, and you have Joanne and your other serving women to wait on you.’ Robert’s manner seemed unyielding ‘I must follow my duty to the prince. There may be a great deal of fighting. Here in this fortress you will be safe enough. I shall be riding between here and Deganwy.’
‘What if something should happen to you?’ She looked at him fearfully for the times were uncertain and any man might be killed. Yet had he not stolen her from Montroy her fate might have been far worse; the thought of being forced to lie with a man she despised made her shudder and she feared for the future if Robert died.
‘If I should fall in battle, you may return to Craigmoor. My stepbrother Andrew of Exeter holds it in my absence. He will look after your interest, lady.’
Rhoda frowned. She had met Andrew of Exeter only once at her wedding. He was a cold-eyed silent man, who had looked at her with disapproval before he left Craigmoor. She suspected that he found her a poor substitute for Robert’s first wife. If he were left in charge of her she did not doubt that she would soon find herself in a nunnery.
‘Then I must tell you…’ Rhoda caught her breath as her husband looked at her with such intensity that she was frightened. ‘I believe I may be carrying your son.’
‘You are with child?’ Robert’s gaze narrowed. ‘Are you certain?’
‘Yes, my lord. I have not seen my courses for more than five weeks.’
‘If you knew before we left Winchester why did you not tell me?’
‘I was not certain then and I did not wish to raise your hopes only to disappoint you.’
‘I see…’ Robert frowned. ‘It is a pity you did not mention your hopes before Rhoda. You would have been more comfortable at Craigmoor. However, we are here now and I shall not scold you.’ His expression lightened. He smiled and reached out to touch her cheek. ‘I am pleased that you are to bear a child, Rhoda – and I shall pray that it is the son you hope for.’
‘I shall pray for it too, my lord.’
He moved closer to her, gazing down at her, warmth in his eyes. ‘You must take great care of yourself. I shall instruct that fires be lit in your chamber every day and the floor swept with rushes and sweet herbs. It looks bare and bleak at the moment, but with hangings on the wall and your own things about you, it will not seem so bad. The baggage has arrived and the servants will so
on have your chamber made comfortable. I shall instruct them that your chamber is their first duty, all else must wait until you are settled.’
‘I dare say it may be made comfortable,’ Rhoda admitted reluctantly. ‘But I shall be lonely when you are not with me, husband. You will come to see me sometimes?’
‘I shall return whenever I can,’ he promised. ‘The prince had not expected things to be as bad as they are here. He has sent word to his father the King asking for his help. If His Majesty comes he may set up his headquarters at Deganwy. If I am quartered there I shall come to fetch you, but for the moment I am of more use to the prince here.’
‘Then I shall be patient and pray for you, my husband.’
‘Thank you.’ Robert bent to kiss her softly on the lips. ‘I must leave you, for the stores we brought with us must be checked and accounted for – and then I leave for Deganwy with food and supplies they need there. It may be several days before I can return.’
Rhoda returned his kiss. She did not truly mind that he would no longer share her bed every night. Her appetite for lovemaking had left her since she began to feel the child quicken inside her. Now that Robert had acknowledged her child and expressed concern for her she was satisfied. These rebellious lords would soon learn the error of their ways now that their lawful prince was here, and if King Henry joined them he would make short work of this uprising.
It was true that she would have been more comfortable in her chamber at Craigmoor but at least here she would see Robert when he visited the castle, and, as her child grew in her belly, he would be reminded of the child she bore. If she had gone to Craigmoor he might have forgotten her, because she knew that Melloria was still in his thoughts too often.
*
Robert spent the rest of the day overseeing the unloading of stores for the fortress. In the morning he must set out with the wagons intended for the fortress of Deganwy. He had consulted local guides, who knew the trails and paths through the mountain passes, which could be treacherous for the unwary traveller, and realised that the journey would be fraught with danger. The Welsh lords would not want to see the fortresses they had been unable to take reinforced with English soldiers and might try to attack the train. He was not afraid of a fight; his men were well armed and practised the art of warfare constantly, but the element of surprise was with the Welsh who knew their mountains and woods better than Robert or his men. He could only trust that his guides were to be trusted and would not lead him into a trap.
His thoughts dwelt on his work and the likelihood of an attack until it was dusk and he bid his men get what rest they could before they left at first light. For much of the journey he had refrained from visiting Rhoda’s bed, because it was sometimes difficult to find lodgings where they could sleep together. The monasteries often segregated their guests and he would not lie with her in a guestroom that was shared by others. However, tonight she would have her own bed with her own sheets and covers. Robert had sent the baggage train ahead so that everything would arrive before them but the goods had not been unpacked because until he arrived the question of accommodation for his wife was not settled.
A part of him thought that he had been a fool to bring her to this grim place. He had not understood what awaited them here, but he ought to have realised that she would be unhappy with the kind of chamber available under these conditions. There were indeed manor houses in the neighbourhood where they might be welcomed but Rhoda would be vulnerable while he was away. A shudder took him as he remembered what had happened to Melloria when she was near her time. He would never forgive himself for leaving her in the care of an untried youth. This time his wife would have his friend Jonathan to make sure that she was safe.
