The Love Knot

Chapter 11

'Go on, say it, Catrin challenged.

'Say what? Oliver spread his hands, his breath clouding the air. Around them frost glittered like loaf sugar. Ice, a fingernail thick, lay in clear, angular patterns on the waterbutts and troughs, and the mud in the bailey had become a pliable, white-crusted clay.

'That you were right and I was wrong.

'About what?

'About being open to attack. She stamped her feet, with both impatience and cold. She could see that he was going to make her pay by drawing the incident out. He had been absent on the Earl's business yesterday. She and Ethel had stayed by the fire, nursing their bruises. 'You told me that I was vulnerable, and I ignored you.

'No less than I expected. He blew on his cupped hands. 'You were bound to learn the hard way.

'I hate you, she said calmly.

'That's no less than I expected either. How's your head today?

'It aches, but it belongs to me again. She touched her forehead and grimaced slightly at the niggle of pain still lingering behind her eyes.

'And Ethel?

'Somewhat shaken despite all her brave words. I've left her by the fire with a hot tisane and one of her gossips for company — old Agatha from the laundry.

'So your time is your own for a little while?

'Unless the Countess sends for me. Catrin cocked her head on one side and eyed him suspiciously. 'Why?

'I have something for you. He took her arm, and led her across the bailey towards the Countess's garden.

'Where are we going? Utterly baffled, Catrin hung back a little. She hardly thought that he was going to present her with a flower in this bleak weather, or take her for a stroll around the dormant herb beds. If he wanted somewhere private to talk, there were warmer places than a pleasance at the end of November.

But his direction did not alter, and within moments they had entered through the gate and into a world on the edge of dormancy. The soil was turned and brown, each clod wearing a frill of hoar. The herb beds still held tinges of colour, the sage and lavender standing bravely against the cold. The mint was straggly and the tansy and rue had bowed their heads. Of the gardener, the only sign was the scent of frying bacon wafting from the tiny thatched hut on the far right near the rows of leeks and cabbages.

'Well? Catrin repeated.

He led her down one of the marked-out paths to a grassy ring, surrounded by stone benches. The Countess's women often came here in summer to sew and weave. Occasionally Mabile would hold small feasts and entertainments for selected guests. They would sit out until the moon rose in the sky, cooking morsels of marinated food over an open fire. Today the place was frozen and deserted, the grass blades wearing a white scaling of frost, and the stone benches bleak grey, untouched by any kindness of sun.

'Oliver, why have you brought me here? she persisted, and hugged herself with cold.

For answer he reached beneath his cloak, tugged at his belt, and presented her with a knife — not one for eating or midwifery work, but a man's weapon with a sharp blue edge and a haft of decorated bone. 'I want you to carry this with you for protection when you go out into the city at night, he said.

Catrin took the weapon but could not prevent a shudder. 'I don't know how to use it.

'That's why you're here now — to learn. I saw the way you were holding that blade of yours when you were attacked. If you are going to draw a knife on someone, you have to know how to fight — not only that, but how to survive.

Catrin shook her head. 'Oliver, I cannot…"

'No such word, he said in a tone that refuted argument, and handed her a piece of wood which had been carved to the same shape as the knife. From his belt, he drew a similar piece. 'It's a skill as indispensable as any that Ethel's taught you.

For the next hour, Catrin was instructed in the art of self-defence. At first she was self-conscious and unsure, her lunges half-hearted, because she felt foolish. 'Christ, who's to see you? Oliver demanded. 'Why do you think I chose the gardens? There's only the old man and he's too busy breaking his fast to pay any attention to us! If it does not bother me, then it shouldn't bother you.

'You're a man, she said. 'This is customary to you.

He rolled his eyes in disbelief. 'And it was a man who attacked you in the street! You are doing this for your life, woman. Don't tell me it is not in your nature to fight back. I know full well the measure of your mulishness. He looked at her broodingly for a moment. 'Imagine that I am a robber, out for your purse and perhaps other things in the dead of night. How would you fight me off?

'Throw pepper in your face and run, she said quickly.

'With Ethel at your side? he snorted. 'Or supposing I emerged from a side alley too swiftly for you to reach in your satchel for the pepper? If it was your intent the other morning, you failed miserably.

Catrin reddened, but could not deny the truth of what he said. There had indeed been a pouch of pepper in her satchel, but buried near the bottom.

'Come at me again, he said, beckoning.

Catrin sighed, pursed her lips and thrust with the wooden knife. Grey eyes dark with anger, Oliver grabbed her wrist and twisted it round, making her drop the knife; then he hooked his leg around hers and brought her down hard on the frozen grass. Straddling her, pinning her wrists above her head, he snarled, 'This is what could happen to you, and in no more space than an eye-blink… and worse.

