‘It’s always Lylie do this and Lylie do that, and Lylie why are ya such a lazy, stupid slut! I’m just useless and everybody h-hates me!’ sobbed the stallholder.
‘I told you I was no good at this!’ the sheriff hissed at Rowena, by now looking rather panicked at the river of tears he had unwittingly started.
She glared back at him unsympathetically. ‘Try harder.’
‘Alright, alright.’ He moved around to the girl’s side of the stall. ‘I was cursing my bad luck, not you.’
‘I bring b-bad luck with me everywhere; nothing never g-goes right where I am!’
After casting a final look on his clerk that condemned her for putting him through this, Sir Richard drew the still-sobbing pot seller behind the back of the stall, out of sight of the gawking eyes that were beginning to be cast on the drama. There he sat her on a wooden crate and sank down beside her.
Rowena was then surprised to see the stallholder fling her arms around Sir Richard, bury her face against his chest and sob as if her heart was about to break.
After scanning to see that no one but Rowena was watching, he let the girl cry on his shoulder. The look on his face made it clear that she was tolerated rather than welcomed.
Rowena shot him a meaningful glare.
What? he mouthed silently back.
She rolled her eyes.
Once he had sent a peeved look Rowena’s way, he put his arms around the girl, rather awkwardly, as someone might a fragile thing liable to crumple at the slightest pressure. ‘Hush now…’
This earned him a nod of approval from his clerk. At least he was trying.
When her rivers dried up at last, the stallholder lifted her head from her sheriff’s now tear-soaked doublet. ‘I didn’t mean to be so trying,’ she whispered, suddenly overcome with shyness.
‘Don’t worry,’ he replied, ‘I’m used to it. I’m always making women cry. The mere sight of me does the trick in many cases.’
She smiled a watery smile. ‘If I told my stepmother I’d been crying on the shoulder of the Black Sheriff she would slap me for being a liar.’
‘Well, the post has demanded that I turn my hand to a far greater number of things than I ever dreamed it would. So—Lylie, isn’t it?’
She nodded.
‘Will I ever shake off that title?’
‘Even if you changed the black horse, the black clothes and the black scowl so familiar to the folk of Hartfield, they’re so used to calling you the Black Sheriff that I doubt they’d ever stop.’
‘Do you come to the market every week to sell your wares?’
She nodded miserably. ‘Me stepmother comes too, but she always leaves me to it while she goes and drinks in the alehouse. When she returns at the end of the day, she always scolds and slaps me for not making enough money. But what am I supposed to do if thieves steal things while I’m busy trying to fend off dirty old men? Or know when folks give me the wrong money and I’m not learned enough to tell? I’ve tried to find a job as a live-in servant so I can escape, but the only place who offered to take me on was the Boar and Ring. Even a simple country lass like me knows ’tis more than likely they had jobs beyond sweeping and cleaning in mind for me.’
Rowena stepped a little closer. ‘Sir Richard, wasn’t I telling you only the other day that we could do with a cleaner at the castle?’
‘Yes, I do recall that. Can we afford it?’
‘I would not have suggested it if we couldn’t.’
He turned back to the young stallholder. ‘Would you like a job at Eaglestone Castle? The rats are large and the pay is small, but you will not be ill-used.’
Lylie nodded eagerly, her eyes now shining with joy instead of tears. ‘When can I start?’
* * * *
Sir Richard held a bundle of clothes out to Rowena. ‘I am still not entirely convinced that this isn’t a hare-brained idea.’
‘That is well and good,’ she replied, taking the clothes, ‘but do you have any better ideas?’
He pushed his hair back with nervous fingers and sighed. ‘No…no, I don’t. Sergeant Gallagher and about half a dozen men-at-arms are set up in ambush. I intend to wait here until you are ready to set out on the woodland path, then I shall join my men.’
Rowena pulled the black nun’s habit over her head and struggled for a moment to find the sleeves and head-opening amid all the voluminous cloth.
‘Yes, just pull it down,’ he said, giving the garment a helping tug.
