by Anne Herries
‘Yes, that is the best,’ Rob agreed. ‘To use gunpowder might cause damage to the structure of the castle and bring it down upon our heads. Brick it up and mark it with the sign of the devil so that no one is ever tempted to open it.’
They followed the others through the tunnel to the chamber that had housed the torture chamber and dungeons. Rob took Melissa into his arms again now that their path was clear. He looked down at her pale face, fearing the worst for she had not murmured since he brought her out of the cell, but her eyelids flickered and he knew that she was still alive.
‘Lead the way,’ he said. ‘I must get my lady to a physician for she needs attention or she will surely die…’
Chapter Eight
‘I fear she is very ill, sir,’ the physician said to Rob after he had examined her. ‘She has taken a virulent fever and is like to die. I am not sure that I can save her. Perhaps hot coals to her forehead or the leeches…’ the man broke off as he saw Rob’s expression. ‘To cool the bad humours in her blood, my lord. It is a recognised cure…’
‘Damn you,’ Rob muttered angrily. ‘You are nothing but a fool, sir. Get out of my sight for I shall not answer for my actions if I see your face again.’ He went to sit by Melissa’s side as the man left hurriedly, bending over her to stroke the damp hair from her forehead. She had been so cold when they first brought her here, but now she was burning up with fever. ‘You must not die, my love,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Do not condemn me to a life alone, Melissa, for I shall never love another.’ There was no sign that she had even heard him and he got to his feet as the door opened behind him and Naomi came in.
‘How is she, sir?’
‘No better. That fool of a physician said she was like to die. I sent him away. My father said they were all knaves and he was right. I wish that Megan were here! I know that she would help her.’
‘I believe that I can help her if you will trust me, sir,’ Naomi said. ‘You have no reason to believe me for it was my Geoffrey that helped take your lady to that dread place. He knew that it was wrong, but like others he feared to disobey his lord.’
‘I believe he took her food, water and a blanket—your doing I suspect?’
‘I could not bear to think of her there,’ Naomi said. ‘If you will forgive him for the wickedness he has done, I shall do all that I can to save her.’ She looked at Melissa as she threw out her hand and moaned.
‘Has he recovered from his wound?’
‘He will have pain for some time yet,’ Naomi said. ‘But I put the hot irons to his wound and it will heal, and I have given him something to cure his fever. Now I would help my lady—if you will permit it.’
Rob hesitated for a moment. He wished that Megan were here for he knew that he could trust her, but Naomi seemed honest and he had no choice.
‘I shall leave you to tend her then,’ he said reluctantly. ‘But I shall return soon and sit with her. I cannot be by her side all the time for there is work I must do—but I shall come as often as I can.’
‘I shall tend her and my young sister Rosalie will help me, sir. I swear on all that I hold dear that I will never harm her.’
Rob inclined his head. ‘I shall trust you because I must,’ he said.
‘I understand your doubts, sir, but you may take my life if I fail you.’ Naomi stood proudly before him, her gaze unflinching.
Rob smiled wryly. ‘I am a fool, forgive me. I shall leave her in your hands.’
Naomi smiled and took her bowl and pitcher to the trestle table that stood opposite the bed, setting them down while she prepared the mixture that she hoped would ease her lady’s fever.
Melissa was tossing and turning in her fever as Naomi approached the bed. She suddenly opened her eyes and sat up, staring in front of her.
‘He comes…’ she cried, and gave a cry of terror. ‘The winged monster comes for me…’
‘Nay, sweet lady,’ Naomi soothed her. Melissa had fallen back against the pillows, her brow bathed in sweat. Naomi wiped it away with a cool cloth, smoothing the perspiration from her neck and shoulders and her arms. Then she lifted her a little with one arm, holding a pewter cup to her lips, the liquid dark and thick as it trickled into her mouth. ‘Drink, my lady. ‘Tis bitter but it will help you.’
‘Thirsty…’ Melissa moaned, and swallowed as the cup was tipped against her lips so that a good measure of the cure went down her throat. She pulled a face at the bitter taste, but after a few moments it seemed to calm her.
