Beck: a fairy tale

by Nina Clare

  “Well?” his voice hardened a little, and his hand on her neck tightened. “Answer me, woman, has any man ever laid a hand on you?”

  “I...I do not understand why you are asking me this.”

  “Answer me,” he was crushing her hand and squeezing her neck.

  “You are hurting me, Arthur!”

  “Then answer me! Has any man so much as laid a hand on you?”

  Tears sprang into her eyes. He was pulling her head back and she felt he would break her hand, so hard was the pressure on it now. She would not answer him, he had no right to ask her, nor to be so brutish. Her life was bound to his whether she desired it or not, he could crush the bones of her hand and neck if he so chose, but he would not crush the one spark of life in her heart – the precious memory of Myles’s love for her. She would not let him rob her of that one secret that might sustain her in her life ahead.

  “The steward’s son,” hissed Arthur, his mouth close to her ear as he bent back her head. “Tell me that he never touched you.”

  She began twisting, trying to get free from his grip, but he only tightened his hold. He gave her a shake, “Tell me!”

  Something rose up within her, a desire to hurt him back, to wound his pride in revenge for hurting her.

  “Yes!” she said. “Yes! He loves me, and I love him – and I would that no man ever laid a hand on me all the days of my life except him!”

  Arthur gave a half-strangled roar of rage and threw her across the chamber, she fell to the floor and lay in a crumpled heap. She covered her head with her hands, expecting him to cross the chamber to beat her.

  “You’ll have your wish! I’ll not have a harlot for a wife!”

  She heard the sound of the lock turning in the door, the slight creak of the hinges, and then of Arthur slamming it shut behind him.

  Separations

  Lord Orlan was too elated at the long planned union of the families and estates of Orlan and Beck to perceive his daughter’s despair.

  “You have grown a little too thin, Cicely,” he admonished her as said his farewells the morning after the wedding. “A man likes his wife to have a little substance to her,” he joked, unable to refrain an admiring glance at the more generously endowed Lady Beck, who seemed to grow more desirable every time he saw her.

  There were moments when he felt a stab of remorse that he had married his daughter to Lady Beck’s stepson; had they not been so closely connected by marriage to make it unseemly, he would have been sorely tempted out of his widower-hood by proposing an alliance with the dark-eyed beauty. It was a wonder she had not accepted any of the marriage proposals that had been made to her since the death of the marquess. With her beauty and her dower she was a rare prize for some fortunate nobleman. And he had heard that she had received offers. But he gripped the feeling of regret like a vice; he would not dwell on such things. To have broken Cicely’s betrothal would have robbed her of a secure future for herself and her children. What he had done, he had done for the good of all. And the king had desired it also.

  Arthur announced to his wife and his stepmother that he would be making his abode in Stoneyshire Castle. Now that Percy was not at Foxeby to run the manor, and the dowager marchioness was leaving to her inheritance of Beck House, his new wife would stay and oversee the manor. He had dismissed the steward. He would re-hire the previous steward that Lord Orlan had replaced with Master Digby. His father’s old steward was good enough for him.

  “But Arthur, Master Digby has been an excellent steward these past eleven years, he has been most diligent in his management,” his stepmother protested.

  “Ask my wife why I am replacing him,” said Arthur with a spiteful look at Cicely.

  Lady Beck looked at Cicely. But Cicely shook her head and looked away so her mama would not see the tears welling up.

  “I am certain Percy will come home soon when he has come to his senses,” continued Lady Beck. “He will take over the running of the estate, and then you will send for Cicely, will you not? Though I do consider the castle is not so comfortable as here. When Cicely bears children she must not spend her confinements in such a draughty place.”

  She looked from Cicely to Arthur, sensing the gulf of coldness, and even hostility, that was between the newly married young couple, and bewildered as to its cause. Surely it was some misunderstanding between them?

  “I’ll not have Percy under this roof again,” said Arthur. “As far as I am concerned I do not have a brother. He is dead to me.”

