A King's Betrayal (31 page)

             
What had Marthe so disliked about the church and priests?  Beth enjoyed the singing and listened respectfully to the prayers.  Her curious gaze moved about the magnificent building with its nave, high vaulted roof of gilded wood and windows with pictures of a man on a cross.  Was He the Christ she’d heard others speak of?  Beth did not know His story, except that He had died to save mankind.  She thought the face portrayed was a kind gentle face and saw nothing to fear in the rituals of the blessing and the psalms.  And then the priest began his sermon.

             
‘We have the devil amongst us,’ his voice thundered and his cold eyes seemed to seek Beth out as she stood at the back of the church holding her child.  ‘How are the righteous fallen that they allow the spawn of Satan to live in their midst?  Jesus drove out the moneylenders from the temple of God – shall we not pluck out the evil canker that would take root in our soil and drink our water?  I exhort you to rise up against the evil and drive out the witch…’

             
‘Aye, drive her out,’ Carl was on his feet, waving his fist in the air.  ‘We do not want Satan’s whore here.  She contaminates us all with her foul breath.’

             
‘She is a whore and flaunts her bastard in our faces.  She wears a silk dress, which is forbidden her by law and she does not cover her head in church.  All these sins deserve to be punished.  Her lewdness must be driven out and her soul purified before she corrupts us all.’

             
Beth could hear murmuring all round her.  Was it unlawful for her to wear silk?  She had not known it.  Why did the priest hate her so?  She thought some of the voices were sympathetic but others had risen in fury and indignation.

             
Steadying her nerves, Beth walked down the aisle to where the priest stood in his pulpit.  Inside she was quivering with fear but she kept her head high and would not show it.  Looking straight at the priest, she held up her babe for all to see.

             
‘I am innocent of any crime,’ she said in a clear voice.  ‘I came this day to ask if you will accept me into your church.  I would have you baptise my child – and me if it will cleanse my soul of the sin you see in me.’

             
‘Do not believe her,’ Carl cried out.  ‘She is a filthy whore and should be whipped naked at the cart’s tail.’

             
‘Drive her out!’

             
‘Stone her!’

             
‘Can anyone here testify to her lewd behaviour?  Does she have a familiar?  Does she consort with the Devil?’

             
‘She runs naked through the wood and consorts with demons,’ Carl said.  ‘I have seen her myself.  She tried to put her spell on me but I closed my eyes and prayed that I might be saved.’

             
‘She is a good woman.  She saved my child when she was sick.’

             
‘And mine…I thought my husband would die but she saved him from the sickness that killed others.’

             
‘She sets herself up in God’s place,’ the priest said.  ‘Take her.  We shall put her to the test.  Take the woman Grey too – she is her familiar.’

             
‘No,’ a woman’s voice cried and Beth knew it was Mistress Grey.  ‘The lord has forbidden it.  Run, Beth – run to the castle.’

             
Beth hesitated.  She sensed that the mood was against her, but fear had paralysed her feet and she could not move.  Suddenly, rough hands seized her and she was dragged from the church and up the incline towards the tree where they had hung Marthe.  She struggled and screamed but there was no way she could break free from the strong hands that held her.  Glancing round, she saw that Mistress Grey had been taken too for speaking up for her.  The priest was ahead, urging them on and the villagers following behind. About half way up the hill the men stopped and Beth saw a long wooden pole with a stool tied to it with leather thongs.

             
‘Put her to the test.  Duck her.’

             
‘Duck the witch.  If she drowns she be innocent if she lives she be unholy and a witch.’

             
‘No!  Please…’ Beth cried.  ‘I am innocent.  I have done no harm to any.  Let me go and I will leave the village.  I will go away and never return.’

             
Her voice could hardly be heard above the shouting.  The villagers had taken sides.  Some of them had set on the men who had taken hold of Mistress Grey.  They had dragged her away from her captors and cries of shame were all about her.

             
Beth was being pushed towards the ducking stool.  She looked down at the babe in her arms, her throat tight with fear.

             
‘Not my child,’ she whispered.  ‘Not my babe…please, not Katharine.’

