She had thought she would be able to see the palace from all of town, and was surprised to find that was not the case as she went further from it. The land was lower here, and blocked by buildings, and to make matters worse, the streets seemed to be emptying.
Anne never needed to know much of holidays. She relied on Sarah or her other handmaidens to tell her where she needed to be when, and what she should feign excitement over. But she realized now that she had been told something about the next day. Sarah had told her she should get back to the palace well before dark, as people would be heading home in the afternoon to make their preparations for the next day.
So Anne found herself wandering empty streets, feeling far more conspicuous than she would like. She wanted to ask someone, but was afraid that her manner would give her away, and by the time her fear of being stuck in the village after dark and being discovered because of that overwhelmed her fear of arousing suspicion from the villagers, there was no one around to ask.
So Anne kept wandering, hoping desperately that someone would show her the way.
She turned down a street with signs that she identified as blacksmiths, and was amazed to hear the ring of one lone hammer, still at work, echoing down the street.
She made her way quickly toward it, not only because she needed the assistance of whoever wielded it, but also because she wished very much to know who was still working when everyone else in the entire village, it seemed, had left their work.
She found the shop, a small one at the end, and knocked on the door. There was no answer. So she knocked again, louder. Still, there was no response from inside the shop. She weighed for a moment the possibility of going back, but without anyone to ask directions from, the situation was still dire.
She pushed open the door and went inside. The shop was smoky from the furnace, and the man working the hammer had a look of intense concentration on his face that made her immediately understand why he had not heard her knocking. He had no shirt, and his body was sooty from his work, and wet from the sweat of working next to the furnace. The object in his hands was something finely turned, and she could tell even though it was red-hot that it was no horseshoe or simple sword.
The man himself had arms like she’d never seen. Perhaps it was simply because she had been so sheltered, even where she had been raised, that she had never been allowed much contact with men of the lower trades, and certainly had never been exposed to them without their shirts on. Now she understood why.
She stood for a little while, unnoticed and transfixed, watching the way his muscles tensed with each blow. Usually people around her were half afraid and half scattered, distracted from whatever they were doing by fear that she would tell her husband something bad about them and there would be dire consequences. But this man didn’t know, and didn’t care. He had one focus in the world, and it seemed impossible to separate him from it.
Finally, apparently satisfied, he placed his work in a trough of water, and his silhouette in from of the wave of steam that rose from it took Anne’s breath away. She must have made a noise, because he suddenly looked at her, seeing her for the first time.
He wasn’t afraid or startled, but merely seemed curious.
“What are you?” he asked, and Anne was insulted in spite of herself.
“I’m Jane,” she said, feeling guiltier from the lie than she had anticipated. She wanted to tell this man the truth, though she’d rehearsed mentally all day what she would say to any commoners she spoke to.
“Hello, Jane,” he said. “I meant ‘what are you?’ What do you do? I’m sorry, but you seem strange to my eye. You don’t hold yourself right. And I’m sure I would have seen you if you were from here.”
Anne was momentarily taken aback. She’d planned to claim to be a baker, but she saw now this was impossible. She searched her mind…
“I’m a trader. I trade. I travel. I’m sorry if my manner is strange to you, but truly your manner is strange to me.”
This didn’t seem to fully satisfy him, but it stopped him asking questions, and that was enough for Anne. Instead, he walked closer to her, and she found her heartbeat speeding up with ever step he took towards her.
“Hello, Jane,” he said. “I’m James.”
He walked closer to her than any man ever did. Usually she was given her space by all men, in fear of her husband, who also never stepped this close to her unless they were in the marital bed. She suspected – or was it hope? – that men didn’t generally stand this close to common women, either.
With him closer to her now, she could see more clearly the sweat rolling down the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen.
“Is this your shop?” she heard herself say, not really interested in the answer. She could not believe her own thoughts. They had always been tame. She had always wanted only some hazy image of a future husband in some clean, subservient way. And since she had had a very real, very unwanted husband, she hadn’t wanted any man at all. But now that James was before her, she found a very real desire deep in her, hidden for all the years of her life, bursting out with all the vigor of the trapped animal it was.
“No, I’m an apprentice,” she heard him say, only barely. She was stepping closer to him, without really meaning to. Her body was doing what it pleased on its own, and she found her own very valid fears were unable to do anything about it.
She had to touch him, she knew. She had to know what it felt like to touch this man. And then, quite as a surprise even to herself, she had placed her hand gently on his chest.
He seemed confused at first, but only for a moment. He placed his hand over hers, and then regarded her suspiciously. His questions from before came up in his eyes, but then were shoved aside, as he brought his lips down to hers.
He tasted like salt and somehow like cinnamon. The kiss was long and deep, and Anne felt light on her feet. Her heartbeat was frantic, scattered, and she wrapped her arms around him to steady herself. He was the only thing holding her on this Earth, she felt.
