The Wise Woman

Twenty-one

All through the next week, and the week after, Catherine was sluggish and tired. In the morning her women found her pillow damp with her sweat and tears. She slept badly at night, dreaming of her long-dead mother, and her father who had been reported for speaking treason against the King and died in the cold cells of York prison while waiting for his trial. During the day she mourned Morach – the only friend she had made in all the years she had spent as Lord Hugh's ward and young Hugo's wife. It was as if the loss of Morach had added to all the losses she had felt in her life and her grief for all of them overflowed and oozed from her eyes, from between her legs, from the very pores of her skin, in a steady unstoppable, cold dampness.

Catherine, who had been a tyrant to her women and a bully to the servants, ceased giving orders or making demands. Alys had nothing more to do than sit with Catherine in the morning before dinner, and then again in the afternoon while Hugo went riding alone. Catherine drank deep of clary – a French red wine – which Alys assured her would build her blood, and ate at dinner and supper like a pig in farrow, with shameless gluttony. Dazed and sleepy from the wine, belching with rich food, and weary as her pregnancy entered its fifth month, Catherine dozed on her bed every afternoon after dinner, and fell asleep immediately after supper every night. If Hugo desired, he and Alys could be together all afternoon and all evening while his wife dozed and – after she fell into a drunken sleep – all night. He did desire. The earthroot worked its potent magic nearly every day and Alys found he needed smaller and smaller doses to fall into his waking dreams of desire. When he came out of them, blear-eyed and slack-muscled, he always told Alys that she was his love, his only love. After a month of drugged hallucinatory love-making he seemed as addicted to Alys herself as to the earthroot. She had no need to weave dreams and fantasies – the smell of her, the taste of her, the pleasure he took in her body was enough to throw him into his feverish lust. Alys had him enthralled in the deep tangled forests of his own desires and Hugo never struggled to be free.

'Got him on your line, have you?' the old lord asked her one morning as she watched Hugo crossing the courtyard below the round tower window.

'My lord?' she asked, without looking round. Watching Hugo warmed her heart with a sweet glow of possession: Hugo was hers now, no one else even tempted him. His quick lusts and careless satisfactions in dark doorways were finished, all the women in the castle knew it. Hugo was infatuated, mad for Mistress Alys. The only woman who did not know it was Lady Catherine.

'On your line,' the old lord repeated. 'Hooked, netted and landed. Does he thrash much in the net, pretty Alys? Or is he one of the steady ones – a couple of thrusts and he is spent?'

Alys giggled involuntarily. 'Hush,' she said. 'That is no way to talk of the young lord.'

'And does he talk much more of London?' the old lord demanded. 'Going to the court and leaving me? Or that damned voyage of his?'

Alys' smile was proud. 'Not at all,' she said. 'The voyage is still in his mind, his heart is still set on the thousand pounds. But other men will sail the ship, he will not leave the castle now. I can hold him.'

'Hold him until that ship is left port and you will have my gratitude,' the old lord growled. 'Can you keep him till next spring?'

'He will not leave me when I am carrying his child,' Alys said. 'And I know Hugo, when he sees the son I shall give him he will not be able to tear himself away. I will keep him safe for you, my lord.'

Lord Hugh nodded. 'See you do,' he said. 'But don't keep him from his work on the land. He should be out there, talking with the men. There are markets where they are skimming the fees they owe us. There are farms months behind in their rent. There are tenants dying, wedding, birthing, changing their leases and not paying us the proper fines. In every village there is an agent who reports to us and pays us the fees. Every one of them is taking his share of what is rightfully ours. There's his new house being built and the workmen taking their time, I'll be bound. He should be out there, enforcing our rights, not playing hunt-the-flea in your shift, Alys.'

Alys shook her head. 'It is Catherine he sits with during the day,' she said. 'I would ride out with him, what could be better for us all than my eyes and ears on the land as well as his? But Catherine keeps him home during the hours he used to be abroad. If you complain of him neglecting his work on the land then it is Catherine you should blame.'

The old lord scowled. 'Still sickly is she?' he demanded impatiently. 'What ails her?'

Alys shrugged. 'She is weary,' she said. 'She feels weak. She is eating to keep up her strength but the more she eats the heavier she gets and the lazier she feels. Her strength and her power seem to be fading away. Perhaps she will be better when the weather is warmer. She needs the sunshine. And she misses Morach still.'