             
‘Give her to me,’ a woman said and darted at her.  ‘I promise to care for her.’

             
Beth was sobbing as the child was torn from her arms.  ‘Katharine…my babe…my child…’

             
The woman had disappeared into the crowd.  Beth struggled and fought harder now that her hands were free but she was dragged to the stool and despite her struggles her arms were tied to wooden struts so that she could not pull free and swim away once she was in the water.

             
‘I am innocent…’ she cried as they swung the pole out over the deep water of the miller’s pond.  It was high above the dark surface of the water.  She saw expectant faces looking at her.  ‘May your god forgive you…’

             
Her words were lost as they brought the stool down, letting her splash deep into the water so that she dropped like a stone.  Beth held her breath, counting.  The darkness was all about her and the water stung her nostrils but she held on and then she was being swung up out of the water to the sound of cries and screaming.  Some of the villagers were fighting, trying to free her.  One of the men holding to the end of the pole let go and she went down into the water once more.

             
This time she could not hold on so long.  She felt her chest hurting, the pain and the sensation of drowning was so terrifying that she hardly knew when she was swung high again and this time the pole was brought back to the land.  Her eyes half opened.  She was aware of someone bending over her, his face anxious, concerned, as he touched her cheek and looked for signs of life.

             
‘If she’s dead I’ll hang the lot of you,’ he said.  ‘That includes you, priest.  If you would live you’d best run now while you can.’

             
‘Don’t let him run.  Stone him.  He has misused his power.’

             
‘Aye, we don’t want his sort.’

             
The words, screams and shouts came from a distance.  Beth was hardly aware of being lifted in someone’s arms or of the lord’s men trying to keep order.  She did not know that in their blood lust the villagers had turned on the priest, Carl and the others who had captured Mistress Grey.  Nor did she see the tears on Sir William’s face as he carried her up the hill and into the castle.
             

Forty One

‘No…Mother, please help me,’ Beth moaned and her eyelids fluttered.  Her head ached and she felt so ill.  Turning on her side, she vomited into a bowl someone was holding.  Lying back, she realised that the linen beneath her was soft and cool; it smelled sweet of lavender and beneath her head were pillows so soft that she had never felt their like.  ‘Where am I?’

             
The mist was clearing now.  Beth could focus on the people about her.  There was a young woman wiping her mouth and another older woman standing looking at her from the foot of the bed.  Pushing herself up against those soft pillows, she glanced about the room, understanding at once that she was inside Sir William’s castle.  No one in the village had a cottage built of stone like this nor yet a quarter as richly furnished.  The walls were hung with tapestry in beautiful glowing colours and the furniture was stout oak and carved with various shapes and patterns.

             
‘You are awake at last,’ the younger woman said and smiled.  ‘Sir William thought you might die but we did not think you were dying, did we, Mother?  My cousin will be pleased that you have not taken a fever, mistress.’

             
‘What happened?’ she asked and then gave a little cry.  ‘They put me to the test – and Mistress Grey, they took her too.’

             
‘She is safe and was here asking for you not an hour ago.’

             
‘Did she bring my child?’

             
‘Your child?  I have not heard of a child, mistress.’

             
‘They were dragging me to the river.  Someone said they would take Katharine – a woman.  I saw her run away with my babe.’  Beth gave a little sob.  ‘Did Sir William save me?’

             
‘He saw what was happening and took some men to disperse the crowd.’  The older woman looked at her gravely.  ‘I fear there were bad things done this day, mistress.  The priest ran but he was caught and beaten, and a man was killed.  The villagers were roused and it seems they thought you had been harshly treated.’

             
‘The man – Carl – he hated me, though I do not know why.’

             
‘He was in league with the priest to incite the villagers, but their plan turned back on them and it was they who suffered most.’  The young woman smiled at her.  ‘I am Ruth and my mother is Anne Redfern.  Sir William brought us here to serve him when he returned from France.’

             
Beth looked from one to the other.  The younger woman was smiling and friendly but her mother seemed more reserved, as though she was uncertain of what Beth was doing here.

