The Lion Triumphant (58 page)

I felt the fear grip me again.

“I have brought you here,” he said, “before taking you into the castle—for this is but the guard-room. I fear that on our first meeting I made a bad impression on you. It lingers, does it not? Well, I want to say to you if you would rather go from here, I have no wish to detain you. I wish you to think well of me. If you would care to go now, please say so and I shall not attempt to stop you.” He opened the door of the guard-house and left it open. “It is for you to decide,” he added.

I was silent. I could do nothing, I knew, but stay here, rely on his help and long for the morning.

I said, “I will stay.”

He smiled. “A wise decision,” he said. “Now I will have you shown to a room which is being made ready for you. Then you shall be refreshed. You may rest in the room provided for you or where you will. Castle Paling is at your service.”

I thanked him and reproached myself for my churlishness. It was true he had behaved in a swaggering manner, but he had given up the room to us; then he had called me from my bed when he had tapped at the window. Perhaps that was the most disturbing thing of all. But wasn’t it what any high-spirited man might have done? Should I blame him too much? After all, when I had returned to my bed he had gone away and he had amply repaid any discourtesy on this night. It was hard to reconcile this man who was so anxious to calm my fears with the arrogant bully who had come to The Traveller’s Rest. Had I built up an image of him in my mind which was exaggerated and therefore false? I was apt to do that. My mother often pointed it out to me.

“Now we will leave this grim place,” he said, “and I will take you to my sanctum. A small room where I entertain my friends now and then. There food will be brought and we shall eat. But before that I doubt not that you would wish to wash and perhaps take off your cloak.”

He pulled at a bell rope and I heard a clanging. A serving-girl appeared at once.

“Take this lady to the room which is being prepared for her,” he said.

She bobbed a curtsy and I followed her. We went up a staircase and along a gallery. A door was thrown open. Candles flickered in their sconces. There were two women in the room making the bed. They turned and curtsied as I entered.

The room was elaborately furnished. The bed had four posts which were intricately engraved. It was a large bed furnished with heavily embroidered curtains. I wanted to stop them for I had no intention of sleeping there. I should spend the night listening and waiting for some news.

One of the women brought warm water and a basin in which I washed my hands and face.

Removing my cloak and my bonnet-shaped hat I shook out my hair. It was my greatest beauty, my mother said. It was a darker shade than my father’s, a lightish brown with golden tints in it, heavy hair that was difficult to dress and looked its best in disorder.

I was too anxious to be interested in it now but it was a relief to have it loose.

The woman was waiting to take me to her master, and holding high her candle she conducted me to a room which was close by the bedroom. Here candles had been lighted and a table laid.

There was hot soup in pewter bowls, and although I did not feel like eating I realized I was faint with hunger.

He was waiting for me. He bowed and led me to a chair.

“Allow me to help you to this good capon. I am sure you will enjoy it. I can see that you are hungry and thirsty though you feel disinclined to partake of food and drink. Come, there is no good in abstaining. I have already sent men out to scour the countryside, to inquire at inns far and wide. I doubt not that ere long your mother will be here … or at least we shall have news of her. That will satisfy you.”

It did. I found the capon good and there was no doubt that my strength was reviving.

“Here is a good wine which will put heart into you. Drink it. It will make you feel better.”

He helped himself to the great pie which was on the table and ate hungrily. He drank of the wine.

“Now there is some colour in her cheeks,” he said. “Come, more wine. Tell me, do you not feel better?”

I said I did.

“Tomorrow you and your mother will be laughing at this adventure.”

“I think we shall always shudder with horror to recall it.”

“It was a bad moment when that knave galloped off with you. I never doubted that I would catch up with you though. My great regret is that I was unable to give him his dues. I might well yet.”

“You would not recognize him if you met him again.”

“Masked as he was mayhap not. I should know his horse though.”

He filled my glass. “It is enough,” I said.

“Oh come, your spirits must be revived by the time your mother arrives.”

“Do you really think they will find her?”

“How can they fail? There are four of them … all going in different directions … they must find her for she will either be on the road or in one of the inns.”

“But there was only one—the Roses. She was not there.”

“Perhaps she went there later.”

“I should have stayed there.”

“Nay, you are better here …”

I was beginning to feel a little light-headed. It was the shock, I supposed, and then the wine. His voice seemed to grow somewhat faint as though it was coming from a long way off.

He was saying: “Let me give you some of this partridge.”

The room swayed a little. I thought: God help me, the wine was potent.

He was watching me, smiling at me, cutting the partridge with his knife.

I could not see his face clearly. It was becoming more and more blurred. I heard myself say: “I think … I think I should go …”

I stood up. He was there beside me.

I felt the room, everything, slipping away and was only aware of his face near me … his eyes were enormous … there was nothing but those great black pools of eyes … I felt as though I was trying to swim in dark pools and I was sinking.

I felt myself caught up suddenly. And I knew that he was holding me.

I heard his voice, strange, lilting. “All is well. All is very well.”

I started up. Something had happened to me. I did not know where I was. I was shut in a green prison. There was light somewhere shining from outside on the walls. I was different. Something had changed me. I gave a little gasp, for I was naked. There was a light sheet over me and nothing more.

I sat up. I was in a bed … I knew instinctively that it was the four-poster I had seen last night, for in those seconds memory came back. I had come to Castle Paling. My mother and I had been separated. I had sat down to eat and drink and that was all.

But I knew. Horrible knowledge was tapping on my mind. Did I remember something of it? What had taken place during the night? It could not have been. And yet I knew it. Some hazy memory came back to me. It was the wine. It had dulled my consciousness. It had changed me in some way. I knew this was so. Edwina had told me there were herbs which drug your senses and make you oblivious of what was happening … and yet …

I must be dreaming and yet I was aware of the changes in my body.