  Lady Beck gave a gasp at such harsh words. He could not mean what he said. What was all this bad feeling and misunderstanding between three of the four children?

  “If you will be at the castle, then I beg you would let me stay here with Cicely to help her in managing the manor and estate,” Lady Beck petitioned. “If Master Digby is not going to be here to help her, and you are not with her, she needs someone to assist her.”

  Cicely gave her a grateful look. Oh, that Arthur would let her mama stay. That would ease her sorrow.

  Arthur saw the look and hardened his heart. His wife had betrayed him. She should have belonged to him, and to him alone, and she had let another man touch her. He was not going to allow anything that would give her pleasure or ease. And besides, to have his stepmother at the manor was to have that darned upstart of a half-foreign son there too. He would never forgive him for that day in the courtyard. Never.

  “You and your son will leave as planned.”

  “He is your brother also,” said Lady Beck.

  “I do not consider that I have any brother, madam.”

  Felix had been stood in the doorway, and had overheard the conversation.

  “If I leave as Percy has done, will you allow Mama to stay with Cicely?” Felix said, coming forward to the group.

  Arthur turned his head to see the tall, dark brother he had just disowned approaching.

  “Felix, what are you saying?” said his mama.

  “I want to go with Uncle Lopo,” said Felix.

  “Go where?” his mama shook her head so that her ringlets quivered with the movement, and the pearls in her ears and her hair glimmered.

  “To Portgua. To see my family – our family.”

  “Felix!” his mama was appalled. Her precious boy, going away at so young an age!

  “Please, Mama,” urged Felix. “Uncle Lopo believes it will be a good education for me to travel. He will teach me the ways of an ambassador – I have to learn – I have to gain a position, I cannot always be living with my mama doing nothing but riding horses every day.”

  “But you are so young!”

  “I am near fifteen, and of age for continuing my education abroad. Uncle Lopo agrees.”

  “I agree also,” said Arthur, pleased at the idea of shedding another unwanted relative. “Let him go, madam, and you may stay for one year to assist my wife in learning to run the estate.” With that he left.

  Cicely felt hope revive in her at this concession. “Oh, Mama, please stay with me,” she begged. “If I were Felix, I too would greatly desire to take the opportunity to travel and see new kingdoms.”

  “But the world is such a dangerous place,” said Lady Beck, images of highway robbers and seafaring pirates and unscrupulous men and their evil ways crowding in on her. Felix was so full of confidence he thought he was ready to take on the world, but he had led such a sheltered life. She could not bear it.

  “Mama, I am at the age for beginning my apprenticeship.” He crouched down on his heels before her chair, and took her hand in both of his. “I will only be gone for a time. Uncle Lopo will train me up and then I will return. We will make our home in Beck House, and I will work at court when I have finished my studies. We will be very happy.” He smiled his broad and winning smile up at her.

  She put her other hand out to caress his beloved face. She knew she could not hold back this strong willed son of hers. She could not keep him with her always; he was no longer a child.

  “You
will be gone so long, how will I bear it?”

  Felix appealed to her with his eyes.

  “I do not say yes, but I will consider it. I will speak to your uncle.”

  Felix could not restrain a grin of satisfaction. Uncle Lopo would persuade his mama. He was certain of it.

  “Cicely?” Lady Beck stepped into the bedchamber that Cicely shared with Arthur.

  “Yes, Mama?”

  “A delicate matter, my dear. I am required to show the bed sheets to the priest.”

  “Bed sheets?” Cicely looked confused.

  “To show the evidence of consummation. It is a requirement of the marriage contract.”

  “Oh.” Cicely sat down heavily on the end of the bed. “But...Arthur did not...lie with me last night.”

  It was Lady Beck’s turn to look confused.

  “But he was witnessed coming upstairs to you.”

  Cicely dropped her head, unable to meet Lady Beck’s gaze. She felt ashamed and distressed when she thought of the terrible scene that had taken place between her and Arthur on their wedding night.

  “He did come in here. But...he left again soon after.”

  “Cicely, are you saying that your marriage has not been consummated?” Lady Beck knelt down and took hold of Cicely’s hands.

