by Ann Turner
She awoke with the sun streaming through the windows as her maid opened the shutters, feeling its pleasant warmth flood the bed. She rose, splashed water on her face and, with the maid’s help, dressed. She then made her way to the hall and saw that Simon was already at the table. Sheepishly, she sat opposite him, glancing furtively at him. He appeared to have forgotten his sharp words of the previous day.
‘I have been thinking about what you were saying yesterday,’ he began. She remained silent, listening. ‘My man found no trace of her. If you feel well enough, I shall take you to the village to see for yourself whether your mother still lives. If there is no outcome, you shall return home and never mention her again. She will be dead to you. I will not permit you to speak of her again.’
Aubrette lowered her gaze to focus on her plate. ‘Yes, Simon. Thank you,’ she answered, quietly.
‘Do not raise your hopes; much has happened throughout the years. She may not want to be recognised by you, as you live a privileged life now and might resent that elevation.’ explained Simon.
‘Yes, Simon,’ repeated Aubrette. ‘And yesterday?’ He looked at her quizzically, then realised to what she was referring.
‘I had an interview with William Marshal. There is disturbing news surrounding King Richard’s progress home and Prince John’s erratic behaviour while his brother is still absent from the realm. Who knows what role he will be given upon the king’s return, God willing, it shall keep him out of trouble.’
She accepted his reason without question, not wanting to anger him as that may result in him refusing to take her to the village.
Simon, astride his hunter, and Aubrette, warmly wrapped in furs inside her litter, rode out of Romhill and towards the village that bore the same name. She felt excited and convinced she would find her mother, yet she was apprehensive if they did meet. Would Esma recognise her daughter? She made sure the small necklace was visible, as this would alert her mother to the fact that her daughter had returned.
Women working in their homes came to their doorways to watch as the couple rode by. People tending to the livestock stopped their work and looked at their new lord and his wife. The men touched their forelocks and women bobbed small curtsies. Aubrette kept looking at the faces of the women, wondering whether she would recognise her mother. Simon kept looking ahead, not acknowledging the deference from those who owed their existence to him. There would be little change to their hard lives, so it mattered not to them who their lord was. He looked strict and the eye patch gave him an air of menace. He appeared like a man they should not dare to cross. The same as Oswyn, really. A man to grudgingly admire and obey without query.
They carried on to the fields, where Simon reined in his horse to watch the activities that had not changed for decades, centuries. He looked out at the fields and the villagers working, bent almost double, and scanned the view before him. Aubrette looked in the faces of the women, hopeful that if her mother was here, she would look up, wave and come to her.
‘The ledgers told me that this is most profitable,’ Simon remarked to his wife. ‘The yield of crops in the East of England is one of the best in the country and brings in much revenue. I will increase the profitably. One cannot have too much wealth.’
‘Farmer Simon,’ Aubrette giggled, and was silenced by an angry glower from him.
‘All it takes is one bad season for the crops to fail, and then there would be famine and starvation for these people. We would suffer too, Aubrette. It is nothing to laugh at,’ he said, sharply. ‘My own mother’s husband had lands to govern. One of my earliest memories, before I was taken to live with my royal family, was a year that the crops were deluged by too much rain. There was flooding, so they could not grow and there was not enough to sell at markets. There was not enough fodder for the animals and many had to be slaughtered. Our coffers had much less money in them because of the failure of the crops. We were able to sustain ourselves from our larders and bake houses, but I remember seeing village boys, the same age as I, growing leaner by the day as they had less food to fill their bellies. Then, some disappeared – died of starvation, I suppose. I was told of babies dying because their mothers could not produce milk to feed them. My father released some of our food for the people and it helped a little, but they still went hungry. I shall do what I can to prevent this happening.’
‘You never told me any of this,’ she said.
Simon shrugged his shoulders and wheeled his horse round to return to the manor house. The previously locked-up memories now filled his mind.
She briefly watched the villagers working the fields, hoping that one of the women would come towards her and announce that she was her long-lost mother, but nobody approached her. After a call from her husband to come away, Aubrette commanded the riders of the mules supporting her litter to follow after him.
Simon would later speak about his early days for the first time to her. He said he had not been aware that he was a royal bastard, having spent the formative years of his life with his mother and the man he regarded as his father. Then, one day, King Henry had come to his home and announced that he was the young boy’s natural father. Simon’s mother admitted that she had been seduced by the king with her father’s blessing, and that their encounter had lasted for just several days before the king, impatient as ever, insisted that his party to move on.
His mother had been married to a man many years older than her, when it was discovered that she carried the king’s child. Her husband was kind and tolerant to her, as he had adult sons of his own and had no need to breed from her. This situation was satisfactory to everyone and his mother carried her child to full term.
Once the child was born, her father had written to Henry announcing the birth of his latest bastard son. For this, the king regularly sent money for his upkeep, promising to bring the son to one of his palaces when he had reached a certain age.
After Simon’s revelations, he had said to Aubrette: ‘I intend to be a firm lord to these people, but fair to them if they respect and obey me. I want them to feel that they can come to me with their worries and their disputes. I shall be their father and their judge.’
