by Ann Turner
He returned with the boys, leaving Corbin in the nursery. They stood at the back of the room with Aubrette, who was holding Ned the dog on her lap, as the local priest administered Last Rites to Petronella. Eustace was standing brave and tall, not wanting to disappoint his father by crying like a weak female. Raymond, younger and more sensitive, and who had always been his grandmother’s favourite, could not disguise his emotions and allowed the tears to fall. His father explained that their grandmother would be ascending to heaven soon and, despite his young age, he understood. The heavy smell of incense wafted around, made Ned the dog wrinkle his wet black nose in disgust. Aubrette stroked his smooth coat, calming him. She could feel his soft body trembling, sensing that all was not well with his mistress, and he began to whimper softly. The whimpering grew louder and turned into a mournful howl, as Petronella slipped into death to be reunited with Oswyn and Rowena.
The small church that stood on the outskirts of the village, close to the manor house, tolled its bell dourly as the sad procession wound its way to its open doors. The masons working on the improvements commissioned by Simon ceased their work and stood back in reverential muteness. They took their caps from their heads and clasped them in large, rough, calloused hands, as the silent mourners followed the carriage carrying the coffin along the track. Villagers also walked towards the church, wishing to pay their respects. Lady Petronella had been distant to them but never unkind, and they were sad for her passing. With the villagers was Esma, accompanied by Chad and Shona, who had Avery balanced on her hip. This sad occasion would be a chance for Aubrette to meet her half-brother and this made her feel apprehensive. What would they say to each other? How would he react to the revelation that he had a half-sister, which his mother had never spoken of until now? Before they could meet to talk, there would be the funeral service, and then Petronella’s coffin would be placed into the Redfearn family vault to rest for eternity beside Oswyn.
Simon solemnly led the mourners from the church, grim-faced with his head bowed, and with Eustace and Raymond following him. Eustace held his young head high, while Raymond copied his father and kept his eyes fixed downwards. Aubrette walked behind her husband and sons; though she was mourning her step-mother’s death, she was quietly eager to see her own mother and half-brother. Looking at the villagers waiting outside the church, she scanned the faces for Esma and saw her with Chad standing by her side.
She softly whispered to Simon that she wanted to hold back and speak with her mother. Simon glanced at Esma, his eye briefly flicking over Chad’s face, and agreed for her to remain for a short period. He insisted that the steward should wait to escort her back to Romhill, and he would expect her to return soon. He led the way back to the manor house, while Aubrette approached her mother. The steward hung back, waiting for instructions by his mistress.
Esma stepped forward, arms outstretched, and took her hands in her own, smiling sadly. This was not a time for jollity. She turned to her son and beckoned him forward.
‘Aubrette, this is my son, your brother, Chad.’
For the first time, Aubrette took a full look at her half-brother. He had a mop of black hair with a fringe that hung over his eyes, which he brushed aside constantly. His eyes were brown and his skin was tanned from a life spent in the open air. He had long limbs, strong muscular arms, and large square hands with long fingers. There was little affection in his eyes as he took in the details of his half-sister’s features.
‘Half-sister, I finally meet you. My mother told me about you. I had thought it strange that she kept returning to the big house with the excuse that she was caring for you. She finally told me about how you came to be.’ He looked her up and down. ‘So, now we are a family reunited, when can my mother, wife and son expect an invitation to move into Romhill with you? It would be good to have food in our bellies regularly and a soft bed to sleep in. What do you say?’
His voice held a hint of malice and Aubrette felt suddenly afraid of him. Her life had been for the most part easy, and she had not suffered starvation as Chad and his family had experienced. An answer to his question would not form in her mind and, sensing her hesitation, Chad raised an eyebrow. ‘Tell you what, half-sister, this is what we’ll do. I’ll return to my tumbledown shack that I call home and, with my family, we shall collect our belongings together. It will not take long and then we’ll come to the main door at Romhill, where you shall welcome us with open arms, eh?’ A satisfied grin crossed his face.
Esma turned to him. ‘Chad, don’t be so ridiculous. Aubrette has her own life at Romhill, which you and I do not belong to. I visit her to see my grandsons and that is all. Believe it or not, I do not wish to live there. I feel uncomfortable having equals waiting on me,’ she argued.
He looked at his mother astonished. ‘All it took was an accident of birth to give her a life of luxury and me this hard life. What is wrong in wanting to have an easier life than we suffer now?’
‘That is cruel to say, Chad. Aubrette’s father raped me and my own father threatened to throw me out because I became pregnant. I had no say where my daughter went after her birth, and I never knew where she lived. My life is good and honest, and I raised you and your brothers to be grateful for what you have.’
‘Being good and honest does not put food on the table, mother. How often have we gone without food? Tell me you never heard my son crying with hunger? If we took more than our rations due to us, we were punished. I’ve seen men with hands hacked off simply because they wanted to feed their family and were accused of stealing rabbits from the field, or deer from the woods. I am meant to be grateful for that?’
Aubrette watched the exchange between mother and son. Chad’s wife kept out of the quarrel and turned aside, ignoring her to talk quietly with Avery. She was keeping him preoccupied so that he would not hear his father and grandmother’s cross words.
