A King's Betrayal

by Sole, Linda

  ‘The word you need is baptised,’ Mistress Grey said. ‘Katharine is young yet, though some have their children christened as soon as they can so that if they die they will be accepted into God’s mercy. I cannot see why the priest would refuse you. ‘Tis true you are not wed and he may think you wanton, but you have harmed no one.’

  ‘Then I shall bring my things to the cottage and visit the church on Sunday. I will sit at the back and listen to the prayers, and then, after the service is done, I shall ask the priest if he will baptise my daughter into the faith.’

  Mistress Grey smiled. ‘You should have done it as soon as Marthe was dead,’ she said. ‘While you continue to live apart folk will wonder what you have to hide. They fear witchcraft and when there is sickness they blame their ill fortune on anyone they think is a witch. Once they are used to seeing you in the village they will know that you are just the same as all the rest of us.’

  ‘I must hope that they feel as you do. If the priest believes that I have come to ask for his blessing, he will surely forgive me for the years when I did not worship.’

  ‘The scriptures say that one lost soul brought back to the fold is a blessing,’ Mistress Grey told her. ‘You must be safe now, Beth, for the lord has given you his protection.’

  ‘I am glad Sir William has returned. After I have been to church I shall go to the castle and speak with him.’

  ‘You have not told him of the child yet?’

  ‘I thought he might come here but he has not. I must hope that he will still protect me from the priest when he knows the truth. If he no longer wishes to keep me safe, I must take what I can carry and leave this place.’

  Where would you go?’

  ‘I do not know - but I do not wish to remain here in the woods. The life is too hard and Katharine deserves better. Besides, without Sir William’s protection the priest would put me to the test and I should die, as Marthe did – my child too.’

  ‘Could you not let Sir William think the child is his?’

  ‘It would be wrong to lie about such a thing. Besides, if he sees the babe he must know she is too small to be his. Katharine is but a few months born. If I had given birth to Sir William’s child, it would be many months older than Katharine.’

  ‘Men know little of such things. If he assumes the child is his, it might be better to let him think it, Beth. You said the father would not return?’

  ‘He left me his velvet cloak. I thought at first he would return for it but he did not come. Now I wonder if it was payment.’

  ‘You are not a whore.’

  ‘No, but I lay with my knight of my own free will. How should he have known that I do not lay with any that ask? I dare say he thought little of it and has forgotten me.’

  ‘Be careful. I believe that Sir William is in love with you – and a man in love is as unpredictable as a serpent. If angered he might strike at the very thing he loves.’

  ‘I made him no promises,’ Beth said ‘I shall speak the truth even if it makes him angry.’

  Mistress Grey looked concerned but accepted the lotion Beth had made for her hands and went away again. Katharine was crying in her cot. Scooping her up, Beth discovered that her cloths were wet and found dry ones to bind her. The babe’s soft skin was a little red and she thought that before she went anywhere she must make some balm to soothe Katharine’s bottom.

  Beth decided that she would take the things she most valued with her on her first trip to the cottage and come back for what was left another day. It would be strange living in the village and she knew that there would be days when the woods called to her. She would long for their silence and the stillness that she found at her pool – and she would continue to visit her favourite haunts for as long as she could.

  If the time came when she must move on she would do so with reluctance.

  Beth felt the curious eyes on her as she walked into the village with some of her belongings piled on the handcart that morning. Katharine was wrapped in a shawl and strapped to her back, which made her progress harder than it might have been. Perhaps when she returned for the rest of her things she would ask Mistress Grey to look after her child for a little time.

  Smoke was curling from the hole in the roof that served as a chimney in several of the cottages. Women stood in small groups, gossiping, arms folded, curious but neither hostile nor over friendly as she trundled her cart past them. One or two lifted a hand as she drew near and another smiled at her. The men stared, their expressions unchanging. The cooper paused with his hammer raised before continuing his work, and the thatcher turned his head to watch as she passed by. One man chipping away at a stone block with a chisel and hammer seemed to frown at her, as if angered by what he saw. A few children were chasing after a dog with three legs, throwing stones and laughing as it yelped in distress.

