By Sylvian Hamilton (38 page)

'Well,
just to say hallo, you know,' said the client, eyes .alight with
curiosity. 'Must be off soon, though. Promised to pick up the wife
from her cousin's; she gets ratty if I'm late.'

Straccan
and Miles hugged each other, beaming and both talking at once, as if
it was a year since they'd parted and not just a few weeks.

'Nice
little place you've got here,' said Miles, admiring in one sweeping
glance the lambs, the cabbages, the steaming dung heap, the kitchen
cat and Gilla's new blue dress. 'Thank you,' to Adeliza as she
offered him a cup of ale. 'That's just what I need, I'm full of dust.
Gilla, you've grown. Master Bane, I am glad to see you well. Your
servant, Lady,' with an elegant bow to Janiva. 'Richard, I have a
message from my uncle.'

'Come
into the office,' said Straccan. 'Sir Walter Covelin is there, but
he's just leaving. Let me see him off, then we can talk.' Sir Walter
was nosy. He knew Miles's uncle, and assumed the young knight was
either coming from, or going to, some tournament or petty war. What
else were knights for, after all?

'No,'
said Miles. 'I'm on my way to Scotland, to take service with a
friend.' Sir Walter wanted to know who. 'He is old and lives in
retirement,' said Miles, not choosing to tell him. 'I shall take care
of things for him for a while.'

'Humph.'
Sir Walter disapproved. 'Young fella like you should be fightin, not
lookin after elderly friends! There's a nice little war comin up in
Poitou. That's where I'm goin. Action, that's the stuff! A good
fight, and then all the customary rewards of victory. Eh?' He nudged
Miles with a bony elbow.

'Rape
and pillage,' said Miles.

Sir
Walter looked shocked. 'Oh, come now! Nothin like that! We're
gentlemen, ain't we?'

'What,
then?'

'Well,
bit of leg-over, souvenir or two. Not a lot of point otherwise. Eh?'

'See
what I mean?' Miles banged his cup down, splashing Sir Walter, who
presently took a rather frosty leave of them.

'Come
to the bathhouse,' said Straccan. 'We can talk while you bathe and
have a change of clothes.'

Miles
was in the tub, squeezing the soap bag over his head and shoulders,
when Straccan came in with a tunic and hose and house-gown. 'I hope
these won't be too tight; you're a bit wider across the back than me,
I think. When are you off to Scotland?' 'When I leave here. Uncle
William asked me to come. He put the word round to Templars
everywhere, asking for news of Julitta and her husband. Arlen was
caught trying to find a boat to carry him to Normandy. He had a
satchel full of those queer gold coins. The king ordered him put to
death.'

Straccan
shrugged. That was the price of treason. 'So he's dead.'

'They
took the coins and put them in a crucible,' said Miles grimly. 'They
tied him down while they melted. Then they poured his Judas gold down
his throat.'

Straccan
took a deep breath. 'Quite an object lesson.'

'Yes.
As for Julitta, she got to France. King Philip is paying her charges
but he won't receive her at his court, in case his noble image gets
tarnished. The Holy Father's blue-eyed boy can't afford to have his
name linked with a witch.'

'And
the Arab; what news of him?'

'No
sign of him, nor the men that fled with him.'

'How
long can you stay with us, Brother?'

'Until
Friday. I've arranged to join a company of merchants and pilgrims as
far as Durham. I'm to frighten away any robbers!' 'They'll run a mile
soon as look at you,' said Straccan.

'How
did you get on with the king?' Miles pulled on the tunic and hose and
put on the house-robe.

'Very
well.' Straccan laughed. 'He gave me a horse and helped himself to
the icon.'

'Ah.'

Straccan
handed him a towel to rub his hair. There was a soft knock at the
door and Gilla put her head round. 'Father? May I speak to Sir
Miles?'

'Come,
pigeon.'

She
smiled happily. 'Sir Miles, you'll be going to the place where Hob
is, won't you?'

'To
Coldinghame. Yes.'

'Will
you take a message from me?'

'Gladly.'

'Just
say that I send my love to him always.'

When
she left, Miles said, 'How is it with her?'

Straccan
frowned. 'Mercifully, she seems to remember little. But she said a
strange thing. She said she saw her mother; that Marian was there,
and took care of her.'

Between
Wednesday and Friday Straccan was never able to find Janiva alone.
Sometimes she was with Gilla—he was overjoyed by the love that
had sprung up between them—or they were both with Miles, or she
was in the kitchen exchanging recipes with Adeliza, or they were
riding or playing Hoodman Blind, or Janiva was teaching Gilla a new
dance, or Miles was entertaining everyone with an astonishing
repertoire of ballads. Still, there would be time later to talk. And
before long, they would be married.

