by June Francis
‘Let you have charge of him?’ Hugo and the boy were both suddenly still. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re saying? He’s just tried to kill me!’
‘Have pity, Hugo. Perhaps if the priest had a word with him?’ She placed her hand on his arm. ‘You have the power to show mercy, and thus the other serfs might not be so dissatisfied.’
Hugo grunted. ‘We’ll take the lad home with us. But you won’t have the trouble of him. Rob will.’
She smiled in relief. ‘I’m perfectly content to leave him to Rob.’
He nodded, and gave the lad a push that sent him flying. ‘You have the lady to thank for your life, my lad, and don’t you forget it!’
The boy turned and stared at them, his lower lip jutting out mutinously. His eyes went to Rose’s, and there was the slightest hint of warmth in them before he stared at his bare feet.
‘Move, lad! Let’s be getting home.’ A blow on his back this time propelled him uphill several feet. In such a manner they made their way to the stables, where the boy was hoisted up behind the groom, and home they went.
It was with a heavy heart and a jumble of confused emotions that Rose waved farewell to Hugo the next morning. She wondered what she would do with herself now that there was only Mistress Margaret and herself in the house, but there was still much she needed to ask the older woman about running a household, and it made her feel wanted.
The days fell into a pattern that was somewhat monotonous, and if it had not been for the thought that when Philippa returned with Master Guy they could change drastically, she would have wished them away. When Hugo would return she was uncertain, but he had said he hoped to be back in September. The memory that he had once mentioned that month for a wedding shone in her mind. The weeks passed, and September came in. The corn was scythed and gathered before, one glorious autumn day, the master of the house returned with his men.
The horses clattered into the yard during the afternoon, setting the dogs barking and the chickens fluttering and squawking. The women, hearing the commotion, came hurrying from the garden. Rose, her face warm with gladness, waited for Hugo to dismount. He did so awkwardly and limped heavily over to her.
‘You are pleased to see me, lass?’
‘Ay, my lord.’ Her voice shook with emotion.
‘Then I am pleased.’ He placed his great arms about her waist and swung her high before lowering her to meet his kiss.
With Hugo’s return, life changed. Gone were the quiet days. He brought noise and vitality into the house, along with his men who flirted with the maids, making them waste time instead of getting on with their tasks. But there was a feeling of festivity in the air. The harvest celebrations were under way, and afterwards … afterwards. She did not want to think of afterwards too deeply.
There was trouble brewing between Northumberland and Lancaster that could be more serious than they had thought. Duke John had demanded satisfaction from Percy at the meeting with the king at Reading. Threats and recriminations had been exchanged until the king had commanded silence.
Lancaster had obeyed, but Percy had lost control of his temper and thrown down his gage of battle. Immediately he had been placed under arrest, but his release had been allowed when the Earls of Warwick and Suffolk had gone surety for his appearance at the forthcoming session of parliament in November. Hugo would have to go with Lancaster when he went to London, and he wanted to make Rose his wife before he went.
She did not know what to do! Wishing to be his wife, and yet fearing his anger when he discovered — or was told — the truth. Part of her longed to be done with deception, to show him the agreement drawn up by Philippa. Part of her thought of fleeing, but she loved too much not to want to stay in the hope that all would be well. If Master Guy came … He had a way with words, and perhaps he would be able to explain everything in a way that was acceptable to Hugo. After all, it was his brother they were cozening! But she knew that it was a forlorn hope. Still she wished he would come.
The journey had been long, and silent for the most part. When Guy had come back to Cobtree, Philippa had thought it would be easy to return once more to their old footing, but it was not. She still did not understand why he had left in the way he had, or his scant perusal of all she had achieved on her manor in his absence. The men had returned, but they had fines to pay of twenty shilling each. For some of them it was a large sum to raise, even for Adam, who made a fair living as the smith. So she had sold her silver buttons and paid the fines, demanding extra labour in exchange. Her new house was already taking form, her wheat had been harvested and the picking of the orchard’s crop had been started. Even the beans had been saved, and some eaten. Most important of all, her father’s remains had been reburied in hallowed ground, so the reason for her coming south in the midst of such ferment had been achieved. Whether it would prove to be the answer to all her hopes was yet to be seen. She had made no mention of it to Guy, for she found it difficult to broach the subject. He had made no mention of weddings or love. When they had talked, it had been of the places they stayed in — of Calais and the price of wool and sheep. Now they were almost at Hugo’s manor, and what would be said and settled between the four of them was still undecided. Perhaps when she saw Rose, all would come clear, but until then she would remain silent.