  Reaching the cottage that had been Mistress Soames’s, Beth entered and saw that her friend had lit a fire in the grate in readiness. It was a kindness and she was grateful. At least she had one person who welcomed her to the village. Beth set Katharine’s basket on the table and lay her in it. The child was sleeping peacefully, her pink face flushed and content. Feeling a wave of love sweep over her, Beth touched her cheek with a finger.

  ‘I promise I will keep you safe somehow,’ she whispered. ‘Either here or at the castle you will be protected from hunger and want – and the malicious lies of those who would harm us.’

  Katharine slept on, unaware for the moment that her surroundings had changed. Beth set about placing her possessions on the shelves and made up her bed at the far end of the room. The cottage had just one large room for eating, living and sleeping, but it was bigger than the hut she’d shared with Marthe and there was a lean-to at the back for her stores. She had not brought her goat, hens or the pig and would have to make at least two more trips to the wood to fetch them here.

  Beth had everything tidy when Katharine woke and whimpered. She changed and fed her and then drank a cup of ale that she had brewed herself. Katherine was quiet now. Beth sat down in her chair and looked about her, feeling uncertain whether she had made the right choice. Unless she used water from the village well she would have further to walk to the spring. Her foraging trips for herbs and berries would take longer, unless she searched for them close to the castle. For a moment she almost regretted what she had done, but then someone knocked at her door and the next moment Mistress Grey opened it and entered.

  ‘I thought you might feel a little strange,’ she said. ‘You’ve only got a few of your things, Beth. Tomorrow you must let me mind the babe while you fetch the rest.’

  ‘Yes, it will be better when I’ve settled,’ Beth agreed. ‘It feels different – closed in. I cannot hear the birds singing or the wind whispering in the trees.’

  ‘You will become accustomed in time. I brought you a jug of goat’s milk, a jar of honey and some bread I baked this morning. I thought you might not have thought to bring much in the way of food.’

  ‘Normally I would have found my meal for the day by now and have it cooking,’ Beth said and glanced at the tiny pot of honey. ‘That will be luxury indeed but you must let me pay for it by making something that you lack.’

  ‘’Tis only some I took from my jar. You’ve given me enough, Beth. Will you be all right now?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. I may take a little water from the well later, though I prefer the spring – do you think anyone will mind?’

  ‘Why should they? The well is there for everyone to use.’

  ‘But I am not of the village.’ Beth sighed. ‘It is too far to walk to the spring and back before nightfall. I think I shall draw some water. I shall need to bathe Beth and myself, and to wash her cloths.’

  ‘Most of the women take the cloths to the stream below the castle,’ Mistress Grey said giving her an odd look. ‘’Tis a cool day to wash, especially the babe.’

  ‘I wash her every day and myself,’ Beth said and smiled as she saw her friend’s shocked express
ion. ‘It is something I have done for years, though Marthe did not always approve. She washed her clothes but seldom and I do not recall her bathing.’

  ‘I wash my clothes and myself when necessary,’ Mistress Soames told her. ‘To bathe every day is not healthy. You should be careful that you do not take a chill.’

  Beth smiled to herself as her friend left her. She had never taken harm from bathing and she enjoyed the feel of the water against her skin. Katharine was sleeping as she picked up a wooden bucket and went to the well. No one was there as she wound the handle that brought up a bucket of water and then poured it into her own. She was walking back to the cottage when one of the men planted himself in her way. Beth hesitated, then looked up.

  ‘Excuse me, good sir. I would pass if you please.’

  ‘So you’ve come then,’ the man said, a glimmer of malice in his dark eyes. ‘I did not think you would dare. You’d best be careful, witch, or we shall put you to the test as we did that skinny bitch your mother.’

