by Linda Sole
Marta climbed the ladder to the loft. Mary was sleeping. She had put her to bed fully clothed so that they would be ready to leave in the morning. As she lifted the child into her arms, Mary stirred and moaned but did not wake. Marta felt a pang of guilt as she took the child down to Will. He had brought the cart in from the yard and it was loaded with all her pots and pans, clothes, blankets and anything of value Will had found lying around. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and he gave her a shawl containing what food supplies they had. He had covered her brother’s body with a blanket. She was glad to be spared the sight of Todd’s head split open and was relieved Mary was still asleep.
‘I could carry more than this,’ Marta said. ‘The cart is too heavy. In time the wheels will break off.’
‘I can manage it for now. You have the child to carry. When she wakes you can take some of the load. We might sell a few things if we chance on a market, but not until we are well clear of Winchester.’
Marta nodded. Her throat was too sore to say much even if she could find the words. She blamed herself for what Will had done, because if she hadn’t taken the chain and gold coins, Todd might not have attacked her.
He had been in fear of his life, and now that was the way they must live, at least until they could leave England. Her unease about travelling on a ship was forgotten in the greater fear of discovery.
No one was about as she and Will left the shop, closing the door securely behind them. It might be some time before anyone visited the premises and discovered the body lying on the floor.
Marta’s heart was in her mouth as Will pushed the cart through silent streets. Most of the townsfolk were still asleep, only the watchmen and a baker were stirring as they passed shops and houses, making their way towards the east gate. Across the street from the marketplace, the ostler was just opening up his yard, sweeping the droppings from the previous night into the street where they would lie in the gutter along with rotting vegetables and the carcass of a dead rat. He did not bother to look at them and Marta’s heartbeat returned to normal as they passed out of the city.
The open road was before them, beckoning, perhaps an adventure, perhaps a bright new future for them all, yet she felt as if a dark shadow hung over them. She was the cause of murder once more. Todd had blamed her because of the monk he had killed. He had become surly and bitter and he had killed again, perhaps more than once. She wondered where the chain had come from – was it Todd’s by right or had he stolen it from one of his victim’s? Would Will turn her against her because of what he had done to save her?
She wished she had never found the chain. Perhaps if she had left it where it was, her brother would have taken it and gone. She might still have been forced to leave her home for a life on the road, but at least she would not have a picture of horror in her mind. The sight of her brother’s head laid open with the brains spilling out had implanted itself into her mind and she did not know if she would ever be able to forget it.
Marta trudged behind Will, feeling guilty and frightened. They had done murder and would burn in Hell for it. Shadowy pictures of the Devil haunted her mind and she shuddered, feeling cold despite the warmth of the day. She thought that she might never feel safe again, at least until they had left England.
THIRTY NINE
Nicholas looked at the letter, which had that day been delivered in his absence. It was from a friend in Italy and gave him news that could not fail but to make him anxious. Count Santos had taken up residence in Nicholas’s villa. He had declared his cousin dead and demanded that the goldsmith had over the fortune they kept for him.
Fedora refused him and was threatened. He employed soldiers to guard him and goes in fear of his life. Yet I believe it is you that needs to fear Santos most, my friend. If he cannot take the gold he will seek your life once again. Fedora was forced to show proof that you still live and it may lead your enemy to you.
Nicholas frowned, angry that his friend Giovanni Fedora had been threatened and went in fear of retribution. It was clear that he must do something for he would not live his life in fear, nor would he cower behind locked gates. He had power and influence still and he must use it. In the meantime Fedora must be safeguarded, and for that he would need funds. Nicholas would provide a place of safety for him. Sitting at his board, he took up his quill and began to write.
*
‘Will you read to me this evening?’ Anne asked when he joined her in the hall later. Iolanthe was sleeping and the night was warm and still; the sound of doves calling softly came to them through the open window. ‘I love to hear you for your voice is soft and musical. I believe you might have been a jongleur had you not taken up medicine.’
‘It might have been better for us all had I done so.’
‘What do you mean?’ Anne was worried by the look on his face. ‘Does something trouble you, Nicholas?’
He shook his head, then sighed. ‘If it came about that we had to leave England and go to another land, would you feel regret or loss, Anne?’
‘Something is wrong! You have had news. There was a letter delivered today for you – was it from Signor Fedora?’
‘Not from him, about him. He has proved a staunch friend to me and may stand in some danger because of it. I am arranging for him to find sanctuary in France – but there may come a time when I need to do more.’
‘You know that I would go anywhere with you,’ Anne said and got up to go to him. She knelt down by his side, looking up into his face. ‘I am happy here, Nicholas, but I think I should be as happy anywhere with you.’
‘It may not happen.’ Nicholas frowned. I do not wish to leave here unless I am forced…’ He shook his head. ‘We shall talk of this no more. You wanted me to read to you. What would you have?’
‘I think the story of Tristan and Iseult. I have read some of it in the original French but I know you have a complete copy of the work. I should like to hear it from your lips.’