Catrin swallowed and stared up at the harsh planes of his face, mere angry inches from hers. The frozen grass struck through her clothes and chilled her flesh. His grip was bruising, his weight took her breath. 'Let me go, she said shakily.

'You know what an attacker would say, he answered grimly, and held her down a moment longer before relaxing his grip and drawing her to her feet. Her teeth chattering, she glared at him as he brushed the frost from her cloak with the flat of his hand.

'Jesu, Catrin, I don't want to lose you. If you must go abroad in the street, then at least let it not be like a lamb to the slaughter. For all your fire and spirit, you would not survive as you are now. I am not suggesting that you become an Amazon, only that you should learn to defend yourself long enough to live. If you cannot unbend enough to do that, then what chance do you have? His voice took on a pleading note.

She continued to scowl at him, wanting to capitulate but hampered by her pride. With a sigh, he turned from her and retrieved her wooden knife from the grass. 'When you can hold me off for a turn of the cook's small hourglass, I will consider that you have evened the odds. If you're angry with me, Catrin, then use it. He held out the weapon. 'Take it and show me.

'Angry with you? She shook her head and closed her hand around the wooden haft. 'I am angry with myself. She tilted the blade at the angle he had shown her earlier. 'Tell me again. The sooner I master this, the sooner I'll be rid of your lecturing.

Their eyes met, held in challenge for a moment, then sparked at the same time with reluctant humour.

'My «lecturing» might just save your life, he pointed out, struggling not to grin. 'Now, let's begin again. Disable, disarm and run.

By the end of an hour, Catrin was no longer cold. Flushed and panting, all self-consciousness forgotten, she strove to hold Oliver at bay, making up for her lack of skill in sheer determination. Indeed, her moments of success, brief though they were, filled her with exhilaration and a certain rashness.

'Disable, disarm and run! he yelled at her, laughing despite himself as he parried a swipe aimed at his belly. 'God's bones, you don't have to stay for the kill!

'But what if I want to? she gleamed back at him.

'Resist it, you're not good enough yet! He wove beneath her guard, grabbed her wrist, and sent the dagger flying over her shoulder into the grass where their feet had imprinted patterns of green amongst the silver hoar blades. First she struggled against his grasp, then she didn't. She was acutely aware of the touch of his fingers on her wrist, the swift beat of her pulse against his encircling palm, their rapid breath mingling in the frozen air.

His hold relaxed and he ran his thumb over the delicate skin he had just been gripping. 'Disable, disarm, he murmured again, and his other hand circled her waist and drew her against him. He lowered his head and, with closed eyes, Catrin raised hers.

'You must be desperate to seek a tryst out here.

Catrin shot out of Oliver's embrace with a gasp and saw the old gardener leaning on his spade, watching the two of them with relish.

'And kill, Oliver muttered beneath his breath.

Catrin was not sure if she was relieved at his intervention or not. Her loins were heavy, her flesh sensitive. How far would lust have progressed in a winter garden? She was not sure about that either.

'I like a woman who can fight, myself, the gardener continued. 'Makes the conquest more interesting, doesn't it?

Cheeks blazing, Catrin retrieved her wooden knife from the grass. Her plait had become unpinned and swung down beneath her wimple.

'I won't tell if you won't. The old man hefted the spade. 'Long time since I been to confession anyway. He screwed up his eyes. 'You're old Ethel's assistant, aren't you?

'Yes, I am, Catrin said, mustering the shreds of her dignity.

'You got anything for the ague, a nice warming liniment rub? He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

'You'll have to ask Ethel. Despite herself, Catrin felt the urge to laugh at the old rogue. 'I'm learning still.

'Aye, I can see that. It's a pleasure to watch. With a wink at Oliver, the gardener stumped off to prod at a heap of manure. 'You let me know when you've got some experience, girl.

Catrin stared after him, her arms akimbo, not knowing whether to laugh or be angry.

'I think I might wring the old buzzard's neck, Oliver said softly.

Catrin turned and saw her own irritation and amusement reflected in his eyes. 'But he is right, she replied. 'It is a desperate place for a tryst — in winter at least.

For a moment he did not answer, then he spread his hands. 'Then would you consider somewhere warmer?

She tilted her head on one side. 'For fighting or trysting?

'Both, but I cannot promise the order.