Aubrette eventually interrupted the argument. ‘I shall speak with my husband on this matter. I have wanted my mother to come and live with me, and I had not thought about how you would feel, Chad. That was wrong of me.’
He looked sullenly at her. ‘Very well, that will do for now. I expect an answer to the affirmative before long. Come, mother. Shona.’
Chad spun on his heel and headed back towards the village. Shona, with Avery wriggling on her hip, gave Aubrette a shy, nervous smile and followed her husband obediently. Esma hung back and turned to her.
‘Do not worry about Chad. He is tired from working in the fields and sometimes says things he does not really mean. He feels he is responsible for us since Earic and his brothers died. He feels guilty about being the only one to survive.’
‘I cannot bring you all with me now, as Simon would never allow it. I do not think he would approve of Chad.’
‘I am his mother, let me talk with him and make him see sense. I am sure we can come to some agreement.’
Aubrette returned to Romhill with the weight of Chad’s words pounding in her mind. She was sorry now that she had been so eager to meet him. He was not the man she had imagined him to be, she compared every man to Simon, but then she had also lived a protected life where there was always enough food, and she or Simon never had the fear that there was not enough to feed her growing sons.
She saw Simon on her return and told him how the meeting had gone. It took her some time before she gathered up the courage to tell him about Chad’s intentions of a life at Romhill.
‘I will not allow that crude man in my home to disrupt our lives,’ he said. ‘He shall not upset you or go near my sons. When you see your mother again, tell her my words.’
This comforted Aubrette, as she did not have the courage to tell Chad her husband’s decision herself. Chad and his family would have to remain in his village, and she would forget him. If only it could be that easy – she had so wanted to learn about the stranger who was her brother, and this curiosity had led to
nothing but problems.
Esma’s reaction to Simon’s word did not surprise her. She promised Aubrette to pass the message on. Her son would have to accept the judgement from the man who owned the land he worked and to whom he owed his existence, and there was little that he could do about it. For this, Esma repeated that she would not leave her family – even more so now. Chad would not respond favourably to the news and she was afraid of how he would react, as he had a history of violence towards both her and Shona. It would therefore be better for Esma to remain with her son than abandon him, as she did not want to be responsible for him turning his fists on his wife, or worse, his son.
Later that night, Aubrette and Simon were woken by their housekeeper. She said that there was a woman in the kitchen in urgent need of help. When Aubrette asked why had not the housekeeper dealt with the woman herself, the reply was “Lady, you should come yourself.” Pulling a wrap around her body, she followed her husband and the housekeeper to the kitchen and cried out aloud at the sight of Esma, who was sitting hunched on a stool and staring blankly into the dying embers of the fire. There was a cup of warmed, spiced wine in her shaking hands. In the fading firelight, Aubrette could see bruises and cuts on Esma’s face, and the streak marks where tears had rolled down her cheeks. She looked up and, seeing her daughter, a sob caught in her throat and the tears began to fall again.
‘Mother, what has happened?’ cried Aubrette, crossing the kitchen to kneel by Esma’s side. Shakily, spilling the contents over her hand, she put the cup down and brushed the tears from her face.
‘Chad drunk too much ale and was complaining about your husband’s decision. He said it was my fault that he could not come here to live, that I was a slut and a harlot and a burden to him. He told me to get out of the house and never come back. Then he went to hit Avery, because the child would not stop crying. Shona tried to pull him away and he turned on her, beating her. She took the beating to protect her son.’
Esma looked down, not wanting her face to be seen, as though concerned what her daughter would think. ‘I tried to stop him, too, and he hit me. He was cursing me, hitting me, punching me, kicking me. He said that he could not live here, with a traitor that lived in comfort while he starved. He said I was no longer welcome in his home and could no longer rely on his good nature to feed and shelter me. Shona was screaming at him to stop, and Avery was frightened and screaming.’ Esma stopped talking briefly, touching her side and wincing with the pain. ‘I fell back against the table and must have lost consciousness, when I awoke I was alone. Chad had taken his family and had gone, but I do not know where.’ Her voice, shaking with emotion, grew low. ‘I could not think of anywhere else to go. I am sorry, Aubrette. Let me remain here tonight and I promise to leave in the morning.’
‘You shall do no such thing. You have nowhere else to go, so you shall stay here. I will hear no more about it,’ Aubrette said, firmly.
Simon stepped forward, putting a hand on his wife’s shoulder. ‘My wife is right. Stay here. Rooms shall be prepared for you. Do you know where your son might go?’
Esma shook her head. ‘I am worried for Shona and Avery,’ she admitted, her voice quavering. Looking up, the extent of the blows to her face could be seen clearly in the fading firelight. ‘He has never beat us this hard before, and he has never threatened Avery.’
‘We shall talk more in the morning, when you have rested. I shall attempt to discover where that creature went,’ Simon promised and signalled to Aubrette to help her mother.
Esma slowly stood up, flinching at the pain in her body. She allowed herself to be led from the kitchen to a hastily made-up truckle bed.
