The Blacksmith's Woman

by R. R. Vane

  He attempted to let her see his anguish.

  “You do not understand! You are in peril!”

  “Oh, but I do!” she countered, because she truly did, but she would not have the man she loved lose the house and livelihood he had on her account.

  Tom now started pleading with her, telling her over and over again what she would face, and pointing out that her very life may be in danger over it, yet she had made up her mind and nothing of what he said could move her now.

  “Stubborn, foolish woman!” he shouted at her at last, now at the end of his tether. “You seem to think you have a say in it! But you don’t! I’ll put you over my knee and spank you hard to teach you to see reason! And then we shall leave this place!”

  She shrugged, feeling unconcerned with his threat.

  “Then spank me raw, yet I will not relent!”

  He glowered at her, his very dark eyes looking fearsome, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she placed a placating hand on his shoulder.

  “Tom, I will not run from them. Not anymore.”

  The way Beth spoke the words was so heart breaking that it simply melted his dark rage over her senseless behaviour. Tom stared at her, seeing the set, grim line of her mouth. And he imagined himself standing by, watching mutely, as she was chastised and tortured in front of him. If they sentenced her, he would be able to do nothing, just as he’d been able to do nothing that night when his wife had lain on the brink of death.

  “We’ll talk upon this later,” he said, now striving to speak calmly.

  Beth nodded and she seemed to think she’d won, but she was wrong to think so. Tom had made up his mind, and he would drag her away from here by force if need arose. He would make the arrangements for their departure today. And he would simply hoist her over his shoulder and take her away with him if she still dared to argue.

  He was on a hurry out of his courtyard, to go and speak to one of his friends in the Guild, when he bumped into Tristram de Brunne, who often came to look upon the swords he fashioned.

  Tom bowed his head.

  “My lord, I pray forgive me, I’m in a hurry to do an errand.”

  Yet De Brunne halted him when he wished to leave.

  “I’ve come upon Sir Lambert today.”

  Tom nearly winced at the sound of the name. He paused, bracing himself for what De Brunne would tell him. The lord spoke urgently.

  “He bragged of how he’d be the downfall of the haughty common woman who’d dared to spurn him. He was already drunk at this time of the day, and bellowed his story to the lords who were eating in the tavern at this time. I happened to be there, and heard it all.”

  Tom raked a hand through his hair, strengthening his resolve to take Beth away from here as soon as can be.

  Sir Tristram went on, in the same urgent voice, “Sir Lambert spoke of a priest in Winchester, that the woman under your roof is accused of seducing. He spoke the name of that priest, Ambrose. Yet, it was a name I knew well, because my own cousin, a woman of high birth and high standing accused him of vile deeds against his parishioners. That priest is now imprisoned and facing trial as we speak.”

  Tom glanced sharply at De Brunne.

  “Did Sir Lambert not know of this?”

  De Brunne shook his head, smiling faintly.

  “Not many know of this. The Church did not clamour upon what had been done. Besides, I happen to know this from my own uncle who’s the Bishop of Winchester.”

  “A bishop? Henry de Blois?” Tom said, unable to contain his astonishment, because he now understood that the lord in front of him must have royal blood running through his veins.

  He glanced at De Brunne, who was unlike most lords he’d met. Sir Tristram was not vain and always listened to commoners when they spoke as if they were his peers. And Sir Tristram seemed willing to aid him again. Yet he recalled what the lord had said of the priest, and he twisted his mouth in a bitter smile, unable to prevent himself from saying, “It is strange, isn’t it? No one believed my woman when she accused the priest you speak of. Yet, they believed your noble cousin.”

  De Brunne gave his own bitter laugh.

  “You speak the truth, and it is unfair. It is a very unfair world we live in. One where men like this priest and Sir Lambert get to prey upon women. And it seems unjust that worthy people like you and your woman should suffer because of them. I have resolved to plead with my uncle on your behalf. I hope I shall prevail upon him to come and look upon you.”

  Tom widened his eyes, in deep astonishment.