For the last twenty-four hours a headache had plagued Rose. Now that all the preparations for the harvest feast had been made, she tried to relax by bathing in a tub of warm water. But she found it impossible to rid herself of the tension that had hold of her, and did not linger in the water. As she made her way down to the courtyard, she could hear drums and pipes playing in the meadow where the feast was laid out. When she passed beyond the outer walls, she saw Philippa and Guy, but there was no sign of Hugo, so swiftly she made her way over to them.
‘Well, Mistress Cobtree, you do look the part,’ murmured Guy, taking in every detail of her finery from head to foot, causing her to flush.
‘And you, Master Guy, and the mistress,’ she muttered. ‘You are both well?’
‘We are tired, but well enough,’ he answered for both of them. ‘Where is my brother?’
‘Dressing, I think,’ answered Rose nervously, her eyes going from one to the other. Something was not right! Had they quarrelled? Lovers often did, so she had heard tell.
‘If there is any hot water, Rose, I would like to bathe,’ said Philippa softly. ‘And to talk to you.’
‘Of course! I shall see to it,’ she responded swiftly. ‘Come with me. Will you be able to attend the feast? It is the harvest gathering.’
‘So I presumed,’ said her former mistress. ‘Does Hugo suspect anything?’ She eased her shoulders.
Rose shook her head, and bit her lower lip. ‘Not in the least. I was hoping that you would both come, for I do not know what to do. He wishes to wed in a few days!’
‘Wed you, Rose?’ asked Guy, lifting an eyebrow. ‘You have done well for yourself.’
‘Master Guy, I — I don’t understand. Hasn’t Mistress … ’
‘Later, Rose,’ whispered Philippa hastily, seizing her arm. ‘The tub first, and then I shall tell you all that has been happening.’
‘Ay, tell her, my love, and then perhaps you can explain it all to me.’ Guy smiled sweetly before turning on his heel, and brushing past them, he went on into the courtyard.
‘What is the matter with him?’ hissed Rose as they hurried in his wake. ‘Is he furious still for what we have done?’
‘He doesn’t know. At first, all went reasonably well, and then … ’ She sniffed, and rubbed a gloved hand across her face. ‘Later. I’ll tell you later, but now I need a rest and that tub.’
Rose did not press her, but her expression was anxious as they made their way upstairs.
Philippa gave a sigh of contentment and wallowed a little in the cooling water that Rose had vacated.
‘You feel better now?’ Rose took a towel and waited patiently.
Philippa nodded. ‘I shall get
out in a minute. Could you find me a gown to wear? I fear they will all be creased and grubby.’
‘You can wear the green linen,’ said Rose. ‘It is here in the chest, and there are some scarves I can make into a chaplet for you. Will you wear your hair braided?’
‘No, loose.’ She stood up, dripping, and stepped out of the tub. Soon she was dressed, but in the time it took she told Rose some of what had happened in the south and during the journey there. Rose had told her all that had taken place while she had been absent, and of her need to know just what they were going to do.
‘I’m not sure what would be best,’ Philippa murmured soberly, as her hair was being combed. ‘I thought that Master Guy might have given me a lead, but he has not. Even now he might be telling his brother the truth.’
‘In that eventuality, we should have a plan,’ said Rose in a tense voice.
‘I know. But until we know for sure, we had best wait and see.’ She stood up, and placed the chaplet of plaited scarves of green and yellow on her head, flicked her hair back over her shoulders, and looked at herself in the mirror once more. ‘We are alike, aren’t we, Rose?’
Rose nodded impatiently. ‘Let us go and discover our fate, Mistress Philippa. I would have it over. Truthfully, I would!’
