by Sole, Linda
‘Out of my way, Cedric,’ Raoul muttered. ‘Interfere in this and I’ll kill you too.’
The squire hesitated, then stepped back, clearly afraid to anger his lord. Beth sobbed as Ruth put an arm about her waist.
Neither man was wearing chain mail, just a leather jerkin, short tunic and hose covered by a cloth surcoat. Beth’s fear was warranted, for one good thrust of a sword might be a killing blow.
‘No,’ she wept. ‘Please do not let him die.’
The stranger who had accompanied Ruth, looked at her. ‘I shall try to stop them,’ he said and stepped out into the street, crying out in a loud voice. ‘I command you to cease this fight in the name of His Majesty the King.’
‘Get out of my way or I’ll kill you,’ William muttered as Tomas attempted to catch his arm. ‘She belongs to me…I’ll see him dead for what he’s done…’ He thrust Tomas aside, making him stumble and fall to his knees as the fight continued once more. The heavy blows and the sound of metal steel clashing made Beth tremble with fear as the fight went first one way and then the other. William had the advantage of his weight and muscle but Raoul was skilled, the two so evenly matched that it was hard to see which way it would go.
Unable to bear it longer, Beth tore herself from Ruth’s grasp. She ran towards the men, crying out to them to stop. Raoul faltered. He turned his head for an instant and in that moment William struck. His sword went below Raoul’s raised arm entering his chest. Raoul cried out and staggered back. He let his own sword fall to the ground and, placing both hands on the hilt of William’s sword, pulled it out. For a moment he stared at it and then threw it down. He looked at William in surprise, as if he could not believe what had happened, and then sank to his knees, falling forward on to his face.
‘Raoul, my love, my love,’ Beth cried and threw herself down beside him. She was sobbing as she struggled to turn him over and then the stranger was there, helping her. ‘Please do not die. If you die I cannot bear it. My love, my love…’ She ran her hands over his face, imploring him not to die.
‘Beth…forgive me. I didn’t know…’ William’s voice was a cry of anguish but Beth did not turn her head to glance at him. ‘I lost my head…you were mine…’
At that she looked up. ‘I was never yours,’ she said coldly. ‘You hurt me twice. He was my true love, the father of my child. I can never forgive you for what you have done this day. I pray that you will never know a moment’s peace for the rest of your life.’
William gasped, a queer blind look in his eyes as he backed away and then strode off, pushing his way through the onlookers.
Ruth knelt on the dirt beside Raoul. ‘He is badly wounded but not dead,’ she said. ‘Where can we take him? I must bind his wound. We may save him if ‘tis possible.’
‘Bring him to my house,’ a deep voice said and Ruth looked up and smiled as she saw Sir Michael. ‘I will have the servants prepare a bed.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Ruth said. She looked at Lord Tomas and Raoul’s squire. ‘Can you carry him to Sir Michael’s house? ‘Tis not far from here. I must bind him and treat his wounds.’
‘I doubt he will live,’ the squire said. ‘He bleeds too much. The wound is deep and will have injured him internally.’
‘We must try,’ Beth said and looked at Ruth. ‘Thank you for helping us. I can nurse him with herbs and balms, but I think you know more of what must be done here than I.’
‘We shall need the help of a surgeon,’ Ruth said and called to the groom. ‘Fetch a surgeon to your master, sirrah. Tell him to come to the house of Sir Michael Daltry.’
The groom had dismounted and was being directed by the crowd. Raoul’s squire, Tomas and another man were carrying Raoul between them. He was bleeding profusely and his eyes were closed. Beth wiped a hand over her eyes to stop the tears, smearing Raoul’s blood on her face. She walked beside them as Ruth reached for her hand, holding it tightly.
‘He was going to wed me tomorrow at the cathedral,’ she said. ‘He had just bought me my wedding gift. I loved him so much, Ruth.’
‘You must not give up hope,’ Ruth said. ‘He lives yet, dearest. We can but try to save him.’