‘Then I shall oblige you,’ his eyes danced with laughter. ‘Since you wish to hear of guilty passions I think I shall visit you tonight, Anne.’ He held out his hand for her lute. ‘This was intended to be sung, as you know. I do not need to see the written copy for I know the poem by heart.’
Anne smiled as she sat on the bench and prepared to listen. Nicholas’s work took so much of his time, which made the hours they spent together all the more precious to her.
She listened as he began to sing the words of the love story. She was not sure but she thought that soon she might have some news for him. News that she believed would gladden his heart.
Anne felt no fear as she contemplated the possibility that she was to bear another child. Childbearing was considered very dangerous; so many women died giving birth that even though children were thought a blessing the confinement was often dreaded.
In most cases the midwife was fetched and would do what she could to assist, and she would cut the umbilical cord, but the physician was called only in emergencies for it was thought the midwife’s prerogative. The woman’s family was often there for the birth, and if there were more than twenty contractions they would try to assist by opening drawers and shutting them, unlocking chests and untying knots to help the baby along, for these acts were symbolic of opening the womb.
The room often became very hot, because the fire was used to heat the water needed and so many people about the woman in labour added to the ordeal she must bear. If all went well the midwife could help the baby into the world and do all that was necessary, but Anne did not believe Nicholas would employ a midwife. He would prefer to deliver his child himself.
She did not think she had been given a birthing chair when her first child was born for she had not seen one when she was taking an inventory of linens and furniture throughout the house, though it was often considered the best way for a woman to give birth.
Anne smiled as she listened to the poem and reflected on the child that she suspected was growing in her womb. No child could be more loved
than Iolanthe, but she hoped to give her husband a son.
FORTY
Rhoda was feeling so much better. Now that the child was born she had regained her figure and no longer felt so awkward and ugly. Jonathan had found a wet-nurse in the village, bringing her into the castle so that she could feed the babe. Rhoda had fed him a few times herself, but he was greedy and seemed unsatisfied by her milk. The wet-nurse seemed better able to satisfy him, and after watching a trifle resentfully the first time, Rhoda had decided that it was just as well if the child took its milk from the village woman. She had suffered for a while, because her breasts ached and wept the pale thin liquid that had not been enough for her son, but then the milk ceased and she was glad to be free of her duty.
Jonathan had arranged for her to be churched soon after the birth, which meant that she was able to walk in the sunshine and eat with the others in the hall at night. He brought in minstrels and wandering players to entertain them, making her feel happier than she could ever recall being in her life. He was so considerate, so careful of her comfort and he loved the child as his own.
Rhoda had begun to play a game of make believe. If Robert never returned to Craigmoor she could happily live with Jonathan as her guardian for the rest of her life. If Robert were dead, she could marry again, and she had no doubt that her champion would seize the chance to make her his wife. She had seen the longing in his eyes. Before the child was born he had managed to control his desire very well, but the barriers had come down when he held her hand as she gave birth. Now when he looked at her or gave her his hand to help her, she sensed the hunger in him and knew that he was close to breaking. She felt that he had helped her bear something that might have been unendurable without him, and in her heart was something as near to true unselfish love as she had ever known.
Rhoda had pushed that feverish episode in the chapel at Dyserth to a far corner of her mind. Kerrin could not keep her to the promise she had made then. She had loved him once in her way, but he was too demanding, too poor, to make her a good husband. She pushed away her unease and decided to forget him. If Robert did not return, Jonathan would marry her and keep her safe. Besides, Kerrin would never keep his vow. How could he kill a man like the Earl of Montroy?
No, it had been a foolish promise made on the spur of the moment. She no longer cared if Montroy were alive or dead. All she wanted now was to live in comfort with a man who loved her – as Jonathan loved her.
Glancing out of her window, she saw that Jonathan had been drilling the men in the courtyard. They had finished training now and he had stripped down to his shirt, splashing water over himself as others did. On such a hot day the water from the well was cool and delicious. She saw the horseplay that went on amongst some of the men and smiled, feeling a need to go down and talk to Jonathan.
He was drying himself now on a cloth. The other men were dispersing, going about their business. Jonathan had pulled on the short tunic he wore over leggings of banded mail when training with the men. As she climbed down the outer stairs to the courtyard, he looked up and saw her. He smiled and came towards her. His hair was dark and wet from being doused with a pail of water. Rhoda felt her stomach clench. She had found Robert so much more attractive at the start, but now she had become accustomed to Jonathan’s more rugged appearance. She liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his square jaw. He had a solid dependable air about him, his eyes warm as they rested on her, welcoming her…wanting her.
‘You were having such fun,’ she said. ‘I watched and envied you, Jonathan. The water must feel so cool on a day like this…’
‘It is very cold straight from the well.’ His eyes seemed to caress her. ‘Would you like to drink straight from the well?’ She nodded and he wound the handle, bringing the wooden bucket up to the top. It was filled with cold clear water. She took the ladle from the side of the well and dipped it, lifting it to her lips to drink. Some of the water spilled over and ran down her chin. Jonathan laughed, reaching out to wipe the drops away with his fingers. He caught his breath, his eyes burning into her. ‘You are so beautiful, Rhoda…’
‘Jonathan…’ She moved towards him and then stopped, conscious that others were present. ‘I thought…I should like to go riding on such a beautiful day.’