‘So be it!’ Philippa squeezed her hand, and they left the room.
The two brothers were standing side by side when they came into the meadow, and the women sought each other’s hands, gripping firmly as they walked over to them.
‘Welcome to Milburn manor, Mistress Rose,’ said Hugo, lifting Philippa’s proffered hand and taking it to his lips. ‘My brother tells me you are feeling much better.’
‘Ay, Sir Hugo, I am.’ So Guy had not told him yet! Why not? ‘My cousin tells me your wound is much better, although your recent journey has caused you a setback.’
‘A trifle, lass. Only a trifle.’ He sent Rose a rebuking glance. ‘But come, let us not think on such matters this evening. It is a time for celebrating. Let my brother give you something to drink and eat.’ He released her hand and instead took Rose’s in his grasp. ‘The musicians await us, lass, and the table is groaning with food and drink.’
Rose sent Philippa a frantic glance before allowing herself to be pulled away.
‘Well,’ murmured Guy, ‘shall we go and join the festivities?’ He offered her his arm, and she took it after a moment’s hesitation that caused his mouth to tighten.
‘Rose has grown fond of your brother.’ Her voice trembled, and there was a flush on her cheeks.
‘As he has of her. I even wonder if he might love her?’ There was a glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her. ‘Are you hungry? I confess I am famished after the journey.’
She was disconcerted by the sudden switch in the subject, but nodded and went with him to the table. For a while they did not speak. They helped themselves from a great haunch of mutton. There was also roasted goose, and bread, cheesecakes, oatcakes and buttered leeks. A serving-maid filled their cups with wine.
Some children had began a game of ‘Hoodman blind’, and they giggled as they hit one of their number wearing his hood back to front. Some of the adults had formed a carol, and were moving in time to the music.
‘Would you like to join in?’ Guy’s words took Philippa by surprise, but she assented. When he pulled her to her feet, she noticed that his eyes were bright with anticipation.
A thrill raced through her body as his arm went round her waist. He had not touched her in such a way for weeks. They began to dance. The music quickened, and they twisted … glided … leapt in the movements of the carol. She began to forget Hugo frowning at them, Rose’s longing expression and all the other faces at the feast. She had eyes only for Guy, and he, it seemed, had eyes only for her. They danced until she was breathless, and laughingly had to beg him to stop.
‘Perhaps I have played with you too hard.’ There was a note in his voice, and an expression in his eyes, that made her legs turn to water. He led her to a bench where they sat, hand in hand, and she was content. A mood, so glorious, wrapped her round, and she had no wish to end it. The sky darkened; more wine and ale was poured and drunk, more food eaten. A bonfire was lit. It burned merrily, casting shadows, lighting some faces. The young men gathered about the fire, calling to each other, daring each other to leap the flames.
‘No, ’tis too high yet,’ called Guy ‘You must wait.’
‘Scared, brother?’ shouted Hugo from along the table.
‘No! But I am no fool.’ His face flushed with anger.
‘Master Guy’s right,’ said one of the men. ‘Let it burn down a bit.’
‘Ay! He’s in the right of it in many things,’ grunted one greybeard.
‘I’m the master here!’ Hugo thumped the table. ‘I say the fire’s just right.’ He took his arm from Rose’s shoulders and stood up, swaying slightly. ‘If you won’t show them how it’s done, Guy, I shall!’
‘You’re drunk!’ said Guy harshly, getting to his feet. ‘Drunk, am I?’ Hugo limped from behind the table, glaring at his brother. ‘You dance so prettily, brother. Let’s see instead if you can jump the highest?’
For an instant Guy hesitated, then he began to undo his blue doublet. He flung it at Philippa. ‘I’ll go first, then,’ he rasped, meeting Hugo’s stare.
‘Guy, please don’t,’ pleaded Philippa, her fingers clutching the blue cloth.
He gazed down at her, a small, grim smile playing about his mouth. ‘Don’t fear. I’ve never failed yet, and if I don’t go first, that foolish brother of mine might not clear the flames with his dragging leg.’
