The Gallows Curse (12 page)

    'The
privy ... I've been to the privy. Where else would I go at this hour?'

    'Don't
you take that tone with me, girl. I saw you creeping out of the barn. Don't
think I don't know what goes on in there: the filth, the shameless acts of lust,
girls fornicating with men, boys committing unnatural acts with each other. So
who was he, this man you crept off to meet? One of the stable lads, I suppose.
They're no better than the beasts they care for; they'd pant after a pig if it
was dressed in a skirt.'

    She
thrust out her chin in disgust and the light from the guttering torches on the
courtyard walls deepened every nook and cranny of her embittered old face,
until you might have been forgiven for thinking that the church stonemason had
used the old widow as the model for his malevolent gargoyles.

    Elena
glanced helplessly up at the window behind which lay her chest containing the
precious shrivelled black root. If she didn't get to the mandrake now and wipe
Athan's milk on it, all that effort would have been in vain. It had been hard
enough to coax Athan to make love to her tonight, and even then he had crept
away with a look of guilt and anxiety creasing his forehead as if he was
already regretting giving in to her. He'd probably not trust himself to come
near her alone again until after his son was born, thanks to that old termagant
of a mother.

    'Let
me go, you've got no right. . .' Elena tried to prise the old widow's fingers
off her arm, but Hilda grasped her more tightly.

    'I've
every right to ensure my poor mistress is not deceived by little cats like you.
She is a good, pious woman. She doesn't permit harlots to remain in her
service. So we'll see what she has to say about this, shall we?' She pulled
Elena towards the stone steps, still shouting. Elena, trying to resist her,
stumbled against the first step and would have fallen had not a pair of strong
hands reached out from behind and caught her.

    'Say
about what, Mistress Hilda?' Raffaele asked sternly. 'You're so eager to drag
this girl to Lady Anne that you almost dashed her brains out on the stones. So
it must be important, whatever it is.'

    In
the light of the writhing yellow torch flames Hilda's eyes glittered with fury.

    'I
saw her coming out of the barn. What business would a tiring maid have in that
barn at this time of night? I can think of only one. I warned Lady Anne she was
making a mistake taking a base-born villein as a maid. What can you expect from
such as them? Their kind are like feral dogs out to grab whatever they can,
when they're not scrapping and snarling at one another, they're fornicating. I
don't blame them, it's in their blood, but like a pack of hounds they need the
whip to control them and that's your job, Master Raffaele. The servants are supposed
to be under your authority. Yet you ignore the shameless debauchery that goes
on night after night in there, right under the mistress's window. You know they
all laugh at you behind your back, and is it any wonder —'

    Raffaele
shot out a great hand and, grabbing Hilda by her puckered neck, he pinned her
against the stone wall, pressing down hard on her throat.

    You
malicious old hag! Jealous, are you? Jealous that others are enjoying
themselves when not even your poor husband was willing to bed you? No wonder
the poor wretch died so young, he probably bribed the grim reaper to take him
early just to get away from you. I doubt you ever gave him a warm word in his
whole life. Your heart was shrivelled up like a dried pea long before the rest
of you withered up to match it.'

    Hilda
was making a strange gargling sound and her eyes were bulging wide in fear. She
struggled in vain to tear Raffaele's hand from her throat, but her movements
were becoming more feeble.

    Elena
tugged at Raffaele's arm with all her strength, terrified he was going to
throttle the old woman. 'Stop it, please, stop! You're choking her.'

    The
sound of Elena's voice seemed to snap Raffaele out of his rage and he slackened
his grip. Hilda tipped forward, clutching the wall for support as she gasped
for air and massaged her bruised throat.

    Raffaele,
breathing hard, seemed to be struggling to control himself. His fists clenched
and unclenched, but his words to Elena were spoken softly. 'You should get
yourself inside, girl, the mistress will be calling for you.'

    Elena
nodded gratefully and was half-way up the steps before Hilda lifted her head
and snarled, You . . . you think she's so innocent, Master Raffaele, don't you,
pure and pretty as a little white dove? Well, you take a good look at her
belly. You feel it and tell me if the little whore's as sinless as you believe.
She's taken you for a fool, Master Raffaele, right here in this manor, only you
were too besotted with the little cat to see what was going on right under your
nose.'

    
Crickets
— Twenty crickets steeped in white wine are said to cure the wheezing of the
breath and, if eaten, ease the colic and also pains of the bladder.

    A
cricket thrown into the fire will not burn. If they enter a house and dwell
there they must never be killed or driven out, for they will bring good fortune
and their chirruping on the hearth will warn of a gathering storm. A cricket
will even tell a mortal woman when her lover is approaching her house. But
should the cricket suddenly depart, ill fortune will follow.

    But
take heed, if a white cricket should chance to appear upon the hearth, one of those
who warm their hands around that fire will surely die.

    The
Mandrake's Herbal

    Walter,
the gatekeeper, was never one to want to stir from his fireside after supper,
even on a hot summer's night, and he certainly did not disguise his annoyance
at being roused at this late hour in the bitter cold. He stamped his feet and
blew ‹›n his hands, grumbling that the wicket door was very likely frozen solid
and if he did manage to prise it open, he'd likely not be able to get it shut
again for the rest of the night.