‘That is good,’ Naomi said, and smiled as she lay Melissa back against the pillows. ‘Rest for a little now, lady, and then Rosalie and I will bathe you and make you comfortable.’
She smiled as the door opened and a young girl came in carrying a jug of warm water. She set it down on the trestle and stand, coming to the bed to look down at Melissa with pity in her eyes.
‘Is she very ill, Naomi?’
‘Yes, I fear she is, sister.’
‘Can you cure her?’
‘You know that I can, as long as I am not questioned. I have never dared to use all my arts in this place for I feared to be taken and hanged as a witch, but it is different now. I think Robert of Melford trusts me—and as long as he does not interfere I shall save her. But everything must be done in the right way, the leaves and berries gathered at a certain hour. The healing arts are not just in the cures themselves, but in the words that must be said as they are prepared and administered. It is to God that my prayers are given, but some believe that the words I use invoke the devil.’
Naomi’s art had been taught to her by her father, who had studied medicine in the great universities of Florence, Milan and France and had been a skilled physician, welcomed at the courts of foreign princes. Yet she knew that his methods were frowned on by the new school of thought that believed the use of religion in medicine to be blasphemous.
‘You know that I shall not betray you,’ Rosalie said, looking anxiously at her sister. ‘I do not have your skills, Naomi, but I believe in you. I have seen you cure others that the doctors said would die.’
Naomi smiled at her. ‘Then between us we shall nurse my lady back to health again, but you must swear never to reveal my secrets to another soul.’
Rob sat by Melissa’s bed. For three days and nights the fever had raged and it seemed as if nothing would abate it. He knew that Naomi was using all her arts to help Melissa, but he was afraid that it would not be enough. He leaned forward, stroking her cheek, the tears trickling silently down his cheeks.
‘If you die I do not know what I shall do,’ he whispered. ‘It is not seemly for a man to weep and beg, Melissa—but I love you too much, my darling. I shall have no wish to live if you leave me.’
Melissa’s eyelids fluttered. She moaned and moved her hand on the bedcovers, as if searching for something. Rob took her hand and held it, then carried it to his lips, kissing it, his expression tortured as he felt the frustration surge in him.
‘I beg you not to die,’ he said, his voice breaking on a sob. ‘My darling, do not leave me. Please do not die…’
‘Rob…’ It was a mere whisper, barely audible but he heard it and leaned closer.
‘Melissa…’ he said hoarsely. ‘I am here. I am with you, my dearest love.’
‘Water…’ she said. ‘Thirsty…’
Rob got up and went over to the jug standing on a coffer in the corner. He poured some water into a cup and brought it back to her, standing by her and slipping an arm beneath her as he lifted her, making it easier for her to drink. She took a few sips and lay back. Seeing that she was lying awkwardly, Rob lifted her while he rearranged her pillows. As he did so, a small pouch was dislodged and fell to the floor. He bent to pick it up, noticing that it had a pungent smell. He settled Melissa and walked away to look at the pouch more closely in the light of the candle. As he did so, the door opened and Naomi came in. She saw at once that he had found the charm she had placed beneath Melissa’s pillows.
‘It aids her sleep,’
Naomi told him. ‘She was dreaming of the monster that came on wings to carry her down to Hades. Since I placed the charm beneath her pillow she no longer cries out in fear.’
Rob’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. Naomi was a pretty woman, a little plump for his taste, but comely. ‘Are you a witch?’ he asked, and smiled as he saw the fear leap into her eyes. ‘No, do not fear me, Naomi. Megan is a wise woman and some would name her a witch, but she has helped us many times. I know that there are many things that we do not understand, and if you have the magic arts you use them for good not evil.’
‘I have been called a witch,’ Naomi said. She faced him proudly, though her heart was hammering for she knew that if he condemned her she would die by the rope. ‘I use my arts to help but only those who give their permission, for I know what my fate would be should I be suspected of witchcraft. I should be hung and then burned—perhaps before I was truly dead.’
