"I will give them all to you," the cook said, tucking the pies into a cloth. "When you've finished admiring them, you can give them to Arthur and Rob."
"Nay!" Johanna cried in instant refusal. Although Philip didn't seem to think misshapen pasties any great matter, both Arthur and Rob would tease her over them.
"Come now, little mistress. You cannot keep them all to yourself. Besides it'd be a boon if you fed those lads. Our meal is late enough already."
When she looked at him in confusion, Philip smiled. "Arthur will be here any moment to pester me for a bite to eat since he is always hungry upon his return from the abbey. No doubt he'll bring Rob with him when he comes, as they went off to lessons together this morn. If you feed them for me, I can finish our meal."
Pride grew in her with his words. A swift smile touched Johanna's mouth. Philip thought her work good enough to feed those who labored for Papa. Better still, as long as she did this for Philip she could delay her return to the house and the mending. That alone was worth any tease.
"I will do as you ask, Philip," she said, offering him what she hoped was a mistressly nod.
"My thanks," the cook said, waiting until she donned her mantle before handing her the knot of cloth. "Off with you, then."
The day's off-and-on shower had finally died into a gentle mist, leaving the whole world well and truly soaked. Johanna crossed the courtyard, carefully picking her way to prevent her hems from getting mucky, her thoughts on Rob and schooling. In the same fit of pique that had ended her education, Papa had decided to send Arthur to the Benedictines, whose abbey school educated the majority of Stanrudde's apprentices. Rob had wanted to go as well, but Papa had insisted Rob wait until he'd passed his saint's day and entered his eleventh year. That had been yesterday; this morn, Rob had left for the abbey with Arthur, his very own wax tablet and stylus in his scrip.
At the gate Johanna picked a dry spot just inside the opening and nibbled on her pie as she watched the passing traffic. Pack horses and carts were churning the lane into a sea of mud while those foot-bound slogged through the thick stuff in wooden sabots, their cloaks dampened to dark hues. A regrater passed, calling to all about the extraordinary flavor of his cheese.
The minutes passed like hours and still the lads didn't come. As her impatience grew, holding herself within the gate grew very difficult. Although Helewise said lasses who strolled beyond their fathers' walls gained a name for being too forward, it wasn't fear for her reputation that kept Johanna clinging to the woven fencing, but the threat of another round of chamber pots. Only when she was absolutely certain the apprentices had been too long did she dare step into the lane.
Her hands on her hips, Johanna peered in the direction of the abbey. Just then, Arthur rounded the corner as if the hounds of hell were after him. As he ran he kept his arms wrapped around his middle, holding himself together. His hair was filthy with mud. Deathly pale, blood streamed from his nose and dribbled from a cut in his forehead. His tunic was torn and one shoe was missing.
"Helewise!" Johanna shrieked, darting back into her father's compound.
Arthur flew into the gate then stopped in front of her, panting. "When they let me go, they were still holding Rob down. Someone must save him," he gasped out.
A burst of heat exploded in Johanna, too hot for just anger. Rob was hers to care for. She'd not stand for anyone hurting him. "Where?" she demanded, her fists tightening in preparation for battle.
"They've got Rob in the abbey's market field," he cried to Helewise, who'd appeared at the forebuilding's door. Then he began to sob.
Forgetting about chamber pots and reputations, Johanna hurtled through the gate. Down the ropemakers' lane she flew, past the chandlers' enclave, then through an alley to the coopers' lane. She burst out onto the small expanse that served as a marketplace for the abbey's once-a-year fair and stopped, her sack of precious pasties yet grasped tightly in her hand.
Beneath the sky's gray curtain, the field was mud in places and dotted with daffodils in others, the blooms vibrant against the bright green of spring grass. Rob was nowhere to be seen. Four of the town's apprentices stood in one corner of the expanse. All of them were near to Arthur's age, two attached to fullers, one to a butcher, and the last to Herebert the Ropemaker. They were gathered close to each other as if sharing secrets.
Her heart seethed. She'd beat them to a pulp for hurting her Rob. Sprinting toward them, she barely slowed before striking her first blow. The elder fuller's lad yelped as the hardened leather of her sole caught him full on his shin.
