The Wise Woman Read online

  Catherine, fallen from favour with both lords, wept again, sluggish, warm tears which rolled down her face.

  'They hate me because the baby died,' she whispered to Alys. They both hate me because the baby died.'

  Alys persuaded Catherine to eat some breakfast and sit up in bed and comb her hair. She did as she was told, like a lumpish child. But they could not stop her weeping. All the time, the waxy ooze dripped from between her legs, staining the sheets, and slow, oily tears rolled down her cheeks. She did not sob, she did not moan. She sat quietly and did whatever they asked of her. But she could not stop her tears.

  Alys sat with her until dinnertime and then went down to the great hall, leaving Ruth and Mistress Allingham to dine with Catherine in her chamber. She entered by the tapestry-covered door at the rear of the high table. As she let the curtain fall behind her and moved to her seat on the left hand of the old lord's chair she heard a ripple of approval from the men in the hall. Now she was the only woman carrying Hugo's child. She was the only hope for an heir. The women in the castle might fear her and resent her, and outside, in the shadow of the castle, they might talk sourly of witchcraft and the young lord hexed into madness and lust; but a son came before everything. Anything would be forgiven the woman who gave Hugo a son.

  The old lord came in, his face grave, Hugo at his side. Alys stood behind her chair until they were seated and then took her place. She did not look at Hugo. She knew he was in a rage too deep to speak. She bent her head and broke her bread. Hugo would come round.

  'I shall need you to write some letters this afternoon,' the old lord said. 'And you shall sit in my chamber and read to me.'

  Alys inclined her head. 'Gladly, my lord,' she said.

  He grunted. 'Not too tired are you?' he asked. 'Sleep well?'

  'I had to attend Lady Catherine in the night,' Alys said, her voice neutral. 'She was weeping and asked for me. I was called to her three times.'

  Lord Hugh waved his hand at David for the wine-server. 'Drink this,' he said gruffly to Alys. 'Drink deep. It'll give the baby good blood.'

  He paused. 'That must stop,' he said abruptly. 'Running around after the barren woman is too tiring for you. It must stop. Catherine can weep on someone else's shoulder.

  'Hugo?' Hugo raised his face from studying his hands clenched on the table before him. The old man nodded. 'You see to it. Tell Catherine she may not disturb Alys. Alys can't wait on her any longer. Alys must not get overtired.' Hugo nodded. 'As you wish, Sire.' 'Aye, you're sour,' the old lord said gently. 'It's not to be wondered at. Nine years waiting and then nothing. But I tell you what, my boy. Our wager still stands. If Alys gives you a son I'll give you a thousand pounds. One son is as good as another when there's no choice. You shall still have your fortune. How's that?'

  ‘I thank you,' Hugo said. 'You are generous. But I wanted the money to finance the sailing of the ship. Alys' child will not be born until April. My friend will have found other, more eager backers by then.'

  The old lord nodded, crumbled his bread thoughtfully. ‘I have some ideas I'll broach with you later, Hugo,' he said. 'You may find you have the money in time. I have a plan or two still in mind.'

  Hugo managed a cold, sulky smile. 'You are a great schemer,' he said.

  The old lord nodded. 'Music!' he said sharply to David. 'And send for someone to make us laugh. We are sick with melancholy over nothing. A barren woman is a disaster for no one but herself. Get me the new wine, the Flemish wine, and send to Castleton for tumblers or jugglers or a bear, for God's sake. Even a cockfight if there's nothing else to be had! I won't mourn for Catherine. I have new plans! Find someone to make me laugh!'

  David nodded and snapped his fingers to one of the pages. He tossed a silver coin high into the air and the lad leaped for it and snatched at it and raced from the hall, the dogs barking and snapping at his heels at the sudden excitement. Half a dozen men scrambled from the benches and fetched their instruments, started to tune them discordantly and cursed each other in their hurry. Then they started to play and the serving-wenches got up to dance, a circle dance, an old village dance. Alys, remembering the music from her childhood, watched them, her foot tapping.

  'Dance with them!' the old lord said. 'Take the ladies and dance with them!'

  Alys flashed him a smile and beckoned to Eliza and Margery. They broached the circle and then joined in. One of the girls danced in the middle while the others circled her, then she chose a partner and they led the others around in pairs, then the second girl danced alone in the centre of the circle. The girls arched their necks and tossed their heads, conscious of the watching men. They stamped their feet in time to the music and when they took the long sweeping steps around the circle they put their hands on their hips and swayed seductively. Alys, her fair hair flying, danced with one eye on Hugo. When it was her turn in the centre of the circle she danced and bobbed with her head held up, her colour high, and the proud curve of her belly thrust forward. When he looked at her she smiled confidently at him.

  He grinned, the blackness of mood lifted from him, the crease between his eyebrows vanished. With a word to his father he jumped down from the dais and broke into the circle. When the time came for Alys to choose a partner he stepped forward and there was a little ripple of applause. Following Hugo, the other men from around the hall stepped into the circle and danced too. The circle grew too wide for the space between the tables and broke into two circles, then four. The music grew louder and more insistent, the beat of the tambour more and more compelling. Alys, in her green gown, whirled in a spell of triumphant sensuality, Hugo leaping and dancing around her. When the music stopped in a cascade of bells she fell into his arms and he swept her off her feet and up to the dais.

  Catherine, in her chamber above the hall, heard the music, the laughter, the shouts of applause for Alys, and the joyful thud of dancing feet. Sitting alone in her great bed with her dinner untasted before her she listened, while the fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

  The old lord had a swathe of letters for Alys to write in the afternoon. She sat at the little table in the window, in her green gown with a green French hood covering her hair, a green shawl around her shoulders.

  'You are like a hayfield in springtime,' the old lord said. 'I like watching you, Alys.' She smiled at him, saying nothing. 'Now to work,' he said briskly. He sat erect in his chair, one hand outstretched leaning on his cane. Without looking at Alys he reeled off a list of the men who were to receive his letters. Alys, dipping her quill into the inkpot, wrote as fast and as clearly as she could.

  She forced herself to keep writing at the rapid speed of the old lord's speech. She forced herself to keep translating his curt, idiomatic English into classical Latin. She forced herself to keep her head down, to play the part of the loyal clerk, the doltish scribe; while Lord Hugh begged support from all of his friends currently holding high places in the King's court for his son's forthcoming divorce from his wife on the grounds of her being too close kin.

  Six letters the old lord dictated, then he broke off. 'Father Stephen will have to write the letter to the Supreme Court,' he said. 'He will know how it has to be framed, the way the rhetoric has to be done, all of that clerkish nonsense.' 'Will he do it?' Alys asked doubtfully. Lord Hugh shot her a wicked grin. 'He has no choice, my dear. He is in my hands. I have given him, free of any charge, all the benefices in my lands. He is a worldly man, an ambitious man, as well as a fervent churchman. He has hitched his star to my Hugo, they are two of a kind. Hugo's rise will carry him upward as well. He knows the price – he is my man at the church courts.'

  'And what will happen to Catherine?' Alys asked, her voice soft.

  Lord Hugh shrugged. 'Lord knows,' he said carelessly. 'If it were the old days she could have gone into a nunnery. Now I don't know. She has no family to speak of. I suppose I might find someone to marry her. A widower with sons already who can afford a barren wife might do. She's a personable enough woman, and warm in bed, Hugo