Sumerford's Autumn

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  “No need to get bloody personal,” muttered the boy, staring down at his bare toes squelching through the mud. “I s’pose I’ll have ter go. But happen you’ll be proper sorry how you treated me when I’m dead.”

  Chapter Eight

  “What is it?” demanded his lordship with deep suspicion.

  “My lord, a new potion, something a little different. The usual concoctions, as your lordship is sadly aware, have not benefited the infection as they should. But if you would drink this –”

  “Does nobody in this damned country answer simple questions anymore?” objected Ludovic. “I asked for the recipe, not a series of your damned pathetic excuses.”

  The small man bowed apologetically. “There is tincture of marigold, my lord, and a little hyssop and some rue. I have also added penny royal, and tansy, and a touch of poplar bark for the pain.”

  “Good God man,” Ludovic regarded his apothecary with incredulous outrage. “Do you think I have a disorder of the womb? Or need an abortion? Take this filth away. You can take that milky pap away too, which the damned medik gives me in place of food. It’s a damned insult. I want wine and some decent meat.”

  The apothecary bowed again with a hasty step backwards. “As your lordship wishes. I must say, with the greatest of pleasure, it does appear that your lordship is somewhat recovered this evening.”

  “I’ve been imprisoned here for an interminable length of time,” said Ludovic firmly. “It must be at least next year by now. So I intend getting up, and you’re going to help. I’m heartily sick of this wretched bed and I’m going downstairs.” The apothecary opened his mouth. “Without argument,” added Ludovic, swinging both legs from the sheets. He groped for leverage and steadied himself. His feet found solid ground and after a moment, appeared to hold him upright. He straightened his knees. He did not fall over. He felt a little nauseous and distinctly dizzy but he remained standing for a few deep breaths and then tested one leg in front of the other. Rather to his own surprise, it seemed to work. “Shirt, hose, and bedrobe,” he commanded. “And hurry, before I collapse.”

  He was welcomed into the great hall with obvious pleasure by the bored gathering of females beside the fire, who scurried to make a place for him and help him to a chair. Ludovic sat thankfully, stretched his legs to the flames, his bedrobe firmly wrapped around him, and sighed with relief. His mother at once clapped her hands for Hamnet and sent for hippocras, then summoned a page to inform his lordship the earl of their son’s sudden and unexpected recovery. The Lady Jennine then laid down her embroidery and leaned forward to smile reassuringly at the invalid. The other lady present, her silent female companion, carefully retrieved the rather haphazard embroidered sampler.

  Ludovic’s sister-in-law said, “My lord, what a great pleasure to have you up and about again. With the coming of winter making it quite impossible to take afternoon walks, I confess we ladies have found life a little dull lately. We had almost given up hope of seeing you before Christmastide.”

  “Probably given up hope of ever seeing me at all,” grinned Ludovic. “So had I, as it happens.” In spite of feeling a little faint, he could not avoid noticing that his new sister’s smile was oddly lascivious and the manner in which she licked her lips, particularly inviting. The candlelight shadowed her deepened cleavage, the curve of her shoulders almost bare. As she leaned towards him, her breasts strained against their satin confines. Ludovic had undressed her in his mind many times in the past, but now, strangely enough, he discovered that he no longer cared.

  Her ladyship the countess nodded. “I hope your appearance is not precipitous, Ludovic,” she said, “but no doubt whatever I say will not make the slightest difference, as usual.”

  The steward brought spiced wine and Ludovic drained the cup and held it out for more. “Best medicine in two weeks,” he said.

  “Three weeks,” interrupted the earl, striding into the firelight. He stood before the hearth, and peered down at his youngest son. “You have been quite ill, my boy.”

  Ludovic raised an eyebrow. “Kind of you to notice, sir,” he murmured.

  “I invariably notice when the smooth running of my home is thrown into utter disruption and every servant set to making putrid toniks and gruel instead of roasting venison,” said his father. “And naturally, I have already sent troops of guards to scour the forests for outlaws and armed criminals. No doubt you’ll be pleased to learn that your assailants will soon be brought to justice, or slaughtered in their lairs.”

