by Linda Sole
‘Had she not seemed a sensible young woman I should have spoken to her sharply and reminded her of her duty.’ Beatrice frowned. ‘We must pray that the boy is recovered – or if he has been taken to God, then we must pray for his soul.’
‘Yes, sister,’ Melloria replied. ‘We shall pray that my son is safe and well in the arms of someone who will love and guard him…better than his nurse.’
Beatrice looked at her oddly but did not question her. ‘I shall have wax candles sent to you. Your work is so fine that you will strain your eyes in this light – and that cloth you are embroidering will fetch some shillings at market to purchase more.’
‘You are always so generous to me, Beatrice. Never think that I am ungrateful for all you have done for me.’
Beatrice nodded and went out. Melloria smiled to herself. If the nurse had watched the child carefully he could not have fallen into the river. Nicholas must have waited his chance and snatched his son when the nurse looked away for a moment. Why had the boy not raised the alarm? He would surely have done so had he been frightened.
The only explanation was that he had gone of his own free will. He must have trusted Nicholas implicitly. How else was it possible to steal a child while his nurse looked on? Yet Nicholas had left Melloria’s chamber in an instant and she was sure she had seen him pass through the castle gate when no one else had. She did not know how that was possible, but she sensed that Nicholas was capable of many things that seemed beyond human powers. Was it possible that he had somehow become invisible or could he perchance control the human mind so that the nurse did not see him, because he told her she could not?
Melloria shook her head. Such things were not possible and yet she was not afraid for her son. Somehow she knew that he was safe with his father.
* * *
‘Papa…’ you have come for me!’ Iolanthe cried joyfully as she opened her eyes and saw him bending over her narrow cot with its mattress of finest goose feathers. ‘Is it time at last?’
‘Yes, my sweet angel. I have your brother waiting and I shall take you both to my home in France this very night. We must go at once for a long ride awaits us and then a voyage on a ship. Tomorrow, we shall be in France, Iolanthe. You will not mind that?’
‘I do not mind anything when I am with you, Papa. You will not let the nasty people take me again, will you?’
‘No, Iolanthe. No one shall force you to go anywhere again while I live. Come now, my love, for your nurse sleeps.’
‘Rosalie has been kind to me,’ Iolanthe said, glancing at the woman who lay on the mattress at the foot of her bed. ‘She will not be in trouble because you took me – will she?’
‘I have not harmed her, Iolanthe. I believe she will be safe enough, but if she needs help I shall help her.’
‘Did we live in France before?’ Iolanthe asked. ‘I cannot remember.’
‘No, we lived not far from this house, but it is safer in France. There you will be protected and the bad people will not find you.’
‘Then I want to live in France. Is my sister there?’
‘Mary is your twin, Iolanthe. She is longing to meet you.’
Iolanthe smiled as her beloved Papa took her in his arms, wrapping her about with his cloak. As they walked past Rosalie, she stirred in her sleep and flung out an arm but did not wake.
Outside the courtyard was silent. No one stirred as her father carried her to the gate. He did not use the big main gates that needed several men to open them, but a small side gate that was used to bring in wagons of produce and other goods the manor house needed. A group of horsemen waited for them outside the stout walls and there was a simple cart such as farmers used. It had straw and blankets and a small boy a little younger than Harry was lying there asleep.
‘Lay down beside Sebastien and put your arms about him,’ Nicholas said as he climbed onto the driving box of the cart. ‘When he wakes he may be frightened and he may not know who he is but you must tell him his name – and tell him that you are his sister. Can you do that for me, Iolanthe?’
‘Yes, Papa. I shall tell him that you are our Papa and that you will take care of us always.’
Papa smiled at her in the way he had when she was a baby and he carried her with him as he worked in his chamber and wrote in the big journals. She felt the instinctive trust she had always known in him, and the hurt of the past years began to ease and float away as if it had never been.
‘Where is my mother?’ she asked.
‘Your mama will be with you soon. She is safe and I shall bring her to you very soon – but first I must make certain that you and your brother are safe in France.’
