Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Coldness woke me, seeping into my body. At first, panic gipped me as I opened my eyes to unfamiliar surroundings, until I recalled the events of last night. The faint odor of smoke clung to my garments which scratched against my skin.
I glanced about the room. Patches of light peeped through the oilskin covering the window, illuminating the discarded panniers and my clothes that I’d spread out to dry. But there was no sign of Sawford.
Unused to the hard pallet beneath me, my bones ached.
I placed my palm on my belly. The child rewarded me with a small kick and I smiled to myself.
I might be alone, lying among filth on the floor of a peasant’s hut, but my child and I were free from Mortlock.
Free for how long I knew not, but even the briefest moment of freedom was to be treasured.
I struggled to my feet, rubbing my aching lower back, then approached the hanging and drew it aside.
The outer door to the cottage was open, letting in a shaft of sunlight.
The sleeping woman from last night now sat at the table along with three children.
As I approached, she turned to face me and scowled while her children stared at me with sloe-black eyes.
I offered my hand to her. “I must thank you, good woman for giving me shelter.”
Ignoring the proffered hand she wrinkled her nose.
“Don’t thank me,” she said. “I would not have the likes of you in my house, no matter how much he paid us.”
I withdrew my hand. “You may not be accustomed to entertaining a lady, but I assure you that…”
“Lady!” she scoffed. “Is that what whores call themselves? I suffer your presence in my home—and near my children—for coin, and coin alone. I carry the shame to ensure my children eat this night. One such as you carries no shame.”
Sweet Heaven! Did she think me Sawford’s whore?
“You have no right to judge me,” I snapped. “You suffer my presence against your moral judgement for the sake of a coin. How are you better than a woman forced to sell her body to survive? You think she does it out of choice?”
She stood up and spat in my face. Trembling I stepped back, wiping my cheek.
“You’re nothing but filth, you hear me? A pox-ridden slut who serviced the men in that traitor’s castle while the villagers starved around him. You should have died in the fire along with the rest of them.”
She jabbed a finger at me. “I doubt you even know whose seed spawned that little bastard in your belly.”
“My child is innocent,” I said, cradling my belly to protect the life within from her hatred.
Tears stung the backs of my eyelids at her cruelty. Had I escaped the confines of Mortlock Fort only to be subjected to the injustices of a judgmental world?
“It is not innocent,” she said. “It has been tainted; conceived in sin and God will make it suffer.”
“How dare you!” I cried. “You have no right to…”
I broke off as a deep voice roared.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Sawford stood in the doorway, the smith at his side. His body filled the doorframe, vibrating with fury, fists clenched at his sides. I retreated from the force of his anger, but he strode toward me and took my arm.
“Stop causing trouble,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I am not…” I broke off with a whimper as Sawford dragged me across the floor into the adjoining room.
The smith called his wife out of the house, and she left, deriding him for letting a whore into her home.
“Did I not warn you not to speak?” Sawford said.
“But she insulted...” I began, but broke off as he shook me.
“I care not what she said, madam!” he snarled. “We’re still in grave danger this close to the Fort. If you speak, you’ll reveal your identity. Your accent betrays you.”
“You want me to speak like a whore?” I glared at him. “That woman judges me as one!”
“She would judge you a great deal more harshly as the wife of Mortlock now his treachery has been revealed and punished. What do you think would happen if you were discovered? Do you wish to die a traitor’s death? You would be condemned by association.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he held his hand up to silence me.
“Enough. Do not plague me further or I shall deal with you more harshly.”
Before I could answer, he left. With nothing else to do I folded the clothes which were now dry and packed them into the panniers. Inspecting the rest of the contents I found food, a bag of coins, along with two jars of my salve.
When I had finished I felt sick again and in need of fresh air. The house was now empty. I had no wish to be subjected to any more scorn from the smith’s wife. Stepping outside I inhaled, relishing the fresh air, and stretched my arms to fill my lungs.
“Mistress.”
I turned to see the smith watching me from the adjacent building. Would he condemn me for distressing his wife? But, as I shaded my eyes against the sunlight I saw only kindness in his face.
“Are you well?” he said.
“Yes,” I replied. “Forgive me, I had to come outside. The smell in the house…” My voice trailed off and heat rose in my face with embarrassment.
“Nay, ’tis I who should apologize, not only for the humble state of my house…” he lifted a hand and smiled at my protests, “…but also my wife’s words. You are a guest, and she had no right to say what she did. She’s a pious woman and takes her faith seriously.”
“As do I sir. Might I know to whom I am indebted?”
He shook his head. “Your companion, Sawford, does not wish it. Neither does he wish me to know your name, so I beg of you not to speak it.”
He held out his hand. “I would welcome you to my home.”
A large red mark ran along his forearm.
“You’re hurt,” I said, taking his hand.
“The hazards of being a smith.”
“Have you anything for it?”
“Time, mistress; just time.”
I released his hand. “I have something that will help. Come inside.”
He followed me into the house, and I darted into the back room to fetch one of the jars of salve, tearing a strip from my silk nightshift as a makeshift bandage.
He sat patiently while I opened the jar and spread the salve over the burn before binding it.
“Change this once every two days,” I said, tying the ends of the bandage in a knot. “The pain should lessen by tomorrow and will heal within a sennight.”
He smiled at my crisp instructions and took my hand.
“You are no ordinary whore, are you?” he said gently. “Methinks you’re no whore at all.”
I lowered my head, and he patted my hand in the manner of an indulgent parent.
“It matters not, child. You’re under Sawford’s protection, which is good enough for me.”
I lifted my head and smiled. He was the first man since poor Percy to show me warmth and kindness.
