Although interrupting the stultifying boredom, Jennine’s visits were not welcome. Her page would unlock the door but it was always Vymer who stood guard outside, making attack or defence unwise. Waiting turned into slow drudgery and even Ludovic’s face in Alysson’s dreams became blurred by misery and the aimless drip of hopelessness. Summer came edging through the shutters, a hazy lazy sunshine that dithered across the worn rugs. The silences became sleepy, spoiled only by the irritating drone of flies as trapped as the room’s other occupants.
Sweating in her thick gown, Alysson was lying on the bed when Jennine strode in one afternoon, Vymer at her heels. Clovis stayed carefully hidden, watching for opportunity. Vymer was dragging a large and heavy sack, its stains seeping black and putrid, oozing dark slime over the floorboards. Alysson sat up in alarm, her hand across her nose and mouth. Vymer dropped the sack and grinning wide, left the chamber, slamming the door and locking it behind him.
Jennine laughed. “A gift, my dear. You persist in asking for diversions, so I have discovered a special surprise for you. To be honest, it was a surprise for me too. But I thought you would like to see, before I have it burned.”
The stench was all invading. “What ghastly thing have you discovered? Why torture me?” demanded Alysson. “I’m already your prisoner.”
“But, stupid girl, you refuse to behave. Promise me you’ll do exactly what I say, and I can make a fair bargain with you. For instance, I’ll take this most delightful gift away, and not trouble you with it at all. I’ll get you clothes and a bath tub. Sweetmeats and good wine. Ink, paper, even books, if you want such dull things. Promise me faithfully you’ll obey me and behave, and I shall be your friend again my dear.”
Alysson blanched, crawling back across the bed, away from the sack of decay lying just inside the doorway. “I can’t do anything except behave,” she muttered. “What choice do you give me, locked in here? I’ve done nothing to you at all, except call you the whore you are.”
Jennine laughed. “Call me what you like, I certainly don’t care,” she said. “It’s an entirely different behaviour I want from you, and you know it. I need your willing surrender. My dear Humphrey is becoming impatient, and Vymer more so. But if I let Vymer loose on you now, he may break your back. I don’t want that. I want you quiet and obedient. Take the training Vymer gives you for a few days, a sennight at the most, and then I’ll keep him away from you afterwards. I give you my word on that – a fair bargain for a fair bargain. Now, promise me complete compliance, and I’ll take this – thing away – undisclosed.”
“Obey that – foul creature? Let Vymer rape me while I lie quiet and do whatever he tells me? Learn about degradation and prostitution at his vile hands? Never!” Alysson sat straight and furious, her back hard up against the bed’s headboard. She knew her face was flushed and her gown dark with sweat. She was finding it difficult to breathe. “He’ll force me anyway. I know that. I’m expecting it. But I’ll never willingly cooperate.”
Jennine shook her head. “Little fool. If you try and defend yourself, Vymer will hurt you badly, which is exactly what he likes to do. I believe he can hardly help himself. But that’s not what I want.”
“You think I want that?”
“Then be a good girl and obey orders,” Jennine said. “I’ve forbidden Vymer to be too rough as long as you’re good. But if you fight, how can I stop him fighting you back? He’s not an easy man to control. After Vymer has broken you in and taught you the first rules, then I shall bring Humphrey to you. I’ll stay with you, don’t worry, and help you through, explaining and teaching. But you must be very careful with Humphrey, I warn you. He’ll not stand for defiance when he’s roused but together we can keep him very happy. And over the next year or so, you’ll become his principal amourette. You could grow to enjoy that, I assure you. My husband can be very generous as long as he gets what he wants, and he’s really kind and loving at heart.”
Alysson shivered. “You mean to keep me locked up here – for years?”
“Not necessarily.” Jennine shrugged. “Make me the promises I ask for, and prove yourself utterly trustworthy, and I’ll let you go in time. Perhaps you can share my quarters downstairs. Perhaps I’ll secure you a cottage in the village. But not yet of course. I shall have to be sure of you first, and that will take some months.”