  Cicely nodded miserably.

  “And now Arthur is leaving you behind while he goes to live at the castle.” Lady Beck looked worried. “This has serious implications.”

  Kat and Penny were sent to unpack the dowager marchioness’s boxes, and to re-pack Lord Felix’s.

  “Imagine travelling to other kingdoms,” said Kat, as she folded Felix’s clothes, wrapping them in linen.

  “I should be afraid,” said Penny.

  “I wouldn’t. Not if I were a man. Men can go anywhere with their swords and daggers at their sides. Why does no one teach girls how to defend themselves so they can travel?” She sighed.

  Penny glanced over at her. Kat sighed a lot these days; she was very impatient with her lot. Penny had accepted that their lives would never change. It was just the way things were. But it was very unsettling, all this other change. Lord Percy gone – nobody knew where; Lord Arthur altering things around the manor now that he was the new marquess; Lady Cicely had lost her happy, sweet ways, and now dear Lord Felix, whom they had watched over from the day he had been born – now he was leaving. Penny stifled a sigh of her own.

  As Kat bent over the wooden chest she was filling with Felix’s clothes, she failed to notice that a small stone, the size of her thumbnail, had dislodged itself from its place, tucked into her stays, and had rolled out into the trunk where it nestled between Felix’s linen shirts and his woollen hose.

  Felix was drifting off to sleep on the night before he was to leave with his uncle when a thought pierced his dimming consciousness so sharply that he sat bolt upright in his bed. It was as though a voice had spoken to him in a compelling tone – telling him that he must not forget to visit the old herb-woman before he left on his travels.

  He thought back to the old woman who had visited his mama some years ago, he remembered he had been about ten years old. An image of her came clearly into his mind – the old woman putting a dirty hand upon his arm, telling him that he was to see her before he left on his journeys, for she had something to give him. How was it that she knew that he was to leave? He had not anticipated the events that led to his exciting journey tomorrow, was the woman a witch? He heard Bellchior’s voice now, admonishing him for thinking ill of a old and impoverished woman. He lay back down onto his pillow and yawned. He would beg Uncle Lopo to let him visit the old woman on their way through Foxeby tomorrow morning. He would give the old woman a gold sovereign as a farewell token.

  Kat was also drifting off to sleep on the straw filled pallet that served her and Penny as a bed. Her hand had moved habitually to the little quartz-like stone that she kept tucked inside her bodice. The little stone she had come to value as a charm, for Old Catchpole had not struck her once in all the years she had carried it. She sat bolt upright with a gasp of dismay.

  “What is it?” murmured Penny, pulling the cover back up that Kat had dislodged.

  “My charm!” said Kat, sounding panic-stricken in the dark. “I can’t find my charm!”

  “Do you mean that piece of stone you always carry?”

  “Yes! It’s gone!” Kat jumped out of bed and was frantically searching for it on the floor.

  “You cannot find it in the dark, we will find it in the morning,” said Penny sleepily, “come back to bed.”

  Kat reluctantly lay down again, but she slept very fitfully till dawn.

  Journey

  Penny awoke to find her sister frantically scrabbling about the floor of the little antechamber they slept in.

  “It’s gone – I can’t find it anywhere!” Kat looked as though she had lost a great treasure.

  “It’s just a stone,” said Penny, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “You don’t really believe it’s a magical, do you?”

  Kat sat back on her heels; her light brown hair was tousled and falling in wayward waves about her face. “Everything got better for us when the herb-woman gave me that charm,” she said piteously. “It did, it really did, Penny!”

  “What got better for us? We’re still up at dawn working all the day long, with never a break. Nothing has changed.”

  “It did for me. Catchpole hasn’t hit me once since I got the charm, and we were moved here we used to sleep on the floor in the kitchen before, remember?”

  “That’s just coincidence. It will take more than a pebble to change our luck.” Penny got out of bed and tidied away their pallet and blanket. “We need to hurry down and get the breakfasts. Master Felix is leaving today, and Lady Beck will be up early to see him go.”