“Get away from her, John!” a shrill voice cried.
His wife had returned. She stood in the doorway, Sawford beside her.
“Leave my husband alone, you slut!” she said. “Have you no shame?”
Sawford’s voice was smooth but his eyes flickered with anger. “My apologies, good woman,” he said. “She will look for trade wherever she can, but I shall keep her in line.”
“Monsieur Sawford, I must protest,” the smith said. “Forgive me, but this good lady was…”
“No, sir,” I said, rising. “You have nothing to reproach yourself over.”
His wife pushed the jar of salve toward me.
“Take it back, whatever it is. We want nothing from you.”
“But…”
“Do as she says,” Sawford barked.
With trembling hands I picked up the jar, retreating to the back room.
The woman’s shrill voice continued, berating me for tainting her home.
Sawford joined in, apologizing for burdening them.
Distraught at the injustice of it all, I curled up on the pallet, drawing the blanket over my head to shut out their voices.
After a while Sawford’s footsteps approached and a hand tugged at my blanket.
“Leave me be,” I pleaded.
“The smith and his wife have gone and will not return until we leave. I will be gone a few hours. Do not leave this room.”
I closed my eyes and let out a sigh.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes!” I cried. “Go! I pray that I never see you again.”
When Sawford returned I had fallen asleep again.
My sleep had been punctuated by dreams of flames surrounding my mother’s face.
Twice I had woken up screaming for her. When he shook me awake, I cried out again, and he covered my mouth with his hand.
He smelled of smoke and I pulled away, the flames still vivid in my mind.
“Mortlock,” I croaked.
“Aye, I have been there,” he said grimly. “The building is destroyed and all are dead. You are a widow.”
“All dead?”
“Some of the women and children survived, but the men either perished in the flames or were killed trying to escape. Those captured by the king’s men were executed.
Your husband has been declared a traitor and everything he owned is now property of the king, to dispose of as he sees fit. That includes you.”
His next words sent a chill down my spine.
“That is why you will marry me tonight.”
My gut twisted with horror.
“No!” I cried. “I-I’m finally free. Why would I consent to marry a traitor who served my husband then betrayed him in turn?”
“I am no traitor, madam,” he said. “I am loyal to Henry and will be richly rewarded.” I heard the pride in his voice and boiled with anger.
“You betrayed and caused the death of many,” I replied. “What could a murdering bastard know of loyalty?”
He gripped my throat. “Do not use that word in my presence! I serve De Beauvane with honor.”
“De Beauvane? Who is he?”
He grimaced, then shook his head. “It matters not. He was prepared to employ me despite my birth. Most of the nobility has little time for those of us born on the wrong side of the blanket. You give us nothing but your scorn. But I have the upper hand now. As Mortlock’s widow you are a traitor by association. ”
“I’ve done nothing!” I protested.
“Nevertheless you would be given to the king for his pleasure. With luck you might warm his bed until he tires of you, but he has discerning tastes. In your present state I suspect he would hand you to his men before giving you a traitor’s death.”
“I am with child. The heir to…”
“The heir to nothing. The child of a traitor.”
“Then I shall tell them that my husband is not the sire. You know that to be true.”
“You will simply be acknowledging your own adultery and branding yourself a whore,” Sawford said. “I think you know the penalty for adultery. Did not your mother reap the fruits of her sins?”
“How dare you!” I cried, striking him across the face with all the force I could summon. “Do not speak of her so!”
He rubbed his cheek. “Strike me all you like, but you know that your sin would not go unpunished. The world is well aware of the weakness of women. Your own maid betrayed you.”
“Harwyn was my only friend,” I said. “Brave and honorable, she…”
“Brave!” he scoffed. “At the first sign of danger to herself she squealed, spilling all the sordid little details about your love letters and your wish to leave your husband. She begged for her sorry skin without a thought for you.”
“She did not deserve to die.”
“She was a coward. Like all women. Eager to betray at the slightest test of her resolve.”
“I would never betray one I loved,” I said vehemently. “I’d do anything I could to protect them.”
He reached out to me, and I shied away, cradling my belly.
His voice grew softer.
“Then,” he said, “if you wish to protect your child then prove what you say. Do as you are bid and marry me. After all, I am the child’s father.”
Loathing for him boiled in my gut. He staked his claim on me and my child, yet in the same breath he told me of my own sins, even though he had taken me at my husband’s bidding.
“My child cannot help having you as his sire,” I said. “I intend for him never to find out.”
“I am a loyal subject. My name will protect you both.”
My freedom, short-lived as it was, had been an illusion. I was a fugitive, the widow of a traitor—lost, alone, to be hunted down.
But though I hated Sawford for what he had done to me—for how he made me feel—I had no choice other than to yield. My child must be protected and, perhaps…
Perhaps Tarvin was out there somewhere and would come for me.
“Tell me, sir,” I whispered. “The honest truth if you can. Was every man killed at Mortlock?”
“Aye. Every single man. They’re all accounted for; even the two we encountered in the forest.”
I was alone. Tarvin was dead.
“Tarvin…” Tears rolled down my face. There was nothing left now, apart from the need to protect my child.
“Who is Tarvin?” Sawford said, an edge to his voice, as if he were in pain. “Your lover?”
“No,” I said, “but he was a better man than you could ever hope to be. He was brave and noble, whereas you are nothing. I feel sick at the very thought of your name and his being spoken in the same breath.”
I looked up at him in defiance, expecting to see anger in his eyes, but their expression was softer, almost sad before he turned his head away.
At length, he sighed. “But, you will wed me?” he said.
I hung my head.
“Aye.”
“Then make haste. We leave now.”