His eyes were dark with longing, their heat seeming to sear her. ‘Are you well enough? I have thought we might ride but I was not certain you were ready.’
‘I am quite well,,’ she said. ‘Please let us go now, Jonathan. I truly wish for it.’
‘As you wish.’ He turned and signalled to one of the men. ‘My horse and my lady’s – we shall ride for a short distance to take advantage of the fine weather.’
Rhoda looked into his eyes. She felt a mounting excitement. Jonathan loved her. Surely when they were alone, he would tell her. He would take her in his arms and kiss her. He would beg her to go away with him. They could take the child and leave before Robert returned.
She waited patiently for the groom to bring their horses. When Jonathan helped her into the saddle she almost moaned with pleasure at the touch of his hands. The excitement was mounting high in her as they rode over the drawbridge and down the hill towards the woods. This was what she had been waiting for so long.
*
After they had been riding for some minutes, Jonathan took hold of her horse’s bridle bringing it to a halt. He dismounted and came to help her down. Tying the reins to a low branch, he offered her his hand. They walked towards a fallen tree and sat down on the trunk side by side. For a moment he hesitated, looking at her so intently that Rhoda’s heart jerked and then beat wildly.
‘Rhoda…you must know that I care for you?’ he said. ‘You must know what it has cost me not to speak of this long since?’
‘You helped me when I was in such pain…’ she whispered, her lips soft and moist. ‘You were with me. You did not leave me. I have felt that you should be my husband…’
‘My love…’ Jonathan reached out, drawing her to him. He bent his head, kissing her softly on the mouth. As she responded his kiss deepened, becoming passionate, hungry. They were both panting with need as they drew apart. He stroked her cheek with his fingers. ‘I know it was wrong of me to kiss you, but I could not help myself. I have loved you almost from the first.’
‘I should have married you instead of Robert.’
‘Robert was wrong to wed you. He does not love you – not as you deserve to be loved with heart, body and soul.’
‘Robert desired me. He wanted an heir. He has never loved me.’ Tears brimmed in her lovely eyes, spilled over and ran down her cheeks. ‘No one has ever loved me as you do, Jonathan. No one has loved me for myself. Others see only my beauty or my worth. My father saw me as something of value he could sell to Montroy. I want to be loved and cherished. I am so unhappy…’
‘Do not weep, Rhoda,’ he begged. ‘You know I adore you. I shall always be here to protect and care for you. Even if my love must be from a distance I shall be here, watching over you, keeping you safe.’
‘When Robert returns he will take me back. He will expect to lie with me. I do not wish to lie with him, Jonathan. How can I give myself to him when I love you?’
‘Perhaps he will not often be here…’ Jonathan’s face twisted with the agony her words had conjured. ‘He is ambitious. He cares only for his duty to the royal house. He might live at court and allow you to stay here.’
‘But he will want more sons. You know that one child is never enough to secure the earldom. Children sicken and die so easily. Robert needs to be certain that he has a son to follow him.’
‘Many men have only one son…’ Jonathan saw the denial in her face. He stood up, gazing down at her. ‘What are you asking of me, Rhoda?’
‘Will you take me away? We could go somewhere he would never find us. I do not ask for much but I have jewels Robert has given me. We could sell them and live quietly in comfort. Perhaps in France or Italy. I have often wished to travel.’
‘Then you love him more than you love me!’
Rhoda rose to her feet. She would have turned away but he caught her hand, turning her back to face him. The look in his eyes was so tortured that she smiled inwardly but would not let him see.
‘You know I love you more than life itself. I would die for you.’
‘Then take me away before he returns to claim me.’
‘Robert does not truly love you. Perhaps he would let you go. He could not ask for an annulment, because of the child, but he might be willing to let you live apart from him. If he agreed I would ask him if I could take you away. We could go with all honour and part in friendship.’
‘Would he agree?’ Rhoda looked into his eyes, suddenly eager. ‘Supposing he refused? Would you go and leave me?’
‘If he is unreasonable I shall take you away.’ Jonathan reached out, taking her into his arms once more. He kissed her softly, with tenderness, bringing a little moan from her lips. ‘You shall not be unhappy, my love. I have written to Robert telling him of his son. He will surely visit you soon and then I shall ask him for your freedom.’
Rhoda smiled up at him, tears glistening on her lashes. ‘I have your promise. I am content.’
‘Perhaps we should return to the castle. It will not do to occasion talk. Robert would be angry if he thought we had betrayed him behind his back. If I talk to him I am certain he will be reasonable. He may seem arrogant and harsh at times but at heart he is a good man.’
Rhoda allowed him to help her back into the saddle. She was not sure that her husband would listen to his friend. However, she knew that he would not betray his vows of loyalty. He would persuade Robert if he could but if not…Rhoda refused to think of the alternative. She would not allow herself to be used as a brood mare. Somehow she would achieve her freedom.