‘Yes, Papa.’
Iolanthe looked at him adoringly and then lay down beside her sleeping brother and put her arms about him. He stirred and cried out in his sleep and she comforted him.
‘Do not cry, little brother,’ she whispered. ‘You will be safe now. We are both safe now that we are with Papa.’
44
‘The woman Rosalie is here,’ Beatrice said as she entered the cell where Melloria sat with her sewing. ‘She has something to tell you – and I fear the worst, though she will not tell me.
Melloria rose to her feet, her heart thumping. ‘I shall go to her at once.’
She hurried through the gloom of the abbey, hardly noticing the cold and damp now for she had become accustomed to the hardship. Rosalie was waiting. Turning, as Melloria entered, she looked frightened and her heart caught.
‘What has happened?’ she asked. ‘Tell me at once – is it my daughter?’
‘Forgive me, my lady. As I slept the child was taken. I saw and heard nothing – nor did the guards or any other person in the castle.’ Rosalie fell to her knees. ‘I was sent to tell you myself because Maria blames me, but how could I know that someone could take her past the guards.’
‘She did not cry out?’
‘No, my lady. She seemed happier of late, at peace with herself – and she told me her Papa was coming for her…’
‘Robert has taken her!’ Beatrice cried but Melloria shook her head.
‘She did not think of him as her father. No, she meant Nicholas. He was her Papa. Praise God! He has taken her, as he has taken our son. They will be safe with him.’
‘This is a tale concocted to fool you, sister. Robert must somehow have stolen her – as he did the boy.’
‘No, Beatrice, I do not believe so. Iolanthe hated Robert and she loved her dearest Papa.’
Rosalie spoke again, ‘She said that her Papa told her she had a sister and a brother, not Harry – but another child she previously knew nothing of. I thought her grief had turned her mind. She was singing just before she slept that night. When I lay down at the foot of the bed she was sleeping peacefully. When I woke she had gone. I swear I heard nothing, my lady. Forgive me. Master Steward believes I took money from the earl to help him steal her but you know I would not take anything from him.’
‘Yes, I do know that,’ Melloria said. ‘You have been clear and honest in your story, Rosalie – and I do not blame you for carelessness. The man she thinks of as her Papa has taken Iolanthe and he will care for her. She is safe now.’
‘Safe? I do not understand you, my lady. Does this man truly exist? I thought her mind possessed.’
‘If Iolanthe said she saw him then I believe her,’ Melloria said. ‘He may not have been there in the room in the flesh but he was there in spirit.’
Rosalie shivered. She did not understand what the countess was saying but she sensed that the child’s mother was not angry with her.
‘Master Steward was very angry with me. He said I must come to you and beg your forgiveness – and that I must find my own way home.’
‘Oh no, that was so unfair of him,’ Melloria exclaimed. She looked at the Abbess, her distress obvious. ‘Robert took all the money I had, sister, and I know you have none to give away, but could you spare your cart to take Rosalie at least a part of the way home?’
&nb
sp; ‘It would be no further than York, but we can give Rosalie some food and direct her to other abbeys and monasteries where she might find shelter and help.’
‘Forgive me, Rosalie,’ Melloria said. ‘If I had money I would give it to you, but my husband has not seen fit to restore my rights to me as yet. I think him unkind to treat you thus and shall tell him so, for even had Robert taken the child it would not be your fault. I wish we could do more for you.’
‘I do not know how I shall find my way.’ Rosalie looked apprehensive.
‘In that I may help you, child,’ Beatrice said, her tone softening. I will give you a simple map that will show you where the abbeys and monasteries are situated. If you look for signs and ask people you meet on the way, you should not find it too difficult. There are many pilgrims on the road and if you join with them you will find it easier.’
‘Thank you.’ Rosalie inclined her head.
She lifted her head, holding back the foolish tears that would shame her. Somehow she would make the long and dangerous journey to her home. She would return to her village and there marry the man who had courted her before she went away to serve the countess. She knew that he waited for her, and now she would wed him.