  “Will such a man even deign to look upon people like us?”

  Lord Tristram cast him a steady glance.

  “I’ll find a way,” he said, and his words were assured.

  Tom glanced at the lord, understanding God had smiled upon him when he’d set this man into his path. He bowed his head in deep gratitude.

  “My lord, I thank…”

  De Brunne halted him with a gesture.

  “Nay, do not say it. It is my knightly duty to try to right some of the things which are unfair in this world. I just could not stand by.”

  It was with surprise that Tom took the hand Lord De Brunne was now extending towards him, because never in his life had he clasped hands with a noble lord. His heart was more at ease after he conferred for a while with the lord, and he decided to return to his house, following the lord’s advice and wait for word from him.

  Beth seemed calm and cheerful after he’d retraced his steps to the house, and he glanced upon her with narrowed eyes and a shake of his head, thinking he should after all spank her for the reckless way she looked upon her own fate.

  “You’re back already?” she asked calmly, as she was chopping parsley in the kitchen.

  “As you can see,” he countered grimly.

  “I will not leave. So that you know,” she suddenly told him in a calm voice, as she busied herself with her task.

  Tom’s hand itched to spank her right then and there because she was plainly set on endangering her own life, but he resolved there were more pressing matters to take care of at this time.

  “We might not need to leave as yet,” he said, and he proceeded to tell her what he’d talked upon with Lord De Brunne.

  Just as he had, Beth twisted her mouth into a bitter line when she heard the priest finally stood accused of his misdeeds:

  “Of course, they would take only a noble woman’s word and not the words of all those common women he preyed upon,” she whispered.

  Tom nodded grimly.

  “Things are what they are though, and it is hard to change them. But if we stay, Beth, I want you to listen to me closely!”

  She looked at him, and he made himself look stern in order to make her mind him.

  “You’re to be silent and speak only when spoken to by the bishop. Is that understood?”

  She heaved a sigh and looked mutinous, but he glanced at her pointedly.

  “I will not have your own recklessness ruin your life!” he said, attempting to make his voice compelling.

  “It’s not recklessness! They want me silent, just as they silenced me and all those other women when the priest lied! It is unfair!”

  He nodded, understanding what she meant, but knowing he had to protect her at any cost.

  “Just hold your peace for my sake,” he said with a sigh, understanding, at this time, the renewed threat of a spanking would not serve any purpose.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, and opened her mouth to speak, yet in the end she reluctantly nodded. Tom suppressed a sigh of sheer relief, promising himself to teach her a much-needed lesson on recklessness when all this was over. Yet he prayed the whole thing would be over soon, and did not feel confident that the outcome would be fully in their favour. While Beth was not guilty of seducing a priest, she was most certainly guilty of lying with a married man. Yet he did not fail but recall he was the one who was in truth breaking his wedding vows. And he thought upon how a bishop would see such things, beginning to conjure u
p in his mind the words he would speak if Lord Tristram’s uncle deigned to look upon them.

  Chapter 13

  Beth tried to still her thumping heart as she felt the eyes of the small crowd which had gathered around them. It seemed to her the crowd was as menacing as that day in the Square when Tom had spanked her in order to save her from the more dire fate they’d all awaited. She strived to focus on the present moment, glancing upon Henry de Blois, Lord Tristram de Brunne’s uncle, who had deigned to look upon them in a short hour of respite.

  The Bishop of Winchester was elderly and frail, and Beth recalled she’d heard it whispered he might not live through the summer, as his health was poor even if his will to live was great. It was also whispered he’d mellowed in his old age and looked upon his flock with more tenderness than before. He was a nobleman, of high birth, and Beth supposed they should be grateful to Lord De Brunne for this great favour. In spite of his ill health, Henry de Blois was willing to listen to what they had to say.