He drew back from her, his chest heaving as he breathed, just as she knew hers was.
“You smell like – I don’t know. You smell like sweet things I’ve never smelled before.”
He was bewildered, but smiling. The preparations her husband had demanded she make for him had pleased this man, this commoner. Anne laughed loudly into the shallow space between them in spite of herself. If her husband knew this, it would destroy him. If he could see his wife in the arms of another man…
This thought lit a fire deep down in Anne’s body, and this time she was the one to bring her lips to James’. Then she kissed his neck, making her intentions known with every desperate, searching kiss she planted on his salty skin.
When they had finished, and lay together in the little cot in the back of the shop, she could still feel him inside her though he was now lying half asleep beside her.
“You surprise me, Jane,” he said, with a gentle familiarity that Anne now realized she’d never felt. It warmed her, even as a draft from a poorly built window beside them blew across her skin, pulling her nipples back to attention. James saw them, and shifted to his side so he could play with them idly.
“I surprise myself,” she replied. She had time to really look at his face, now. He had kind features, she finally decided. That was the best way of thinking of it. He looked like a man who could be trusted, not only with great things but also with all the little ones.
Anne felt herself getting drowsy. She felt safe here with James. She’d only just met him but still she felt more and more at ease with each passing moment. It was so unlike with her husband, she thought.
Her husband! She jerked up, and awake.
“I have to leave,” she said. He body felt strange. He’d used her up and now she had to discover again how to walk as she searched around the shop for each piece of clothing.
“Which way is it from here to the main road?”
James was confused, but he gave her directions. When she go
t to the front door of the shop, she found him standing there, questioning.
“When will I see you again?” he asked.
Anne felt she couldn’t answer truthfully. She didn’t truthfully know the answer. She couldn’t see how she could possibly see him again without great risk to both their lives, but then she also couldn’t bear the thought that this could be true.
“You’ll see me every time you close your eyes,” she said, with a put-on ease that surprised her nearly as much as it embarrassed her. And then she slipped out the door before he could kiss her and her body could force her to stay.
Chapter 3
She arrived back at the palace with barely time to speak to Sarah and change from the commoner’s clothes before the rest of the servants would arrive for her nightly ritual.
“What took you so long?” Sarah asked. Anne told her she got lost and she had to find directions, but Sarah was not fooled.
“You couldn’t!” was all she could say at first.
“Please tell me what you are referring to,” Anne replied, with an artificial formality that probably only gave her away further.
“Milady, you can’t. Who was it, even?”
Before Anne could reply she shook her head and stepped back.
“No – no, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
Anne did not argue further, and Sarah did not further comment until they had her prepared for the other servants. In silence, Sarah worked quickly, and they found themselves with another minute to themselves before the throng arrived.
“You can’t,” Sarah said. Her attitude now was less accusing or outraged. She looked only sad for her friend, and understanding of the unfortunate truth behind her words.
“Of course not. Of course, I can’t.”
Anne heard herself say the words, and let the tears come. She was supposed to be despondent, so they would offer no cause for suspicion for the servants now coming in the door to prepare her. And when they had gone she lay on her side and tried the best she could to remember James’ face, and commit it to her mind, so that she wouldn’t forget over the lifetime ahead of her without him.
Chapter 4
Anne kept to Sarah’s good advice for a solid week. When they were alone together they did not speak of it, but Anne noticed that Sarah was treating her more gently than she generally did. But Anne found that the words kept building up in her, and finally they overflowed.
“I don’t know if it is possible for me not to see him again,” she said finally, in a moment when they were alone between arranged engagements with a visiting viceroy. Sarah knew immediately what she was speaking of.
“Milady, men have a way of taking good judgement from us. It’s our duty as women to take it back.”
Anne laughed a little. The joke was intended to lighten the mood between them, and it succeeded, but only a little.
“I wouldn’t be endangering you, would I? Is this your concern?”
Sarah seemed insulted by the implication. She slipped into acting.
“No, sir,” she said, “how could I have known? She asked for time alone and I granted it to her. I was only doing my duty. I wouldn’t have wanted to disrespect her wishes, for that would be nearly like disrespecting yours, and I could never do that.”
Anne hugged Sarah, much to her own surprise.
“It’s impossible,” she said. “But it’s worth it.”
The next time Anne showed up at James’ shop, she found him not alone. His master was there, and he reminded Anne uneasily of her husband. He was overbearing and seemed skeptical that she should want to speak to his apprentice.
James came to her rescue, claiming they were making a side agreement on the projects he was pursuing in his spare time.
“She is a trader,” he said, “And finds use for the objects you believe have none. She believes they will be bought far away.”