Beth nodded, but inside she was icy cold. She had known that her happiness was too bright to last. She had known that a shadow lay across their lives, a shadow that had been there from the first. It had hovered at Raoul’s shoulder the first time she saw him ride by and she had sensed his bitter angry grief. He had given her more love in a few days than she had known for most of her life, but the feeling of dread was seeping through her bones.
The candle flickered and night was upon them when Beth heard the deep sigh. Raoul had not stirred since the surgeon tended his wound and she and Ruth bound his chest, but as she bent over him, she saw that his eyes were open.
‘Raoul my love,’ she whispered, emotion choking her. ‘Lie still, my dearest. You have lost so much blood. The surgeon says you must rest for the wound is deep.’
His fingers moved but he had not the strength to take her hand. She took his hand between hers, holding it gently, her heart breaking as she saw the effort it cost him to speak.
‘Forgive me…’ he said and the words were a harsh whisper she could scarcely hear. ‘I loved you…remember I loved you…’
‘You cannot leave me,’ she said and the tears were on her cheeks. She leaned closer to touch his face and kiss his brow. ‘You must rest and then you will recover. You must get better because I love you, I need you so.’
‘No…it cannot be,’ he said. ‘I have suffered wounds before and I know that this one will mean my death. Do not weep for me, Beth. I am not worth your tears.’
‘Do not say it. You blame yourself for her death but she was the evil one.’
She felt the slight pressure of his fingers. ‘You do not know it all, sweet lady. I would have a priest to hear me confess my sins. Please, grant me this if you love me.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Beth glanced across the room. Ruth was sitting silently in the corner. At an imploring look from Beth she got up and went out. ‘The priest will come and hear you, but you will recover…you must.’
‘No, I shall die,’ he said. ‘Listen, my love, for I have not long. I believe you to be the daughter of Lord…’ he broke off as a choking fit caught him and she saw that his lips were speckled with blood.
‘Hush,’ Beth whispered and bent to kiss him. ‘Save your breath. It does not matter. Nothing matters to me now.’
‘I want you to be safe…’ he muttered but he could not finish, his breathing harsh as he closed his eyes.
Beth moved away from the bedside as a priest entered the room. She went to stand by the window, gazing down at the street. Only a few flickering torches lit the gloom and she could see nothing but dark shapes. Behind her she could hear the whisper of Raoul’s voice as he confessed his sins. At one point the priest gasped and there was silence for a moment, then she heard him droning as he conducted what she supposed was the service of absolution.
‘He wishes to speak with you, lady.’
At the priest’s urgent whisper, Beth turned back to the bed. She sat on the edge, reaching for Raoul’s hand and bending down to hear his tortured whisper.
‘I must make my will. My land in France will go to my cousin Mary, but you must have the castle at D’Avignon. It must be you, Beth. You know why.’
Beth shook her head, but Ruth had come forward. ‘I shall write the words,’ she said. ‘Can you sign it, sir?’
‘Write it and I will make my mark.’
Raoul’s head went back against the pillows, his eyes closed. His breathing was very shallow now.
‘He is fading fast,’ the priest said and made the sign of the cross over Raoul. ‘May God forgive his wicked sins and save him from the fires of hell – though he surely deserves to burn for what he has done.’
Beth blinked as tears fell. Raoul opened his eyes as Ruth took his hand and placed the quill in his fingers, guiding his hand as he slowly fo
rmed the letters. When it was done he fell back once more.
‘Raoul…’ Beth gave a cry of despair as she heard the rattle in his throat and saw the colour drain from his cheeks. His eyes had opened but the priest closed them and placed silver coins over the lids. ‘My love, my love…I cannot bear it.’
She flung herself on the bed beside him, weeping and clinging to his body until Ruth pulled her away and held her as she sobbed.
‘Why could it not be me?’ she asked. ‘He was all I had in the world. What is there to live for now?’
‘Your child Katharine and your mother.’
Beth turned and looked towards the door. Seeing that Sir William stood there, she cried out in despair.
‘Go away! I hate you. You have done nothing but hurt me. You have killed him. I loved him. I loved him…’
‘Hush,’ Ruth soothed, holding her in her arms. ‘William loves you. He was angry and did not now what he did.’