  ‘Marthe was not my mother,’ Beth replied, looking at him steadily. ‘I am not a witch, just a woman like any other. Now, if you will let me pass I shall take the water to my home.’

  ‘Leave her be, Carl,’ one of the other men had come up to them. ‘Beth helped us when my wife was sick and she has cured my itching feet. She is a wise woman not a witch and we should be glad she can help us for we have little else. In God’s truth no one cares whether we live or die. At least Beth tries to help us.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Beth smiled. ‘I wish only to help where I can. I give you my promise; I do not know how to cast spells.’

  Carl stood aside reluctantly. She could feel his cold eyes watching her as she entered the cottage but did not look back. Life here would not be easy, but perhaps if the priest would baptise Katharine the village folk would accept that she was no different to anyone else.

  Beth had fetched all her possessions to the cottage. She’d wondered if Sir William would come to see if she had settled but her only visitor was Mistress Soames and one other woman who asked if she could make her something for the toothache.

  Beth obliged with a mush of herbs to rub into the affected gum. She had her own goat and her hens, her small store of flour and the sow. It was growing and would soon come into season. If she could breed from the sow she would have a ready supply of meat to cook or barter for other things she needed.

  The church bells were ringing, summoning the faithful to church on Sunday morning when Beth set out. She was wearing her silk gown that had been Mistress Soames’s and Katharine was dressed in a long robe she’d made from the green silk that had been Beth’s dress when Marthe found her. She had decided to wear her gold cross on its ribbon outside her gown, as a badge of her good faith.

  Most of the other villagers were inside when Beth found a place right at the back of the church. She had chosen to sit alone and tucked out of sight as much as possible behind a thick pillar of stone, because she was uncertain that she would be welcomed here. The hymns were beautiful, such joyous music. Beth did not know the words but she followed the melody with a musical lilting note that made some of the congregation turn their heads to stare at her.

  What had Marthe so disliked about the church and priests? Beth enjoyed the singing and listened respectfully to the prayers. Her curious gaze moved about the magnificent building with its nave, high vaulted roof of gilded wood and windows with pictures of a man on a cross. Was He the Christ she’d heard others speak of? Beth did not know His story, except that He had died to save mankind. She thought the face portrayed was a kind gentle face and saw nothing to fear in the rituals of the blessing and the psalms. And then the priest began his sermon.

  ‘We have the devil amongst us,’ his voice thundered and his cold eyes seemed to seek Beth out as she stood at the back of the church holding her child. ‘How are the righteous fallen that they allow the spawn of Satan to live in their midst? Jesus drove out the moneylenders from the temple of God – shall we not pluck out the evil canker that would take root in our soil and drink our water? I exhort you to rise up against the evil and drive out the witch…’

  ‘Aye, drive her out,’ Carl was on his feet, waving his fist in the air. ‘We do not want Satan’s whore here. She contaminates us all with her foul breath.’

  ‘She is a whore and flaunts her bastard in our faces. She wears a silk dress, which is forbidden her by law and she does not cover her head in church. All these sins deserve to be punished. Her lewdness must be driven out and her soul purified before she corrupts us all.’

  Beth could hear murmuring all round her. Was it unlawful for her to wear silk? She had not known it. Why did the priest hate her so? She thought some of the voices were sympathetic but others had risen in fury and indignation.

  Steadying her nerves, Beth walked down the aisle to where the priest stood in his pulpit. Inside she was quivering with fear but she kept her head high and would not show it. Looking straight at the priest, she held up her babe for all to see.

  ‘I am innocent of any crime,’ she said in a clear voice. ‘I came this day to ask if you will accept me into your church. I would have you baptise my child – and me if it will cleanse my soul of the sin you see in me.’

  ‘Do not believe her,’ Carl cried out. ‘She is a filthy whore and should be whipped naked at the cart’s tail.’

  ‘Drive her out!’

  ‘Stone her!’

  ‘Can anyone here testify to her lewd behaviour? Does she have a familiar? Does she consort with the Devil?’