She whirled to set on the butcher's boy, but he grabbed her by the arms and held her away from him "Cease, I say!"
"You hurt Rob!" she screamed at them, kicking and swinging at her captor.
"He hit me first!" the younger fuller's lad lisped in protest. Blood dripped from his swollen and cut lips. He rubbed it off with his sleeve. "He nigh on tore off my face."
"It was a fair fight," Herebert's boy cried out. His brown tunic was torn, revealing a stained and patched shirt beneath it.
"Aye, one of him against four of us," the older fuller's lad said, a touch of shame in his voice. There was mud befouling his hair and tunic. A swath of red glowed angrily down the side of his face.
"There were two of them," the butcher's boy exclaimed in protest.
"You would count that puling infant, Arthur?" another retorted in scorn.
"What have you done with him?" Johanna shouted, her anger growing mostly because the butcher's boy was keeping her from landing a blow.
"Who? The bastard or Arthur?" he asked.
"Rob is not a bastard," Johanna retorted. Although she was uncertain of the mechanics, bastards were babes born from women who had no husbands. Rob had had both a mother and a father.
"Be damned to hell if I know," the older of the fuller's apprentices said, daring to use a forbidden curse in an attempt at swaggering bravado. "Arthur went one way and he, the other."
Instantly, Johanna knew Rob was at their private place. He went there to think whenever he was troubled. Wanting only to join him and see that he was safe, she tried to pull free of the butcher's boy. "Leave go!" she commanded him, when he yet held her tight.
"Vow not to hit me and I will," her captor replied.
Rob had warned her again and again that oaths were sacred, and she should make them only when she meant to keep her word. Since she meant to do so this time, Johanna laid her hand over her heart. The cloth filled with pasties bounced against her chest. She raised her other hand to steady the bag's bottom. It was soggy and warm. "I so vow," she said, going still to prove her words were true.
He released her. She turned toward Stanrudde’s watergate and Papa's warehouse. Behind her, Edwin, the younger fuller's lad, sniffed. "I know naught what you others plan, but I'll never call him bastard again, no matter what Katel offers."
At the mention of her betrothed Johanna stopped with a jerk and whirled on the lads. Katel had done this to Rob? She frowned. How could it be? Katel was only ever patient and friendly with her. He even played her games with her, although he drew the line at toying with her poppet. But then, so did Rob.
Everyone thought her fortunate to be betrothed to a man as handsome and amiable as Katel. That was, all save Emmalina, one of the lasses who labored in the apothecary's shop. Johanna's lip curled at this. Emmalina was only jealous, pining after Katel when he already belonged to her.
Herebert's apprentice struck the younger lad's shoulder a sharp blow. "You fool! She's to wed Katel. What if she tells him what you said? He'll have our skins, that’s what."
"I'll vow not to tell," she offered.
As one, they glared at her. "Everyone knows a woman's word is worth nothing," the butcher's lad hissed, despite that he'd taken a vow from her the moment before. "What shall we do to ensure she holds her tongue, my lads?"
Stung by this betrayal and suddenly concerned for her safety, Johanna lifted her heels and sprinted in the direction of the water
gate. At halfway 'cross the field she glanced behind her. Her heart leapt into her throat. They were after her!
Past the keep's mound she went, trampling clutches of daffodils in her haste. She slid around the corner of Papa's building and plowed into the willows, their branches golden-green with newborn leaves. Forcing herself between the two trees, she tried to drop into her hiding spot beside Rob. There wasn’t enough room. Rob had grown some over the winter, and now nigh on filled the wee hole.
"Hie, move aside, they're after me," she hissed.
In silence he made room for her. Johanna eased into the space, yet panting against the thrill of being chased. She went still as a mouse until she was certain the lads hadn't come this far in their pursuit. Only when she was content that she wasn't being followed did she look at Rob.
He was trying to wipe the mud from his face with his tunic's hem. One eye was already darkening to purple while there was a swelling on his jaw. The knees of his chausses were now but gaping holes, and his knuckles were red and scraped.
"Does it hurt?" she whispered in awe.