“While I become your own husband’s whore?”
“You’re ridiculously innocent, silly girl.” Jennine shook her head. “Listen to me very carefully. Dear Humphrey has special requirements, which I’m sure everyone in the castle realises including you, but few people know exactly what most of these needs actually are. I do. That was what I was hired for. The countess herself taught me how to impersonate a lady, just sufficient for me to pretend to be a respectable heiress. Well, I’d already learned the refinements necessary to run a high class brothel so it wasn’t so hard. It’s the countess who paid me, and promised me the position as her heir’s wife. Oh yes, our marriage was legal. I’m Lady Jennine Sumerford now, and no one can deny it.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Alysson said. “I’ve known where you came from almost since I started as your maid.”
“Which is why I trusted you enough to choose you for my future plans. That, and your pretty eyes, and the fact that Humphrey liked you as soon as he saw you in the dairies, when he sent Vymer to get you for him.” Jennine chuckled. “So when you came to me as a maid, I was delighted.” She sat, also keeping her distance from the leaking sack. The stink of it still pervaded all the room. “Humphrey needs constant pleasure,” she continued, searching for her kerchief and holding it to her nose. “I’m afraid it can be hard work thinking of new pleasures to keep him happy. So I needed a younger companion to train for when I get too old. I’m nearly thirty now, and my lifestyle hasn’t been kind to my skin. You’re what? Eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve ten years in you, and maybe by then Humphrey might be past caring about such refinements as youth and beauty. He might even be dead himself, for men such as him rarely live into their dotage I believe. I needed a male child to be the heir after Humphrey, and at first everything went according to plan. I gave the countess my word that any child would be a Sumerford of course. In fact, she suggested I couple immediately with one of her other sons, in the hope of insuring the firstborn had none of Humphrey’s weaknesses. That I did, but to no avail in the end. I hoped you’d produce a brat with Ludovic, and if he repudiated it as most men do to their bastards, it could have been passed off as Humphrey’s and become the second heir. Your foolish cowardice and pride, and that idiot boy’s patient chivalry nearly spoiled everything. But now you’re trapped my girl. Perhaps you’ll have Humphrey’s child and I can easily pass it off as my own. Give in with a good grace now and you’ll have ten years of hard work it’s true, but with luxury and comfort and riches thrown in, and a sweet hearted man-child who cares for you.”
“And be cast off once I’m old. And with the horrors you’ve planned, my God I’d be haggard in no time.”
Jennine shook her head. “The countess is a fair minded woman, and she cares for Humphrey. She’d eventually settle you in some village well out of the area I imagine. I’ll help you myself, if you’re truly hard working and reliable until then.”
“I think,” said Alysson, “I’m going to be extremely sick.” She struggled to keep her voice calm, staring at Jennine across the end of the bed. “That muck you’ve dragged in here in that sack doesn’t seem as disgusting as you are, Jenny,” she said. “Whatever it is, couldn’t be as vile as you. I used to feel sorry for you with Humphrey as a husband, and I knew some of the suffering you’ve hinted at from your past. But you’re wicked. Truly wicked. You’re not a whore because of what you had to do in the past, but because of what you are deep down inside. In spite of what the priests say, I never really believed people could be so evil. Now I know they can.”
Jennine sat stiffly and stared back. Two small spots of colour appeared high on her perfect cheekbo
nes. She kept her lavender perfumed kerchief tight to her nose and spoke, a little muffled, through the fine linen. “Then I have no more to say to you,” she said. “I shall leave you to examine my gift. Vymer will come in and unwrap it for you and explain exactly what it is. Then you’ll be left alone to enjoy it.” She stood abruptly, and carefully skirting the wallowing sack, walked to the door. Then she turned, glaring back over her shoulder. “Tomorrow I shall order Vymer to return and remove the thing. And a day or so after, once the floor’s been scrubbed clean by your page brat, Vymer’ll be back again, but this time to stay. He’ll start your education, and I won’t bother to keep him under restraint. He can do what he likes to you as far as I’m concerned. I doubt dear Humphrey will mind too much, once Vymer passes you over to him.” Jennine knocked briefly on the door, calling to Vymer to let her out. As the door opened for her, she smiled. “So in the meantime Alysson my dear, enjoy your last few nights of innocence. You’re about to learn some very interesting lessons.”