As she finally emerged from the heavy woollen folds, a knock sounded on the door.
Sister Elfreda’s celestial countenance glided into view around the door of the cell where Rowena was changing into her disguise. ‘It is still a little early for Sister Alice’s normal trip down to the spring. You are welcome to wait here until it is time.’
After thanking the nun, who had shown her and the sheriff every kindness and given all possible assistance, Rowena returned to frowning at the white wimple she was holding.
Sister Elfreda hurried to her aid with a cheerful smile. ‘I can put that on for you.’
‘You are too kind, sister.’
The nun quickly set about putting it on Rowena. ‘It is a brave thing you are doing. All of us here at St Agnes’s are very grateful that you are willing to do this.’ Sister Elfreda smiled her heavenly smile at the seated sheriff. ‘And I must say, Sir Richard, we were pleasantly surprised that you were prepared to go to so much effort over this. Although it was taken with a grain of salt (admittedly some took a larger grain than others) we have heard a lot of talk among the local people about how you are not going to any trouble to look into the kidnappings and the murder of your clerk, Thomas.’
He grimaced sourly. ‘There are a few people who seem to think that if they put pressure on me by spreading false rumours about how I’m corrupt and never bother investigating any crimes, preferring to arrest the first suspect I come across and nail it on them, it will help the felons get caught.’
With nimble fingers, the serene nun tucked the last bit of the wimple into place. ‘From what I have heard, our sheriff being corrupt was not mere malicious rumour.’
‘It is now.’
The graceful Sister Elfreda turned to Sir Richard and smiled warmly. ‘Well done. The humble folk of this shire must be very relieved. Now, is there anything else I can do for either of you?’
Rowena tugged at the unfamiliar and rather awkward-feeling new headdress. ‘No, thank you kindly.’
Sister Elfreda clasped her hands together in front of her. ‘I will pray for your safety and success. May Our Lady and the holy Saint Agnes bless and protect you.’ And with that she was gone, leaving the scent of lavender and rose oil hanging in the warm air.
After the nun’s departure, silence reigned for several minutes. Rowena paced back and forth in the tiny cell while Sir Richard lounged in the room’s only seat.
‘I like your new costume,’ he broke the tense silence at last. ‘It makes you look terribly saintly.’
She stopped in front of him. ‘Oh, that’s good. If I’m killed protecting nuns from evil villains perhaps they’ll confer sainthood on me and say hundreds of masses for my soul.’
‘Why are you talking like that? You seemed so confident about this before.’
‘It’s this wretched waiting; I can’t bear it!’ she cried suddenly, clutching her clammy hands together and continuing her nervous pacing. ‘And how come you are occupying the only chair in this spartan place? she added. ‘It’s not very gentlemanly!’
‘You are welcome to sit.’
‘How can I?’ she snapped crossly. ‘You are sitting on the only chair.’
He smiled and held out his hand to her. ‘Come here; I want to ask you something.’
She came up to him. ‘Oh Lord! It might only be half an hour we need to wait, but it seems more like half a day,’ she moaned, feeling more frazzled by the moment.
He took her hand and patted his knee. ‘Here, you can sit on my lap.’
He smiled up at her, entreating her to comply.
‘Oh alright, I’ll humour you just this once…’ Now with a hand in each of his, she let him draw her towards him and hopped onto his knees so she faced him.
‘There is something I have wanted to ask you for some time,’ he began earnestly. ‘What you are about to do could be dangerous, so I do not wish to delay any longer even though I still do not know how to say this.’
She held her breath in anticipation. He was not much given to emotional speeches. This was most unusual…
He glanced down at her hands, clasped in his. ‘As I said, my crude skills are inadequate for this, but—’ His dark, intense eyes met hers. ‘I will do my best, poor as that is sure to be. Rowena—’
‘Yes?’
‘I love you. Marry me, Rowena! Let me taste that undeserved happiness!’
.14.