"What do you think," he snapped, trying to turn his face to the side so she wouldn't see the tracks his tears had made in the filth.
"That it hurts," she replied, undaunted. Rob was touchy about his emotions. It made him short tempered to have someone see him cry. In an effort to grant him a moment's privacy, she stared into her lap.
The cloth bag containing her pasties had survived her race intact. All that running made her hungry. With her stomach grumbling, she opened the cloth's knot. The smell of fresh baked crust filled their tiny hidey-hole.
Tears forgotten, Rob breathed deeply, then leaned over to peer at what she had. She offered him one of the two better pies. The misery in his expression dimmed slightly as he took it from her.
"Where did you get these?" he asked, most of the pie already stuffed in his mouth.
"I made them myself." Pride filled her once again, then grew when he grunted to tell her he was enjoying it. Johanna took the other pretty one for herself, handing him one of the ugly ones when he finished his first.
As she ate she looked across the hole toward Papa's warehouse. Rob's wax-coated tablet lay against its wall as if thrown there. What had started the day as whole was now in two pieces. Leaning forward to pick it up, she held the pieces together as if she could force them to rejoin.
Rob's scrawling attempts at letters now filled its soft surface. Johanna lifted a finger to trace a few of the marks. Of a sudden, she was certain she'd made a mistake in wishing to escape schooling for Helewise's tutelage. Scratching shapes into wax was definitely easier than mending.
"Did you break the tablet?" she asked, setting the pieces back onto the hole's opposite side.
"Nay," Rob hiccoughed in agony as he started on a third pie, "the other lads did. Or, maybe Arthur stepped on it as he made his escape. No matter how it broke, it’s ruined. What if because of this, Master Colin will keep me from the abbey? What if I must wait until your father returns?"
Johanna frowned in thought for a moment. "I could tell him that Edwin, the fuller's lad, said he'd not fight with you again." Aye, that was what she needed to do. "Edwin should be punished, not only for attacking you, but because he lied and said Katel had offered him something to fight with you," she said.
Beside her, Rob choked. When he'd finally swallowed the bite trapped in his throat, he turned on her, his eyes alight in angry certainty. "I thought it must be Katel who had arranged this," he cried, "else how would lads who knew nothing of me think to call me bastard?"
Shaking her head in denial, Johanna stared at Rob. This could not be. "Katel didn't do this. He is good and kind. All the lasses say so."
Rob's eyes narrowed in scorn. "What do girls like them know of men and their issues? Katel hates me simply because Master Walter cares for me. Katel wishes me dead. Twice now, he's set traps for me in the shop, trying to twist things so it seems I've made an error, when I haven't."
Johanna's stomach moved to her toes as she struggled to make sense of all this. When Rob reached for another pie, she handed him the bag. In her confusion her thoughts tumbled from her lips. "Helewise says a mistress's most important function is to protect those who live within her house. If I am the mistress, then I must protect you," she told him. "I will tell Papa when he returns."
"Nay!" Rob breathed in panicked horror. "You'll say nothing of this to anyone. If you do, Master Colin might be hurt."
Johanna's shoulders squared as she added Master Colin to those she, as mistress, must protect. A quiet moment passed then she frowned. "How can Katel hurt Master Colin, when he is a man full grown and Papa's friend?"
"You don't understand. Katel is your betrothed and, therefore, your father's heir. As such, he has Master Walter's ear. What if he told your father to be rid of Master Colin?" Conviction beamed from him. "He'd have to leave Stanrudde, that's what."
Although Johanna didn't think Papa would send away his friend, there was no doubt Rob believed this would happen. As she'd been wrong about Katel, thinking him kind when he was not, might she not also be wrong about this? Johanna opted for caution's course. "Then I vow to say nothing to Papa."
Rob nodded in relief, eagerly accepting her promise where the other lads had scorned her word. Johanna smiled at him, liking him all the more for doing so. Rob always treated her as if she was special, even more special to him than was Arthur.
A girl's laugh wafted around the warehouse's corner on the day's damp breeze, the sound of her amusement gay. This was followed by a man's muted voice.
Both Rob and Johanna shifted to peer through the willow branches in interest.