‘You must stay here with us this night,’ the Abbess was saying. ‘In the morning you will be taken as far as we can manage, and I will give you food and a map to guide you.’ She moved towards Rosalie, making the sign of the cross over her. ‘I ask God’s blessing and his forgiveness for you, daughter.’
Rosalie bowed her head. She had many leagues to travel and it would be hard, but somehow she must find her way back to her own village.
45
Iolanthe looked at the small boy sitting on the seat of the wagon beside her. He had spoken hardly one word all the time, even on the ship when he had first woken and looked at her, he had said nothing. He put his thumb in his mouth and sat watching her, his eyes following her every move.
‘Papa says we shall soon be home now, Sebastien,’ she said. ‘You have slept most of the way here but you are awake now. Why do you not speak to me?’
‘Who are you?’ he asked, staring at her, his eyes wide with fear. ‘I do not remember you – or anything. How did we come here?’
‘I am Iolanthe, your sister. You are younger than I am and I did not know I had a brother until Papa told me. We have a sister too. Her name is Mary and she is waiting for us at home.’
‘Where is home?’
‘Papa says this is France. It is not where we lived before, but Papa says it is safer, because there will be war in England soon. The barons have made the King angry and Papa says that he will punish them.’
‘I don’t remember…’ Sebastien frowned. ‘How did we get here?’ He screwed up his forehead. ‘I think there was a river and I was playing on the bank…but I cannot recall what happened.’
‘Papa will tell you when we get home,’ Iolanthe said. She put her arm about his shoulders. ‘Once we are safe Papa will fetch our mother. A horrid man has held her prisoner for a long time, but soon Papa will rescue her and she will be with us again.’
‘Mama…’ Sebastien wrinkled his forehead. ‘What does she look like?’
‘She has hair the same colour as mine and her eyes are green…sometimes they are blue like the sky. She is very beautiful and she smells nice,’ Iolanthe told him. ‘I had another brother once, but Papa says he was not truly my brother and I should forget him. He used to pull my hair and be unkind to me. You will not do that, Sebastien?’
He shook his head solemnly, his little hand reaching for hers. ‘I am frightened,’ he said. I cannot remember anything before I saw you the first time I woke.’
Iolanthe’s fingers grasped his hand. She felt a pang of love curl through her, a feeling of wanting to protect her brother always.
‘You must always do as I tell you and I shall love you best, better than Mary,’ she told him. ‘If you do what I say I shall look after you and protect you – but we are both safe with Papa, because he loves us all.’
‘I shall love you, Iolanthe,’ Sebastien promised her. ‘You will not let anything happen to me? I am afraid of the dark. Nurse says that if I am not good Jenny Greenteeth will get me. I do not want to live at the bottom of the river and be covered in weed like her.’
‘I thought you could not remember anything?’
‘I remember nurse taking away my candle and leaving me in the dark. She hurt me…’ Sebastien pulled back his sleeves and showed her the dark bruises on his arm. ‘This is what she did to me if I was not good. You won’t let her hurt me again?’
‘If anyone tries to hurt us I shall tell Papa and he will stop them,’ Iolanthe said. Her faith in Papa was complete and absolute. ‘He told me that no one would ever take me away from him again – and I won’t let anyone hurt you, because you are my brother.’
Sebastien crept closer to her side as the lumbering wagon, which had shaken and bumped them over deeply rutted roads for many leagues, at last drew to a slow, steady halt. Voices were heard outside, and the sounds of heavy gates being drawn back. Then the wagon moved on for a short distance and stopped once more. The door was opened and a man came to help them down, taking Iolanthe’s hand to help her first and then holding out his arms to Sebastien.
‘Come to me, my son. You are home now and safe with your sisters.’
Sebastien hesitated for one instant, then moved into the strong arms that lifted him down to stand by Iolanthe’s side. They looked at each other in awed silence as they were taken through an imposing front door into a huge hall. Shiny tiles of a kind that neither child had ever seen covered the floor, and the stone ceiling soared high above them, held by thick buttresses. Iolanthe looked up and Sebastien’s eyes followed her direction. The ceiling was decorated with figures of what looked like chubby children draped with gilded or crimson cloths over their loins, and wings sprouted from their backs. The furniture was ornately carved and sometimes gilded, and here and there carpets covered parts of the floor. A row of white opalescent statues formed a little colonnade, and they were all of semi-naked men and women – and one of a creature half man and half goat.