He decided to go in search of Jonathan, and found him checking the guard on the battlements of the walls that surrounded the keep and castle buildings. The walls were thick and offered safety to defenders, who would pour burning oil and throw missiles down at the attacking force. There were all manner of ruses used by hostile armies, who might build a sloping roof of raw hides to protect the engineers. They could then construct a causeway by which the moat could be breached so that a battering ram could be brought into play. The attacking force might use great war machines that took many men to push them into place and sent balls of fire in on the defenders.
‘Will it continue to hold?’ Robert asked as Jonathan came towards him. ‘Now that you are here I think security will be tightened.’
‘I believe that we have sufficient bowmen to defend us against any enemy.’ Jonathan said. These walls are old but stout and it would take a long siege to break us.’
Robert nodded for it was his own opinion. ‘You would be relieved before that happened. I can trust you to care for Rhoda while I am gone? She has told me that she is with child…’
‘Rhoda with child?’ Jonathan seemed shocked but recovered quickly. ‘It is a pity that she was not sent back to Craigmoor when we left Winchester. She would have been more comfortable there.’
‘Yes, I agree. It seems foolish to have brought her – but I was loath to leave her with Philip. He did not take to her for some reason and I wanted to please her. You will take care for her?’
‘I give you my word that she will come to no harm while I live.’
‘Then I can leave with an easy mind,’ Robert said and placed a hand on his arm. ‘If there is one man I trust in this life it is you, Jonathan.’
‘I do not like to see you leave and not ride at your back to protect you,’ Jonathan said, his expression grim. ‘However, I understand why you make this request and I pledge my loyalty to both you and the prince.’
‘Edward has sent messengers pleading with the King to come to his aid. The rebellion is more serious than he imagined and he needs his father’s authority to put things right here.’
‘I believe the King must answer him and come speedily no matter what the situation in France,’ Jonathan pursued his mouth. ‘I am uneasy in my mind, Robert. At Winchester I saw and heard things that make me believe the Welsh lords are the least of Henry’s troubles. He may put down this rebellion easily enough, but the English barons will be harder to appease. I sense much unrest. Some of them promised Edward their support but as yet they have not rallied to him.’
‘What you say is true. We must deal with the Welsh lords first but I agree with you that the unrest in England grows with each year that passes. I believe Simon de Montfort will be the man to spark them into rebellion but as yet he keeps a low profile.’
‘No doubt he waits to see which way the wind blows. Well, you may put your mind at rest concerning the lady Rhoda. I would give my life for her.’
‘Yes…’ Robert studied his face. ‘I see that you would.’
He parted with his friend, making up his mind that he would visit Rhoda that night. It might be weeks before he returned. He must leave no doubts in her mind that she was his wife and that he cared for her and her child.
She had done nothing these past weeks to give him cause to suspect her but the feeling that she was not chaste, that she might have known another lover, had never quite left him.
EIGHTEEN
Marta returned to the house, her basket containing the tiny piece of mutton and some turnips, which were all she could afford to buy at the market. She had sold a wooden crucifix, which she had found in the loft, and had belonged to her father, but the few coins the stallholder had given her would only last a few days. She had no idea what she could sell next, because she had used her mother’s best tunic to make clothes for Mary the previous summer. Her father had left nothing else of value, except his tools and the house he had built for his wife and family. Todd had taken the best of the tools, though there was a hammer and some chisels that still remained. She had hesitated to sell them lest her brother return and demand to know where they were. However, unless she could find work of some kind she would be forced to do so soon.
Once she had chopped the mutton very small and added it to the cooking
pot with turnips and some flour to thicken the broth, Marta went through into her brother’s workshop. There were some off cuts of wood from a joint stool Todd had made just before he ran away; they would do to keep the fire going, because the wood store was half empty and it was still February, the weather bitterly cold.
Marta had spent several days looking for work. She had begged a neighbour she knew well to care for Mary while she made her tour of the shops and craft shops, promising that once she had money she would pay for any care. She had asked at the baker’s shop, the butcher’s, the cloth dyer, the saddle maker, the wool carder’s manufactory, candlemaker, and even the tannery, where the stink made her want to vomit, but none of them had been interested in taking on the sister of a murderer.
After being driven away with foul language and horse dung taken from the road, Marta had given up begging for work. Even a trip to the market was fraught with danger, because the goodwives of the town turned their backs on her and some picked up rotting filth from the gutters and threw it at her.
If she took Mary with her she risked the child being hurt by something that was thrown at them, but her neighbour had refused to care for the child unless she paid her. Marta had given her an iron candleholder, which was one of the few things of any value she had left to offer. It had appeased the woman for the moment but before long she would demand more. Marta had no idea what she would give her next for her neighbour would have no use for Todd’s chisels.
Looking round the workshop for something else of value, Marta’s gaze fell on the marriage chest her brother had made for the Earl of Montroy. The earl had refused to pay, though Todd had never told her exactly what happened that day. She knew that he had been beaten and humiliated, and she thought that his mood had worsened after he was treated so basely. That wretched thing was of no value to her.
Marta picked it up and struggled to the door, taking it outside to stand on the path in front of the house. The wonder of it was that it had been undamaged by the men who searched the house, perhaps because it was too heavy to knock over by just pushing it. She decided to put a for sale notice on the chest. If no one bought it, she would take an axe and smash it for firewood.