Johanna hoped it wasn't the apprentice and maid from last week returning. They'd come while Papa had been working in the warehouse just before his departure and Johanna had come back here to occupy herself. The two had tussled and rolled on the ground for what seemed the longest time. The lass's skirts had ended up bunched at her waist, then the apprentice had pulled his chausses down to his knees. Johanna had seen his shaft thrusting out before him, all swollen and red. He'd fallen on the maid once more, making her cry out as he squirmed atop her, his bare buttocks gleaming in the day's light. All in all, it had been a disquieting experience, leaving her with worrisome dreams.
The girl's long, dark plaits swung as she danced into the clearing. Johanna caught her breath. Emmalina! After her, came ... Katel!
"Do not fret so," Katel was saying. "There'll be no one in the warehouse. It's empty until Master Walter sends back his first purchases."
"I hope you're right." Emmalina didn't sound worried at all. Instead, she giggled and leaned against Johanna's betrothed, her head tilted up to him. Johanna narrowly eyed the maid. Katel was hers, and Emmalina had no right to trespass.
Katel leaned his head down to touch his mouth to the girl's lips. Johanna's stomach turned. She could tell by the way Emmalina grabbed at Katel that they were going to do that awful wrestling. Beside her, Rob shuddered as if he was thinking the same thing.
She started to turn her back to them, hoping she'd never have to touch mouths with Katel, when yet another set of voices echoed around the warehouse's edge. Emmalina and Katel sprang apart. Johanna edged forward, drawn by the possibility of two couples battling over this stretch of riverbank.
It was Master Colin and Helewise who strode around the corner. Horror woke in Johanna at the thought that they might ever tussle then died in understanding. They'd not come to kiss and tug, but to find her and Rob.
Although Helewise stopped at the tiny clearing's edge the moment she caught sight of Katel and Emmalina, Master Colin's face darkened. The apothecary lengthened his stride to cross the riverbank then he grabbed Katel by the tunic front. "You worthless piece of ass dung," he roared, his voice thundering against the warehouse wall. "Arthur has returned, beaten and bloody while Rob has not come home at all!"
Johanna again looked at Rob. He was shaking his head at the apothecary as if to warn him,
fear written in every line of his face. Johanna's heart quaked in worry for Master Colin. She liked him. He let her play in his workshop while the lads worked.
Her betrothed held himself still in the apothecary's grip as he glanced from Emmalina to Helewise. "Take the maid and yourself home where you belong," he commanded.
As she always did when being addressed by a man Helewise bowed her head. However, beneath the meek pose Johanna yet struggled to learn the housekeeper hid full blown outrage. Again, Johanna's spirits sank. Helewise disliked Katel. Every line of her tense form said as much. Why had she not seen this before now?
"I cannot return until I have found Mistress Johanna," Helewise replied, her quiet tones masking the fact that she'd just blatantly refused to obey Katel's command.
"Helewise, do as he says," Master Colin said, his voice strained and tight. "Johanna is seeking Rob. As soon as she finds him she'll bring him home with her. She'll be safe enough while she's at it."
Katel's breath hissed from him at the apothecary's words, his face tensing in hatred. "She's mine! I'll not have her spending time with that bastard!" he snarled.
Beside her, Rob stiffened at the slur. Johanna laid her hand on his arm to show him she didn't believe it. He smiled at her, gratitude in his gaze.
Johanna looked back at Helewise. Somehow, Katel's rage pleased the housekeeper; Johanna could almost feel Helewise's smile behind the shield of her headdress. As the tension left the housekeeper's shoulders, she folded her hands demurely before her.
"Aye, Master Colin," she said, holding herself still long enough to show Katel she accepted the apothecary's command where she had refused his. Raising her head only slightly, she glanced at the maid. "Emmalina, come."
This time there was an awful edge to her words. Johanna cringed for Emmalina. The maid was in terrible trouble, worse even than chamber pots. The maid knew it too, for she was awash in tears before she passed the men. Together, the two women rounded the warehouse's edge. There was the sound of a slap. Emmalina sobbed harder then the sound of her cries faded.
A Love For All Seasons Page 13