Despite her sadness at not finding her mother, Aubrette felt a wave of admiration sweep over her. Her husband had a sensitive side that she had never known existed.
The ride back to Romhill was long and slow, and Aubrette looked demoralized as they trundled along the rough track. Villagers again paid their deference to both her and Simon, but she hardly noticed. In silence, the small party eventually passed through the gates. Simon dismounted and then went to help his wife from her litter, sensing her disappointment.
‘I did warn you that there was little hope,’ he reminded, gently, as he assisted his wife up the steps and into the hall, where Petronella stood waiting.
Simon looked up at her and silently shook his head. She stepped forward to take Aubrette from her husband and led her away to her private chamber to comfort her.
That evening, while Simon spent time working in his private chamber, Aubrette sat alone in her room by the warm fire that crackled reassuringly in its hearth. She had removed the necklace and was holding it up in the firelight to study it in detail. There was a simple base metal flat circle with a crude pattern engraved on it, and the colours that had once brightened it were now chipped and faded. It was worthless really. All through her life, from her childhood here at Romhill to the time spent in the Holy Land, and now back again to Romhill, this necklace had remained around her neck. She was amazed that it had never been lost or stolen.
This has been my mother watching over me and protecting me, she thought retrospectively. Then, she spoke aloud. ‘I will return you to my mother, I do not how long it will take. Until then, you are my only link to her.’ She sighed in resignation and fastened the necklace back in place around her neck.
Several days later, when Simon
was away, the housekeeper came to Aubrette and asked to speak to her. There was a woman waiting in the kitchen, who had arrived from the village, and she requested an audience with her on a private matter. The housekeeper stated that this woman looked quite sane, and she did not look as if she meant any malice or harm. At first, Aubrette wondered what advice Simon would give her before agreeing to see her, but the curiosity was too much for her to wait for her husband’s return. She agreed for the woman to be brought to her, asking for the steward to stay nearby.
She seated herself by the fire and waited, her fingers drumming nervously on the arm of the chair. The door opened and the woman entered, hesitantly. Aubrette rose to her feet and they stood regarding each other in a silence that seemed to last for a long while, yet was only a matter of seconds.
‘You wanted to speak with me?’ Aubrette asked, eventually.
‘The last time I saw you, you were on the back of an old mule leaving here,’ the woman said. She peered at the small necklace as if she knew it. ‘And that necklace was worn by Lady Rowena’s maid, a girl of similar age – that was you. Remember? I spoke to you.’
Aubrette touched the necklace, her heart beating wildly. ‘You are my mother?’ she asked.
The woman smiled and nodded. ‘I am Esma, your mother. I gave you that necklace the day you were born, when I had to give you away. Do you remember me telling you that?’Aubrette confirmed she did and gave a cry of joy. ‘Really? Are you truly my mother? I so wished to find you and now you are here!’ she trilled, excitedly.
She pulled her mother towards the chair with a delighted smile on her face. Her hands clasped together and gazed happily at her. Esma sat nervously on the edge of the chair that was offered to her, and hesitantly accepted food and drink from the servants who waited on her. Once they were alone, Aubrette could suddenly not think of anything to speak about. She had imagined over and over again what she would say in this situation, but now they were together, the words failed her.
Esma broke the awkward silence. ‘So, what happened to Lady Rowena? And how long have you been married to Sir Simon?’
‘Rowena died in childbirth while we were in the Holy Land,’ Aubrette explained, sadly.
‘The Holy Land!’ Esma echoed in shock, and Aubrette went on to describe the events that had lead to her sister’s death, the loss of Simon’s eye and their wedding in Cyprus. She even admitted to being the natural mother to Eustace and Raymond, due to her sister’s inability to bear a child of her own, explaining quietly, that Petronella remained ignorant of the fact.
‘And you, mother, what has happened to you?’ Aubrette asked.
‘After I was forced to give you up, I married Earic and we had five handsome sons,’ she said, proudly. ‘When the plague came, it took Earic and four of my boys. Chad was the only one to survive. He is married to Shona and they have a son of their own: little Avery.’ She paused. ‘No one knew of your existence. What happened with you occurred before I knew Earic. It was for the best not to tell him that I had borne a child before we were wed.’
‘So, what did you tell them when you came here?’ Aubrette asked.
Esma smiled again. ‘I told Chad that as the new lady of the manor, you had requested for someone to tell you about our village. A silly little lie, but I could not think of anything else to say. I could not tell him that you were his half-sister, as he would never have believed such a story.’
‘I want you to come and live here with me and Simon,’ Aubrette announced, suddenly, making the smile on Esma’s face fade.
‘No, I cannot do that.’
‘Why?’
‘Look at the both of us, I do not belong here. My place is with my son and his family. It is what I have always known and I’d feel uncomfortable having people like myself looking after me.’ She reached over and put a reassuring hand on her daughter’s, looking into her dismayed face. ‘I am happy to find you, and to know that you are well and have a good man to look after you. I’ll return home to Chad and we shall say no more. I’ll look out for you when you go riding, and I’ll know your children are my grandchildren. That is all I desire.’