  ‘She runs naked through the wood and consorts with demons,’ Carl said. ‘I have seen her myself. She tried to put her spell on me but I closed my eyes and prayed that I might be saved.’

  ‘She is a good woman. She saved my child when she was sick.’

  ‘And mine…I thought my husband would die but she saved him from the sickness that killed others.’

  ‘She sets herself up in God’s place,’ the priest said. ‘Take her. We shall put her to the test. Take the woman Grey too – she is her familiar.’

  ‘No,’ a woman’s voice cried and Beth knew it was Mistress Grey. ‘The lord has forbidden it. Run, Beth – run to the castle.’

  Beth hesitated. She sensed that the mood was against her, but fear had paralysed her feet and she could not move. Suddenly, rough hands seized her and she was dragged from the church and up the incline towards the tree where they had hung Marthe. She struggled and screamed but there was no way she could break free from the strong hands that held her. Glancing round, she saw that Mistress Grey had been taken too for speaking up for her. The priest was ahead, urging them on and the villagers following behind. About half way up the hill the men stopped and Beth saw a long wooden pole with a stool tied to it with leather thongs.

  ‘Put her to the test. Duck her.’

  ‘Duck the witch. If she drowns she be innocent if she lives she be unholy and a witch.’

  ‘No! Please…’ Beth cried. ‘I am innocent. I have done no harm to any. Let me go and I will leave the village. I will go away and never return.’

  Her voice could hardly be heard above the shouting. The villagers had taken sides. Some of them had set on the men who had taken hold of Mistress Grey. They had dragged her away from her captors and cries of shame were all about her.

  Beth was being pushed towards the ducking stool. She looked down at the babe in her arms, her throat tight with fear.

  ‘Not my child,’ she whispered. ‘Not my babe…please, not Katharine.’

  ‘Give her to me,’ a woman said and darted at her. ‘I promise to care for her.’

  Beth was sobbing as the child was torn from her arms. ‘Katharine…my babe…my child…’

  The woman had disappeared into the crowd. Beth struggled and fought harder now that her hands were free but she was dragged to the stool and despite her struggles her arms were tied to wooden struts so that she could not pull free and swim away once she was in the water.

  ‘I am inn
ocent…’ she cried as they swung the pole out over the deep water of the miller’s pond. It was high above the dark surface of the water. She saw expectant faces looking at her. ‘May your god forgive you…’

  Her words were lost as they brought the stool down, letting her splash deep into the water so that she dropped like a stone. Beth held her breath, counting. The darkness was all about her and the water stung her nostrils but she held on and then she was being swung up out of the water to the sound of cries and screaming. Some of the villagers were fighting, trying to free her. One of the men holding to the end of the pole let go and she went down into the water once more.

  This time she could not hold on so long. She felt her chest hurting, the pain and the sensation of drowning was so terrifying that she hardly knew when she was swung high again and this time the pole was brought back to the land. Her eyes half opened. She was aware of someone bending over her, his face anxious, concerned, as he touched her cheek and looked for signs of life.

  ‘If she’s dead I’ll hang the lot of you,’ he said. ‘That includes you, priest. If you would live you’d best run now while you can.’

  ‘Don’t let him run. Stone him. He has misused his power.’

  ‘Aye, we don’t want his sort.’

  The words, screams and shouts came from a distance. Beth was hardly aware of being lifted in someone’s arms or of the lord’s men trying to keep order. She did not know that in their blood lust the villagers had turned on the priest, Carl and the others who had captured Mistress Grey. Nor did she see the tears on Sir William’s face as he carried her up the hill and into the castle.

  Forty One

  ‘No…Mother, please help me,’ Beth moaned and her eyelids fluttered. Her head ached and she felt so ill. Turning on her side, she vomited into a bowl someone was holding. Lying back, she realised that the linen beneath her was soft and cool; it smelled sweet of lavender and beneath her head were pillows so soft that she had never felt their like. ‘Where am I?’