Epic Historial Collection (60 page)

So that was what he was. “Yes, please,” said Aliena. The girl disappeared again and Aliena looked around. A goldsmith would need a stone house, of course, to protect his gold. The door between this room and the back of the house was made of heavy oak planks banded with iron. The windows were narrow, too small for anyone to climb through, even a child. Aliena thought how nerve-racking it must be to have all your wealth in gold or silver, which could be stolen in an instant, leaving you destitute. Then she reflected that Father had been rich with a more normal kind of wealth—land and a title—and yet he had lost everything in a day.

The goldsmith came out. He was a small, dark man, and he peered at them, frowning, as if he were examining a small piece of jewelry and assessing its worth. After a moment he seemed to sum them up, and he said: “You have something you would like to sell?”

“You've judged us well, goldsmith,” Aliena said. “You've guessed we're high-born people who now find themselves destitute. But we have nothing to sell.”

The man looked worried. “If you're looking for a loan, I fear—”

“We don't expect anyone to lend us money,” Aliena broke in. “Just as we have nothing to sell, so we have nothing to pawn.”

He looked relieved. “Then how can I help you?”

“Would you take me on as a servant?”

He was shocked. “A Christian? Certainly not!” He actually shrank back at the thought.

Aliena was disappointed. “Why not?” she said plaintively.

“It would never do.”

She felt rather offended. The idea that someone should find
her
religion distasteful was demeaning. She remembered the clever phrase she had used to Richard. “You don't catch people's religions the way you catch their fleas,” she said.

“The people of the town would object.”

Aliena felt sure he was using public opinion as an excuse, but it was probably true all the same. “I suppose we'd better seek out a rich Christian, then,” she said.

“It's worth a try,” the goldsmith said doubtfully. “Let me tell you something candidly. A wise man would not employ you as a servant. You're used to giving orders, and you would find it very hard to be on the receiving end.” Aliena opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to stop her. “Oh, I know you're willing. But all your life others have served you, and even now you feel in your heart of hearts that things should be arranged to please you. High-born people make poor servants. They are disobedient, resentful, thoughtless, touchy, and they think they're working hard even though they do less than everyone else—so they cause trouble among the rest of the staff.” He shrugged. “This is my experience.”

Aliena forgot that she had been offended by his distaste for her religion. He was the first kindly person she had met since she left the castle. She said: “But what
can
we do?”

“I can only tell you what a Jew would do. He would find something to sell. When I came to this city I began by buying jewelry from people who needed cash, then melting the silver and selling it to the coiners.”

“But where did you get the money to buy the jewelry?”

“I borrowed from my uncle—and paid him interest, by the way.”

“But nobody will lend to us!”

He looked thoughtful. “What would I have done if I had no uncle? I think I would have gone into the forest and collected nuts, then brought them into the town and sold them to the housewives who do not have the time to go to the forest and cannot grow trees in their backyards because the yards are so full of refuse and filth.”

“It's the wrong time of year,” Aliena said. “There's nothing growing now.”

The goldsmith smiled. “The impatience of youth,” he said. “Wait a while.”

“All right.” There was no point in explaining about Father. The goldsmith had done his best to be helpful. “Thank you for your advice.”

“Farewell.” The goldsmith returned to the back of the house and closed the massive ironbound door.

Aliena and Richard went out. The goldsmith had been kind but nevertheless they had spent half a day being turned away from places, and Aliena could not help feeling dejected. Not knowing where to go next, they wandered through the Jewry and emerged in the High Street again. Aliena was beginning to feel hungry—it was dinnertime—and she knew that if she was hungry, Richard would be ravenous. They walked aimlessly along the High Street, envying the well-fed rats that swarmed in the refuse, until they came to the old royal palace. There they stopped, as all out-of-towners did, to look through the bars at the coiners manufacturing money. Aliena stared at the stacks of silver pennies, thinking that she wanted only one of those, and she could not get it.

After a while she noticed a girl of about her own age standing nearby, smiling at Richard. The girl looked friendly. Aliena hesitated, saw her smile again, and spoke to her. “Do you live here?”

“Yes,” the girl said. It was Richard she was interested in, not Aliena.

Aliena blurted out: “Our father's in the jailhouse, and we're trying to find some way to make a living and get some money to bribe the jailer. Do you know what we might do?”

The girl turned her attention from Richard back to Aliena. “You're penniless, and you want to know how to make some money?”

“That's right. We're willing to work hard. We'll do anything. Can you think of something?”

The girl gave Aliena a long, assessing look. “Yes, I can,” she said at last. “I know someone who might help you.”

Aliena was thrilled: this was the first person to say
Yes
to her all day. “When can we see him?” she said eagerly.

“Her.”

“What?”

“It's a woman. And you can probably see her right away, if you come with me.”

Aliena and Richard exchanged a delighted look. Aliena could hardly believe the change in their luck.

The girl turned away, and they followed. She led them to a large wooden house on the south side of the High Street. Most of the house was at ground level but it had a small upper story. The girl went up an outside staircase and beckoned them to follow her.

The upstairs was a bedchamber. Aliena looked around her with wide eyes: it was more richly decorated and furnished than any of the rooms at the castle had been, even when Mother was alive. The walls were hung with tapestries, the floor was covered with fur rugs, and the bed was surrounded by embroidered curtains. On a chair like a throne sat a middle-aged woman in a gorgeous gown. She had been beautiful when she was young, Aliena guessed, although now her face was lined and her hair thin.

