Chapter 13
13
Now I knew that there was nothing to be done—and I thought of Claire and considered how she would accept this. I recalled how patiently she suffered—and hers was the example I did not follow. Outwardly I was resigned, but secretly I raged and wished ill upon my guardian. That disease would carry him off or accident befall him.
One small blessing I received. Roberval was out each day in port, overseeing his provisions. There were lists to check and barrels to stow and colonists to interview. The laundress told Damienne that these were desperate souls.
“She says they are all debtors,” Damienne told me.
“As is Roberval.”
“Hush you. Someone will overhear, and he will know.”
“How would he punish me?” I asked. “By leaving me behind?”
Although I spoke boldly, I trembled when Roberval summoned me again. I hung back at the door, but my guardian did not berate me. Indeed, he greeted me as though he had never seen my letter.
Ushering me in, he asked, “How do you fare?”
“As well as I can,” I answered.
He said, “And we shall see if you can do still better.” Was he thinking of my disobedience and suggesting that I must improve? As always, I felt unbalanced and unsure. But Roberval did not speak of my behavior. Instead, he told me, “You and your nurse will have new clothes.”
Roberval brought a cobbler in to make new shoes and boots for us. He ordered fresh gowns made, and I had kidskin gloves and a squirrel-lined cloak. Mercurial as he had always been, my guardian was generous now that he had caught and broken me.
In May, I could not sleep for fear of ships and rolling seas, but my guardian’s eyes brightened. As one with a new calling divests himself of worldly things, Roberval commissioned his secretary to bring in buyers for his silver and glass goblets, his damask cloths, and his rich carpets. At our last meeting in that house, Roberval sat with his secretary at a bare table. Even his precious cabinet was gone.
“Make yourself ready and ask the maids to pack your clothes,” Roberval told me. “I have a wagon waiting to take your trunks down to the harbor. We will board tomorrow and wait there.”
“On the ship?”
“Yes, the ships are ready. We wait only for the wind.”
I ventured, “How long will the journey take?”
“Eight weeks, if we are not becalmed or boarded by the Spanish fleet,” my guardian answered cheerfully.
His words frightened me, but I tried not to let it show. “And we should have our trunks ready for tomorrow?”
“No, your trunks must load today.”
This was sudden. I could not imagine the maids packing so quickly. “My lord,” I began.
Very slightly the secretary shook his head and I broke off.
Roberval stepped briskly as he saw me to the door. “Haste now.”
Grimly, Damienne prepared for our departure. Two maids packed our linens and our gowns. We wrapped my virginal in cloth, and servants crated it to carry to the wagon at the door.
The next morning, we went out together. Marie curtseyed to us, and I gave her a penny. As for Alys, she had left the house to marry. Have I paid for her to wed, I wondered? Did I fund her trousseau with my folly?
Sighing, Damienne stopped in the lane as we walked to the pier. “I am not sorry to leave,” she said, “except that we must go to sea.” Dreading rough waves, she clung to me.
Gulls were calling as we stepped over wooden planks. Waves slapped against posts crusted with black barnacles. Here my guardian’s men waited in a little boat, and we embarked, descending salty stairs. I stepped in first, and Damienne followed, half-falling as she clutched my arm.
I heard her praying under her breath, even as the sailors rowed us over little swells.
“Do you see?” I asked my nurse.
“No.” She kept her head down.
“The ships,” I told her. “Look.”
“I will not,” she declared.
The ships were beautiful with their curved hulls, tall masts, and pennants rippling, azure and gold. I gazed in wonder and in fear, for the sea was vast, lapping hungrily.
Two men held their oars to steady our small craft while two helped Damienne to stand. Now we must board the largest vessel, Anne, but Damienne was so frightened she could scarcely move. “I’ll fall,” she said. “I will fall and drown.”
“Help me first,” I told the men, and when they lifted me, I grasped rope and rail to hoist myself upon the deck. “Now help my servant,” I called down.
Three men lifted Damienne, and I reached for her and called, “Hold on to me. Reach for my hand. Reach and I will keep you safe.” Impatiently the oarsmen tried to lift her, but she wasn’t ready, and she closed her eyes, slumping, so that they failed to heave her aboard. They tried once more, and I called out. “Open your eyes! Look up at me.”
Now she did look up, and reach. I seized her wrists while the men lifted her, and gasping she dropped onto the deck.
“Christ protect me,” she cried, as I held her in my arms.
Standing together, we felt the ship roll like a living thing under our feet.
“You frightened me!” I said. “I was afraid the men would give up and row you back to shore.”
She looked to shore and then to the deck crowded with men. I saw the terror in her eyes, but even then, she said, “I would not leave you.”