The following day, Simon rode out to visit the other local landowners to find out whether Chad and his family had come begging to them for work. He returned with no news. The home where they had lived was abandoned – all the plates, cups and bedding remained, but food had been taken away. Simon could not understand how Chad, with his wife and child, could have gone so far away in so few hours. Someone had to be protecting them, hiding them from view and retribution.
Gradually, Esma settled into her new home and the memories of her life in the village diminished. Although her room was small for Romhill, it was enormous to her and she revelled in the comfort this new life offered. Her grandsons loved her earthy sense of humour and she would play with them for hours, insisting she paid her way by helping their nurse. She never became fully accustomed to having servants wait on her, and despite Aubrette insisting she allowed the servants to carry out their duties, Esma would go to the kitchen and help there. Aubrette was glad to see her mother happy and laughing, and allowed her the freedom to live her life in the way she wanted.
60
The king only spent six months in England, settling affairs and disputes, before setting off for Normandy to see his brother. His aim was to quell the revolts that had sprung up during his absence, and regain control over his errant brother.
In the castle at Rouen, the two brothers stood face to face. How does he manage to look so magnificent after all he has endured? Prince John thought bitterly to himself.
I should name Arthur as my heir, yet what mischief could John achieve if I do not mollify him? King Richard thought. He then smiled warmly and held out his arms to his brother.
‘John, my heart rejoices to see you after so long,’ Richard lied, convincingly.
The brothers embraced with a public show of emotion neither felt. John forced tears into his eyes.
‘I was afraid that you had come to harm when I heard you had been kidnapped.’ John’s lie was as convincing.
‘So you could usurp the throne from me?’ Richard spoke lightly, as if in jest. He smiled again. ‘Dear brother, it gladdens my heart to know you remain loyal to me.’ He gave John a small bow. ‘While in Durnstein, I had much time to think about my future, the future of the empire and many other things, and I came to the decision that I shall name you as my heir over our nephew, Arthur. He is still a boy and no good comes from the accession of a minor. You are a grown man, and you are the son and the brother of kings, so you are most suited for this onerous and heavy task.’ Richard could choke on his honey words, but he knew the English would never accept a foreign boy like Arthur as their king – and though he cared little what the English thought, he knew there would be civil wars if Arthur ascended the throne after his death.
John looked adequately surprised, suppressing his elation, and kissed his brother’s ringed hand. ‘Bless you, sweet brother, this is a decision you shall never regret. I shall follow your example and become a king that the English will remember for generations.’
As he spoke, John barely believed the blather he spouted from his own mouth. England and the Plantagenet dominions in France would be his – naturally – and then he would behave exactly as he desired. It would be his own personal coffer for him to dip into whenever he desired. Women would be his to take and to use how he decided. The barons would not dare to cross him; they would give him his every demand, either willingly, or they would be forced to comply and feel his wrath.
The brothers parted soon after and Prince John departed for England, leaving King Richard to continue the reconquest of Normandy. One of the few things that displeased him mightily was that the bishops commanded him to reunite with his abandoned wife. They had been appalled by his treatment of such a virtuous princess. So, hiding his unwillingness, he summoned his wife to join him on his campaign and they lived together as husband and wife.
Berengaria had been lonely since Joanna had married Raymond of Toulouse. The letters she had written the queen, were full of joy and happiness, and it seemed that she was content in her marriage. Berengaria, however, had heard rumours that Joanna and Raymond had a tempestuous, physical married life. Joanna would always be a headstrong woman and was reluctant to be commanded by any man, so would not accept a life of deferential obedience. She was
a true Plantagenet. Lucky woman, Berengaria thought.
Richard’s call for her to join him made her sceptical, but she stubbornly remained determined to make the reunion work and to give him an heir. She questioned her husband as to when he would bring her to England, enthusiastically telling him she had a great desire to see his kingdom. His brief reply was the same as always. He had battles to fight and dissent to settle – the same excuses used in the Holy Land. He had no intention of fetching her to England; he had not changed his feelings for her and never would. This reunion had been demanded on him by the clergymen, so it was nothing to do with desiring her presence beside him. During a month’s worth of enforced, fumbling, awkward and reluctant nights with the queen, heaving, grunting and pushing on top of her, nothing occurred. Still, she failed to conceive. Perhaps it really is me and I am barren, the queen thought sadly.
Their life together slowly began to unravel once more. Richard’s visits to Berengaria’s bedchamber again became less and less, until they ceased completely. She spent the days with her women working on embroidery and taking lonely walks in the gardens, and spent evenings playing cards. The king never paid court to his wife while they were in the same castle. If by chance their paths crossed, he would bow and she would curtsey, then he would ask after her health and she would reply that she was well, and thank him for his concern. And that would be the extent of their pleasantries. There was no reason to attempt to pretend that they were gay when they met. This mockery of a marriage would never produce issue, so why pretend any more?
With his usual single-mindedness, Richard was suppressing revolts and investing all of his energy in warfare. His wife, yet again, was the last thought in his mind. It was only when he returned to Rouen and Berengaria was not waiting for him, standing in the arched doorway with a cup of wine to welcome her husband home, that he thought of her. It appeared that she had finally given up.