“I want nothing except you. I only want to be able to love you without being afraid you will turn against me again, suspect me of something else. I have seen what this sickness can do and I do not want to waste time we may not have."
"So I am to thank this plague for an early reprieve?"
She nodded, moved closer to him.
"There can be no going back, no second chances. You have to promise me you will never again suspect me of disloyalty to you or anything dishonourable. I love you, Christopher, but I cannot live in fear of you. It is too hard."
"Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you for giving me a chance to prove I have changed.”
“It will be hard to start again,” she said. “There is a lot of resentment to overcome, a lot of things you have done that I can never forgive. I only hope I can put them behind me, because I do love you. I will never stop loving you.”
Felice kissed his nipple, ran her lips over his chest and neck, felt him stir and reached up to press her breasts again his.
"I want us to have a future together," he murmured. "I do love you so."
"Show me," she answered. "Show me you love me. I want to feel your arms around me, I want to feel your lips on me, I want to feel you deep inside me. Show me."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
They are Unburied Bodies
Felice had almost forgotten how wonderful it was to share herself with this man. She was still afraid, but she knew she had done the right thing by taking this chance. She snuggled against him as he held her in his arms and kissed her face.
He got out of bed and dressed hurriedly, then he went to a small chest and took out a little velvet pouch which he brought back to her, sitting on the bed beside her.
"I have a gift for you," he said. "Hold out your hand."
She did so, but he turned her hand over, palm down and tipped a diamond ring out of the velvet pouch, into his own hand. She noticed the pouch was dusty from lying untouched in the chest for so long. He slipped the ring on to her finger where it glittered in the sunlight from the open window.
She smiled and sat up to kiss his cheek, letting the covers fall about her waist.
"Did you buy this as a peace offering when you came to find me?" She asked.
He smiled and shook his head. "I did not even consider such a gesture," he said. "In my usual way, I thought only of myself, of getting you back with me as soon as possible." He paused and their eyes met. "I had this made as a wedding gift."
Her eyebrows arched, puzzled.
"Why did you not give it to me before?"
"I had it made because I did not believe your father when he told me you would prefer roses. I could not accept that any woman would prefer a simple flower to a diamond ring."
"Why would he lie about a thing like that?"
"He was already embarrassed at having to take so much from me; I thought perhaps he was trying to spare me more expense. So I bought the roses and I bought this ring as well, as I did not want you to be disappointed."
"That was thoughtful," she replied, still admiring the ring.
"I have a confession to make," Christopher said.
Felice frowned; she was not sure she wanted to hear any confessions. Whatever it was, she would likely be better off not knowing.
"If it is to tell me where you found comfort during the time you believed me dead, then I do not wish to know." She stared at him fearfully, afraid her next words would arouse his anger, prove he had not changed after all. "If it is that you have found another peasant to share her bed with you, I do not wish to know that either, except to tell you I am back now and I expect to have you to myself."
To her surprise, he only smiled.
"No. Do you remember asking me why I chose you?" She nodded. "Well, the real answer is I did not. I attempted to give your father money to redeem himself long before I ever knew he had a daughter. He would not accept, called it charity."
"That sounds like my father," she murmured with an indulgent smile. "He never understood that pride and poverty make poor bedfellows."
"Later I admired you at Lord Eversley’s wedding. I thought at the time you were far too good for Viscount Lindsay and when I heard that you were no longer betrothed to him, I tried a different tactic. I had been looking for a wife and I proposed to your father that he would be accepting my help in exchange for his daughter. He felt better about that, although he still would not agree without your consent. I understand that more now; I would not entrust Rose's safety to a man like me either."
"Rose? What about your other daughter, My Lord?"
He frowned at her. She was trying to provoke him, trying to satisfy herself that he really had changed.
"I have no other daughter, My Lady," he answered. "I would be glad if you would understand that, but if you cannot, then I have no way to change your mind."
She sighed, deciding to let the matter drop for now.
“Tell me something, Christopher. When you thought I was dead, why did you not tell my father?”
“I went there to tell him, but the servant told me he had taken to his bed with his heart. I was afraid to tell him lest it be too much and to tell you the truth, I was a coward. I was glad of the opportunity to allow him to learn of it on his own. I knew I was responsible and I was ashamed. I learned a lot of things while you were away, but learning about shame was the worst of all.”
She reached up and stroked his face gently, then decided to change the subject.
"So you married me only to persuade my father to take help from you?"
"Yes. But you have changed me completely. You have taught me such a lot, you have given me so much of yourself and your love has redeemed me. I think you must have been sent by God."
Felice laughed.
"Still so arrogant, Christopher?" She said. "To believe that God sent a messenger just for you."