  She glanced upon Sir Lambert, who’d also been summoned on the steps of their church to utter the accusation he had against her. The look Sir Lambert was now casting Tom was one of sheer, dark hatred, but Beth understood only too well how cowardly Sir Lambert was. It was upon her he sought to take revenge, thinking her feeble and helpless and unable to defend herself against the unjust accusations. She suppressed a sigh, not feeling reassured by what Tom had told her. The priest may have been found guilty of unseemly deeds, but that did not mean the bishop would look kindly upon her.

  “So,” Henry de Blois said in a weary voice, “I’ve little time to spare, yet it seems I must see to this. Sir Lambert, I understand there are words you wanted spoken, and I shall hear them now!”

  “This woman brought before you is a harlot, Your Grace. A harlot who lured a priest into sin. A certain Father Ambrose, and now…”

  Sir Lambert was speaking in a high, frenzied voice and, suddenly, Beth felt a deep, powerful rage come upon her when he uttered the word he’d also employed in front of Tom. Beth fully recalled her deep rage that day and how she’d stifled it, and how the people in her hometown, her friends and neighbours had been ready to believe Father Ambrose’s hateful lies about her. And although Tom had pleaded with her to speak only when spoken to, Beth found she could not hold her peace, though it might be her doom. She would not be silent and hold her eyes downcast.

  “Father Ambrose tried to ravish me! A man of God, right in the church, when I was seeking comfort after the death of my father and brothers! Then he lied! And you dare to call me a harlot? You?”

  She caught Tom’s worried gaze upon her and understood her words had sounded brash and bold and defiant. Beth smiled bitterly to herself in the silence that fell around her. Tom certainly feared for her, yet he could not truly understand the rage burning inside her breast now. She did not fully understand why she burnt to behave so recklessly, although she knew within herself it was wiser to keep silent. Perchance it was blasphemous of her to think so, but she could not stay silent, and cowered, and meek when her life had been nearly ruined.

  The bishop frowned upon her and looked thunderous, yet Beth straightened her shoulders, knowing she could not behave otherwise. Lord Tristram de Brunne bent to speak in his uncle’s ear, and at last the elderly man looked mollified, waving his hand at her dismissively.

  “I’ll have no more words from you, woman. You shall be silent! And hear well what I have to say.”

  Beth found herself wanting to disregard the words, yet she caught Tom’s gaze upon her. She now willed herself to be silent, knowing she’d brought this peril not only upon herself but upon him. She did not truly care for the punishment they would wish to bestow upon her, yet she could not bear to have something dire befall the man she’d come to love so dearly. So she held her peace, bowing her head, although her heart ached as she did so.

  “It is already known to us the woman is indeed innocent of what Father Ambrose accused her of,” the bishop spoke grimly. “And Father Ambrose will be certainly punished for his transgressions. Still, that does not change the fact that Sir Lambert has denounced her as a harlot and that she now cavorts with a married man.”

  Tom’s heart thumped with dread because, in spite of Tristram’s assurances, he feared the punishment the Church may bestow upon his woman. So he also decided to speak out of turn, not caring for the bishop’s frown of displeasure:

  “My lord, I swear upon the Holy Cross the woman came to my bed a maiden, and she did not know I was wed when I asked her to share my bed. May God strike me down right now if I do not speak the truth!” he said fiercely, not caring for the astonished mutters of the onlookers.

  The bishop narrowed his eyes.

  “You know you’re risking eternal damnation if you’re lying!”

  “I speak the truth,” Tom said, now finding Beth’s wide eyes.

  She opened her mouth to speak, yet he held her gaze, hoping she would heed him this time. Sir Lambert looked from one to the other in sheer malice, yet Tristram de Brunne chose to voice his thoughts.

  “What I do not know is how an esteemed lord knight such as Sir Lambert can swear this woman is a harlot. Unless he sampled her charms, but I can’t fathom how this can be. Sir Lambert is a pious knight, who’s wed. Are we then to believe a knight, such as he is, has sinned against his holy vows?”

  There were snickers from the crowd, and even jests regarding Sir Lambert’s lack of virtue, which the bishop chose to steel his ears against. Instead he cast Sir Lambert a pointed look. The lord knight squirmed.

