by Linda Sole
He had a willing whore in Alfreda, and she satisfied the baser side of his nature as no other woman ever had, but the bit of decency that remained in him told him that it would never be enough. Somewhere locked away behind all the pain and hatred was a love that would never die.
39
Carmelita waved her hand across her mirror of burnished silver and saw the face she wished to see. Surely there was not another woman as fair in the land? Young and beautiful, the image made the sorceress smile with pleasure. Then she moved her hand across the mirror once more and saw the apothecary’s image. He seemed in some distress. His enemy was not yet dead, though she knew he had used the black arts to send the Earl of Devereaux terrible dreams.
The apothecary sent his bad dreams from afar, but Carmelita believed in a more direct method of enchantment. Her charms were strong and if she placed them beneath the earl’s pillow he would be driven mad by his nightmares.
She cast some powder into her fire chanting an incantation, then called on her pet demons. ‘Come to me, Bezel, come, Turmoil and Disaster. Your mistress hath need of you.’
The fire glowed with blue flames and then three faces appeared within them. Ugly, horned creatures with eyes that glowed red, long claws and teeth, they grinned at her from the flames.
‘What would you have of us, Beauteous One?’
‘I have work for you,’ Carmelita said and laughed. Even the demons drew back, as if afraid of that laugh. ‘Go to the man I tell you of and torment him, make him suffer pain such as he has never known…drive him mad with your torments.’
The demons’ laughter filled the room for they loved such work.
‘Your wish is our command, Carmelita.’
‘Go then. I shall place the charm beneath his pillow and you may begin your work this night.’
As their images faded from the fire, Carmelita smiled. She had decided to help the apothecary work his spell on the earl. The apothecary had a book of dark spells, stronger by far than her magic. If he would share it with her she could memories some of the darker secrets of the book. If she owned the book she could rule kings – and empire. She could live forever.
Her eyes glowed with blue flame. If she helped the apothecary he would owe her a favour and once she had the book…then no one could stop her.
40
‘I could not come before, because the earl might have discovered what I did,’ Maria said as she embraced Melloria. ‘I wanted to tell you that the children are safe. The earl has left the castle and taken his whore with him. He should be ashamed of the way he has treated you.’ Silence fell between them, then, ‘I hate to think of you in this bleak place.’
Melloria smiled. ‘Some would say I had brought it on myself, Maria. I am not ill treated here for they give me better food than they eat themselves and one or two of the nuns have been kind. They were not supposed to speak to me, but they do. I do not think Robert would be pleased if he knew they had allowed you to visit me.’
‘He will not know. I played on Mother Abbess’s sympathy, told her that the children had sent you messages, which they have, and she said I might visit just this once.’
‘If I could appeal to the King I should ask to be sent to my sister at the Abbey of Saint Innocent. I have no wish to return to Robert, even though it breaks my heart not to see Iolanthe and Harry.’
‘They missed you terribly. I tried to tell them that they would see you again before too long, but Iolanthe could not stop weeping and Harry was pale and withdrawn. I believe he feels things more deeply than he will allow us to see.’
‘Poor Harry,’ Melloria said. ‘He may feel that I have deserted him because I do not love him. At least Iolanthe knows that this has happened before.’
‘I shall write to your sister the Abbess,’ Maria promised. ‘I shall ask her to petition the King and plead that he authorise your move to the Abbey of Saint Innocent – and if you wish to write to your sister or you children you may do it now and I shall make sure the letters are sent.’
‘How kind you are to me,’ Melloria said and her throat caught. ‘It was fortunate for me that you were at the castle when Robert banished me. I should otherwise have been alone and friendless.’
Even as she spoke, Melloria knew that it was not the truth. Somewhere, Nicholas lived and he would discover what had happened to her. She knew in her heart that he would help her if he learned of her imprisonment here in the Abbey of Our Lady. She would not give up hope. One day she would be free again.
* * *
Beatrice walked in the cloister gardens as she waited for the bell to summon them to prayers. The weather was much warmer now and her limbs did not ache with the intensity they had during the long winter. She was thoughtful, her plain features showing how extreme was the battle within her heart. She could smell the perfume of flowers and hear birdsong from the great oak trees that shaded her walk. The sound was soothing and she tried to recapture the feeling of tranquillity that she had once known here. Her devotion was to God and it was not fitting that she should have this burning anger in her heart. She very much feared that the feeling she was experiencing now was hatred – hatred for the Earl Devereaux.
Had she been a man and not bound by her vows, she would undoubtedly have sought retribution. Had their brother Peter Daubeny lived, Beatrice was sure he would have championed Melloria’s cause, but he had been killed when the castle of Devereaux was attacked and they had no male relative.
She had written to her Bishop, asking him to make representation to the King for her but she was not sure he would listen and she was deeply concerned for her sister. She had done all she could to keep Melloria safe, hiding her son with a couple who would care for him as their own and lying to Robert even though she knew he would have paid handsomely to know the truth. Times were hard here and she desperately needed money to keep her sisters safe but she would never betray Melloria.
