“I’m sorry–”
“That’s rich – all the while you were back here entertaining your whore!”
“I sent a retinue–”
“But you didn’t accompany me yourself!”
Lord Robert failed to find words to console her. “Please don’t implicate Emma in this quarrel,” he maintained, “she’s just a nurse–”
“Was a nurse – I’ve discharged her–”
“Why?” Lord Robert asked.
“I suspect her. Someone must have informed the rebels that I was to venture forth tonight.”
“Nonsense. Emma is an honest nurse. Her grandfather is a faithful subject. He vouched for her ignorance of her husband’s part in the uprising–”
“You’d like to believe her innocent – you are naive.”
“Besides, Emma couldn’t possibly have informed on you. She hasn’t left the castle since her arrival here – she’s barely left that room.”
“You may trust her. I do not. Anyway, Harry is grown – he has no need of a wet nurse.”
“That’s untrue, Fiona.”
“It will be true before too long.”
Lord Robert walked over to where his fiancée stood. “But we may, perhaps, have need of a nurse in future; there may be other children...”
She averted her gaze from him. “Not until we’re legally married,” Fiona insisted. “And even then, Robert, I will only bear your children out of a sense of duty – duty to my father, not you.”
“Do you detest me so much, Fiona?” Lord Robert asked desperately.
The lady Fiona turned from him and strode across the room. “I bid you goodnight, Lord Robert,” she said with finality.
“Until tomorrow then,” he replied, defeated.
“Remember, Robert,” Fiona concluded, “my father arranged this marriage; not me.”
Lord Robert began to close the door on her.
“Here’s the deal, Robert,” Fiona called after him. “You get to keep your wet nurse so long as I can be certain her presence here doesn’t compromise my safety.”
“I don’t understand you,” Robert said, lingering in the doorway.
“If stay she must, she shall be kept under lock and key.”
* * *
Emma lay in her bed of linen sheets and woven blankets, on the floor of the nursery. She couldn’t sleep in the small bed provided for her, unused as she was to such comfort. She’d taken to sleeping on the floorboards, which she found better suited to her and also warmer than lying beneath the window. The fire in the great hall below would have died out by now but the floor of the nursery was still warm from its earlier blaze. Emma pulled up the covers about her shoulders and began to fall asleep.
When she awoke –it was difficult to judge whether moments or hours had passed– parts of Emma’s body felt exposed and cold but others felt hot, pressed against warmer flesh. Lord Robert straddled her on his knees. He had come to her room with a candle to light his way. By its light, Lord Robert had pulled back the blankets and sheets of Emma’s makeshift bed to reveal her unclothed body beneath. Desiring more light, he had opened the shutters of the narrow window to allow the moonlight to creep into the cell.
As Emma’s consciousness dawned, Lord Robert stroked her breasts. Emma’s eyes opened.
“You left the door unlocked,” Lord Robert whispered to her, as his hands progressed down her torso.
“In case the child is ill or there is a fire – someone may need to get in.”
“You leave yourself vulnerable,” he cautioned, slipping his fingers between her thighs.
“The child’s safety is more important–” Emma flinched at the sensation of Lord Robert’s touch where she could least withstand it. “I am unlikely to be preyed upon–”
“Perhaps you underestimate your desirability, Emma,” he said, withdrawing his hand in order to remove the robe he wore. Beneath it he wore nothing.
Emma gazed up at Lord Robert’s naked form, illuminated by the candle and by the light of the full moon that shed its beams through the narrow window. “My lord, I am to leave this place,” she said quietly as Lord Robert bore down on her.
“Who told you that?” he asked.
“The lady Fiona,” Emma replied, shifting herself to resist his advance.
“Is the lady Fiona lord of this manor?” Robert asked Emma, following the question with a decisive lunge, intended to secure her.