‘I wanted to kill him because he took you from me,’ William said. ‘Yet now I would give my life to bring him back. I know you will never forgive me, Beth – but at least I can do this for you. Downstairs Lord Tomas Ryston waits. He has news of your mother and Katharine.’
‘Katharine…’ Beth turned slowly to face him and this time she heard his words. ‘My babe? You are telling me she is alive and found?’
‘Lord Tomas came looking for you, Beth. You are his daughter and you have a mother who waits for you. She is at home caring for your babe. The woman who stole Katharine took her to the nuns and Sister Isolde remembered her and the dress you showed her after the child was born. She gave the babe to Lord Tomas. He is waiting to take you home to your mother and your babe.’
Beth was silent as she tried to take in what was being said. All at once the memory was there in her mind. ‘My mother is a lady and her husband is Lord Tomas? I think…was her name the lady…Beatrice?
‘Yes…have you remembered?’
‘I think I remember something, though it was all so long ago.’ Beth looked at him uncertainly. ‘Lord Tomas is waiting for me?’
‘He will take you to your home.’
Turning back to Ruth, Beth held out her hand. ‘You are so kind and good. You tried to save him. Words cannot thank you enough, but you are my friend. Will you come with me? Make your home with us?’
Ruth hesitated, then, ‘I wish with all my heart that I could,’ she said softly. ‘But I shall be needed elsewhere. William will need me now. He loves you, Beth. In his heart and mind he will never cease to grieve for what he has done. And I find I care for him.’
Beth looked towards the door once more. Sir William had gone. The priest was still moving about Raoul’s bed, swaying his pot of incense as though he battled with demons that would snatch the dead man’s soul, a look close to terror in his eyes.
‘Why do you fear for him?’
‘That I may never tell,’ the priest said, ‘but his sins were fearful, lady. He hath repented of them and I hope that God will take pity on his soul.’
Beth turned back to the bed. She bent to kiss Raoul’s lips and stroke his cheek. ‘He was haunted by what he had done, but I shall try to put right at least a part of the wrong.’
She glanced at Ruth. ‘Yes, William will need you. When time has passed you may tell him that I forgive him – and I do not hate him.’
‘Take this – it was your lord’s last wish.’
Ruth handed her the parchment on which she had written Raoul’s last request, which both she and the priest had witnessed.
‘I shall take it, because Raoul wished it. I know what he wanted me to do.’
She kissed Ruth’s cheek and then went out, down the stairs towards the future.
Sixty
Beth turned her head to look at the man who stood beside her at the side of the open grave. He nodded and she lifted her head, then took a step forwards and picked up a handful of the frozen earth, letting it fall on the coffin. The hollow thud caused a shiver of ice to trickle down her spine.
‘Forgive him, lady,’ she said in a clear firm voice. ‘Forgive him as he forgave you at the end. He has granted you peace. Haunt this place no more and rest for eternity.’
Stepping back, she turned to Lord Tomas. He held out his hand and she took it, holding it gratefully.
‘It is done. She is at peace now – as he is.’
‘I pray that they are both at peace. I believe that he loved her as much as he hated her and that is why he was haunted by what he had done,’ Beth said. She was well wrapped in a cloak of velvet lined with fur but her body was so cold that her lips felt numb. ‘I loved him truly but I am not sure I could have made him happy. We should go home now, father. My mother will be anxious and I long to hold my child again.’
‘You must not be anxious,’ Tomas said. ‘No child could be more loved. Beatrice hath never ceased to mourn since you were snatched from us. She broke her heart for you, Elspeth.’
‘Elspeth.’ She nodded. ‘It sounds right. I can remember being called by that name as a child, but there are still things I cannot remember. My memories come and go like wisps of mist, half remembered moments in time that I am not sure ever happened.’
‘Perhaps it does not matter,’ Tomas said. He hesitated for a moment. ‘What do you wish me to do about the castle and lands here?’
