Remembrance Read online

  While Meg sat in a corner and nursed the children, John announced that Gilbert was to marry John’s ten-year-old daughter and after a moment this news was greeted with great grumbling. Gilbert was not liked by anyone, but because of his connection to the court he was tolerated. But now that most of the people were drunk they had fewer inhibitions in showing their disgust at this man’s lechery of this innocent child.

  Gilbert had to control his anger at John’s stupidity for making such an announcement. He would have liked to marry the girl in private and taken her away for his own amusement with no one knowing it.

  “Have no fear,” Gilbert said loudly, trying to make a jest. “I will not take her to bed until her womanhood is upon her.”

  “And may God rest her soul,” a woman muttered and too many people laughed.

  John cared for nothing or no one but the boy who was nursing so eagerly. He would never let the boy out of his sight. Never let anyone or anything harm him. He would give him the best of everything. He would give him all.

  16

  Only Alida’s maid, Penella, knew the extent of how affected her mistress had been by the last few days. Because of John’s deal with Gilbert she knew there would be no more chances for her to give her husband a son. Her husband would never again visit her bed, and besides, it had taken her months to conceive this child. Her time of childbearing was at an end.

  On the day John Hadley claimed that black-haired boy as his son, his wife gave up hope.

  For nineteen years Alida had somehow sustained hope. She had believed that if she gave her husband what he wanted, someday he would turn to her in love. She knew now that it would not be. Just as he had given away Peniman Manor, he would not hesitate to take away anything that had meaning to her.

  “All I have now are my children,” she whispered as she stood before the arrow slit window of the old stone keep. “My children. Not the child of another man and his…” She could not think how to describe the child-woman who had held her hand during the birth and said such strange things to her.

  “My child shall be your child;

  Your child shall be mine.

  They will be one spirit in two bodies.

  They will live together; they will die together.”

  That’s what the girl had said. The words were emblazoned on her brain.

  “Come to bed, my lady,” Penella said softly, her hands on her mistress’s shoulders, trying to make her rest. She had never seen her like this and she was frightened. Alida had always been a beautiful woman, and age and years of childbearing had only barely dimmed her beauty, but the events of this week had changed her overnight into what Penella saw now.

  Alida’s hair straggled about her face, each day showing more gray. It had been two days since the birth of the children and with each passing hour Alida looked worse. She refused to eat. She slept only after she’d paced the floor for many hours, then she fell into a fretful sleep in which she talked nonsense. Penella had shooed everyone else out of the room and was now taking care of her mistress alone. She did not want anyone else to see her like this.

  It was on the night of the third day that Alida’s sleeping rambles made sense to Penella. At first she did not believe what she was hearing. There was something about, “They will die together,” then over and over again, “They must die together. They must die together.”

  Penella put down her knitting and sat very still. She didn’t want to think that her mistress had lost her reason.

  “Fire will cleanse them,” Alida said. “Fire will make them both die together.”

  Penella had no idea what she was going to do, but she got up and went to the door. Catching a passing maid, she told her she was to remain outside her ladyship’s door and if she allowed anyone to enter, she would be punished severely. Since all the maids knew of Alida’s punishments, she obeyed.

  Raising her skirts, slipping through the night, Penella made her way to the far tower. This is where John had ensconced “his” son along with the daughter he cared nothing about. There was a guard outside the door but he was asleep so Penella had no trouble slipping past him.

  Inside the dark room there was only moonlight to show her the big bed where the wet nurse slept, a sleeping baby cuddled on each side of her.

  “Wake up,” Penella said softly so the guard wouldn’t hear.

  She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a man’s hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw a short, stout, pleasant-looking man, his face weathered by years of sun and wind.

  “Who are you?” she gasped.

  “Will. Meg’s husband. What is amiss?”

  She could see that he was a man of great sensibility. “I am afraid,” she said and instantly felt guilty, as though she were betraying her mistress. Thinking that perhaps she was wrong to have come, she turned to leave, but Will kept his hand firmly on her shoulder.

  “What is it? You must tell me.”

  There was something so sweet natured about this man, something so reliable, that she found herself pouring out everything to him in a voice barely above a whisper. “It has been too much for my mistress. I think she means to harm the boy. I think—” She put her hands over her face.

  “How?” Will asked.

  “F…fire,” she answered. “She speaks of fire.”

  Will had had no formal education but he had handled many emergencies in his life on a farm and he knew how to act quickly. “We must get the children and Meg out of here.”

  “There is probably no danger. I’m sure my mistress was only rambling. I’m sure—”

  “Yes, of course she was,” Will said soothingly. “Mayhap she was talking in her sleep. She has just had a baby. Sometimes women say odd things at times like that. I’m sure it is nothing, so you must go back to her and see that she is well cared for.”

  “Yes, you are right,” Penella said gratefully, so glad for this man’s calm strength.

  “Go on now. Go to bed. Everything will look all right in the morning.”

  After she left, Will lost no time in waking Meg. He knew he had to get all of them out of there as quickly as possible. Since Meg had told him of the switch of the children, he had expected something like this to happen. Of course Alida would kill this boy who now threatened her own children.

  Meg, good, sweet Meg, did not ask questions when her husband woke her and told her she was to sneak the children past the guard and get out of the castle grounds as fast as possible. She sensed that the children were in danger and that was enough for her.

  Will went outside and distracted the guard with an exceedingly vulgar story while Meg held the sleeping children close to her and ran down the old stone steps. Once outside she pulled her shawl over her head and kept walking briskly toward the village. She thanked heaven that in these modern times there was no raising and lowering of the drawbridge. The truth of why John Hadley still lived in a castle was that he was too cheap to build a comfortable house. The thick stone walls were no longer needed for protection.

  Once Will was sure there had been enough time for Meg to get away, he tried very hard to think. If there were a fire and babies were to have been burned, tiny bodies would be expected to be found. If bodies were not found, a search would be made and, alive, the boy would always be in danger.

  It took Will only a moment to decide what he had to do. He did not like it and he thought that perhaps performing such a hideous deed would guarantee that he would not be allowed into heaven. But when it came to Meg and those children she already loved so much, he didn’t mind giving up heaven.

  Leaving the castle, he went running toward the churchyard where the bodies of his twin sons had been laid to rest days before. If there were a fire, there would be the bodies of two babies found in the rubble.

  Just before dawn a fire broke out in the old castle. The ancient oak floor joists went up like paper, making a blaze so hot the lead roof melted and rained down on the people of the courtyard. There was an attempt to put the fire out, but it