"Are you trying to make me laugh, or make me angry?"
"Either. Is it working?"
"No. As to the first, I am not yet ready to laugh at myself and I cannot say I ever will be. As to the second, I have promised myself I will never be angry with you again." He gathered her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. "I promised your father I would look after you, and one of the first things I did was to break that promise. I shall always be ashamed of that."
"There is no need," she answered, stroking his beard. "You believed I had betrayed you. I do not blame you for reacting the way you did."
"No?"
"No. Even in the midst of your rage, you still saw the injustice of it and stopped to listen to my side. That must have taken a lot of strength, a lot of willpower."
He held her close once more and kissed her, while her hands came up and removed his shirt, then down to unfasten his breeches.
"Again?" He asked with a smile.
"Again."
***
They sat together at the high table in the great hall later that morning, Lord Christopher holding Felice's hand possessively, whilst the rest of the household filled the long, narrow tables stretching down to the end of the hall. There were about half of the usual residents of the castle present, the rest having gone home to the village in the vain hope of protecting their families. Recalling what had happened in Shepton, Felice was sure she would see none of them again.
When the food was brought in the lord and lady naturally had the fullest dishes, their platters piled high with food. That is the way it had always been and that is the way everybody agreed it should be, but today the sight of so much food on their plates would have made Lord Christopher angry were it not for his new found happiness. Nothing would be allowed to spoil that.
He got to his feet and the servants all did the same. He waved them to sit.
"None of us know how long we will have to stay here, sealed up within these walls, but what we do know is that the food has to last until it is safe to leave. That will not happen if we carry on as normal." He turned to the maidservant who had brought their breakfasts. "Take th
ese away. Remove at least half of it then bring it back. We will all have an equal amount. I do not care about custom, nor about what you are used to. If we are going to survive, we must all be equal here."
Felice saw a few smiles and she felt her own smile spreading over her face. She had never suspected this generosity of spirit in the man which seemed to obscure his many faults.
She moved closer to him, her thigh touching his and she looked up at him tenderly. He smiled and she thought that he, like she, was remembering that morning, the love they had shared, the passion that had consumed them both.
When breakfast was over, they went to find the children and Felice watched with joy in her heart as her husband held his little daughter for the first time, as he kissed her gently despite her squirming out of his arms. He was a stranger to her, just as she was a stranger to their son. They had a lot of time to make up.
***
Four weeks after the first case of the sickness was discovered in the village, supplies were running low. There were less people in the castle than there had been, as more of the servants had sought permission to return to their families. Christopher had granted every one of them the right to choose, even if it meant them being left with no servants at all.
"We are not incapable," he declared. "The good Lord gave us arms and legs as well as the servants. At a time like this, it has to be their decision if they want to spend time with their families; it may be the last time they have to spend with them." He kissed Felice, held her close. "I have been given a reprieve because of this disease. There is no reason why they should not have the same."
The weather was unseasonably warm suddenly and the fresh meat and vegetables they had gathered were rapidly going bad. The salted meat still held good, but Felice did not trust it. They could not afford to make themselves ill by eating bad food, or they would be weakened if the pestilence should find its way into the castle.
She found Christopher on the roof, looking out over the battlements at the village, watching for any sign of life.
"What have you found?" She asked, taking his arm.
He bent his head and kissed her gently.
"I can see no sign of life," he replied.
Felice’s eyes followed his and she caught her breath to see three people, lying still in the little street. Even from this distance she could see flies covering them.
"Christopher, they are bodies," she said in a frightened voice. "Unburied bodies."
He nodded.
"Someone will have to go and see," Christopher said slowly. "And that someone will have to be me."
"No!"
"Who else? Should I send some other poor soul into a danger I will not face myself? That is not how I do things, Felice. I hoped you might know that by now."
"I do," she answered at once. "But I am afraid. I have only just got you back and now you want me to risk losing you again. But you are right and I am being selfish."
"You are, but it is a beautiful selfishness."
They turned back to look again at the village and she was reminded of the time she had spent watching the village of Shepton, until there was nothing left to watch.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ghosts
Later that day, Christopher kissed his children goodbye then turned to do the same to his wife. His kiss was long and arousing, just as she loved, and all she wanted at that moment was to take him to her bed and make love to him, but it was not to be.
"I will not return until I am certain it is safe," he told her.
"What do you mean? You are not going to bury the dead yourself?"
"No. I will burn them. I will use pitch, it is quick and thorough and I intend to stay mounted unless I have a reason to go anywhere on foot. I will take every precaution, my love. I promise."
She reached up and kissed his lips, then gently pushed him away.
"I will pray for you," she said.