             
‘I thank you for your care of me.’  Beth threw back the covers and put her feet to the floor.  ‘I must look for Katharine.  I do not know who took her.’

             
‘Be careful, mistress,’ Ruth warned as Beth stood, then gave a gasp and fell back to the bed.  ‘You are not well enough to search for your child yet.  Rest here.  My mother will bring you a warming posset and I shall speak to Sir William, ask him what must be done to find your child.’

             
‘How old is your child?’ Anne Redfern asked her.

             
‘Very young, just a few months,’ Beth replied.  She caught at Ruth’s hand imploringly.  ‘Will you search for her?  Please, I must find my child – my Katharine.’

             
‘I shall speak to Sir William.  If he permits I will go to the village myself and ask who has the babe.  If someone took her she may have hidden her lest she be harmed.  She may not have seen you rescued and is perhaps in hiding, fearing that they will harm the babe.’

             
‘Yes, it must  be so,’ Beth said, but a tear trickled down her cheek.

             
Marthe had found her when she was a child.  In her desperation Beth had given her daughter to the woman who asked, but now she was terrified.  Supposing Katharine had been stolen?  Supposing the woman kept her hidden all her life – as Marthe had Beth?

             
‘I must find her.  Please, I must find her,’ Beth said and lay back against the pillows.  Her head was spinning and she felt ill.  She was too weak to go and search for her child herself, but surely Sir William would when he knew she had a child.  She had deliberately been vague when she spoke of Katharine’s age.  If the lord thought her child was his surely he would try to find her?

When Beth opened her eyes again William was standing watching her.  She slid her way up the bed, resting against the pillows, looking at him a little warily.

             
‘Are you better, Beth?’

             
‘Yes, better than when I first woke,’ she said.  ‘I must thank you for my life.  Had you not come I should have died in the miller’s pond.’

             
‘They told you what happened to the priest and the man Carl?’

             
‘The villagers turned on them.  The priest was beaten and Carl was – killed.’

             
‘Yes, that is the case.  I am sorry for it.  I shall have to punish them because they broke the law.  Had they left it to me I would have punished those that hurt you but within the law.’

             
‘What will you do to them?’

             
‘Some will be fined, others may serve a term in the stocks or spend a month in my dungeons.  I shall not hang the culprits because I do not know who threw the first stone – or who killed Carl.  The priest lives.  When he leaves here he will spread the tale of witchcraft and there may be a price to pay.  The Bishops will be angry that one of their own was attacked and I could be reprimanded.’

             
‘What will they do to you?’

             
‘I may be fined for failing to keep the peace in my demesne and allowing  evil practice – or I might be excommunicated, cut off from the sacrament.  If the priest tells his lies and is believed all the village could suffer.  There would be no marriage, no blessings and no one to see a soul safely on its way to Heaven.  I must show that I have dealt with the culprits.’

             
‘What of me?’

             
‘You were unjustly accused and I will protect you no matter what.’

             
‘Why – why would you do that for me?’

             
‘You did not tell me you were with child the day Marthe died.’  William frowned at her.  ‘I saw no sign of it – but you were both close to starving and your tunic hung on you.  You should have sent word and I would have brought you here to have the babe.  I would not let you have stayed in the wood to fend for yourself, Beth.  Mistress Grey told me you gave birth alone in the woods.  ‘Tis a wonder that both you and the babe survived.’

             
‘I was not alone - there was someone with me, a woman who called herself Isolde.  She helped me, gave me a shawl for the babe,  and then she left.’  Beth caught her breath.  ‘Have you found Katharine?’

             
‘Katharine is a good name.  I like it well.  She has not been found yet, but I have men scouring the woods.’

             
‘Did no one know who took her?’

             
‘Mistress Grey says she saw the woman for an instant but she was struggling against her captors and could do nothing.  She says that she had never seen the woman here before.  She was not of the village.’

             
‘She has stolen her.  She has stolen my child.’ Beth’s cry of anguish brought him closer to the bed.  ‘I must get up and look for her.’