The old lord hunched his shoulders irritably, like a ruffled bird of prey. 'Misses that old witch! She should be ashamed of herself.'

Alys smiled faintly. 'Odd is it not?' she said. 'You would think that she was grieving for a mother. And I, who was raised by Morach, I know her for what she was, and I have little sorrow.' She paused. 'As if I were the lady and not her,' she said.

The old lord cocked a shrewd eyebrow at her. 'No,' he said shortly.

Alys looked at him.

'Don't think of it,' the old lord advised her. 'Be glad with what you have won, Mistress Alys. You have climbed as high as you will go in this castle. I like to have you by me, Hugo is mad for you, even Catherine likes you and needs you now, and you are carrying my grandson in your belly. But if you try to overturn the natural order, try to leap up to nobility, I will have you thrown back to the midden. We are not the King's court here. You cannot make your fortune on your back.'

Alys' blue eyes sharpened with anger but she said nothing.

'Hear me?' the old lord insisted.

'I hear you,' she said levelly.

'And you'll keep your ambitions for your son,' the old lord reminded her.

Alys smiled at him. 'As you wish, my lord,' she said pleasantly. 'What a child he will be!'

'Yes,' the old lord said, still irritable. 'Ring the bell for Father Stephen, I want him to read to me. I have missed him in his travels away from us.'

'I'll read,' Alys offered, moving towards the table and the books.

'I'll have Father Stephen,' the old lord said. 'I want a man's voice. Women are very well in their place, Alys. But you can grow weary of them.'

'Oh yes,' Alys agreed. 'I grow very tired of the chatter in the gallery at times – such gossip and nonsense! Such a clatter the foolish women make who have nothing better to do but eat and grow fat and lazy. I will fetch Father Stephen at once for you, and I will send Hugo to you when he comes home. He can tell you about the new house, he is riding out today to see the builders.'

The lord grinned wryly, noting how Alys turned his complaint.

'Clever little whore,' he said gently.

Alys smiled back, swept him a seductive curtsey, and flicked out of the room.

In the ladies' gallery Catherine had not risen from her bed though it was near noon and time for dinner. Ruth was in her room showing her one gown after another, Catherine pettishly waving them all aside.

'They don't fit,' she said. 'This baby is getting bigger and bigger. You should have altered them, you should have let out the seams, Ruth. I told you to do so and you have been lazy and negligent.'

Ruth shook her head. 'I did alter them, my lady,' she said in her quiet, frightened voice. 'I altered them as you asked me. But that was last week, my lady. You seem to have grown again around your waist.'

Catherine sighed and leaned back. 'I am swelling like.' She shot a look towards Alys in the doorway. 'Can't you help me, Alys?' she asked pitifully. 'I am so tired.'

'Are you eating well, have you your appetite?' Alys asked, coming forward and laying a hand on Catherine's forehead. Her skin was oily and damp. Catherine turned her face towards Alys' touch.

'You're so cool,' she said. 'Your hands are so cool and sweet-smelling. I wish I was cool.'

'Have you drunk your negus?' Alys asked. 'And eaten your biscuits?'

'Yes,' Catherine sighed. 'But I don't feel hungry, Alys. I don't want my dinner.'

'You must eat,' Eliza Herring interrupted. 'You must keep up your strength, my lady.'

Alys nodded. 'She is right, my lady. You have the baby to think of. And your own health to maintain. You must eat.' 'My legs ache,' Catherine complained. Alys turned back the covers of the bed. Catherine's ankles were swollen and flushed pink, her calves, her knees, even her thighs, were spongy with extra fat and the skin was white and puffy.

'You need to walk,' Alys said. 'You should be up and walking every day, my lady. Walking in the fresh air, or even riding. You could ride a gentle horse.'

Catherine turned her head away from the window where the sky was showing blue with some strips of white cloud blowing away to the east. 'I'm too tired,' she said. 'And I told you, Alys, my legs ache. What sort of healer are you? When I tell you my legs ache, you tell me to walk! If I told you I was blind would you tell me to look harder?' Alys smiled sympathetically. 'Poor Catherine,' she said sweetly.

Ruth started at the use of Catherine's given name but Catherine's face lit up. 'Morach used to call me that,' she said wistfully. 'And I can remember my mother calling me that: "poor Catherine".'

Alys nodded. 'I know. Poor, poor Catherine,' she said tenderly.

'I feel so tired! I feel so unhappy!' Catherine burst out. 'Ever since Morach has been gone I have felt as if nothing is worth any effort. I cannot be troubled to get out of bed, I cannot be troubled to dress. I wish Morach were here. I wish she were still here.'