Despite the cold, Catrin felt as if she was melting. The last man to look at her like that had been Lewis in the early months of their marriage, when a single glance was all that it had taken to tumble them breathless into the nearest bed. But she was no longer a green and innocent girl and had no intention of tumbling into any sort of bed with Oliver — yet. She held back, keeping the two feet of distance that separated them, and holding her wooden knife as he had shown her. 'I never hold much trust in men's promises anyway, she said.

'I keep mine.

She bit her underlip and nodded. 'Aye, I know you do. So when you say that you cannot make one, it behoves me to be cautious.

Before he could defend himself, their banter was curtailed by Gawin's arrival, his stride swift and agitated. 'Found you at last, he addressed Catrin, not Oliver. 'You had best come swiftly. Ethel's taken a fall.

'Oh, sweet Jesu! Catrin thrust the wooden knife into Oliver's hand and pushed past Gawin at a run. Oliver followed hard on her heels.

Ethel lay on her pallet, her face grey. The laundress who had been visiting sat beside her, offering comfort. When she saw Catrin, a look of deep relief crossed her face.

'She was standing up to bid me farewell, and she just turned giddy and fell, said the woman, as she gave her place to Catrin.

'Fuss over nothing, Ethel mumbled. 'Everyone feels lightheaded when they rise. I just stumbled, that's all. An egg-shaped lump was ballooning at her temple and there was a deep cut on her hand where she had caught the cauldron tripod as she fell.

'Maybe so, but better a fuss over nothing than paying no heed, Catrin admonished and ran her hands lightly over the old woman to make sure that there was no other damage.

'You think I would not know if it was more than a trip?

'Yes, 1 think you would, Catrin said shrewdly and, with gentle hands, drew the fleece cover up over Ethel's shoulder.

Ethel met Catrin's stare. Then she closed her eyes. 'Tell the others to be gone. They block my light.

Catrin rose and turned.

'I heard, Oliver said with a wry smile and deliberately raised his voice. 'It is common knowledge that healers always make the worst patients.

'There's nothing wrong with my hearing either, Ethel rallied from her pallet. 'If there was, I wouldn't have to listen to you.

Oliver's smile became a grin. 'I'm going, he capitulated. Facing Catrin, he tugged the end of her black braid where it showed beneath her disordered wimple. 'Fight or tryst, he murmured, 'don't let me wait too long.

Catrin reddened and responded with a brusque nod. 'I won't. She glanced over her shoulder at Ethel who was watching them through supposedly lowered lids.

Oliver stooped to kiss Catrin's cheek. As his lips brushed her skin, he murmured, 'She does not befool me for one moment either. Let me know how she really fares. Then he straightened, saluted, and went on his way, ushering the laundry woman with him. Gawin had already left for an assignation with one of the kitchen maids.

Catrin returned to Ethel. The old woman's eyes were fully shut and she was breathing slowly and evenly, but Catrin was wiser than to believe the outward evidence.

'Ethel. She knelt at the side of the bed-bench. 'Ethel. No response. Catrin raised the coverlet and reached for the midwife's gnarled left hand. It was cold in hers and when she squeezed it, there was the merest tremor of response. 'Ethel, I know you're not asleep.

The seamed eyelids fluttered, and Catrin saw a sudden glisten of moisture in the bruised pouches beneath.

'My hand, Ethel whispered. 'Catrin, I can scarcely feel my hand.

'A slight seizure, Catrin reported to Oliver later that day. 'A repeat of the first one I would say. It hasn't affected her speech, praise God, but she cannot hold a cup in her left hand and the leg on that side too is affected. 'Will she recover?

Catrin shrugged. 'I cannot tell at the moment. It is not as if I have had much experience of treating folk of her age. This being because there were few folk of Ethel's age on which to practise. 'I have done what I can.

Oliver sighed and nodded. 'I have known her since my birth and, despite what you see between us, there's respect and affection.

'That is what I see between you, Catrin responded. 'You are as concerned for her as she is not to concern you.

He pulled a face at the truth of her statement, and after a pause asked, 'What of your midwifery? You cannot go out into the city alone — knife or no knife.

Catrin's expression became wary. 'I will tackle that obstacle when I come to it. Besides, escorts are usually provided. Whoever fetches me will see me safe.

'As they did two nights since?

'That was different. Catrin began to bristle.

'Indeed it was, he agreed. 'But you don't need many different occasions like that to wind up another corpse in the Avon.

'Then I'll hire someone to escort me, Catrin snapped. 'Jesu, you're like a dog with a bone!

'Be grateful, he said. 'If I wasn't, you'd be dead. And this time it was he who walked away, without giving her further opportunity to flay him with her tongue. This time too, she knew that he was in the right.