             
‘I think you should rest for a little longer.  My men will leave no stone unturned – and Mistress Grey will tend your livestock.  I do not think you should leave here until I am certain it is safe.’

             
Beth stared at him.  ‘Am I your prisoner?’

             
‘No, do not think it.  Once you are well I shall let you go if you still wish it – but I should like you to stay.  I could protect you and care for you, and the child.  Please, let me care for you, Beth.  I am sorry for what happened that day in the cottage.  I would do anything to go back and act differently.’

             
‘If you had not raped me I might have come to you,’ Beth said.  ‘I did not dislike you then – and I do not hate you now.  You helped me with Marthe and you saved my life.  I am grateful for those things.’

             
‘I do not want gratitude.’

             
‘What do you want of me?’

             
William hesitated, then, ‘I shall speak of my feelings another day.  I came only to see that you were well.  Ruth told me that you would recover but I was afraid to believe her.’

             
‘Is she your wife?’

             
‘You know I have no wife.  Ruth and her mother are distant cousins.  They were alone and left without a roof for Anne’s husband died and they were forced to leave their home.  The new owner of the manor sought to make them servants and they begged me for help.  I brought them here to give them a home – and for other reasons, but not to wed Ruth.’

             
‘She is a good and gentle woman.’

             
‘Yes, that much is true, and I am grateful for her care of you – but there is but one woman I want for my wife…’  He paused and frowned.  ‘I have said too much.  You must rest.  Tomorrow, if you are able, you will come down and we shall dine together.  I shall tell you of my plans for the future and you will eat the finest foods my cook can prepare.’

             
‘Ruth gave me chicken soup and bread with butter.  I do not know when I have tasted finer, lord.’

             
He smiled.  ‘You will learn to scorn such fare if you will accept my offer, Beth – and it would please me if you will call me William.’

             
‘I shall try to remember if it pleases you,’ Beth said.  ‘It is difficult.  Most speak of you as the lord, but I shall try, Sir William.’

             
‘You are not like the others,’ he said, his voice husky, thick with emotion.  ‘You are my lady of the woods – and I am William, your humble lord.’

             
Beth felt a strange prickling sensation at the nape of her neck.  She could feel warmth spreading through her and, as she looked at him, she saw what she believed was tenderness in his eyes.  In that moment she thought that perhaps he did truly care for her.  He had promised her much but she had not believed him, thinking he would use her and then discard her – but now she found that she was beginning to trust him.

             
Perhaps he would be kind to her – and Katharine.  The thought of her child brought a choking cry to her lips.  There would be no happiness for her at the castle unless Katharine was found.

             
‘You will keep looking for my child?’

             
‘You have my word.  On my oath as a knight of this realm, I shall not cease to search until we have her – or proof of her death.’

             
‘Proof…’ Beth’s throat closed and she could not speak.

             
Yet she knew that a tiny child taken from its mother’s milk would be vulnerable and unless the woman returned the child – or could feed her – it was unlikely that Katharine could survive for long.

             
‘Yes, she is so young and she will cry for her mother.’

             
As Beth had cried so many times when she was young.  She had cried for a mother who was but a distant memory, a picture in her mind of softness and warmth and gentle arms.  Marthe had lied, making her believe that she was her mother, but always, somewhere deep inside her, Beth had known.  Her mother must have wept when she was lost – bitter painful tears and still they continued, if she lived, for Beth had never been found.  It might be that Katharine too would never be returned to her mother.

             
The thought was like a dagger in her heart.  Where was her darling child?  Would she ever see her again?

The child was crying again.  Always it cried, incessantly, hour after hour and it was heavy to carry in her arms.  Lilath had done a good deed for she’d seen that the mother was doomed to die in the murky waters of the river.  It had been on impulse that she’d run up to the woman and taken her child, wanting to ease her distress and save the babe.  No one could save the woman.  Lilath had seen a ducking before and she knew such trials always ended in death for the unfortunate creature, either in the water or at the priest’s hands.  She had wanted to do a good thing, but now she was hungry, tired, and she needed to rest.  The child was a nuisance for she had no way of feeding it and no cloths to change its bindings.