Alys held Catherine's hand and patted it gently. 'I know,' she said. 'I know. I miss her too.'

'And Hugo doesn't even care!' Catherine exclaimed. 'I told him how much I miss her and he just says that she was a poor old woman and if I have a fancy for a peasant there are a thousand like her on our lands. He doesn't understand!'

Alys shook her head. 'Men don't understand,' she said. 'Morach was a very wise woman, a woman who had seen much and understood the world. But she taught me all of her skills, Catherine. And I will be here all the time. I cannot take her place in your heart, but all that she could do for you and your baby I will do, when the time comes.'

Catherine snuffled wetly and hunted for her handkerchief. 'And I don't have to get up for dinner, do I?' she asked. 'I feel so weary. I'd rather eat up here.'

Alys shook her head, still smiling. 'No, of course not,' she said tenderly. 'Get up tomorrow and take a little walk when you feel stronger, but the hall is noisy and crowded and people stare so. You don't have to go down to dinner if you don't want to. Your health is more important than anything else.'

'And they tell me that you sit with the old lord?' Catherine asked. 'When I am not there?'

Alys nodded. 'He asked me, and I thought it best,' she said. 'He is a man of whim and powerful fancies. I did not want him insisting on company, your company and the young lord's. I knew you two wanted to dine alone up here. I thought if I talked to the old lord and kept him cheerful he would not insist that you come downstairs.'

Catherine nodded. 'Thank you, Alys,' she said. 'I like to eat my dinner with Hugo up here. I am weary of going down to the hall. Keep the old lord amused so that Hugo and I can be alone together.'

Alys' smile was sisterly. 'Of course, Catherine,' she said. 'Of course.'

In the afternoon, when Catherine was drowsy from a large dinner and too much wine, Alys met Hugo in the ladies' gallery and asked if she might go with him to see the new house.

'Can we not go to your room?' he asked in an undertone.

Alys shook her head. 'Catherine's women will be here all afternoon,' she said. 'You will have to wait till tonight, my lord!'

Hugo made a face. 'Very well,' he said. 'You can ride the little grey mule, or one of the ponies.'

Alys threw a cape around her shoulders. 'What about Catherine's mare?' she asked. 'She's quiet enough, isn't she?'

Hugo hesitated for a moment. 'Yes,' he said. 'Catherine has not ridden for months, but she has been exercised by one of the lads every day.'

'I'll ride her then,' Alys said.

Hugo hesitated again. 'Catherine might take it amiss,' he said.

Alys stepped a little closer so that he could smell the perfume on her hair, and raised her face to him. 'There are many things of Catherine's which give me pleasure,' she said silkily. 'Many things.'

Hugo glanced quickly around them. Ruth was sitting at the fireside sewing. As she caught his glance she dipped her head over her work again and stitched furiously.

'Don't tease me, Alys,' he said under his breath. 'Or I shall insult my wife by throwing you down and taking you on the threshold of her bedroom.'

Alys' eyes narrowed and she smiled. 'As you please, my lord,' she said in a low-voiced whisper. 'You know that I desire you. I can feel myself grow wet just at the thought of you.'

Hugo gave an exclamation and turned and picked up his cloak.

'I am taking Mistress Alys out to see the new house,' he said shortly to Ruth. 'I need her to write some orders for the builder for me.'

Ruth rose to her feet and bobbed a curtsey but kept her head down as if she were afraid to see the desire on their faces.

'Tell my wife when she wakes that I will be home in time to take supper with her,' Hugo said. 'I will send Alys home ahead of me when she has finished her work.' Ruth nodded. 'Yes, my lord,' she said. Hugo turned and strode from the room. 'I'll order the horses,' he said over his shoulder.

'Tell them to put a saddle on Catherine's mare,' Alys said. 'I don't like the pony.'

Alys sat uneasily in the saddle as the mare walked quietly across the drawbridge and down the little hill into the town. She had ridden the ponies in the stable often, but the pace of the bigger horse was longer and more rolling, and the ground looked very far away. Gritting her teeth, Alys regretted the vanity which had made her insist on riding Catherine's horse.

On either side of the road people turned to look at the horses going by and women dipped into grudging curtsies and men pulled their caps off their heads. Hugo smiled from one side to another as if the tokens of respect were willing tributes. Alys, swelling with pride, looked straight ahead as if she were too grand to either see or hear them.