“No sir,” Emma replied, torn, now she was fully conscious, between what her head was telling her and what her heart desired. Feeling his skin against her own, Emma couldn’t resist but yield herself up to Lord Robert. “You are,” she said with a gasp.
“Then, be assured, Emma,” Lord Robert whispered, “you are going nowhere.”
Lord Robert ventured to smother his nurse in kisses as he sought their union but Emma recollected herself. She pushed Lord Robert’s shoulders away and looked him in the eye. “This is wrong, my lord,” she said, struggling still to divorce her logic from every urge she felt inside. “We cannot do this.”
“Emma, you are mine and I will have you,” the Norman lord replied. “You cannot renege.” But his resolve had already been broken by Emma’s resistance. “I will have you,” he reasserted, knowing in truth that his quest was fruitless if their passion wasn’t shared.
“You could take my body if you chose,” Emma said softly, “but, my lord, it wouldn’t come with my soul.”
With Emma’s words, Lord Robert withdrew and sat back on his haunches, defeated. “And what would secure your soul, Emma?” he asked soberly.
“Your love, Lord Robert,” she replied, “your true and exclusive love.”
* * *
The door to the nursery opened. The figure of Fiona, with a tartan shawl wrapped about her shoulders, was lit from without. “Get up,” she told Emma.
Emma rose from the floor, pulling up a sheet with her to preserve her modesty, being still in a state of disarray after her visit from Lord Robert in the night.
“Typical,” muttered Fiona, looking around the room, “he gives her a bed; she sleeps on the floor like a dog.”
Emma registered the comment but felt too chilled and self-conscious to react to it.
“I’ve been discussing your fate with my future husband,” Fiona began when Emma stood upright before her. “To speak plainly, I do not trust you, but he thinks otherwise. I have reached the conclusion that you must make a choice: if you remain here, your movements will be monitored when you are outside the confines of this room; otherwise you will be locked in this room, so that I know where you are. If you find these terms unacceptable, you are free to leave immediately. What do you say?”
Emma was speechless.
“Perhaps you need time to think,” Fiona suggested. “Get dressed, Nurse and make up your mind – and be sure to plait your hair – I will not have women in my husband’s household looking wanton. When you have dressed, you will come to me and give me your decision.”
Fiona was about to leave but she felt an irresistible urge. Emma still stood before her, frozen. “Drop the sheet, Nurse. Let me look at you.”
Emma thought she must have misheard the lady.
“You are my husband’s servant. I wish to see that you are in good health. Let me look upon you naked, I say.” Fiona smiled to witness the discomfort that her order brought to the nurse. She waited, certain the woman couldn’t refuse her demand.
Emma lowered her head, closed her eyes and let the sheet fall to the floor.
Fiona immediately registered Emma’s full figure. “A comely little slut you are indeed, Nurse,” she observed, surveying Emma’s form more fully by scanning her eyes down Emma’s torso and resting them unashamedly below it. “If you choose to stay, I think I will permit the soldiers who guard your room to take their pleasure with you. They are mostly common men and exercise little discernment in their choice of women. It would be a shame to let all that fresh meat go to waste,” Fiona joked, eyeing Emma’s wide hips.
Emma had opened her eyes and raised her gaze, alarmed at Fiona’s suggestions.
Fiona looked Emma in the eye. “Built as you are, I daresay you could service an entire garrison,” she concluded with a wicked laugh. The lady Fiona shut the door on Emma and locked it from outside.
* * *
Emma sat for a long time on the bed in her cell, swathed in the sheet and a blanket, looking out of the narrow window to the open sea. As she sat she plaited her long, brown hair. She considered the choice she had to make.
If she were to stay at Danburgh she would live the life of a prisoner, denied the basic freedoms that every innocent person should expect. But if she remained, the welfare of her family and child would be secure. Could she be that selfless?
Emma’s contemplation was interrupted by Harry’s cry. She went over to his cot, lifted him out and sat back down to feed him. Emma rocked the child as he fed and stroked his golden locks of hair.