‘It is you who are the fool!’ Her voice quivered.
Guy shook his head. A lock of dark hair curled on his brow, and her heart seemed to expand within her. How vital he was to her happiness! Her chest was suddenly tight with fear.
Guy’s shoulders tensed as he began to run, his feet pounding on the grass, and then his figure was a dark cut-out against the flames and the sky. Perspiration ran down Philippa’s face as her fingers kneaded his doublet. He leapt, and she screamed. The garment dropped to the ground, and she was running, her heels barely touching the grass as she skirted the fire and ran straight into his arms.
‘You should not have done it! You should not have done it!’ she screamed, beating her fists against his naked chest. ‘You could have been burnt! Burnt!’
‘Hush, now,’ he replied unsteadily, seizing her wrists. She began to sob, and he pulled her away from the fire. Cheers rang out, heeded by neither of them. Without sparing a glance at his brother, he urged her away from the fire and the festivities.
The sounds of revelry gradually faded as he led her out up the hill, dragging her behind him. Only the whisper of the breeze and the occasional lowing of a cow disturbed the peace.
‘Where are you taking me?’ Philippa swallowed her tears, gazing about her.
‘Somewhere we can talk without being disturbed,’ he said brusquely, needing all his breath to get them both to the summit.
At the top, he brought her to a halt. Her skirts whipped her legs, and her hair was blown into a tangled confusion. ‘All this time — on the journey — you could have talked to me,’ she said.
‘On the journey I needed to think; and, besides, I wasn’t sure of you.’ He held her by both arms, staring into a face still damp with tears.
‘What do you mean?’ Her voice was breathless with the climb, and the realisation that he had a certain gleam in his eyes.
‘On your manor you no longer seemed to need me, to want my opinion — still to want me. You talked only of what you were going to do, where you were going to sleep, of having a manor to bring to a husband, when we were in Canterbury. You let your uncle believe it was for Hugo.’
‘I didn’t think! I thought you knew how I felt about you — and I was concerned for those who had no other voice to speak for them but mine. Besides, I did want to have a manor to bring to my husband. But I was thinking of you.’
‘He has done that? When?’
‘When he sent you to me.’ He paused. ‘I can always give them back,’ he muttered.
‘No, you can’t do that! I know what it means to you to possess that land. But I don’t want Hugo to have Cobtree — not all of it, anyway. It means much to me — and I thought we could put sheep to graze, and become rich.’ She gave him a watery smile. ‘It was a notion that Rose had.’
‘Rose? Is that why she pretended to be you?’
‘No!’ She realised that now was the time for being completely honest. ‘It all came about because Hugo mistook her for me.’ She was not looking at him. ‘And it was apparent that he liked her and she had fallen in love with him at sight. So,’ she licked her lips, ‘I decided that if he preferred her to me, she might as well pretend to be me. Because I’d decided that I had to go home to see if … ’
‘You are saying that you never forgot your past? That this whole lie you’ve lived is because … ’
‘I don’t wish to wed your brother. But you are wrong! I did fall, and I couldn’t remember — I still don’t — aught of that day you left me here! Only Rose said … that you … ’ She could not go on. He was so still and silent that she was frightened. ‘Guy!’
‘What did Rose say? That she thought I would go along with the idea? That I’d be willing to deceive my brother? That I’d wed you out of hand?’ His voice had risen with each question, and she could feel him shaking.
‘No! She thought I was mad — that the fall had scattered my wits!’ Her knees were shaking so much now that if he had not held her she would have fallen at his feet.
‘Damn you! Could you not have trusted me with the truth? However we present this to my brother, he’s going to believe I was part of the whole deception! That I did it deliberately for gain.’
‘It was because I believed you wouldn’t deliberately deceive him that I didn’t tell you the truth,’ she retorted, suddenly as angry as he was. Her eyes glinted in the starlight. ‘I had to go to Cobtree because I had hopes of a way out of this tangle. But it seems that you care more for your brother than for me! So tell him the truth, and let’s have done with it. I shall wed him and forget you, just as Rose told me you asked me to.’