“This is Mistress Kate,” said the girl. “Kate, this girl is penniless and her father's in the jailhouse.”

Kate smiled. Aliena smiled back, but she had to force herself: there was something about Kate that she disliked. Kate said: “Take the boy to the kitchen and give him a cup of beer while we talk.”

The girl took Richard out. Aliena was glad he would get some beer—perhaps they would give him something to eat as well.

Kate said: “What's your name?”

“Aliena.”

“That's unusual. But I like it.” She stood up and came close, a little too close. She took Aliena's chin in her hand. “You've got a
very
pretty face.” Her breath smelled of wine. “Take off your cloak.”

Aliena was puzzled by this inspection, but she submitted to it: it seemed harmless, and after this morning's rejections she did not want to throw away her first decent chance by seeming uncooperative. She shrugged off her cloak, dropped it on a bench, and stood there in the old linen dress the verderer's wife had given her.

Kate walked around her. For some reason she seemed impressed. “My dear girl, you need never want for money, or anything else. If you work for me we'll both be rich.”

Aliena frowned. This sounded crazy. All she wanted to do was help with laundry, or cooking, or sewing: she did not see how she could make anybody rich. “What sort of work are you talking about?” she said.

Kate was behind her. She ran her hands down Aliena's sides, feeling her hips, and stood close so that Aliena could feel Kate's breasts pressing against her back. “You've got a beautiful figure,” Kate said. “And your skin is lovely. You're high-born, aren't you?”

“My father was the earl of Shiring.”

“Bartholomew! Well, well. I remember him—not that he was ever a customer of mine. A very virtuous man, your father. Well, I understand why you're destitute.”

So Kate had customers. “What do you sell?” Aliena asked.

Kate did not answer directly. She came around in front of Aliena again, looking at her face. “Are you a virgin, dear?”

Aliena flushed with shame.

“Don't be shy,” said Kate. “I see you're not. Well, no matter. Virgins are worth a lot but they don't last, of course.” She put her hands on Aliena's hips, leaned forward, and kissed her forehead. “You're so voluptuous, although you don't know it. By the saints, you're irresistible.” She slid her hand up from Aliena's hip to her bosom, and gently took one breast in her hand, weighing it and squeezing it slightly, then she leaned forward and kissed Aliena's lips.

Aliena understood everything in a flash: why the girl had smiled at Richard outside the mint, where Kate got her money, what Aliena would have to do if she worked for Kate, and what kind of woman Kate was. She felt foolish for not having understood earlier. For a moment she let Kate kiss her—it was so different from what William Hamleigh had done that she was not in the least repelled—but this was not it, this was not what she would have to do to earn money. She pulled away from Kate's embrace. “You want me to become a whore,” she said.

“A lady of pleasure, my dear,” said Kate. “Get up late, wear beautiful clothes every day, make men happy, and become rich. You'd be one of the best. There's a look about you…. You could charge anything, anything. Believe me, I know.”

Aliena shuddered. There had always been a whore or two at the castle—it was necessary in a place where there were so many men without their wives—and they had been regarded as the lowest of the low, the humblest of the womenfolk, below even the sweepers. But it was not the low status that made Aliena tremble with disgust. It was the idea of men such as William Hamleigh walking in and fucking her for a penny. The thought brought back the memory of his big body poised over her, as she lay on the floor with her legs apart, shaking with terror and loathing, waiting for him to penetrate her. The scene came back to her with renewed horror and took away all her poise and confidence. She felt that if she stayed in this house a moment longer it would all happen to her again. She was overcome by a panicky urge to get outside. She backed toward the door. She was frightened of offending Kate, frightened that anyone should be angry with her. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled. “Please forgive me, but I couldn't do that, really….”

“Think about it!” Kate said cheerfully. “Come back if you change your mind. I'll still be here.”

“Thank you,” Aliena said unsteadily. She found the door at last. She opened it and scuttled out. Still upset, she ran down the stairs into the street and went to the front door of the house. She pushed it open but she was frightened to go in. “Richard!” she called. “Richard, come out!” There was no reply. The interior was dimly lit, and she could see nothing but a few vague female figures inside. “Richard, where are you?” she screamed hysterically.

She realized that passersby were staring at her, and that made her more anxious. Suddenly Richard appeared, with a cup of ale in one hand and a chicken leg in the other. “What's the matter?” he said through a mouthful of meat. His tone indicated that he was annoyed at having been disturbed.

She grabbed his arm and pulled. “Come out of there,” she said. “It's a whorehouse!”

Several bystanders laughed loudly at this, and one or two called out jeering remarks.

“They might give you some meat,” Richard said.

“They want me to be a whore!” she blazed.

“All right, all right,” Richard said. He downed his beer, put the cup on the floor inside the door, and stuffed the remains of the chicken leg inside his shirt.

“Come on,” Aliena said impatiently, though once again the need to deal with her younger brother had the effect of calming her. He did not seem angered by the idea that someone wanted his sister to become a whore, but he did look regretful at having to leave a place where there was chicken and beer to be had for the asking.

Most of the bystanders walked on, seeing that the fun was over, but one remained. It was the well-dressed woman they had seen in the jailhouse. She had given the jailer a penny, and he had called her Meg. She was looking at Aliena with an expression of curiosity mingled with compassion. Aliena had developed an aversion to being stared at, and she looked away angrily; then the woman spoke to her. “You're in trouble, aren't you?” she said.