If she left she would be reunited with her own son. But she would be letting down her grandfather and mother. And she would lose the attentions of Lord Robert.
Emma jumped as she heard the nursery door being unlocked from outside. The door opened. The woman-servant entered. “The lady Fiona requires you instantly,” she said, without looking at Emma.
Emma could tell the good woman was embarrassed, not only by Emma’s state of undress but also by the incarceration that had been imposed upon her. She too felt uneasy at being treated like a criminal. She needed more time. “I cannot come now – I must feed the baby. Please tell the lady she will have my answer when his lordship’s child has been fed.”
“Very well,” the servant said and retreated.
Harry pulled away from Emma, satisfied. She lifted him up and kissed his head. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t heard the door being relocked.
Quickly, Emma laid the boy back down in his cot, threw on her clothes and went to the door. She listened. She heard no one outside.
Emma crept out of the door and checked that the coast was clear. As silently as possible, she tiptoed down the spiral staircase and descended to the courtyard, which she found to be covered in a white dusting of snow. Having been confined to the nursery, Emma had had no inkling that the weather had turned so severe. She wished she’d brought a blanket with her, to wrap about her shoulders, but if she were to turn back to fetch one now, it would, perhaps, be at the cost of her liberty.
A couple of soldiers stood talking by the gatehouse. Emma considered speaking to them but decided it was best just to pass through the open gates as though her departure was permitted.
The soldiers didn’t question her. Emma walked across the courtyard, through the gate, across the drawbridge and out of the castle confines. As soon as she was clear of the soldiers she quickened her pace and as soon as she was certain they couldn’t see her, she ran, through the cold snow that seeped through her shoes, to freedom.
* * *
Wondering whether the nurse had reported to the lady Fiona, the serving woman returned to the nursery to check. She found the door ajar and pushed it open.
The serving woman was alarmed by what she beheld: Fiona stood over the child’s cot and held down a cushion.
The serving woman darted forward. “What are you doing?” she demanded, her deference overwhelmed by her concern for the child.
The lady Fiona glared at her, with no suggestion of remorse; merely annoyance that she’d been discovered.
“Stop that. Stop it at once,” the serving woman insisted but Fiona continued, staring at the woman as if possessed. “Guards, guards!” the woman called.
With all her strength, the old woman pulled Fiona away from the cot, flinging her to one side. As soon as the cushion was pulled away, the baby cried out. A soldier appeared in the doorway. “Where is Lord Robert?” the serving woman demanded. “I must take the child to Lord Robert this instant.” She lifted the crying baby from his cot and bustled out of the nursery with him in her arms.
* * *
After an hour of walking, weary and perishing in the freezing weather, Emma’s pace was slow. She’d reached the forest where Lord Robert had encountered her only a few weeks before – an eternity seemed to have passed since then. Here, further from the coast, the snow was thicker and the temperatures even lower. She could no longer feel her feet.
Emma recalled the wolves she’d heard howling in the night from the confines of her castle cell. What would become of her if she collapsed out in the open when those wild beasts were at large and hungry?
Once in the forest, however, Emma found that the canopy of leafless trees did, at least, provide some protection against the biting wind. She needed to keep going. Her feet would recover in the warmth of her mother’s hearth – she needed to get home. She wrapped her arms about her chest – she just needed to keep her heart beating.
Continuing to trudge on towards the village, through the blanket of snow that rendered the woods eerily silent, Emma didn’t know whether she’d made the right decision. When the chance of freedom had come, it had seemed impossible to overlook it and, despite her trust that Lord Robert would protect her, she couldn’t ignore Fiona’s threats of abuse.
All the same, the discomfort she’d begun to experience as soon as she’d left the warmth of the castle nursery seemed to be a taste of what was in store for Emma. She felt trepidation at the prospect of the reception she’d be given back at the farmstead, returning with no money, nor any satisfactory explanation as to why she’d been dismissed. She would be disgraced. But she longed to see little Oswald – to take her own baby in her arms once more.
