Love Hate & Betrayal

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Love Hate & Betrayal Page 19

by Linda Sole


  Anne’s gaze went to the stranger and then back to Nicholas, a hint of fear in her face. ‘Is anything wrong, Nicholas?’

  ‘Nothing. An old friend has called to see me. Take Iolanthe. I gave her something to settle her stomach. She will be well enough now.’

  Anne took the child, inclined her head to the stranger and went out as Nicholas held the door for her.

  ‘The child is beautiful,’ Prior Peter said. ‘Is she yours, Malvern? I did not know you had married again.’

  ‘Yes, Iolanthe is mine,’ Nicholas said. ‘Come, my friend, tell me how you used the medicines I gave you and how soon the symptoms began to ease. I should like to see if the boils have left scars. If you will allow me to examine you?’

  Nicholas cursed inwardly as he ushered the prior into his private rooms. It was unfortunate that the visitor had seen both the child and Anne but it could not be helped. He must just hope that the man would not think there was anything unusual and go back where he had come from without speaking of what he had chanced to see.

  *

  ‘You are very welcome to join us for prayers and to stay in our guesthouse, Prior Peter,’ Beatrice said when the request was made. ‘It is not often we have visitors who come from His Grace with a message.’

  ‘The Bishop bade me tell you that he has some reason to think it may be possible to trace the child you seek, Mother Abbess.’

  ‘That is indeed good news, brother. My sister, the Countess of Devereaux, was once very dear to me and I feel I owe it to her to discover the truth of her death and the whereabouts of her child - if God wills it,’ she added piously.

  ‘I feel sure God will bless your cause,’ the prior smiled thinly. ‘It is strange that the Bishop should ask me to bring this message to you at this time for it made my journey possible. I have this day been to visit Nicholas Malvern at Malvern House, no more than thirty leagues north of here, an apothecary of some skill.’

  ‘Malvern?’ Beatrice was thoughtful. ‘I am not sure but I think I may have heard something of the man. However, it was a tale I would not repeat for it was of evil practice. Is he an alchemist and does he dabble in necromancy?’

  Prior Peter frowned in disapproval. ‘You should not believe such tales. I have known the man some two years. Some think him ugly and he is reserved in his manner, even harsh. Since his first wife died, he has spent much of his time alone working on his medicines and journals, and that is perhaps why some fear him. I believe he could not bear to give her body up and clung to her, which is where the tales of necromancy may spring from. All untrue, I assure you. His cures are the result of research and use only natural elements though many are rare and hard to find. I am certain there is no sorcery involved. I too know a little of herbs and he has taught me how to make a cure that is very helpful both to my brothers and to me. He gave me the root of a rare plant so that we may cultivate it in our herb garden. I believe it comes from the East and was brought here at great expense.’

  ‘If you vouch for him who am I to question?’

  ‘He is a strange fellow. I had no idea that he had married again but he has a beautiful wife and child. The woman has a sad air about her, though she smiled at him when she took the child away. I noticed them particularly because of the colour of their h…’ The prior was interrupted as someone knocked at the door and one of the nuns entered.

  She was a novice and flushed as she saw that Mother Abbess had company. ‘Forgive me, Mother – you told me to come to you before prayers and remind you…’

  ‘Yes, Patience. I have not forgotten that your punishment is over. I hope you have learned that it is better to walk than to run – and not to talk during supper?’

  ‘Yes, Mother. I am sorry, Mother.’

  ‘You are forgiven. You may join us again this evening. We have been blessed with a visitor. Prior Peter is to lead us in prayer this evening and he will bless our meal. Go along now. I hear the bell. We shall follow you in a moment. As the door closed behind the novice, Beatrice smiled at the prior. ‘You were saying?’

  ‘Nothing of importance. I think we should follow Sister Patience for we must not set a bad example by being late.’