‘Follow me, my children,’ Papa said and they obeyed, hands clutching at each other, as they struggled to take in the strangeness and grandeur of their surroundings. Papa led the way through several rooms, each furnished with unfamiliar items that kept them silent and respectful. After passing through a series of rooms, Papa led them up a short flight of stone steps to a large hall. Beyond the hall, there was a door, and as they walked dutifully behind Papa it opened and a girl came running out. She flung herself at Papa, and he lifted her in his arms and kissed her.
‘Father, you are home. Have you brought Mama?’
‘Not this time, Mary – but here are your sister Iolanthe and your brother Sebastien.’
‘I have a brother also?’ The girl turned to look at them. She was wearing a short tunic of green velvet and Sebastien thought she was almost as beautiful as Iolanthe, but not quite. ‘I am glad to see you,’ she said and then turned to Papa and broke into a torrent of words that Sebastien could not understand. He glanced at Iolanthe and saw that she did not understand them either – and it made her angry that their sister could talk to Papa in a language that she did not know. Papa said something to her and she blushed and turned back to Iolanthe. ‘I have longed to see you, my sister – and my brother – but you must forgive me. I sometimes find it hard to say what I feel, except to Papa.’
‘Mary is learning many lessons, as you must learn to speak French. She wants to say how happy she is to have you here. She loves you already and hopes that you will love her – as I do. Sebastien, you must love both your sisters. Your Mama will be here soon and she will teach you all to love one another, as well as many other things, but for the moment you must manage with your tutors and your nurses. Tomorrow I return to England.’
‘Must you go so soon, Papa?’ Iolanthe asked, and her hand held Sebastien’s so tightly that
he almost cried out. He wondered if she was as frightened as he felt. ‘Can you not stay for a few days?’
‘Perhaps one day longer,’ Papa said and Sebastien felt the tightness in his chest ease a little. He was still feeling very strange, almost as if he had become someone different. He was glad that his life had changed, because he knew that he had cried a lot in the place where he was before. Especially at night when the nurse took his candle away and told him that Jenny Greenteeth would take him down to the bottom of the river with her if he were naughty. He could not remember his mother, but if she were as kind as Papa and as pretty as Iolanthe and Mary, he would be happy. He thought he had known someone he called Father but the man was a distant, remote figure.
‘Please, you must come and meet Marta and Cedric, and Mr Barchester. We lived in France for a long time and I learned to speak the language, but not as Papa wishes me to and so I have a tutor. Mr Barchester is English and very clever. He teaches me many things that I did not know before I came here – and then there is Lelia, our nurse…’ Mary held out her hand to Sebastien, but he clung to Iolanthe, remembering her promise to protect him. Mary looked at him uncertainly as her hand fell to her side. Sebastien was sorry, because he did not wish to hurt her, but everything was so strange and so new and all he had to cling to was Iolanthe.
‘Is the nurse kind?’ he asked as Mary led the way into a chamber of smaller proportions than the others they had seen. It was a comfortable room, the walls panelled with wood and painted with pictures of animals and flowers. ‘Does she hurt you at night when it is dark?’
Mary looked at him for a moment and he thought there was sympathy and understanding in her eyes. ‘No one hurts us here,’ she said. ‘Papa would not let them. Marta used to hit me once but now she is kind. She obeys Papa in all things, as do all the other servants. Papa is a great man. No one dares to harm us for he would punish them.’
‘I told you we should be safe now we are with Papa,’ Iolanthe said and Sebastien saw a look of jealousy in her eyes. He sensed that she did not like to hear Mary talk of Papa that way. Iolanthe thought that Papa was hers. She was willing to share him with Sebastien if he did what she said, but he could sense the coldness in her as she looked at Mary.