‘If they are truly mine I shall sell them,’ Elspeth said. ‘I have done what Raoul wanted me to do, but I believe the will must be proved and there may be other claimants. May I leave it to you, Father?’ She touched the chain beneath her gown. ‘I have the gift Raoul bought me for my wedding. I need nothing more for I have you, my mother and Katharine. I know that I am loved and perhaps in time I shall forget all the things that hurt me.’
Tomas moved towards her. He kissed her brow and then stood back.
‘I pray that you will learn to be happy one day, Elspeth. You have lost the man you loved. I know that Sir Raoul was not always a good man, but I shall not judge him. In his way he brought you back to us and for that I shall bless his name.’
‘I shall never forget the sweet happiness he gave me.’ Elspeth’s eyes shone with tears she would not shed. ‘Whatever his sins I know he suffered for them. To me he was a true knight, loving and good – and that is how I shall remember him. Katharine must never know otherwise of her father.’
‘No one shall know of it from me,’ Tomas promised her. ‘Your mother need only know that he was your love and that he was killed by a man who envied him.’
‘Yes, it is best that way.’
Elspeth lifted her head. ‘Take me home, Father. Katharine needs me.’
Afterword
‘Hugh’s things have finally come to me,’ Beatrice said as she and Tomas stood before the fire in the solar that morning. ‘It has taken nearly two years of argument and pleading but at last I have all he meant to be mine - his lands and his personal things.’
‘It was well done of Sir William to testify to Hugh’s last wish,’ Tomas said. ‘A little late in the day perhaps, but done with a good heart on the day of his wedding to Ruth, I think.’
‘Yes.’ Beatrice hesitated, then handed him a parchment. ‘This very morning, I found this in a locked chest. I wanted you to see it.’
Tomas frowned as he saw the royal seal. ‘This letter was from Richard? In Hugh’s coffer, you say?’
‘Richard must have given it to Hugh after he was taken prisoner. My brother kept it from me, though it was meant to be mine from the start. I believe I can guess why.’
Tomas took the paper and read it, then looked at his wife through narrowed eyes. ‘Richard has acknowledged Elspeth as his daughter. He says that he hand-fasted himself to you in the old way and you were therefore his rightful wife and Elspeth is his legitimate heir. He asks that she be wed to one of his Mortimer heirs so that they can hold the throne together.’
A little sigh left her lips. ‘He thought of me at the end, Tomas. He did right by our daughter.’
‘Is w
hat he says true?’
‘Yes. He made me a promise in the old way. It was a clandestine marriage but by the ancient rights and laws of England I was his wife and would be recognised as such, even by the church. Justice is done for he has acknowledged me and his daughter.’
‘What do you intend to do with this letter? You know what it means? All that you have ever wanted is within your grasp. If you reveal your secret to the right people…’
‘With this letter I might raise an army and call on the people of England to rise up for their rightful Queen. Elspeth has Richard’s blood and she is his true daughter. My grandchild grows ever more like her royal grandfather. I believe most would not doubt the evidence of their own eyes. Katharine is a Plantagenet and of the high order – not the baser blood that followed Richard. The rightness of Elspeth’s cause would bring light back to a land turned darker by spilled blood. Katherine too would be a great queen in her turn I think.’
‘Will you do it? Will you stir up righteous anger and encourage men to fight for her right to rule England?’
‘Would you support me, Tomas?’
He hesitated, then, ‘If you and she both wish it…’
‘How loyal you are, my best of friends.’
‘I love you both.’
Beatrice nodded but did not smile.
‘For years I wanted this so badly that at times it almost killed me. I was angry that Richard had betrayed his promise, abandoned his duty to his daughter…’
‘Yet at the end he did the right thing. Had we known years ago Henry 1V might never have been king. Instead we should now have our own Queen Elspeth – and you would be honoured as her mother.’
‘Richard gave me a precious gift when he did this, because it shows that he truly loved us both. I think it was his love I wanted. All the rest is naught.’
‘I do not understand you?’
‘No?’ Beatrice leaned towards the hearth. She looked at her husband and smiled, then tossed the parchment onto the fire. ‘You are my husband, Tomas. Elspeth is our daughter. We have so much. Why should I risk all we have for a throne? Besides, we must think of Elspeth.’