The Spirit’s Morning Call
ROWENA stared back at him in silence. Then she looked down uncomfortably. ‘Sir Richard, if you marry me you will become a commoner. Your honour and your family’s name would be debased. In the eyes of your peers you will be nothing. Your relatives—they will cast you out. I saw what that did to my mother—’ She paused to swallow the painful lump in her throat. ‘And I will not—cannot—allow myself to be the cause of such a fate to anyone I care for.’
He pressed her hand passionately to his lips. ‘Be my mistress then! Even if you were not my wife in the eyes of the world, in my doting eyes you would be. I would give to you every fidelity and provision that a wife has a right to expect.’
She shrunk back a little. ‘Sir Richard, no! I—I—’ She found herself desperately searching for words. ‘I care for you, but—’
‘But you’re afraid of me,’ he finished for her grimly. ‘You think me a brute still. You mistrust me… God, to be seen so in the eyes of the lady I love!’
‘I’m sorry; I cannot deny that it is true. At times, you have the sheer, primal beastliness of a starving wolf.’
He squeezed her hands tightly. ‘Your eyes speak what your lips will not, Rowena. Tell me that you do not love me, and I will never talk to you of this again!’
‘Sir, do not ask that of me, for I do not know the answer—oh, you are hurting me; loosen your hold, I beg!’
‘Forgive me, beloved!’ he gasped, letting her hands go. ‘I’m like a giant hand capturing a beautiful butterfly and—’ he paused for a moment, overcome with emotion, ‘crushing its wings so it cannot fly.’
‘You know as well as I that there is a dark, tortured, twisted corner of your heart where no light falls—a place from which your anger can suddenly leap out like a wolf from the dark depths of the forest. I feel I cannot trust you as one should a husband, nor entirely rely on you. It is a foolish woman who takes a lion into her chamber and believes herself safe from its bite.’
He stared bleakly over her shoulder, his face bathed in the golden light of the sinking sun which flooded in through the cell’s only small, high window. ‘I understand. I must not expect any fair, wise and virtuous woman to love a brute like me…’ As he spoke, a lone tear overflowed the dark, glistening pools and rolled slowly down the pale cheek.
‘Oh Richard, please don’t take it like that!’ she cried, and kissed his cold cheek. ‘Only a bit of you is a brute, not all of you! Forgive the harsh words I must speak…’
The glittering dark eyes remained locked on the wall behind her. ‘In that moment of unredeemable shame when I had my vile hand about your throat, you gave me cause to believe that, previous to that unpardonable act, I held a place in your affections I now do not…’ His voice was almost a whisper.
She pushed the stiff dark hair back from the pale, quivering face. ‘I was naive. I believed, like the woman who thinks her tame lion’s taste for flesh will not extend to herself, that you would not harm me. The marks upon my throat took two weeks to fade.’
In a flash, the dark eyes found her gaze. ‘Do you think I don’t love you enough?’
‘I know you love me as truly as it is possible for you too. But it is easy to love those things that are good to us, and that do not thwart us or try us. A heart filled with love finds something to love in everyone, no matter their agreeableness or usefulness. ’
All traces of the tears were removed with one pass of the back of a large hand. ‘You are right. I should not have let my anxiety for your safety draw me into asking for your hand. Forgive me for taking such a liberty.’ His voice was a hard monotone.
She knew from experience that it would not be any use trying to talk Sir Richard out of his bleak mood. If he was just left alone, it would usually lift before long. But it was still hard seeing him like that and knowing she had been the cause of it.
Seeing how high the golden tongues of sunlight had climbed up the silver birch visible through the window, Rowena was reminded of the time. It must be almost half past seven.
That still left just enough time to have a snack. She reached into her pocket and fished for the apple she had dropped in earlier. But the rosy red fruit never got to her mouth, because just then, the door suddenly burst open.
‘Sir Richard, what are you doing with that nun in your lap?’ screamed a livid Abbess Hawisa. ‘You wanton, fornicating devil, I’ll ruin you for this! Your name will be mud! Do you hear me? Mud!’