  Ludovic blinked. “And – has anyone yet been discovered, sir?” he asked carefully.

  The earl narrowed his eyes. “Surprisingly not,” he said. “It seems you should be more careful with whom you associate, my boy.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Ludovic.

  “Merely that I am not entirely in my dotage yet, nor taken leave of my senses,” said his lordship. “And also that occasionally invalids, although seemingly unconscious, have sometimes, in fevered delirium, been known to make unintended references, alluding to matters they might otherwise not have cared to mention.”

  Ludovic had not yet thought of an answer when his father, sweeping a full length of French gorget beneath bliaut, and lined in gorgeous lettice to his boots, smiled with a certain smug satisfaction and strode again from the hall.

  The countess regarded her affronted son. “It appears your father knows something we do not, Ludovic.”

  “My damned father,” said Ludovic with feeling, “frequently deceives himself.”

  His mother sighed. “And others,” she said faintly.

  The fireside gathering discovered sufficient conversation for several more hours, but eventually the countess excused herself, declaring she was exhausted and ready to retire. The Lady Jennine was therefore obliged to follow, and her female companion with her, still trailing embroidery silks. Ludovic preferred to stay awhile and was content to sit alone, while the contemplation of being again confined to his bed seemed altogether depressing. He lounged in the well cushioned chair, demanded more wine and stared into the fire’s embers, deep in his own thoughts. Two candles had been left alight, one massive marbled tower of beeswax upon the great slab of the mantle, and a smaller stub in the adjacent sconce. Hamnet had snuffed the candles of the chandelier himself, and the two pages had removed the rest. The earl did not like expensive candles wasted after nine of the clock, and Ludovic was happy with the long fluttering shadows. Barely able to walk, however, he was ill prepared for intruders.

  He was not at first surprised to hear the surreptitious movements and sounds of careful entrance to the hall behind him. Many people moved around the castle even at that late hour, muffling their footsteps so as not to disturb their masters, while the outer confines of bailey and moat were patrolled day and night. But the sudden voice startled Ludovic considerably.

  “Beg pardon, m’lor,” whispered the boy, hands behind his back, “but you didn’t come. Left us proper worritt, it did. In the shit, you might say.”

  “Good God, Clovis,” exclaimed his lordship, remembering to keep his voice low. “What are you doing here, brat? Where’s the captain? You’ll get yourself clapped in irons, and me with you.”

  “Sorry m’lor,” said the boy unconvincingly, “but the captin’s pissing toadstools and we’ll miss the tide again. Can’t just bob about off the cliffs without being seen and the custom’s boats sent out fer us. Waited a week already we have, and them hides is stinkin’. Tis your fault. You didn’t ort ‘ave forgot.”

  Ludovic accepted this criticism with grace. “It’s my fault indeed,” he said, “but I’ve been bedridden and mostly out of my mind. More than I realised, it seems. I’m exceedingly sorry for missing our appointments, but I’d no one to send with explanations or money, nor even knew the passing of time or what appointments I might have missed. Wait here, and I’ll get the coinage for you now. If you hear someone coming, hide over there. If you get caught, say – well just say – well, think of s
omething. You usually do.”

  “Long as you keeps them bloody big dogs locked up,” said Clovis gloomily, moving nearer the fire for warmth.

  Ludovic grinned. “They’ll be in their kennels, except for my father’s mastiffs which keep to his rooms at night, and my mother’s absurd spaniels which are probably already smothered under her bedcover by now. Stay here, and don’t be rude to anyone.”

  “’Cept you, you mean,” sniggered the boy.

  “Naturally,” agreed Ludovic. Clovis promptly sat, curling himself into the big padded chair that Ludovic had just left. “And don’t wipe your nose on the cushions.” Ludovic, gripping chair backs and table tops as he passed, stumbled from the hall towards the stairs. He reached for the lower balustrade and hoisted himself slowly up towards the upper floor. Within the depths of gloom at the top and already gasping for breath, he staggered into the corridor leading to the west tower and his own quarters. Already regretting having offered to fetch the funds required, he leaned back a moment against the wall, gasping for breath and stability. He became immediately aware of the second intruder.