  Felix hated all the good-byes. His mama did not weep often, but she was sobbing softly that morning. Even the prosaic Madame Labelle looked as though she might shed a tear at their parting. Cook wept loudest, and Cicely looked the most miserable.

  Felix felt a weight of relief lift from him as he left them behind and rode away to the gatehouse. He turned in his saddle before he reached it and raised his hand in one final farewell. Once the manor and it’s weeping women were out of sight he felt elated. He was on an adventure. New kingdoms waited to be seen. New experiences in the big wide world that he had longed to explore for so long. But first he had one task to perform.

  “Lead the way to the old herb-woman’s cottage, Bellchior,” he cheerfully ordered his newly appointed man-at-arms, for his mother had insisted Bellchior go with him. “I’m told you know the way.”

  Bellchior did not show any hint of surprise, or ask any questions at this request. He flicked his horse’s reins to move ahead of the party of three, and led the way.

  Wilder Wood arose at the furthest border of Foxeby village. It began gradually, thinly populated with beech and ash trees; the further one travelled into it, the denser it became, the beech and ash dwindling away as the great old oaks and hornbeam grew up tall, broad, and stout.

  “We must leave the horses here,” said Bellchior, when the trees grew too closely together to be able to ride easily. “The herb-woman lives that way.” He pointed between two great oaks.

  “I will wait with the horses,” said Lord Amando. “Be quick, lad, we have a long ride ahead.”

  Felix followed Bellchior’s tall, lean figure. “How can you know the way?” he marvelled. They appeared to be picking a random path through the trees, the light growing gloomier the further inwards they walked.

  “There is a path,” said Bellchior.

  “Where?” Felix looked about the ground.

  “Young master has not yet been trained to see closely. I see a path.”

  There was a rustling from the undergrowth as they walked. Felix was sure that the noise and movement was following them. He put his hand to his dagger at his side. Wild boars could be fierce. He recalled Cook’s tales of ferocious badgers th
e size of sheep, and the legend of the white wolf that was said to roam the heart of Wilder Woods. He hoped it was a legend, because the rustling noise that seemed to be tracking their path came from something that was of a good size. But Bellchior seemed unconcerned, and Felix was not going to show fear before him. But he was glad that Bellchior and his sword were with him.

  The rustling suddenly stopped and the ground began to clear. Across the clearing a one-legged chicken hopped before them with a shrill squawk. Three more chickens, all with both legs intact, were scratching and pecking before a dilapidated hut that sat between a holly bush and a hornbeam tree. It was so ramshackle it looked as though it could lean over and collapse into the holly bush at the slightest gust of wind.

  “Is this her cottage?” said Felix; amazed that anyone could call such a tumbledown abode by the grandiose name of cottage.

  Bellchior went to the grey-weathered boards of wood that served as a door and rapped.

  “Come in!” called a cracked voice. Bellchior pushed the door and they stepped inside. Just as Felix stepped across the threshold he turned his head, having glimpsed out of the corner of his eye a shape in the undergrowth beyond; the shape of a large, white creature of some kind. Could it be a white badger the size of a sheep...or a white wolf? The animal disappeared, and he closed the door.

  The first thing Felix saw in the gloom were two cups sitting on a small tree stump that made for a table. The shack was dark and smoky, a little fire glimmered at one end of the house, its smoke circling up to a hole in the roof, while stray wisps of wood smoke trailed through the air inside. As Felix’s eyes adjusted he made out the old woman, sitting near the fire plucking leaves from a basket of herbs in her lap.

  “Drink up,” she urged, “I made it special for you. ‘Tis fresh made.”

  Felix looked at the crudely hewed wooden cups on the tree stump. He lifted one to his nose and sniffed. It smelled of woodland moss and wild mint and something he could not name. Bellchior lifted his cup in thanks to the woman and drained his down. Felix took courage and did the same. There was a strong and bitter after-taste and he could not refrain from pulling a face. The old woman laughed, a cackling laugh that ended in a spasm of coughing.