  *

  The prior had taken his leave early in the morning without disturbing Beatrice. He was a good-natured man from the Carmelite order. Unfortunately, he had brought a taste of fresh air with him to the convent, for he had been given the task of acting as a courier for his bishop and he was more worldly-wise than many others of his calling. For some reason he had made her think of her life when she was but a child, before she had heard the call from God.

  ‘Melloria…’ the name was on her lips and in her mind. She could see her sister’s face before her, and it seemed to her that she called for help. ‘Where are you? Do you live yet – or does your spirit call to me from the next life?’

  A sharp swift slash of anger rushed through her. Why had there been no news of her sister or her child? Surely someone must know something?

  It was Robert Devereaux’s duty to discover the truth. He had neglected his duty and Beatrice felt a deep resentment towards him. As she walked through the cloister to the chapter house, she heard the bell tolling the call to prayers and wrenched her mind away from the anger that had begun to fester inside her.

  She was dedicated to God. Personal feelings were not permitted her. She must be above anger and bitterness. Hatred was an evil thing and she must not allow it to take root in her heart. The cloister garden in the centre of the rectangle was beginning to come to life after the long winter but in the kitchen gardens there was much work to be done.

  As a penance Beatrice would take her turn at digging the rich earth, and she would forgo her breakfast.

  ‘Forgive me,’ she murmured, touching the silver cross at her breast. ‘Cast out the demon of hatred, Lord – lest it corrupt my soul…’

  TWENTY ONE

  Marta saw that her lodger was hard at work as she came in from the market that morning. He had been making leather belts of various kinds all the morning. Piles of finished articles were lying on the bench and on the floor. There was everything from a heavy plain baldrick that would be worn by a fighting man across his chest to a fine girdle that would be much cherished by a wealthy lady. Made of lengths of thin leather twisted into intricate patterns, it had been gilded and finished with tassels of gold-coloured beads.

  ‘That is beautiful,’ Marta said, picking the fine girdle up and letting it slide reverently through her fingers. ‘I do not think I have seen anything this fine before.’

  ‘It is pretty enough,’ Will said with a smile. ‘I saw the design when I travelled in Italy and copied it. Have it if you will. I have made more than I need for my first visit to the market. I shall set up in the square tomorrow morning and discover if my wares will sell here in Winchester.’

  ‘I could not afford this,’ Marta said, letting the girdle slip back on top of the pile. ‘It is lovely but I must conserve what little coin I have.’

  ‘Maybe not.’ Will gave her an odd look. ‘I’ve had a visitor while you were out, Marta. A priest called asking about the bench your brother was carving. It was never finished but I told Father Andrew I could finish the last section if he would agree to it. He was eager for me to do the work – if you would not mind?’

  Marta looked at the bench, which Todd had abandoned when he began to drink and stay out late. ‘Would it not take you from your work?’

  ‘The priest offered two silver pounds for the bench if it was ready by next week. I would give you half and keep half for myself – if you thought that fair?’

  ‘A whole silver pound?’ Marta could not believe her ears. She had never had so much money at one time in her whole life. ‘If it would not be too much trouble, I should be glad of the money. I had considered chopping it up for firewood.’

  ‘That would be sacrilege,’ Will looked pleased. ‘You must not tell anyone I finished the work, Marta. I do not belong to the carpenter’s guild and I should be in
trouble for taking work that was not rightfully mine. I could be heavily fined and thrown into gaol as a punishment.’

  ‘I know the rules of the guilds are strict,’ Marta said. ‘I shall not whisper it to a soul – but what of Father Andrew?’

  ‘He is so desperate to get his bench that he will keep our secret. I think he offered us less than he would have paid your brother but I was in no position to haggle with him.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ Marta was thoughtful as she went into the kitchen. Had Todd always received such large sums for his work? He had never given her more than a few pennies for food and the occasional shilling to buy material for her or Mary’s clothing. She had seen the moneybag he took with him but it was not that heavy. What had he done with all his wealth? Was it possible that some of it was still hidden in the house?