  Creeping up the backstairs from the castle kitchens, she had found herself in a maze of upper corridors and locked doors. The darkness was complete. The small figure was now lost and extremely frightened. She had finally spied the main staircase leading down to the great hall, promising escape, and was aiming for it. Keeping stealthily to the shadows, she was considerably more startled than he was when she bumped into Ludovic. “Good God,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “has the whole world gone mad? Is everybody attempting clandestine admittance to this miserable place? What are you doing here?”

  “Thank the heavens,” sighed Alysson in extreme relief. “I thought you were one of them.”

  Ludovic grabbed her wrist. “Come with me,” he commanded, “and keep utterly silent.”

  Alysson found herself dragged into a large and almost lightless chamber, and was shoved unceremoniously towards a low wooden settle. Ludovic closed the door firmly behind her. She sat obediently and watched as he hobbled over to the hearth and kicked the smouldering logs into a fitful flame. “Now,” he said, turning back to her with a scowl, “explain yourself. This is remarkable folly, and could get you dismissed again.”

  “Dismissed?” objected Alysson. “I’m still waiting for employment. I’m still waiting for something. You promised, and I believed you, but you’ve done nothing at all. You said you never broke your word and I trusted you.”

  Ludovic frowned. The only light came from the fire, a pale pinkish flare that rose and fell, leaping into momentary brilliance. He sat heavily on a chair facing the settle, and stared at the girl opposite. “I don’t break my word,” he said. “Except when absurd females shoot me full of arrows and send me into weeks of fever. I’ve been damned ill, and this is my first day out of the sickbed. Frankly, I thought I’d made some attempt to fulfil my promises. Clearly my orders were misunderstood. But I did send money.”

  She shook her head. “We never got it.”

  Ludovic raised an eyebrow. “I wonder who did,” he said. “But never mind that now. Come and make yourself useful. I need help, since I can barely lift my own feet from the ground. You’ll have to carry something downstairs for me. It’ll be heavy, but I think you’ll manage.” He stood, a little shakily, and went towards the open archway at the far end of the room. Alysson followed him. Beyond the archway was the bedchamber, a massive room which seemed to her dark and intimidating. The window alcoves were fully shuttered, the fire had sunk to embers, and the hesitant light illuminated only the soaring posts of a great curtained bed, rumpled beneath heaped furs and linens and shaded by a canopied tester. Ludovic was standing by the window seats, indicating the padded turkey cushions. “Remove that,” he said, “and lift out the chest you’ll find inside. There are several, take the smallest, which will be on top. Carry it over to the hearth.” It was a wooden coffer, carved and solid, and although very small, was heavier than she had expected. She heaved it from its place and took it across to the firelight, setting it there on the rug. “Very well,” Ludovic nodded. “Have you the strength to carry this downstairs?”

  “Money?” decided Alysson.

  “Naturally,” said Ludovic. “Now follow me and keep quiet.”

  Their appearance at the bottom of the staircase within the hall, sent Clovis scurrying beneath the long table. Alysson dropped the little coffer in front of the fire, where Ludovic sat again with a deep sigh. “How tedious it is,” he said, “having neither energy nor strength, and being surrounded by idiots. Clovis, come out and don’t be a fool. This is not one of the large dogs you fear, but a friend of mine, name of Alysson. We have your funds.”

  Clovis reappeared on his hands and knees. “You said hide,” he reminded Ludovic, aggrieved, “if anyone was to come in. ‘Sides, it’s bloody dark, and you took ages.”

  Ludovic ignored him, leaned down and opened the chest by a series of interlocking braces, each unleashed in careful order and so releasing the final clasp. He lifted the lid. Piles of silver coins gleamed, full to the top. Ludovic nodded to the boy. Clovis had crawled closer and now sat cross legged beside hearth and treasure. “Bloody cock-shit,” he said, awed.