At the corner of the street a barrow was halted selling fresh fish. Alys saw a girl of about her own age, seventeen. She was barefoot with a brown shawl around her shoulders and a dirty grey gown underneath. At her skirt clung a whey-faced toddler and she carried another child on her hip. Her face was marked with sores, and there was a dark bruise around her eye. Her hair, uncombed and unwashed, hung in thick rats' tails over her shoulders. She bobbed a curtsey as the two of them and the two servants rode by. Hugo did not even look at her.

That could have been me, Alys thought, her face impassive, her eyes looking straight ahead. That could have been me – married to Tom, accepting his fists and his lust. That could have been me – Morach's apprentice, always dirty, always poor. That could have been me – sickly, pregnant, exhausted. Anything I have done is better than that.

Hugo, ahead of her, rode confidently and easily. His blue cloak flickered behind him, matching the deep blue of his puffed breeches and the slashed lining of his blue jacket. His riding boots were deep, luminous black, the best leather well polished. His blue suede gloves with the gold embroidery would have kept any family in this town in food for months. Alys watched his back, torn between desire and resentment. He turned in his saddle. 'Horse going well?' he asked.

Alys flashed him her most brilliant smile. 'Oh yes,' she said, confidently. 'You must buy me one of my very own, Hugo. A roan to match yours.'

Hugo nodded absently. 'You haven't seen the new house before, have you?' he asked.

Alys hesitated and let him change the subject. 'No,' she said. 'I saw the plans when you were drawing them. And I saw the letters from the men in London who are planning houses in the new style.'

Hugo nodded. 'It's a fine house,' he said. 'We have dug deep down into the ground and we will have cellars below ground level. That will keep things cold even in the hottest of summers.'

Alys nodded. The cobbles of the town ended abruptly and the road was hard-packed earth, an old Roman road running north. The horses walked more smoothly on the easier ground and Alys was getting used to the mare's long-legged pace.

'It faces south for the sunshine,' Hugo said. 'It's built in the shape of an "H" with the entrance door set fair in the middle. There's a parlour for Catherine and her ladies on the left as you go in. No great hall at all, no great dining-room for everyone. No more eating with the soldiers and servants.' Alys smiled. 'It will be a great change,' she said. Hugo nodded. 'It's the new way,' he said. 'Outside London they never build castles for noblemen, just houses, beautiful houses with wide, lovely windows. Who wants a pack of servants – a private army? I'll always train the peasants for soldiers, I'll always have men I can call on. But we don't need a great castle ready for a siege at any moment! These are peaceful times. Neither the Scots nor the reivers come raiding this far south any more.'

'And you save money!' Alys said teasingly. Hugo grinned, unrepentant. 'And there is nothing wrong with that!' he said. 'It's my father's way, the old way, to think a man's power can only be measured by the number of people who have to trail after him when he rides out. I would rather be a lord over fertile lands. I would rather have ships out on the sea. I would rather have the men who take my wage working for me -working every day, not lounging around in the guardroom in case I need them in a year's time.'

Alys nodded. 'You'll have house servants though,' she said. 'And some kind of retinue.'

'Oh aye,' Hugo said. 'I shan't ask Catherine to cook her own dinner!'

Alys smiled. 'No, I can't see Catherine working for her keep,' she said.

'I'll have house servants, and grooms for the stables, and Catherine will keep her ladies and David will stay with us, of course. But the soldiers can go, and the smith, and the master of horse, and the bakery and the alehouse. We can brew our own ale and bake our own bread, but we do not have to feed the whole castle any more.'

Alys nodded. 'Your new house will be just for you,' she said. 'Just for you and the people you choose to have by you.'

Hugo nodded. 'I'll get rid of the hangers-on who do nothing for their keep but idle and eat,' he said.

Alys laughed, a little ripple of laughter. 'You will be rid of the ladies' gallery then!' she exclaimed. 'For more idleness and eating goes on there than anywhere else in the castle!'

Hugo grinned. 'I will see if Catherine can make do with fewer ladies,' he said. 'But I would not wish to deprive her of companions.'

Alys shrugged. 'She takes little pleasure in anything these days,' she said. 'All she does is lie abed and sigh and eat. She has not sewn in the gallery for days. She only gets up to have dinner with you. You do not know, Hugo, how idle she has become.'

Hugo frowned. 'It cannot be good for the child,' he said.