  Going through to the kitchen, she saw that Mary was playing with a wooden horse that Todd had carved for her in the days before he became surly and haunted by his crimes. Will had promised he would keep an eye on her and it seemed that she had come to no harm. It was not until she bent to pick Mary up that she saw a piece of rope had been tied around the child’s ankle, binding her to the kitchen table. She was able to stand or sit but she could not wander too far.

  Will must have tethered her so that she could not get into mischief while he was working. Marta felt angry. Even in one of his moods, Todd would not have done that to the child.

  She untied the rope and took Mary into her arms, going through to the shop. Will glanced up, a guilty look in his eye as he sensed her anger.

  ‘She was getting into all kinds of mischief in here. I put her through there when the priest came and forgot what I’d done.’

  ‘That was a wicked thing to do, to tie a child like a donkey, hobbled so that she couldn’t run. Supposing there had been a fire? She would not have been able to escape.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I shan’t do it again. There wasn’t a fire and if there had been I’d have fetched the child out. Besides, there’s no difference to what I did and using the chair your brother made to keep her from falling out.’

  ‘I only used that when I was with her. She is too big for it now. It won’t happen again, because there will not be another time: I shall not leave her with you again.’ Marta’s looked at him accusingly. For two pins she would have told him to go but caution held her tongue. She had been at her wit’s end before he arrived and she could not afford to lose the money he paid her.

  ‘Don’t take on so, Marta,’ Will soothed, giving her one of his easy smiles. ‘The child isn’t hurt. There’s many a babe left like that, sometimes all day while the mother works, and always will be.’ He reached out for Mary, picking her up and tossing her in the air. Her squeals of delight were evidence that she had not been frightened by the experience. She patted Will’s face with her hands and laughed as he set her down again. ‘There, she has forgiven me if you haven’t.’

  Marta took the little girl by the hand and led her back into the kitchen. At first she resisted, wanting to stay with Will, but when Marta gave her a cup of milk and some bread and dripping she settled down contentedly. Later on, when she started to run around and scream, getting under Marta’s feet, she looked at the rope and thought how much easier it would be if the high-spirited Mary were controlled, but she resisted the temptation. However, having come close to using it herself, she had forgiven Will and smiled at him when he came in for his meal. He looked at her a bit sheepishly and then pushed the girdle she had admired at her.

  ‘I meant this for a gift for you,’ he said. ‘I wanted to get it finished before you got back and that’s why I tied her up. I promise it won’t happen it again.’

  ‘I’ve forgiven you. She is a handful at times. I could do with some way of restraining her myself.’

  ‘Supposing I built her a pen?’ Will suggested. ‘It would be high enough so that she can’t climb out but big enough for her to run about in with her toys.’

  ‘Could you do that?’ Marta was struck with the idea, because it was kinder than the rope. ‘It would only be while I was out or when I’m busy.’

  ‘It shouldn’t take me long. I used to work with sheep when I was a lad, and we built sheep hurdles to keep the silly beasts from falling into the stream. Not that our Mary is silly. She is as bright as they come that one. To tell you the truth I like having her with me when I’m working. It was the priest calling that put me behind with my work.’ Will frowned. ‘He will want the bench delivered when it is done. How did Todd deliver his goods? The church is too far out of the city to use the handcart.’

  ‘I think he hired a cart and a horse from the stable at the end of the market square.’

  ‘I’ll ask there then. When it is ready we could make a day of it. Take Mary and some food and eat as we go. If you fancy it?’

  ‘I should love a day out,’ Marta felt a thrill of pleasure. It was an age since she’d gone anywhere other than to the market and the idea of having a day out with Will and Mary was exciting. ‘Yes, let’s do that, Will. I can make some pasties to take with us and we’ll take a jug of ale too.’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’ Will nodded his satisfaction. ‘I heard tell there’s a fair coming to the district next week so if I work hard we might get more than just a ride out.’