However, something was making Beatrice uneasy concerning the secret she had kept even from her sister, and she decided she would visit the next day. It would be wrong to take the boy from the family he knew, and she would warn the parents to be doubly certain he was never left alone.
* * *
‘I shall bid you goodnight, countess. Have you everything you need?’
‘Yes, thank you sister.’
Melloria was thoughtful as the young novice closed the door behind her as she left. She waited for the sound of the key in the lock but it did not happen. Her spine tingled as she wondered if the young woman had forgotten to lock her in. Waiting a few seconds, she approached the door and put her ear to it, listening for any sounds. She could hear nothing and knew that the nuns would be at supper. Her pulses raced as she lifted the intricate iron latch and the door swung back towards her. It was well oiled and made no sound. If she dared she could leave her room and perhaps the convent.
Melloria closed the door again and returned to her hard cot. If she ran away she must leave almost everything here. Nothing truly mattered to her other than Nicholas’s journals, which had been left behind at the castle with the remainder of the clothes she had been forbidden to bring with her.
Her heart thudded with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. This was her chance to escape and reach her sister at the Abbey of Saint Innocent. It was certain that Robert would try to force Beatrice to give her up once he knew she had fled from her prison, but perhaps she could find some other place of refuge.
Putting on her cloak and gathering a few of her personal items, she made them into a bundle and tucked it under her arm. She snatched the bread and cheese from her supper tray, because it might be a while before she ate again. Her bundle contained neither money nor jewels for Robert had forbidden them to her, perhaps because he feared she would use them to bribe her way out of the convent. However, the Abbey of Saint Innocent was no more than forty leagues at the most. If she were forced she would walk there – but first she must escape.
Slipping out of the tiny cell, which had been her
prison for the past few weeks, Melloria saw that there was scarcely any light save for that shed by an obliging moon through small high windows. Her nerves tingled as she traversed the narrow passage leading to the outside of the dormitories. Would her luck hold? She tried the door and discovered that it too was unlocked. Someone had been careless – or had the doors been deliberately left this way? Going out into the courtyard, she glanced towards the large refectory hall where the sisters gathered for their meals. Candles had lit the tiny windows, throwing out a beacon of light in the darkness.
Melloria guessed the big main gates would be locked for the night, but in places such as this there was always a smaller gate used for deliveries of those goods the nuns could not produce for themselves. She passed the kitchens, and the chapter house, ran through the sheltered gardens past the cloisters and then saw the small gate that connected to the large, one-roomed infirmary and the guest-house, where travellers were invited to stay for the night. They would be offered bread and water, and perhaps cheese if it were plentiful, resting for the night on bedding they carried with them or simply their clothes on a beaten-earth floor. Her mouth was dry as she approached for she could hardly believe that her luck would hold, yet as she drew near she saw a nun come through it and close it again. Clearly she had been to the guest-house to take food for the travellers before joining the others for supper. Melloria drew back into the shadows, heart drumming and holding her breath as the nun passed by.
As soon as she had disappeared into the shadowed gardens, Melloria ran to the gate and opened it. Once through into the outer courtyards she stopped to take her bearings. It was here that the smith and various craftsmen did their work for the abbey, away from the peace and sanctity of the convent and often overseen by monks attached to the abbey. Looking towards the gates, Melloria saw that they were still wide open to receive visitors who might arrive late at night looking for food and lodging. It was probably the arrival of late travellers who had caused the nun to be late for her supper. Normally the gate was locked between the two areas at night, but perhaps that happened after supper.
Melloria walked towards the open gates unhurriedly, though her nerves were stretched taut. To run would occasion curiosity and might raise the alarm. Yet no one was about and she believed that everyone must be at supper. She had thought someone might be on duty near the gates but now she saw that there was a bell to ring for attention. Newcomers were expected to ring and wait until someone came to attend their needs.
Her heart beat so fast that she found it difficult to breathe, but then she was through the gates. She could see that the abbey was built on a slight rise, and there was a road leading down to the river. Beyond the river was the village and the farms that served the abbey. Somewhere to the north lay York and the moors. It was this direction she must follow if she wished to find her sister.
For a few moments she stood undecided, not sure which way to go, though it would be best to avoid the village for the nuns might send someone to inquire if she had been seen. As her breathing eased, she began to think calmly. She did not imagine she would be pursued. The nuns had done their duty as they saw it; they would send word to her husband and then forget her.
It would be so easy to get lost on the moors, as she had once before. Which way did the north lie? As she hesitated, she felt that someone was with her, guiding her in the way she should go. Then, in the light of a crescent moon, she saw a milestone and bent to look at it; there was an arrow pointing to the north.
Fastening her bundle in a sling that she could wear over her shoulder, Melloria began to walk in the direction the milestone pointed. If she walked as far as she could from the abbey while she had enough light to see, she could find somewhere to rest and shelter and then she would find her way to the abbey where her sister would give her refuge.
41
Maria stood on the threshold and watched as the girl braided and tied Iolanthe’s hair. She smiled because Rosalie was kind and patient, and the child had learned to love and trust her. Iolanthe had been tearful and frightened, weeping for her mother. Maria had tried to comfort her but she had screamed. Only Rosalie seemed able to control her tantrums
‘I have good news, child,’ Maria said. ‘Your mother is with her sister the Abbess. I hope you may be able to go to her soon.’
