Novels 03 The Wise Woman Read online

  “The other gown was dirty,” Alys said evenly. “I have sent it to be washed. And it is time I wore a hood.”

  Lord Hugh raised his white eyebrows. “You can have your pick of that chest of clothes,” he said. “And tell David to show you the other chest. You might as well wear them as anyone else while you are here. But when you leave they must stay.”

  “Thank you,” Alys said quietly. “Is it not an offense for me to wear scarlet, my lord? I thought only the wife of a landholder could wear red?”

  Lord Hugh chuckled. “I enforce the law of the land. The laws are what I say. And anyway, women don’t matter.”

  The castle was preparing for the feast of Christmas and the turkeys and geese gobbled innocently on extra feed. The old lord developed a cough which kept him awake at nights and made him tired and irritable during the day. Alys went out in the dawn frost to pick fresh herbs in the little garden outside the kitchen door and bumped into a man, wrapped thick in a cloak, coming in.

  He put out a hand to steady her, gripped her arm. As soon as he touched her she knew it was Hugo.

  “I gave you a fright.” His smile gleamed from the shadow of his hood. He swept her with him back into the warmth of the kitchen. Servants were sleeping on the floor before the fire and on the benches. Hugo kicked two or three with his booted foot and they staggered sleepily out of his way. He pulled up two stools and thrust Alys down by the glowing embers.

  “You’re frozen,” he said. He took her hand. Around her fingernails her fingers were blue with cold.

  “I was picking herbs with the ice on them,” Alys said. “Your father’s cough is a little worse.”

  Hugo took her cold hands and put them between his warm palms. As the feeling came back into her numb fingers Alys grimaced, pulled her hands away, and shook them. Hugo laughed softly and leaned forward to recapture them. “I’ve been out all night,” he said. His voice was low; no wakeful servant could hear them. “Don’t you want to know what I have been doing, Alys?”

  Alys shook her head slightly and looked away from his intent face to the fire.

  “I met some friends who think as I do,” he said. “One of them is the son of landowners, a wealthy man though not noble. Another is the son of a trader. We’re all young, we all want a share of the new world which is coming. We are all held back by our fathers.”

  Alys made a little movement as if she would rise. Hugo tugged her back to the stool with a handful of her cape. “Listen to me,” he said softly. “See how I trust you.”

  Alys turned her face away. Hugo kept his hold on her.

  “One of my friends plans to set his father aside, have him declared insane and take his land and his wealth. His mother has agreed to support his claim, his wife too. A wicked way to treat your father, is it not, Alys?”

  Alys said nothing. Hugo saw that her face was rosy from the warmth of the fire but around her dark blue eyes the skin was white. He knew she was afraid.

  “I would not do that, Alys, unless I was tempted very badly,” he said. “But my father stands in my light—d’you see it, Alys? If it were not for his order that I stay here I would be in London. If it were not for his schemes to keep Catherine’s entailed lands I would be free of her. If it were not for his ambition to be hidden, his passion for peace, I would be at court, chancing my life and my wealth for tremendous prizes. Can you see how impatient I am, Alys?”

  Alys’s lips were pressed together. Hugo had hold of both her hands. If he had not held her fast she would have clapped them over her ears.

  “Your chance will come, when God wills,” she said as he waited for her to reply. “You will have to be patient, my lord.”

  He leaned forward so his face was very close to hers. “And if I am not patient?” he asked. “If I am not patient and I found someone to assist me? If my father were ill and no one could heal him? If he died? If then I set my wife aside? If I were rid of my wife? Rid of my wife and looking for a woman that I could trust, to hold the castle for me while I was away? A woman who could read, who could write? A woman who would be mine, sworn to my interest, dependent on me? A woman who would be my ears and eyes? Like you watch and listen for my father?”

  Alys could not move. His whisper was hypnotic, he was luring her into some trap which she could not foresee.

  “I have to be free,” she said in a low voice of longing.

  “Do I tempt you, Alys?” he asked softly. “The wealth and the power?”

  He saw her eyes darken slightly as if with desire.

  “And pleasure,” he went on. “Nights and long days of pleasure with me?”

  Alys jerked backward as if he had thrown cold water in her face. She pulled her hands free.

  “I have to go,” she said abruptly.

  He rose as she did and slid one hand around her waist, holding her close to him. His mouth came down toward her. Alys felt her head tip back, her lips open.

  Then he released her and stepped back.

  Alys staggered a little, off balance.

  “Go now,” he said. His dark eyes were bright with mischief. “You can go now, Alys. But you are learning who is your master, are you not? You cannot hide behind my father for much longer. I have had many wenches and I know the signs of it. You desire me already, though you hardly know it yet. You have taken the bait like a salmon in the spring flood. You may swim and swim but I shall land you at last. You will dream of me, Alys, you will long for me. And in the end, you will come to me and beg me to touch you.”

  He smiled at her white face.

  “And then I will be gentle to you,” he said. “And I will make you all mine. And you will never be free again.”

  Alys turned from him and stumbled toward the kitchen door.

  “You’re in very deep now,” he said softly to himself, as she pulled the door open and fled across the lobby to the great hall. “You’re in very deep, my Alys.”

  For twelve nights Alys lay wakeful, waiting for the dawn light to come with winter slowness. For twelve days she moved in a dream through her work for the old lord, writing what he ordered without taking in any sense of the words. She picked herbs for him and brewed them or pounded them according to their potency. She sat in Lady Catherine’s chamber and nodded and smiled when they called on her to speak.

  For twelve days she waded through a river of darkness and confusion. She had never longed more for the quiet certainties of Mother Hildebrande. She had never missed those ordered easy days more acutely. For twelve days Alys wandered around the castle like a ghost and when she heard a door bang, and Hugo’s merry whistle, she found she was trembling as if she had an ague.

  She was by the castle gate when he rode in from hunting one day, his cap lost—blown away on the moor—his face bright. When he saw her he vaulted from the saddle and tossed the reins to one of the men.

  “I have killed you a grand dinner, Alys!” he said joyfully. “A wild boar. They will stuff it and bring its head in and lay it at your feet! And you shall eat rich meat and dark gravy and nibble on the honeyed crackling! My Alys!”

  Alys fumbled for her basket. “I am fasting,” she said breathlessly. “It is Saint Andrew’s day, my lord. I do not eat meat today.”

  He laughed carelessly, as if none of it mattered at all. “That nonsense!” he exclaimed. “Alys, Alys, don’t cling to the old dead ways that mean nothing to anyone anymore! Eat fish when you want to! Eat meat when you are hungry! Don’t let me ride out all day, and chasing a wild boar too, and then turn your face away from me and tell me you won’t dine with me!”

  Alys could feel her hands trembling. She held the basket tighter. “You must excuse me,” she said. “I…”

  There was a shout from behind them as someone drove a cart through the narrow gateway. Hugo pressed forward, his hands either side of Alys’s head. She shrank back against the wall and then felt him deliberately lean his warm body against her. Her stomacher was like armor, her gable hood like a helmet. But when Hugo pressed against her she felt