‘It is a wicked practice,’ Rob said, ‘for many an innocent woman has been sent to a cruel fate for doing nothing but trying to help others. You may rest easy, lady. I shall not betray you—unless you harm my wife. I should show no mercy then…’
She broke off as they heard a cry from the bed.
‘He comes…the monster comes…’ Melissa moaned and sat up, her eyes wide and staring but not seeing them. ‘He comes for me…’
Naomi took the pouch from Rob and went to the bed, placing it under Melissa’s pillow. She stroked her forehead, crooning something that Rob could not understand for it was in a tongue he had never heard before. As he watched, the fear left Melissa’s face and she fell back to her pillows again, seeming to rest more easily.
‘I believe the fever is waning,’ Naomi said as she turned to him once more. ‘If I am right she will be better by morning.’
‘I shall thank God for it,’ he said. ‘And you, Naomi, for I think that without your care she would have died.’
‘Leave her to me now, sir,’ Naomi said. ‘There are things I must do for her—and I believe you have much to occupy you here.’
‘Yes, you are right,’ Rob agreed. ‘Before the King moved on, he bid me secure the castle. He has taken it and all the manor lands for himself, but he appoints John of Leominster, the marquis’s cousin, now steward here, to run it in his absence. I am to return to London as soon as Melissa is well, for he wishes to speak to both of us again.’
Rob inclined his head to her and turned to leave. He knew that the Marquis of Leominster had been sent to the Tower in chains to await his fate, which, despite his pleas, would probably be death by the axe. Rob could not find it in his heart to feel pity for the man after his cruelty to Melissa. Indeed, only the King’s arrival had stayed his hand, for after Rob had seen how ill she had been treated, he had wanted to kill Leominster with his bare hands.
Henry had taken charge once he arrived. Some men had been hanged, others allowed to swear fealty to him as King. Some of the men of Gifford and of Leominster had asked to follow Rob; others were to return to their homes, which would now be passed to new owners. For though the King had seized both Leominster and Gifford, he might give them as a gift to one of the nobles that had served him well. The favours cost him little personally and would help to secure the loyalty of those he gathered about him, and he would need that in the coming months. England would need a steady hand at the helm if the civil wars that had raged these past years, tearing the country apart, were to end.
Rob had been promised new honours when he next saw the King, for Henry would be crowned soon enough. Rob was summoned to bring Melissa and attend the coronation, and only then would he be allowed to return home with his wife.
Henry had frowned when Rob told him that he had married Melissa, for in truth he had had no right, except that of conquest. However, once her story was made known to him, Henry had wished him well. Perhaps because he too had taken what he wanted by force.
‘You have served me faithfully, Robert of Melford,’ he said. ‘Bring your wife to me in London and we shall see…’
Rob had watched Henry ride away. He would keep his promise to attend the coronation. He prayed that Melissa would have recovered and be well enough to accompany him by then.
Melissa opened her eyes and gave a little moan as she felt the pain at the back of her head. Her head was aching terribly and she felt so very thirsty; it was strange but the light seemed to hurt her eyes at first and it was several minutes before she could accustom herself to it.
‘My lady, you are awake at last,’ Naomi said, and bent over her, laying a hand on her forehead. She smiled because it was cool and dry. ‘It seems that the fever has left you. Your husband will be pleased when he comes to see you.’
Melissa frowned for her thoughts were confused and she could not think clearly. ‘My husband? I do not remember…’ She sighed. ‘My head aches so much…’
‘It is because of what happened to you,’ Naomi said. She fetched a cup of wine mixed with herbs, holding it to Melissa’s lips. ‘Sip a little of this, my lady. It will ease your headache and in time you will remember—though perhaps it might be best if you did not remember all of what has happened.’
‘Have I been ill?’ Melissa pushed herself up against the pillows. The effort was almost too much for her and she closed her eyes, feeling weary. ‘What happened to me?’
‘You have had a fever,’ Naomi told her. ‘Your husband brought you to me and I have nursed you. He comes every day and every night to spend time with you, but he has much to do for he is charged with securing the castle before he leaves.’