‘I want my mother now,’ Iolanthe said and started to cry.
‘She was permitted to leave the abbey where she was imprisoned?’ Rosalie asked. ‘That is good news indeed, my lady.’
‘I understand that one of the novices forgot to lock the door of her cell and my lady simply walked out of the convent. She walked for some leagues but then she was given a lift on a farmer’s cart and delivered to the door of the abbey. She says that she is sure an angel guided her footsteps for she did not lose her way and no one tried to recapture her.’
‘That was fortunate,’ Rosalie said and looked thoughtful. ‘What will happen now? Will she be allowed to stay where she is – or will the earl try to send her back to her prison?’
‘Melloria says she has been given sanctuary. For the moment she is hidden where no one is likely to find her, but in time she must make a decision, either to take the veil or leave and make a new life elsewhere.’
‘Will the King help her?’
‘I hope so for the children’s’ sake. Iolanthe has suffered too much at the earl’s hands and she hates him. It would be much better if she could be with her mother.’
‘I have heard from my family. There have been raids in the area.’
‘And you are anxious for news,’ Maria said. ‘If you wish to write a letter to your father telling him you are well and will return soon I will ask Master Steward to have it delivered to your village.’
‘Thank you,’ Rosalie said. She was happy being in charge of the nursery since the earl took his whore with him, but anxious for her family. She thought that perhaps she would write the letter to her father now.
Iolanthe was crooning to her rag doll, singing to herself with a secretive smile on her lips. The child often screamed and woke weeping from the dreams that haunted her sleep, but the past day or so she had been quieter and she smiled, seeming happier and no longer frightened. ‘What are you singing?’ she asked as she squatted on the rug beside the girl. ‘I do not know the words.’
‘It is the lullaby Papa sang to me when I was little,’ Iolanthe said and smiled at her. ‘Papa told me to sing it when I was unhappy. He said that it will not be long now.’
‘Your father – the earl?’
A look of impatience passed over Iolanthe’s face. ‘The earl is not my Papa. My Papa is kind and gentle and he loves me. Soon he will come for me and I shall be with my sister and brother.’
‘Your brother is here in the castle,’ Rosalie said. ‘I do not think you have a sister.’
‘I did not think so either, but Papa told me Mary is waiting for me and my brother’s name is Sebastien. Harry is not my true brother, though sometimes I liked him.’
Rosalie placed a hand to the girl’s brow, wondering if she were sickening but she felt cool and her cheeks were not flushed. Yet there was something different about her, a faraway look in her eyes, as if in her mind she was not here but in another place.
‘When did your papa tell you this, Iolanthe?’
‘He was here just now, while you were speaking with Maria,’ Iolanthe said. ‘Did you not see him? He has a scar on his face but I think him beautiful – and so does Mama, because she told me so when I was little.’
Rosalie felt anxious for it seemed to her that the child was wandering in her mind. No one else had been in the room. A deep sadness came over her, making her fear for the little girl’s future. She believed that Iolanthe’s terror at being torn from her mother and home had turned her mind.
‘No, I did not see him,’ she said and touched her hand in sympathy. ‘But if he gives you happiness that matters not.’
At that moment Rosalie felt a cool breeze and then it was as if some
thing touched her face, almost like a kiss or a gentle caress. She shivered, and then, as she looked towards the window for a moment, she saw a shadow. She thought it was a man’s shadow. A tall, lean man with a thin intelligent face, dressed in the long gown of a nobleman, seemed to glance at her for a brief moment. The image was there but an instant and then it had gone. She remembered the stories of unquiet spirits and demons she had been told as a child and crossed herself, murmuring a prayer to safeguard both the child and herself.
It was said that madness came to a person when the soul was possessed by demons. Had Iolanthe been possessed? Was the image Rosalie had seen for one second that of a demon?
She looked at the child and saw her playing happily. She was singing the lullaby, which was in a language Rosalie believed was French for some of the words were still in common use, brought to England by the Normans at the conquest.
Rosalie decided that she would say nothing of what the child had told her or what she had felt or seen. If the physicians came they might pronounce Iolanthe mad or possessed by demons, and the treatment for such poor creatures was very cruel. The child might be restrained, her flesh tortured to drive out the devils in her body. No, she would not speak of her suspicions even to Maria. Soon perhaps Iolanthe would be restored to her mother. Perhaps then her mind would return to itself and she would forget this nonsense.
Rosalie’s thoughts wandered. She had heard nothing more of what had happened to her village after it was attacked. Were her parents still alive?
42
Alfreda was feeling lost in London. The earl had promised her a house of her own, clothes and jewels if she came with him. All he’d given her was two gowns that had belonged to his wife and a chain with green stones. He gave her a few coins to shop for their food each day, and she spent the time when he was away wandering about the streets, looking at the shops and the taverns. Men looked at her and when she bought fruit, cheese or meat for their host to cook for their supper they smiled and made suggestive remarks that brought a flush to her cheeks.