James’ master snorted in derision, and Anne thought he looked not entirely unlike a pig. But he believed James, and after Anne insisted that she would only make deals with the maker of the goods himself, finally left them alone to speak.
They were not free to do as they wished. She could not touch his rough, sooty hands, and he could not hold her head in his hands and ask her where she had gone to. But they were able to arrange to see each other in an hour in a place James knew in the forest.
Anne carefully listened to his directions, and was determined not to lose her way. Even so, when she finally came upon the place where he said they should meet each other, she felt she must have somehow lost her way. It was a burnt out house that looked like it had been long abandoned. There were the remnants of a mill, but little else in the way of explanation of what this house had been doing here. The roof was gone, but there were stone foundations still in place.
Anne waited there for a while. She found a place to sit amongst the rubble. Momentarily she considered that he might have discovered who she was and gone to her husband, but the thought only lasted a moment before she dismissed it as ridiculous. He was suspicious, she knew, but even if he had learned the truth, she felt certain he’d never have revealed her. There was too much kindness in him for that.
After what seemed like an eternity to Anne, James appeared. He carried with him a bedroll that he lay in front of her. Then he kissed her, long and deep, until she forgot even the hint of nervousness.
“Where have you been?” he asked her, his face still close to hers. “I asked around for traders named Jane. I tried to find you. No one could tell me anything.”
Anne knew her story would be stretched thin. She knew it would be stretched beyond the point of believability. She considered for a moment telling him the truth, but found herself struck with doubt. If he knew who she was, he would know that making love to her was signing his own death warrant. If he knew this, would he do it?
Anne found herself taking many risks lately, but this was one she couldn’t.
“Do you need to know?” she asked him, while her hand gently explored the body she’d so missed. “My life is a secret to you, I know. But it needs to be, at least for now. I can’t explain why. But I have to believe in the way you look at me that it’s worth the secret, is it not?”
The words felt more confident coming out of her mouth than she expected. Something about James emboldened her. She’d always been quiet and submissive, and she’d always thought it was simply the way she was. But being with James, even the short time she’d spent with him, showed her it wasn’t.
James wasn’t pleased with the secret, but he accepted it. He accepted it so that he could have her, wholly and completely, again and again. They often met in the weeks and months that followed. They made love, yes, but they also spoke with each other about the things they wished they had, and the life they wished they had together. On occasion, James would gently probe, asking her what her secrets were, and why she felt she could not reveal them. Time and time again she would tell him only that they were her own, and that their weight was hers to bear.
In time she wished she’d told him, but the habit of keeping the secret itself always stopped her. She wished he knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
On James’ part, he told her everything. He told her how he hated where he was. He had apprenticed himself as a blacksmith because he liked the work, and he believed he could be good at it. And it had turned out to be true, but his master was a cruel man and, now that James was at the age where he should have his own shop, was refusing to let him go. The projects he undertook on his own time were all that kept him sane, and even those he no longer felt much passion for.
“In truth, I was excited when you said you were a trader, Jane,” he told her once. “It’s struck me lately that all I’ve seen of the world is this house and that shop and that village. If I could I would see more of it. I have to believe that in all the world, there’s more worth seeing than this.
That was also the day when Anne learned what the house was they routinely met in. She
had meant to ask the first day, but became far too distracted to do so by the things she’d wanted to do with his body for the whole time she’d been away from it.
Now he explained to her that it had been where he had grown up. His family had lived there as millers, and had done a decent job of it. But sometime after James had gone off to be an apprentice, the house and his entire family in it had burned down.
Anne was shocked when she learned that this is where he had chosen to take her, and where they had made love. But he only shook his head.
“This is the only place I know,” he said. “And besides, it was long ago now. And it seems only right that where I lost all that I loved, here I should find all that I love.”
This was the first day that he had said he loved her. Somehow in all their physical professions of love, they’d always let the words go unsaid. But once they had both said the words, they said them again and again and again.
One meeting, five months after they had first met in his shop, Anne could see that James was troubled. He still made love to her, but as they lay together under the clouds, she could tell that his mind was far off.
She leaned up and kissed his neck.
“You can tell me,” she said.
He sighed derisively.
“Like you tell me things?” he said. There was a harshness to his expression that took Anne aback.
“I’m sorry,” he said, seeing he had hurt her.
They lay for a while, neither one saying a word. Finally, he spoke.
“My friend is dying tomorrow. He’s to be executed. He was arrested only a few days ago. He’s guilty of what they say. He didn’t pay the taxes he owed. But he had no choice.”
Anne didn’t know what to say. She wondered if she could do anything about it, but her mind was struck immediately by the absurdity of asking her husband or his advisors to spare her lover’s friend. That would only endanger them both, and would not save James’ friend.
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