Holding the apple suspended midway to its destination, Rowena froze in shock. She did not dare look behind her.
But Sir Richard looked boldly up at the unexpected visitor and casually leaned back in his chair. ‘When was it that you gained the gift of being able to see through solid objects? Were you born with it, or did it develop as your saintliness increased?’
Although Rowena could not see the abbess, she could tell Sir Richard’s unexpected reaction had left her stumped.
‘What…what do you mean?’ Abbess Hawisa stammered furiously. ‘I’m ordering you to get that nun out of your lap at once!’
Sir Richard smirked darkly. ‘Perhaps you would like to show the abbess her mistake?’ he suggested to Rowena.
The petrified young woman slowly climbed off her sheriff’s knees and turned around.
Abbess Hawisa, puffed up like a bullfrog with anger, deflated immediately. ‘Oh.’
Sir Richard got up, put his hand on Rowena’s shoulder and looked the abbess calmly in the eye. ‘Rowena and I are going to be married.’
Abbess Hawisa did not linger long after that, and neither did the sheriff and his clerk, who maintained an ill-boding silence until she was clear of the convent.
‘Married! Why would you say a thing like that?’ Rowena demanded as she hurried along the lavender-lined path after Sir Richard, almost having to break into a jog to keep up with his long stride.
‘Because we are. You just don’t know it yet,’ came the matter-of-fact answer.
‘What right have you to tell the abbess a thing like that?’ The unexpected announcement had made Rowena cross, and being forced to address all her questions to the back of Sir Richard’s head was making it worse.
‘I wished to spare you from shame.’
‘But it’s a lie! Abbess Hawisa will go and tell everyone we’re betrothed, and I will be a lot more shamed then!’
‘But it’s not a lie, because—’ He suddenly stopped and spun around to face her. ‘I am going to marry you.’
‘What—’
But he interrupted her. ‘I think I should leave you here and go to join Gallagher at the ambush. Here.’ He held the wooden pail he was carrying out to her. ‘You’ll need this, ‘sister’.’
They were halfway across the meadow now. She took the pail in her hand, suddenly becoming subdued at this reminder of the task ahead of her. ‘Yes, you had better get into position now.’
She turned to go, but he caught her by the arm. ‘Wait a moment—’ He tucked a rebellious red curl back under her wimple. ‘There, now you are perfect.’
She bit
her lip nervously, her annoyance suddenly forgotten. ‘I just hope our plan is perfect too.’
‘God’s blessing and mercy be with you, my love.’ Then he planted a kiss on her forehead and was gone.
He really could be charmingly insufferable… Rowena shook her head fondly as she watched him move swiftly across the meadow to the woods bordering it and disappear into the trees.
Suddenly feeling very small and very alone, she clutched the pail’s rope handle tightly. The sun now dipped low in the sky, and the only sound on the empty path was a distant blackbird’s song. The forest seemed strangely silent, as if holding its breath in anticipation.
She kissed the thin golden sun-pendent hanging around her neck and determinedly set off. Her eyes were fixed on the stile at the bottom of the meadow. Once she was in the lane, she took deep breaths to slow her pounding heart and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
As the young woman walked, her imagination conjured up terrifying visions of death and disaster, and her mind swirled with doubts. He had been right; it was a ridiculous idea. She was all alone on this empty path with night falling…she had not thought it through properly—had only thought of the relief it would be to catch the felons.
The terrifying reality of being the bait in such a honey-trap hit her with blood-chilling, hair-raising, clammy-handed force. She needed every bit of self-control she possessed to prevent herself from turning back.
And she was desperate to search the wooded bank to her left where the sheriff and his men said they would be lying in wait. Just the merest glimpse or sound would have brought her great comfort, but she knew she could not look there lest it gave away their position.
After the hardest two hundred paces she had ever walked, she reached the place at the bottom of the dell where water bubbled up from between mossy limestone boulders and splashed down into a small rocky pool. A narrow set of steps led the last few paces down the steep bank surrounding the spring.
The Heart of Darkness Page 22