Alys shook her head. 'I have begged and begged her to make an effort and get out of bed and walk a little, even if it is only in the gallery. The weather is growing more fair, she could sit in the garden and take the air. But she will not. She feels tired all the time and she weeps for Morach and for her parents. You will have to be patient with her, Hugo. She is old to conceive a first child and she was barren for many years. Her body is not young and lithe and strong. And her humour is melancholy.' There was a little silence for a few moments. 'Shall we canter?' Hugo asked abruptly. 'You can manage Catherine's horse, can you?'

Alys laughed. 'I feel as if she were my own horse,' she said. 'Of course we can canter. Have I not told you that I fear nothing when we are together?'

Hugo smiled back at her. 'Well, I fear enough to want to keep you safe when you are carrying my son,' he said. Alys shook her head. 'He is safe inside me,' she said.

'And I never felt better or happier in my life. With your love I have everything I ever wanted. I can canter! I feel as if I could fly!'

Hugo laughed and touched his hunter slightly with his heels. At once the big horse surged forwards. Alys' mare followed quickly, her stride rapid. Alys bounced in the saddle, clinging to the pommel, praying that Hugo would not look back and see her white-faced and afraid.

He did not. They rode for some minutes along the track, the servants cantering along behind them. Then Hugo pulled up the roan and the mare stopped abruptly, throwing Alys forward on to the neck. She held on by a firm grip on the saddle, and heaved herself back into place.

'Here,' he said. 'Here will be the gates. I shall build a great wall all around this area and leave the land inside as it is: trees and shrubs and grass. I shall have deer roaming inside the wall, maybe even some boar for me to hunt. I shall have a cottage here at the gates and a gatekeeper. No guardroom, no soldiers. And then from here I shall make a track to the front door.' He pointed ahead of them. Alys could see about twenty men digging and carrying. 'Is it to be of brick or stone?' Alys asked. 'The main pillars of the house are stone, but it will be faced with brick,' Hugo said proudly. 'It's a pretty brick, a warm colour. It looks well against the stone. They are making the bricks and firing them here.' 'And the stone?' Alys asked idly, looking around. 'From the nunnery,' Hugo said. 'I had them bring the stones up here. Some of them are handsomely carved. I shall use the slates from their roof as well, and some of their beams that were not burned. Shall you laugh, Alys, to be my whore under a nun's roof?

Alys felt her skin grow cold. She turned away. 'And not far from the river!' she said. Her voice was strained but Hugo was unaware.

'I may divert it and dam it and make some little lakes,' he said. 'For fish and for pleasure. I love the sound of water. It's the only thing I will miss when we leave the castle, the sound of water.'

Alys nodded. 'And you must plant pretty gardens,' she said. 'I shall supervise a herb garden, a proper knot garden, an orchard and an aviary!'

Hugo laughed. 'Yes, you shall,' he said. 'And a still-room,' Alys said. In her mind she could smell the clean, light smell of the still-room at the nunnery. 'We shall have a physic garden, a herb garden, and a still-room where I shall make medicines for you and me and our family.'

'You can have some of the gear from the nuns,' Hugo said. 'A lot of it was brought away safe. Pestles and mortars and measuring bowls and the like. Some good glass bottles, too, with golden labels.'

Alys felt her mouth grow dry. Then she nodded, shook her head back and laughed, a high reckless laugh. 'Yes,' she said. 'Why not! Everything that the nuns had and that you took from them we can use. Why should it go to waste? Why should anything be spoiled? Let us take and take anything we need until we have the house just as we want it!'

Hugo jumped down from his horse and held out his arms to her. Alys slid off her horse down to him and leaned against him as he held her close. 'I love you, Alys,' he said. ‘I love your hunger for life. You would rob an old nun of her very shift, wouldn't you – if you had need of it?' Alys looked up into his dark smiling face. 'I would,' she said. She felt at once a fierce, destructive joy. 'I have no patience with nuns, always confessing and forbearing, and avoiding sin. I want to live now. I want to have my joys now and my pleasures. If I am a damned sinner then at least I shall go to my punishment with the taste of everything I wanted still warm on my tongue.'

Hugo laughed with her. 'You must make some magic here,' he urged. 'When the workmen leave one evening we will come and you can summon your wild sisters and we can lie on the half-built walls and on the ground together and we can claim the very stones and the slates back from the nuns and dedicate the house to ourselves and to our pleasure!'

'Oh yes!' Alys said hollowly. 'Yes.'