It was impossible. Gingerly I knelt on the bed and drew aside the curtains. It was the light of day I saw which had fallen against them and lightened them. I stepped out of the bed. My clothes lay in a heap on the floor. I looked at my body and saw the bruises on it.

I knew then.

He came through a door of what must have been an ante-room to this chamber. He had a robe round his body beneath which I guessed he was naked. I snatched up my gown and held it against me.

“Such modesty is becoming,” he said.

He laughed and he was the man at the inn then, in all his arrogant triumph. If I had had any doubts before I could no longer do so.

“I must know what happened,” I said.

“Do you not remember?”

“What was in my wine?”

“A little of my special … tonic.”

“You must be possessed by the devil.”

“It is not unlikely.”

“You … you arranged this.”

“It happened.”

“My father will kill you.”

“I believe him to be a man who is very handy with the sword. I have a similar reputation.”

“Do you think you will be allowed to do … what you have done and not be punished? You will die for this.”

“I was very gallant. Nothing was done against your will.”

“I had no will.”

“Then how could it have been done against it?”

“What have you done to me?”

“Made a woman of you, Linnet. What a foolish name. A little bird. There is nothing of the bird about you. You are a very tigress in your passion.”

“My passion …”

“Oh, it was there. You were not displeased to be so taken. Believe me. It was a great experience for us both.”

“Will you go away. I wish to dress and leave this place at once.”

“That’s a pity. We were so happy together … you and I. And I have news for you. Your mother is at your home. I sent messengers there last night reassuring her that you were safe …”

“Safe!”

“Safe indeed. I said you would be returned to her this day.”

I turned away from him. “Oh God,” I murmured, “what shall I do?”

“There are several courses open to you. I will tell you the most attractive first. I am in need of a wife and having tested you I find you well enough.”

“You are insulting and I would rather be dead.”

“You are impetuous. You were not so very unhappy last night. You responded very happily.”

“I remember nothing and at least I can be grateful for that!”

“You will remember. Memory will lurk in the dark places of your mind. The little virgin that you were does not want to remember. But you have forgotten you are no longer that little virgin. You were eager enough, I tell you, and who was I to deny a lady whose needs accord with my own?”

“Be silent!”

“You must not speak so to your lord and master.”

“That you shall never be.”

“Why not? We may well be an impatient couple who have forestalled our marriage vows.”

“This is a nightmare. It can’t be true.”

“It is and a simple enough story. You came here. You drank too much wine and that released your natural impulses. As I have told you, I am not the man—nor would you find many—to refuse what was so charmingly offered. You will never find a lover such as I. Nor one who gallantly offers you marriage after what many would call your wanton behaviour. Come, do not be shy. I have seen you naked, remember. And beautiful you are, and will grow more so. What is it to be? How would you like to become the châtelaine of Castle Paling?”

“Go away,” I said. “I wish to go. I will not stay a moment longer than I need in this place.”

To my surprise he stood up and bowed.

He said: “You must eat before we leave. I will have something prepared for you. Then I shall take you back to your home.”

I was alone. I looked at the bed, the curtains drawn back at one side. I shuddered. What a fool I had been. I should never have come here. How clear it all was now. I should have seen it. What a cruel trick of fate to have been delivered into his hands. He had said that I would remember. Did I? Could I recall strange sensations which frightened me and fascinated me … as he himself did.

I dressed hastily, anxious to cover up those bruises.

One of the women servants came in with a tankard of ale and a piece of cob loaf and meat. I could not eat but I did drink a little.

Out in the courtyard my horse was saddled. So was his. He looked fresh and vital.

He himself helped me into the saddle. He took my hand and looked up into my face, as though he were pleading with me, yet I saw the mockery there.

He said: “We have a long ride ahead of us, Mistress.”

“I wish to go with all speed.”

We did not speak as we rode along and took the road along the coast.

“It is some fifteen miles,” he said. “You see we are not such distant neighbours.”

“More’s the pity,” I retorted.

My mother was safe. I believed that and because I need not fret about her I could think of the enormity of this thing which had happened to me.

I was not the first who had had such an experience. Many men such as he was did not bother to drug their victims first. At least I had been spared consciousness. Whatever he might say, I could not remember what had happened. There were only those vague uneasy stirrings of sensation within me … only the knowledge that I had changed.

The day was bright and sparkling. The wrong sort of day for my mood. It should have been grey, sombre. He broke into song once or twice—they were hunting songs. It was as though he were so pleased with life and himself that he could not suppress his pleasure.

I said nothing except when he spoke to me and then I replied as curtly as I could.

When we had ridden some miles he said our horses should be refreshed and so should we be.

We found an inn and stopped there. He rode into the yard in his bombastic manner which, however, brought him immediate attention. Then while the horses were being looked after we went into the inn parlour, where ale and great pies were set before us.

We were alone in the inn parlour, a fact which did not please me. I would rather someone had been there so that I did not have to talk to him.

“Do not be so downcast,” he said. “A girl should not mourn the loss of her virginity. It’s not all that precious, you know. It is only those who fear they are never going to lose it who have such a high regard for it.”

I was silent.

“You are foolish, my girl. I will not call you by that ridiculous name.”

“I am no girl of yours.”

“But indeed you are my mistress. You know that.”

I rose to my feet and lifted my hand to strike him. He caught it.

“Steady,” he said. “We do not want to make a noise, do we? What if mine host came in? What should I say? She shared my bed last night and now regrets it.”

“You lie.”

“It is you who lie. I speak the truth. I’ll say more. I have a fancy for you … a fair fancy. I’ll marry you.”

“I would never marry you.”

“You might find it right to do so.”

“Right to marry you!”