When
Miles left, all the household turned out to see him off. Gilla hugged
and kissed him and cried.

'I'm
not going away for ever, sweet,' he said. Til come back and see you
again.'

'Promise?'

'Of
course I promise. Nothing can stop me. Besides, Adeliza makes the
best ale in all England. But where's Mistress Janiva this morning? I
hoped she'd wish me God speed.'

'I
don't know,' Gilla said. 'She was up before me. Yesterday she said
something about the herbs in the water-meadow. Perhaps she's gone
there.'

'See
if you can find her, poppet,' said Straccan. 'She'll be sorry to miss
Miles leaving.'

But
Janiva was nowhere about, and at last they waved Miles off. Gilla ran
up the tower steps, to watch him until he disappeared in the
distance. She leaned her head against Straccan's hip. 'I hate
goodbyes.'

'Well,
honey, if there were no goodbyes there would be no happy returns, now
would there?' He swung her up and carried her, laughing, down the
steps.

Somehow
the place didn't feel quite the same, as if it missed the young
knight with his singing and laughter. If places could miss people,
Straccan thought, Stirrup was missing someone. He began to feel
uneasy. She'd not have forgotten Miles's departure. Perhaps she had
hurt herself in the water-meadow. It was a long way from the house.
The certainty of something wrong grew fast.

'Adeliza,
did Mistress Janiva say where she was going?'

'I
haven't seen her this morning, Sir.'

'She
said something about picking herbs in the water-meadow.'

'Oh
no, I don't think so. She hasn't taken the basket or the shears. She
always takes them when she's--'

He
went up the stairs to the bedchamber three at a time. The bed she'd
shared with Gilla was tidy and smooth. The pegs where her mantle and
travelling cloak had hung were bare. The leather satchel she'd
brought with her, which had been at the foot of the bed, was not
there now.

He
made for the stable at a run. Her palfrey was gone.

He
flung a saddle on Zingiber and spurred out of the gate. North, she'd
have to go north; she could only be going home, but why? Why run
away? He wanted to marry her, wanted her here, safe with himself and
Gilla. Here to say goodbye to when he went away, to be waiting when
he came back. At his table. In his bed. His wife.

She
had only gone half a league when he came up with her. Hearing hoofs,
she looked back and saw him, and stopped. When he reached her he saw
tears on her face and lashes. He dismounted and lifted her down. He
could feel her trembling.

'Why?'
he said. 'Why run away from me?'

'Richard--'

'I
want you to stay. We'll be married.'

'No!'
she cried. 'That's why I left. You're right, I ran away, and I'm
sorry, but I knew you would ask me. We can't marry, Richard!'

'Why
not?'

'It
wouldn't work.' She turned her face away, wiping at her tears with
the back of her hand.

'Why
not? What's wrong? I know you love me.'

'That's
got nothing to do with it.'

'Then
explain it to me!'

She
sighed. 'You are a knight,' she said. 'My mother was villein. Knights
don't marry freedwomen.'

'More
fool them,' said Straccan. 'Knights can bloody well please
themselves! I don't believe that's all that's worrying you.'

'No.
Richard, it would do you no good—it could do you much harm—to
have people say your wife is a witch.'

'A
witch?'

She
stared at his stunned face and laughed. 'Oh, Richard, didn't you
realise? That's what they call women like me.'

'No,
he protested. 'A witch? Julitta is a witch, not you!'

'Yes,
me! She chose a dark path, because it promised to lead her to power.
But to begin with we would have been much alike. She hurts, I heal. I
love, she hates. Two faces of one coin, Richard, but both are called
witch.'

He
said nothing but stared at the trees and the sky, unseeing, trying to
find the right words to shake her argument. After a while she walked
away from him and sat on the grass under an oak tree. She had not
mentioned the strange experience by the stream and the unease that
had troubled her ever since. She would not involve him, or Gilla, in
that. It was for her to deal with. Her palfrey whickered softly. She
closed her eyes and leaned back against the warm rough trunk. The sun
shone on her face, and then his shadow darkened her closed eyelids.

'It
doesn't make any difference,' he said.

'Richard--'

'No,
listen. Freedwoman, witch, whatever you are, I want to marry you.
Because I love you, Janiva. Understand? If you want to go home now
I'll take you, but I'll keep coming back until you see sense.'

'See
it your way, you mean,' she said, but he had turned to catch
Zingiber's reins and didn't hear her.

He'd
take her home. She needed time to think about it. When she'd thought
about it, she'd see she was wrong. She loved him. He knew she did.
He'd bring her round.