  TWENTY TWO

  Would the sun never shine again? Rhoda stared out of the arrow slit that was the only source of natural light in her chamber. She was sick and tired of being cooped up in this place, and of the endless rain. Sometimes she thought that it was a wonder Wales was not permanently under water. It had rained for day after day, keeping her sitting indoors. She was bored with needlework, and tired of reading her Bible, which was beautifully inscribed and illustrated by the monks.

  She wished that she could go back to the previous summer when she had lain in the meadow with Kerrin and teased him with a stalk of grass. Her life at home seemed to have been so much freer and happier than her life since she married. The sickness she had been getting each morning had passed now and she felt well but there was nothing to do and no one to talk to but Joanne, who was forever telling her to be patient. She did not wish to be patient. She wanted to be free to run in the meadows and laugh with someone who loved her.

  Getting up from her stool, where she had been sitting for the past hour staring at nothing, she went to gaze down at the courtyard. There seemed to be a flurry of activity and as she watched, she saw a group of armed men ride in and begin to dismount. Her heart fluttered with excitement. Was it her husband? Had he come to take her to Deganwy as he had promised?

  She watched eagerly as the men gathered in the courtyard and then realised that the pennant one of them was carrying was not her husband’s. Staring at it, she thought it was familiar but for a moment she could not recall where she had seen it before, then it came to her as a flash of lightning. The colours of yellow and crimson with a wolf’s head belonged to the Earl of Montroy. What was he doing here?’

  Rhoda’s heart jerked with fright. Had Montroy come to make trouble for her husband? Was she in danger?

  In the next moment she heard a fanfare of trumpets and then a larger group of men rode into the inner bailey. This time she saw Robert’s pennant almost at once, but in the next second she saw the colours of Prince Edward. The prince had come with her husband. That must be the reason for Montroy’s arrival just minutes earlier. The prince had come here to talk with his nobles and plan his campaign for the spring.

  Even though the endless grey skies had made her feel it was still winter it was not as cold as it had been when Robert left to take supplies to Deganwy. He had been gone so long that she felt as if she had been abandoned, but now he was back and the prince with him. There would surely be a feast that night and she would have people to talk to.

  Rhoda put her hands to the gentle swell of her belly. She knew that she hardly showed yet. Her gowns of heavy brocade were loose and simply styled to gather under her breasts so that they flowed over the sl
ight bump and hid it from the casual gaze. Only if she stood sideways was it immediately evident that she was with child.

  She turned to Joanne with a surge of excitement. ‘My husband has arrived and the prince with him. I must dress in my best tunic of green with the surcoat of gold cloth. I want to look well when he comes to me.’

  She wanted to look her best when she dined at the high board that night. After weeks of eating alone in her chamber, she could not wait to be in company again.

  *

  Robert saw his wife as soon as she entered the great chamber. She looked as beautiful as ever and he experienced a surge of hot desire. He had been forced to leave her too many weeks alone, but the prince had sent him on various scouting missions to discover what the enemy was doing. He had ridden hard from one place to another, never stopping long, trying to rally support for the prince and to discover who was for them and who would rise for the self-styled prince of the Welsh nation.

  It was not easy to read the minds of the men he met and supped with, for though he was greeted with smiles and words that expressed loyalty he had the feeling that most of these devious men would wait until they saw which way the wind was blowing. If there was a chance that they could sweep the English out of the valleys and the good fertile lands that constituted the outlying fiefs, they would rise and join the rebellious lords. However, if they saw that the English prince was determined to win back his lost territory, they would reluctantly come to his aid at the last.

  ‘They smile with their lips but not their eyes,’ Robert had reported when he rejoined his prince. ‘Most of them will wait to see whether your father comes to join us.’

  ‘I believe he will come and soon,’ the prince replied. ‘I am expecting word from Montroy. He will be at Dyserth soon and he carries a message from my father. We shall ride to meet him there.’

  ‘Do you trust Montroy?’ Robert’s forehead furrowed. ‘I know he has met secretly with other English barons and I suspect they plan rebellion. At the moment they are waiting to see what happens here but I sense trouble brewing.’

 

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