    "You'd
think folks'd have the wit to get their business done in daylight,' he
muttered, 'not go traipsing around the countryside when they should be abed.
Second time this night I've been fetched out of my cot. All these comings and
goings, it's enough to daul a man to death.'

    Raffe
was in such a foul mood that he scarcely registered what Walter was saying, but
the man's fumbling with the frozen latch only served to irritate him the more
and he pushed Walter out of the way so hard that the gatekeeper slipped on the
frosty cobbles and fell heavily to the ground. Raffe didn't even bother to
apologize.

    Elena
bent to help the man, but Raffe caught her arm and pushed her out through the
wicket door. He ducked under the frame, following her. Elena stood shivering on
the path outside, clutching her small pack of belongings and staring hack at
the towering walls of the manor.

    Raffe
glanced sourly up at the swollen moon, which seemed closer and heavier this
night as if it was taunting him with its belly-ripe fecundity. Holding the
flaming torch aloft, he strode off in the direction of the village at a
deliberately cruel pace, knowing Elena would almost have to run to keep up with
him.

    How
could she have done it? How could she have betrayed him, after all he had done
for her? When he thought about how useless she was at almost any task in the
house, her clumsiness, the pots and flagons she had broken — other stewards
would have taken a stick to her long ago. But he had covered up for her, turned
a blind eye to her slipping out of the manor whenever she chose, had even given
her gifts to take home for her mother. By God, if he had a stick in his hand
right now, that little fool would smart for it. If he'd a whip in his belt he'd
have flogged her every step of the way from the manor to the village.

    Raffe's
fury was not soothed by the knowledge that it was entirely his own fault that
he was having to put himself through this private agony of delivering Elena
into the arms of another man. For Lady Anne would have willingly allowed Elena
to stay until morning when a cart could have been sent to take the girl home,
but it was Raffe who had insisted Elena leave at once and now, though he told
himself he'd gladly drown her in the nearest ditch, he found he could not bring
himself to let her walk alone at night without protection.

    Raffe
sensed Elena glancing fearfully up at him as she scuttled to keep pace, but he
wouldn't look at her. He couldn't bring himself to speak. When he had dragged
her into Lady Anne's presence, with that shrew Hilda triumphantly bringing up
the rear, Elena had started sobbing. He didn't know if her tears sprang from
her fear of Lady Anne's anger or from the pain of his vicious grip on her arm.
At that moment he didn
't
care why she was crying, and he refused to
slacken his grasp.

    But
Lady Anne had not been angry. Raffe knew she wouldn't be, whatever Hilda had
hoped. Anne had shaken her head gravely, but said it was only to be expected.
Elena had done no more than any pretty girl would do, especially now that
marriage was impossible because of the Interdict. Then she had turned her face
away and stared silently into the firelight for a long time, a silence no one
dared to break.

    Finally,
she spoke without lifting her gaze from the flames. 'It is not that I
disapprove of what you have done, my dear.

    Young
love is not a crime to be punished. But you must understand that I cannot bear
to have babies around me. It is too painful for me. Even a pregnant woman
reminds me ... of what I have lost ... seeing life go on as if my son had never
existed. I cannot do it.'

    Hilda,
hovering protectively behind Lady Anne's chair, glowered at Raffe. 'You need
your rest, m'lady. I keep telling everyone that, but they take no notice.'

    Lady
Anne absently patted her arm and glanced up again at Elena. 'Perhaps it is for
the best. I don't like the thought of having young girls sleeping in the manor
when Osborn and his men are here. There are many in his retinue who believe
that any comely maid is simply there to be plucked for their sport, like a
squab from a dovecote, no matter how much she resists. And I can't keep hiding
you out of sight in the kitchens. For your own safety, Elena, it is as well you
should leave now.'

    Hilda
crossed herself. 'I swear I'll not be able to close my eyes while those brutes
are here.'

    Raffe
snorted. You can sleep soundly, mistress. There's not a man alive who wouldn't
sooner bed his own horse than try your virtue.'

    She
flushed angrily. 'What do you know of being a man, you -'

    Lady
Anne rose. 'Enough! There is nothing else to be said, go now. Leave me, all of
you. Can't you see there are far more pressing matters weighing on my mind than
a pregnant girl? I have lost my husband and my son, and now I have lost my
lands too. I cannot bear any more. You cannot ask me to!'

    But as
Raffe guided Elena from the chamber, Anne added more gently, 'God in his mercy
grant you a safe delivery, Elena, you and the child.'

    Lady
Anne was a good woman, Raffe thought, a saint, and she did not deserve to have
that bastard Osborn foisted on her by King John in her own home, a home she'd
spent a lifetime defending for her son. Raffe savagely kicked a stone on the
track and heard it crack against the ice in the ditch.

    There
was a shriek behind Raffe and he spun round. Elena was crouching on the icy
path, rubbing her knee. At once he was by her side.

    'Have
you hurt yourself?'