  “I-I only sought to warn the good people here against this woman. I thought her a harlot, who had lured a priest. Certainly, I have no true way of knowing how virtuous she is.”

  The bishop raised a halting hand.

  “Enough of this. I find my patience has thinned. Sir Lambert, I pray you do not trouble the Church again with petty matters such as blacksmiths and their lemans.”

  Tom felt too elated by Sir Lambert’s long face to take any offence at the bishop looking down upon what he was.

  “Sir Lambert,” the bishop spoke now and his voice held a strange mixture of silk and steel. “Perchance your own soul may be troubled and in need of guidance. It’s only fair you get the chance to speak of your troubles. You’re hereby summoned to speak in front of me on the morrow.”

  Sir Lambert blanched.

  “My lord, I…”

  “And bring your noble lady wife with you. I am certain she would want to know of the ills which have plagued your soul,” the bishop cut him off with a raised eyebrow.

  There were guffaws from the crowd of onlookers, because it was plain from the bishop’s words that he was well aware of Sir Lambert’s transgressions and would address them soon. Tom wanted to shout with joy, yet he felt his heart clenching again in fear of what might happen to his woman, when the bishop beckoned him to come inside the Church, accompanied by Lord de Brunne. Tom turned to look at Beth, who was staring at him, wide-eyed and pale. She seemed determined to stride to where he was, but he cast her a look which held both warning and pleading. She held his eyes for a while, then at last nodded in mute resignation. Tom heaved a deep sigh of relief. Beth might be reckless but she was astute. It was plain she now understood her protests would not help in any way. The bishop would never listen to what she had to say.

  Tom stepped inside the Church, relieved the elderly man’s attention was now focussed upon him. Henry de Blois looked upon Tom in bored displeasure.

  “I wouldn’t have even deigned to look upon you if my nephew hadn’t interceded. But now that I have, I feel it is my duty to know the circumstances of your sin. You live estranged from your wife?”

  “I do, my lord.”

  “You’re not to lie in church. What caused this estrangement?”

  Tom knew that lying could not only seal his doom, but also Beth’s, so he spoke the truth, although it was painful to speak it, “She lay with my brother, Your Grace.”

  The bis
hop crossed himself, then looked at Tom in sheer outrage.

  “And you didn’t denounce her?”

  Tom shook his head.

  “I did not, Your Grace.”

  “And where is she now? Not still cavorting with your brother?”

  Tom couldn’t now hide the truth, because he knew too well the bishop could unearth it if he wished it. He bowed his head mutely, loath to be speaking to a bishop of both his brother and of his wife, but knowing there was no return from it. He knew only too well where his brother was, and he would send word to him as soon as can be, so that Robin and Joanna could flee the Church’s wrath.

  “What is your brother’s name and what’s his craft?”

  “He’s Robin Reed, Your Grace. He is a builder,” Tom had to answer.

  “Robin Reed is your brother?” the bishop asked in sheer surprise. “A fine builder. I do like his work. In Durham foremost… Of late people have come to call this work of his the Galilee Chapel.”

  Tom nodded.

  “And you agreed to this? That he and your wife live in sin? You condoned this?”

  “Aye,” Tom said, pushing his shoulders back.

  The bishop shook his head in consternation. The young man in a monk’s garb who accompanied the bishop suddenly bent to speak in his ear, and the bishop heaved a sigh.

  “No wonder then. No wonder…”

  Tom couldn’t help but frown, because what the elderly man was saying didn’t seem to make any sense.

  Heaving a sigh, the bishop spoke, “Brother Timothy here knows of this from the Canon of Winchester and has just brought it to my attention. More than two months ago, Robin Reed lost his wife to childbirth. It’s known to us, because he asked for permission to have her name inscribed within the stonework in the chapel he worked on, for remembrance. It is his wife everyone thought she was at the time, but now it seems plain to me that she wasn’t. Joanna was her name, Brother Timothy recalls… Your own wife?”