Vymer was already standing in the doorway as Jennine left in a swirl of petulant silks. He grinned, gap toothed. “Where’s that weasely brat?” he demanded.
Alysson’s head was reeling and she could not think. “Who? Clovis?”
Vymer nodded, striding forwards. He grabbed the neck of the sack, pulling it open. “Get him in here,” he demanded. “The runt’s to see this too. I want you both remembering it good and clear, and let it be a warning to both o’ yous. For I’ll stand for no nonsense when I moves in here in a couple o’ days. You heard her ladyship. You’re mine soon, trull. And you’ll do as I says.”
“I’ll fight you as long as I’ve the strength to,” Alysson whispered, staring from Vymer’s grin to his grip on the yawning sack.
Vymer laughed. “Good,” he said. “I like a wench that spits. But I’ll knock respect into you, same time as I fuck obedience into you. And like I’ve told her ladyship, I’m a Sumerford I am, and won’t stand for no nonsense. Long as you’re docile, I’ll keep my word and treat you gentle enough. But if you wants to scratch, well, I can scratch harder, and in places you won’t like at all.”
Clovis had crept in. From the archway on the far side of the room, he sidled into the bedchamber, gazing in revulsion at the bag Vymer was holding. Clovis had smelled the stench of it and had long been listening from behind the door. He climbed quickly to Alysson’s side on the bed, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t you worry, lady,” he said softly. “I’ll look after you.”
Vymer ignored the child. He kicked the Turkey rug out of the way and gripping the neck of the sack, hurled it open so that it tipped, emptying in a rush across the floorboards. A slippery black mess slid and rolled with a thud, spreading its ink and rottenness. Vymer stood grinning. Alysson heaved, clutching at her mouth and throat.
“Wot the shit?” demanded Clovis. “You filthy bastard. Wot is it?”
Vymer nodded. “Shit it is, just like you says.” He flipped the sack over and let it sink into the decaying and viscous liquid. “It’s what was bunging up the cess pit, this is. All them pretty lady’s privies blocked with shit they was, and the staff all pissing themselves trying to hurry off to some chamber pot so as not to use the latrines. So they calls for my brother, poor old George. He’s a Sumerford too, and ought to have more respect than emptying other folk’s shit, but he ain’t as smart as me, is George. Content he is, poor bugger, to do the dirty jobs, and happy to dig holes and shift muck.”
Alysson wrapped her arms around her middle, bent over and swallowed hard. She tried not to look at the reeking mess on the floor at Vymer’s feet. “You mean,” she demanded in disgust and seething fury, “you and that vile woman have actually brought a barrow load here out of the cess pit?”
“Not rightly.” Vymer was enjoying himself. “Though you’re right in a way. This is what were blocking the drains, sure enough. Dug it up this morning, George did. But I knows just what it is, being as how I put it there couple o’ years back, and there’s a sight more than shit. Not that I meant it to bung up the pit, but I had to get rid of it somewhere. Reckon I should have thrown it all in the moat, but then I’d not have had the please o’ showing it to you now, would I?”
“You’re all mad,” Alysson choked on her words. “They call Humphrey crazy. But he isn’t mad at all compared to you and Jenny. You’re both quite insane.”
“As it happens,” Vymer Wapping scratched his bright red head, “you got it wrong again. You see, t’was me as chucked this stuff in the cess pit, but t’was my Humphrey what did it. He killed the little lad after he’d played with him a couple of hours that is, and then cut the body up into handy chunks for the ridding of. You see, Humphrey was a bit irritated back then, seeing as how he seen you once and wanted you but couldn’t have you, and meantime was waiting for his bride but still had to wait a bit longer. He asked me nice, and I comes down to get you for him like he wanted, but couldn’t get you when you ran off. So he went and took the next best thing.”