She watched him leave then climbed to the battlements to gaze after him as far as she could see. She had a good view of the village from here and she could see that her husband and his horse were the only living creatures to be seen. As he drew rein and stopped on the little hill from which she had watched him find the dead body of his mistress, he turned to look back at the castle. He gave a little wave, which she returned, then continued to watch him as he rode slowly toward the street.
"My Lady," Daisy's voice behind her made her jump. "You are getting cold."
The maid stood with Felice's cloak held ready to drape about her shoulders. She had not noticed that up here on the roof of the castle it was chilly. She smiled gratefully.
"Thank you Daisy," she said. "That is really thoughtful of you."
Daisy looked across to where her mistress's gaze rested and she caught her breath.
"What is he doing, My Lady?" She asked.
"He is searching for survivors, Daisy. I do not think he will find any."
"Come inside, My Lady. It is getting cold."
Felice shook her head.
"No. I will wait. If he does not return, I will want to know where to look."
***
Christopher's courage almost failed him the day he looked out over the battlements to the empty village. Felice stood beside him, holding his arm, and his mind was full of the night they had spent in her bed, of all the nights they had spent in her bed since the glorious morning he woke and found her sleeping beside him.
He had her back; he never thought it would happen. He believed he would spend his life trying and failing to regain her trust and now he had that trust once more, he was afraid to leave her side and venture into the plague ridden world outside.
God was giving him another chance, Felice was giving him another chance, and he wanted nothing to spoil that. To feel her sweet scented flesh against his again was a miracle and miracles did not come along very often.
But the village was deserted, and he would have to go and see if there were anyone left alive, see if the pestilence had gone and left the castle untouched. He knew it was his duty, that no one else could do it for him and that those few wonderful weeks he had spent with his wife could be the last.
He rode out that day, almost feeling her eyes following him, and terrified he would expose himself to the sickness and die out here, alone and without her comfort.
Felice had been right; there were three rotting bodies lying in the street, all in varying stages of decomposition and the smell almost made him vomit. He remembered the trench of rotting corpses he had found in Shepton, but nobody had bothered to dig such a thing here. They had all been too sick or too afraid of catching the disease themselves. Who could blame them?
He dismounted and tied his horse to the village well, far away from the nearest corpse. He recalled how the creature had reacted before and he had no wish to frighten him again.
He found the container of pitch beside the steward's deserted house and emptied it over each body in turn. Inside the house there were flints and he lit a torch to light each one, stepped back and watched as they went up in flames, leaving the sickening stench of burning flesh to pollute the air.
The church was a tiny, rough stone construct, built for the villagers, the estate tenants and anyone else who happened to be passing through. Christopher and his wife and servants worshipped in their own church in the castle grounds, but only because it was required by law. Christopher was not convinced there was an all powerful deity watching over them which needed their worship to prove to itself it was real. But he was the law so had to be seen to uphold the law. How Felice felt about it was something else he had never bothered to ask.
He entered the church reluctantly then halted his steps in the doorway as the stink hit him. The floor was covered with the dead, most of the people from the village who had apparently decided to congregate here in the church to offer prayers before dying.
He also found an inscription roughly carved into the stone, declaring it to be the end of the world. The priest must have carved it, sinc
e no one else could read as far as he knew, but there was no sign of the man now. Christopher wondered if he was among the dead here with his parishioners, or if he had fled, taking the sickness with him and spreading it to other villages, other towns.
He covered his nose and mouth with the cloths he had brought with him and went to every cottage in the village, searching for signs of life, but found none. He remembered this village as being a bustling place, full of people going about their daily duties, stopping to gossip, taking their washing to the stream or drawing water from the well. There would be children running about, playing games and chasing their dogs.
Now there was a hush over the deserted street and the little hovels with their doors and shutters hanging open. His eyes moved to Edith’s little cottage and remembered the night she had come out to stop him getting closer. The night he learned of his terrible mistake.
Even then she had been afraid of the rumour of this disease, but she had been wrong. It had taken many more months to reach here and by that time, she would likely have dropped her guard.
He could almost feel the ghosts of the people around him, could almost see movement out of the corner of his eye but when he turned it was to see nothing but emptiness, but leaves and straw blowing across the stony street in the wind.
He left Immeth's cottage almost until last, knowing the sight of her things would bring back awful memories for him. No one had lived there since her death and although covered in dust and cobwebs, there was still the straw mattress in the corner where he had made love to her, if one could call it love. There was still her ragged clothing that he had removed, never thinking for one moment that she may not want this, that she should have been given the choice. It had never once occurred to him that he was taking advantage of her, that she had no right to refuse him, may even have been too afraid to refuse him.
PESTILENCE: The Scent of Roses Page 19