‘I can’t lose you again, please stay here. Simon will understand and he will allow it,’ Aubrette said, her voice shaking with emotion.
‘I was ravished by Lord Oswyn when I was a maid and you, a lovely and beautiful child, was the result of his forcing me. I could not raise you myself, so my mother brought you here and Lady Petronella adopted you as her own. So you see, our lives have become too different now. You were raised to become a lady. I cannot stay. Chad and Shona will expect me back.’
‘Tell them I have requested for you to become the nurse of my sons. As you can see, I am with child again and shall need assistance when this little one is born.’ She put her hand over her stomach. ‘Tell them I wanted a local woman and was advised that you were the one who could help me the best.’
Esma frowned again. ‘Thank you, but I cannot live here. I would have to tell Chad the truth about you and I cannot lie to him.’ Her voice quavered as if in fear.
Aubrette would not be dissuaded. ‘Now I have found you, I do not want to lose you,’ she repeated.
Esma rose to her feet, now worried. ‘You shall not lose me, as I shall be in the village. Let me go home, please, back to Chad and Shona. This is too much for one day.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘I am so pleased to know you are well and have a husband who loves you. I’ll come back when your time arrives.’ Esma was insistent, then looked longingly at the uneaten food. ‘Can I take some of this back for my family? There is so much here and we do not have much, and Avery is a hungry boy.’
All the pleading from Aubrette could not dissuade Esma. So, with a sack full of food from the kitchen, she returned to her home in the village, promising to return.
Once Esma had gone, Petronella appeared. She had tactfully kept away, not wanting to intrude on Aubrette and her mother, but also because she felt uncomfortable at the thought of being so close to a villager – a commoner. ‘Your mother was right, she does not belong here as our equal. She has only ever known a life in the village.’
‘You took me in when I was a baby, a village baby. You did not think of that when you adopted me. You saw me ride away humbled as Rowena’s servant, and now you say I am your equal because of whom I have married? I am equal because of how you and my natural father raised me.’ Aubrette’s voice was high, angry at the patronising words she had just heard. ‘You had me locked away and only allowed out once my sister was married, while she was pampered and adored. You forgot to assume I was an equal then, didn’t you?’ She could not stop the words tumbling from her mouth. ‘I have tried to love you since my return for Rowena’s memory, and you made it so difficult for me until Simon spoke to you. How dare you say my mother is not our equal! She gave me up because she had no other option.’
‘I did not mean our equal in that sense, but that woman could never be comfortable living here. She hasn’t known you from the day you were born, so how could you trust her?’ Petronella scrabbled, attempting to find the correct words, but only succeeding in alienating Aubrette more.
‘I want my natural mother to feel that she can come here and be welcomed. She has a family who need her.’ Aubrette’s voice became softer. ‘I want her now, but I suppose it would make you uncomfortable if my mother came to live here. It would create an atmosphere again and that would be intolerable. I want my sons and this new baby to be surrounded by love.’
With that, Aubrette stalked from the room, angry with her mother for refusing to stay and angry with Petronella for her imperious attitude. She took her rage out on her horse, riding it furiously through the countryside until her anger had subsided.
On Simon’s return, this rash behaviour received a stern reprimand. He told her off for not taking care of herself during her condition and said that she should consider herself lucky
she had not harmed the baby.
‘How do I know this woman is your mother? She could be anyone claiming to be her,’ he said, steadily.
‘She is my mother, I know it, Simon. She told me how she came to give birth to me and her mother handed me to Petronella. My father revealed to me on the day you first arrived here how I was adopted and both stories match. Esma is my mother and I want her to live here now,’ pleaded Aubrette.
Petronella kept out of her way until Simon forced the two women to sit down either side of a table and resolve their differences for a second time. He admitted to them both his doubts about Esma living with them, but said she could have free access to Romhill, and could visit her daughter whenever she desired. Aubrette was instructed not to go to the village during the remaining months of her pregnancy. If Petronella was in the same room as Esma, she would be civil and treat his wife’s mother with courtesy. For this, Aubrette requested her husband send a messenger to the village to tell Esma of these terms, and he agreed.
Now the differences had been resolved, she would settle down and wait with patience for her time to arrive. Then, her mother would come and assist, along with Petronella and the midwife, and see this new life enter into the world.
Esma began to make more regular visits to her daughter. She was feeling more confident now about entering Romhill, but still refused the offer to move in and would only arrive at the kitchen door. She had not revealed the truth to Chad, explaining that she was assisting Aubrette during her pregnancy. So far he had believed her stories, but Esma did not know how much longer she could carry on with the pretence. When she arrived, Petronella would make her excuses and absent herself, saying that there was business elsewhere in the house that needed her attention.
Aubrette became curious about her half-brother and wanted to meet him. From the stories her mother had told her, Chad was a fine and honest man, hard-working and devoted to his young family. He sounded full of excellent qualities in a man and she felt she almost knew him already.