Alysson was completely white. The day no longer seemed warm and she could smell nothing. Everything had turned to ice. “Explain. Tell me the truth.”
“Hard to see the bits and pieces proper,” Vymer agreed, kicking at the middle of the black heap where bones had begun to show through as the slime oozed away. “But all the stuff’s there if you wants to sort through it. Legs and arms and ribs and that. The skull’s easy seen, look, though ain’t no flesh left for the recognising of. I never seen the lad all in one piece, not since my brother called me once it were all over. But it was a skinny brat, far as I remember. And here he is, all restored to you, as is proper for a sister to take charge of her little brother.”
Alysson had doubled over, sobbing and heaving. Clovis was clutching at her, trying to comfort her. She was choking, unable to hear him or anything except Vymer’s voice.
Vymer chuckled. “It’s a right jovial thought,” he said, “being as for the past year or two living in the castle, whenever you’ve set your arse on the privy, you’ve shat all over what’s left of your own brother. Quite comical, I reckon. He’ll not be thanking you for that, watching from Purgatory. But then, when I moves in here in a couple o’ days, you’ll have no time to think of him nor nothing else anymore. I shall be keeping you proper busy, that I promise.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
“We have been summoned to court,” said the earl.
Ludovic lifted an eyebrow. “To thank his gentle majesty on bended knee for my pardon? After he murdered my brother?”
His lordship nodded. “For that exact reason, I imagine,” he said. “And we will comply. I trust you realise we have no choice. Your pardon can still be rescinded.”
“I know my duty.” Ludovic sighed. “And in gratitude to you, my lord, since I thank you for my life and not the bastard king, I should in any case do whatever you ask of me. But it will stick in my craw, and kneeling to him will remind me forcibly of the torture I experienced at his command.”
“You have me to thank, but also the king,” the earl said. “And you will contrive to remember it, Ludovic. His majesty is, let us say, much shaken by the continuous threats to his power, of this – Peter Warbeck – in particular. He is unwell, both in body and in mind. Like any cornered rat, an irascible man attacks when he imagines disrespect or danger.” The earl wandered over to the window, gazing out over the sheen of the peaceful river beyond the sloping greens. “The battle this Henry Tudor so unexpectedly won against our late King Richard was so against all likelihood, it could only have occurred by the will of God,” he murmured, his back to his son. “Tudor therefore saw himself as sublimely chosen. He should certainly have died and came within a sword’s width of it, and yet instead of lying in his grave, he found himself sitting proud on England’s throne. So he believed himself invulnerable, set on high by God, angelically anointed and specifically blessed by the Lord God’s own hand. But the resurrection of the Plantagenet princes has shattered his faith in being God’s chosen – and h
as shattered his peace, his mind, and his body too.”
“Do you pity the wretch?” Ludovic frowned.
“I do.” The earl turned, smiling faintly. “Losing Gerald has changed me, my son. His bloodied head haunts my dreams. Now I’ve watched your recovery these past weeks, so slow, so bitter, so doubtful. Daily I imagine the pain you must have known. I feared you might be crippled forever, and even now I know how each step you take must hurt you. I pity you, though I know you despise my pity. I pity your mother, who sits and weeps nightly over the sorrow of her loss, and each of the sons she bore now suffering their own agonies.” His lordship came back, sitting abruptly on the low settle by the hearth where the sunbeams from the window turned his hair into burnished strands, shot through with flame. “From the first day I met your mother, a few days before our marriage, I disliked her,” he said. “I do not care what she thinks of me, but I doubt she thinks of me with affection. Our alliance was arranged by our fathers, and I did not question it. But at the time I did not know of her grandfather, nor her uncle. They both carry the madness of the old French king and his own grandson, our late King Henry VI. There was a relationship to your mother’s sires which at the time my father thought admirable, royal lineage being more important than simple sanity. If kings can be lunatic, why not earls? But I blamed her for Humphrey’s afflictions. She blames herself. Now I pity her, and I pity Humphrey. So I can see this Tudor king’s dilemma, and I pity him also.”
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