‘The castle…’ Melissa wrinkled her brow for there was a strange blackness in her mind and she did not know where she was. ‘Am I married to the Marquis of Leominster?’
‘No, lady,’ Naomi said. ‘He was the monster who hurt you so. Your husband is Robert of Melford—do you not recall that you married him before you were snatched from Gifford and brought here?’
‘Rob…’ A little smile touched her mouth for she remembered that she loved him, but she had no memory of having wed him. ‘Am I truly his wife? I remember that we rode together on his horse through the forest and he held my hand as I walked in the stream…’ She looked at Naomi in wonder. ‘I remember that we pledged ourselves one to the other…but my father made me send him away. I cannot remember our wedding…’ She looked at Naomi. ‘I seem to remember that my father sent me to be married to the Marquis of Leominster…’
‘You were married to Robert of Melford at Gifford,’ Naomi said. ‘When they brought you here, you begged me to help you escape but I dared not. And then…’ Naomi faltered for she did not know whether she ought to tell Melissa that she had been imprisoned in the oubliette. If her mind was shutting out the terrible memory, it might be that she would not be able to bear the truth. ‘It was the Marquis of Leominster who had you snatched from your kinsman’s home and brought here—and it was he who made you ill.’
‘I see…’ Melissa frowned. She was beginning to remember snatches of things but there were dark patches in her mind and she was frightened to examine them. ‘You are sure that I am married to Robert of Melford?’
‘Yes, my lady. Quite sure.’
‘Then I am content,’ Melissa said, and closed her eyes. She seemed to fall into a deep sleep almost at once.
Naomi looked at her in concern. She had not expected this and it made her anxious. It was true that she had hoped her lady would forget the terrible experience of being shut in the oubliette, but she had not thought that she would forget her marriage. Robert of Melford might be angry with her for he might blame her for his wife’s loss of memory.
Rob stood looking down at Melissa as she slept. She had been sleeping for a long time, but Naomi had said that it was good. She needed to sleep because of all that she had suffered. As he watched, the urge to kiss her came to him, and he bent down, brushing his lips over hers. She stirred and murmured something, and then she opened her eyes and smiled at him.
‘Rob…’ she said slee
pily. ‘You are my husband…’
‘Yes, my darling,’ he said. ‘We were married at Gifford—do you not remember?’
‘I am not sure,’ she said. ‘I remember that day in the forest…and that day in the meadows when we promised to love each other.’ She saw the scar and frowned. ‘Your poor face…what happened to you?’
‘Do you not remember?’ he asked. Melissa shook her head, seeming puzzled and anxious. ‘It does not matter. It was inflicted on me by an enemy, but he is dead now. All that matters to me is that you should be well again.’
‘I am very tired,’ she said. ‘I have been ill but I do not know why. I suppose I had a fever…please, may I be alone now?’
‘You have had a fever, my love,’ Rob said. ‘Sleep now and you will feel better soon. When you are well again we are bidden to the King’s coronation.’
Melissa nodded. His words seemed to come from a long way off and she was drifting again, drifting into sleep. There was something at the back of her mind that frightened her. She did not want to think about it! She pushed it away, because she knew that if it came to her she would die.
‘Yes, go to sleep now, my dearest,’ Rob said. ‘I shall see you in the morning.’
As he went outside, he met Naomi. She was carrying a clean nightrobe for her mistress and a small flask of dark coloured liquid.
‘She does not remember what happened to her in that terrible place,’ he said. ‘Was that your doing?’
‘No, I swear that I have done nothing to erase it from her mind,’ Naomi said, a flicker of fear in her face for she could see that he was troubled. ‘She is shutting out the pain she cannot face, for she remembers some things and not others—though whether she wishes it so or not I cannot say.’
‘She did not recall this,’ Rob said, touching the scar on his cheek. ‘Does that mean she wants to forget it exists?’
‘I do not know these things,’ Naomi said. ‘My knowledge is of the body not the mind. Forgive me. I cannot tell you what is in her thoughts.’