  “First you will mind your language, remembering the female present,” said Ludovic. “And then you will carry this, most carefully so as to drop nothing and not be seen or caught as you leave, and take it out to Captain Kenelm. Naturally you will make no attempt to steal anything, as doubtless the captain will promptly search your every cranny and throw you to the sharks if he finds one coin hidden under your tongue or up your arse. The Fair Rouncie will then catch the morning tide, and I hope not to see any of you again for a very long time.”

  “’Sif I’d try nicking anyfing off you, m’lor,” said Clovis, deeply insulted.

  He watched as Ludovic first helped himself to a handful of coins from the chest, then closed the lid again and passed it to the boy. “Be off,” Ludovic said, dropping the pile of silver he had retrieved onto the rug. “Hurry, before the tide turns.” Clovis grabbed the little chest, embracing it with fervour, and trotted off. The main doors of the great hall, secluding their draughts behind the screen, squeaked as the boy squeezed through and disappeared. Ludovic turned to Alysson. He indicated the money on the floor. “Take that,” he told her, “and buy whatever you need. I sent sufficient before, but I’ve an idea my father may have intercepted the message. This is considerably more, and should keep you all for some time. Soon I’ll be able to organise the employment I promised, but may need a day or two. I’ll send word when you should present yourself. Buy some clean clothes and anything else you need, and in the meantime you’ll tell no one, no one at all do you understand, about what you’ve just witnessed. Nor will you ask any questions. What happened is certainly not your business, and you will now forget it.”

  Alysson was standing before him, outlined meekly against the firelight. She nodded. “Just one question, if I may. Have you – looked for Pagan?”

  “I gave orders while I was ill, but it’s possible that little was done, since I was not around either to explain or to ensure results.” Ludovic watched her, his gaze shifting from her face to her toes. Beneath the bedraggled hem of her old blue broadcloth skirts, her feet were bare and muddy. “Tomorrow I shall give further orders, and make sure a proper search is carried out,” he said quietly. “But it must now be at least a month that your brother is missing. Can you still believe in his return?”

  Alysson swallowed, clasping her fingers tight. “Yes. No. That is, anything might be possible. But even if he is – dead – I should wish to know it.”

  “Very well.” Ludovic paused, before saying, “Your feet are bleeding, child. What became of your shoes?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she murmured. “It’s only Pagan that matters.”

  Ludovic sighed. “You should not hold out too much hope,” he said. “But I’ll do what I can. In the meantime, buy proper shoes and a gown,
and get some decent food. Once you’re allotted a position here you’ll be given the usual livery, but you should have your own linen and a change of clothes. I apologise for the delay, it will not happen again. Now – pick up your money.”

  Alysson sat on the rug, carefully tucking her toes beneath her skirts, and began gathering the loose coins. She looked up, frowning. “There’s too much,” she said. “You should take some back.”

  He laughed. “Don’t be absurd. You saw how much I gave the boy. Take what I’ve given you, keep what you need and give the rest to your nurses.”

  “I know nothing about the boy because you told me to forget him, so I have.” Alysson clutched the handful of coins against her, peering up at Ludovic through the growing shadows. “Besides, that’s different, since it’s obviously business of some kind. Which I’ve forgotten.”

  He laughed again, reaching out his hand to help her up from the ground. “Silly puss. Come here.” He pulled her roughly onto his lap, and put both arms firmly around her. “Listen, little one. It seems our castle boundaries are so badly guarded that all and sundry can walk in here as and when they wish, but once again you’ve taken a great risk. You shouldn’t have come, and if you’re caught here with me, then there’ll be no conceivable way I can talk anyone into hiring you as a maid. And stop sniffing into my bedrobe. It’s most improper.”

  “It was improper coming here. I knew that,” she admitted. “But I was desperate.” She wriggled from his lap and stood, her feet leaving little smudges of blood on the polished boards. “We haven’t been – eating. I had to sell my shoes. And I would never have come here, not otherwise. I don’t want to beg for charity. But you’d promised, and because of what you said – and did – I believed you. Then I couldn’t understand why nothing came - not even a message. I never thought it might be my own fault, because I made you ill.”