Emma’s silent contemplation was broken; she heard a horse galloping towards her from behind. She diverted from the footpath into the surrounding trees and summoned her strength to run through the snow to avoid detection.
The hooded rider had already seen her. He followed her footprints off the beaten track and, within moments, intercepted her path. The rider dismounted and approached Emma.
“I am but a poor woman. I have no money,” Emma declared, frightened by the hooded man, who carried something hidden beneath his tunic – a weapon, Emma feared.
“That I know,” said the man, removing his hood.
“Robert!” Emma cried.
Lord Robert pulled Emma close to him and kissed her cheek. “I knew those footprints to be yours.”
Emma heard a cry from beneath Lord Robert’s tunic. Lifting it, she discovered baby Harry concealed beneath, swaddled in bands to his father.
“What does this mean, my lord?” Emma asked as the child gazed up at her.
“I preferred ‘Robert,’” he replied with a smile. “I bring Harry to stay with you, Emma. It’s not safe for him to remain at the castle until Fiona and her people have been removed.”
Lord Robert related the events of the morning.
“I’m sorry I left Harry alone,” Emma confessed.
“It’s no matter,” Lord Robert replied. “You are both safe from harm’s way now,” he continued, stroking Emma’s hair and kissing her head.
“But you, my lord–” she stopped herself, “you’re not safe in these woods; the rebels are everywhere.”
“I wear a disguise,” he maintained. “It is you who are unsafe Emma, with no cloak to keep you warm.”
“We are not safe here,” Emma insisted. “We must find somewhere to shelter.”
* * *
Emma and Lord Robert trekked out of the forest and onto a heath familiar to Emma. Here sheep grazed and Emma knew of a covered building used as a sheepfold in wintertime. The shelter was too exposed to be inhabited by rebels and Emma believed Lord Robert could be safely stowed there.
Once at the empty shelter, they dismounted and Lord Robert led his horse inside with them to rest.
Emma, tired from her journey, lay down in a haystack. Lord Robert set Harry down and covered the slumbering child with his tunic. He then lay beside Emma.
Lord Robert’s face was close t
o Emma’s. She stroked his cold cheek with her forefinger as they stared intently into one another’s eyes.
“I need you,” said Robert. “I cannot do without you.”
Emma placed her finger on Lord Robert’s lips and shushed him.
Lord Robert placed his own cold fingers on Emma’s lips. She kissed them.
“Emma, you cannot leave me,” Lord Robert announced feverishly, stirring himself. “You refused me once. Would you refuse me again?”
His look was so vulnerable that Emma found her only response was to pull him to her, allowing, at last, his lips to meet her own.
Lord Robert closed his eyes. Aware of their isolation, Emma allowed herself to express her pleasure in cries and moans and she found that, with this expression, Lord Robert’s ardent passion only intensified. Inside their rough shelter, amid bleak, wintry surroundings, Emma denied her lord, and her own desires, no more.
* * *
As darkness fell, Lord Robert, Emma and baby Harry set off on horseback for Emma’s home. Upon reaching the farm cottage, Emma saw the glow of lights within and felt a surge of impatience to see her son. She and Lord Robert had agreed to part before entering the house but, as they stood saying goodbye, they were apprehended by Emma’s mother. “Emma, my Emma, is that really you?” the older woman called out, distrusting her eyes in the darkness. She perceived the child in Emma’s arms and the tall, dark man standing beside her daughter. She was about to enquire who he was but his stature and his noble demeanour stopped her in her tracks.
“I will go,” Robert said to Emma. “But once my home is made safe I will return for Harry – and for you.” He turned and bowed to the older woman and then couldn’t resist but kiss Emma once more. “Farewell,” he said before mounting his horse and cantering away.
Three Medieval Romances Page 3