Bella at Midnight (10 page)

Father climbed a rope ladder. He did not need a chair.

Oh, you cannot imagine anything so grand as the deck of that ship! You could fit our great hall onto it four times over, perhaps more. And the wood on the deck was smooth and clean, not like at home where we have rushes on the floor, hiding the occasional dog's dropping or chicken bone. The sailors scrub the deck
every morning
, too—imagine that!

They were busy loading the ship with goods: a fortune in woolen cloth and glassware and port wine and other things that Father would trade for spices and silk and ebony and ivory. They also had to bring along food for the crew to eat during the voyage: barrels of herring and ale and hard bread and salt meat—and even ordinary water, for seawater is not wholesome to drink.

And the sailors truly
did
climb up the tall masts, just as Father had said they would. And they did not seem afraid to do it, either. I suppose they have to go up there all the time, for that's how they let out the great sails and take them in again.

“You ought to see them do it in a gale,” Father said, grinning.

Suddenly a chill ran through me—a gale! I did not wish to imagine them being tossed about by a howling wind and crashing waves—but once he had spoken of it, I could not drive the image out of my thoughts. And from that moment on, the ship lost all its charms and came to seem horrid and dangerous to me. Father's little cabin became a death hole; I saw him trapped there, terrified, as water filled the room. I imagined the stout masts crashing down and splintering the deck below. Then I saw the hull crack open and men fall to their deaths into the boiling sea.

And I picture it still, every night, in my dreams. I wish I had never seen that ship.

A
s soon as Father returned, I was to be wed.

A girl cannot always count on liking the man she is to marry, but I did. Richard was tall and fair and near to my own age. He could just as easily have been sixty or twelve, foul breathed or snot nosed. I know that. But Father was content in his own marriage and desired that I might feel the same about mine. Besides, we were in a good bargaining position. Though Father was of the merchant estate, he was as rich as a lord, and Mother was the daughter of a knight. Even more to the point, Mother had not borne a living child in twelve years. Her chances of producing a son and heir were fast fading. It was likely that Alice and I would inherit everything.

Richard's eyes were a bit too close together, that is true, and his face a little prone to red spots—the sort of blemishes boys so often suffer from in their youth. But he would outgrow them in time, and aside from those minor flaws, he was as goodly a man as any girl could want. He still had a full head of hair and most of his teeth.

At the time of our marriage, Richard would dower me with a manor house and a village of more than five hundred souls—also the cattle and sheep and pigs, as well as the income from the mill, the bridge crossing, and the communal oven. This was more than acceptable, and I hoped through good management and wise investment to increase my holdings over time.

For my part, I would bring a dowry that was as exotic as it was splendid, and of this I was exceedingly proud. Though I had hemmed and embroidered the sheets myself, the bed hangings were of silk and gold brocade. I doubted even the
king
had anything so fine! And the saltcellar was of gold, studded with emeralds. My dresses were so beautifully made and of such rare fabrics that I believe I could have worn them at the king's court, and the greatest ladies in the land would have looked upon me with envy.

Our father traveled the world, and each time he returned he brought us wonderful gifts—oh, what an eye for quality he had! Such jewels and ornaments of gold and embroidered silks and silver candlesticks of cunning design and rosewood boxes inlaid with ebony and ivory! And aromatic spices, too, and receipts for how to use them in exotic dishes. He entertained us with stories about the pashas and sultans of foreign lands. And so, by way of Father's travels, we grew far more worldly than our neighbors.

It was only natural, then, that my wedding feast should be a truly splendid affair, so lavish and elegant that for years thereafter people would still speak of it in hushed voices! Oh, the fancy dishes we would have the cooks prepare—rich delicacies never tasted before in our town! And our guests would not eat from trenchers like common folk, but from dishes of pure silver—one for each person, so they would not have to share. And all the guests would drink their wine from goblets of fine Venetian crystal!

Already our hall was decorated with beautiful tapestries and hangings, but Father promised to bring us yet more, in time for the wedding. We would drape swags and garlands of aromatic leaves and flowers upon the walls, and the floor would be strewn with
rose petals
instead of rushes.

Once Father's ship sailed, early in the spring, Mother and I set to work planning the great event. The days passed quickly, as so often they do when one is much occupied. By the time the apples were ripe and the air was chill at night, we had already been expecting him home for some time. But the wind does its own bidding—Father had often told us so. It might blow you far off course or cease blowing altogether, leaving you stranded for weeks. Such things had happened to him before, and so we did not worry overmuch. My thoughts were still upon the wedding and how much I regretted the need to postpone it. Already there were no rose petals to be had anywhere.

Then the snow began to fall and the sewers in the road iced over, and we truly became afraid. We did not talk of it much—Mother and Alice and I—for we wished to be hopeful and keep our spirits up. But we were all plagued by the same terrible fears—except that Alice's were worse than ours, for she had seen Father's ship, and it had frightened her and given her bad dreams.

One morning there came a knock upon our door. It was gray and windy out, I remember, and we had closed all the shutters against the cold. We sat together by the fire, sewing in silence. When the rapping came, Mother did not wait for the housemaid Liddy to answer the door but leaped up with such haste that she dropped her embroidery into the coals. I quickly fished it out.

But it was not Father at the door. To our astonishment, it was Mortran Greatbeard—my Richard's father. This was most unexpected, for he had not been to our house since the days of our marriage negotiations. His manner now was exceedingly sober. I thought he seemed ill at ease.

“Madam,” he said, “I have hard news for you.”

T
he voyage was to have been his last. After all those years of trading in trinkets, building our fortune little by little, my husband made a bold move. He put everything we had—and still more, which he borrowed—into financing one final journey. He bought a ship and filled its hold with the very finest—
truly
the best—of paintings and wines and glassware and tapestries. These would not be traded with merchants along the coast as before. These were goods for sultans and pashas.

If all went well (and why should it not?), we would be fabulously wealthy. He would become the lord of many estates, and I his lady.

He was in high spirits when he left—hungry for the adventure, sure of his success. I think, in truth, he cared more for the triumph of his enterprise than the money and lands he would gain from it. My husband was actually
proud
that he had begun his life a poor man and had made himself a rich one. “Any fool can inherit a fortune,” he liked to say. “It takes wit and hard work to make one.” I thought this sentiment very odd, for to inherit wealth is
so
much more respectable. Indeed, he always was a strange man—but I would not have another.

We were accustomed to waiting, Marianne and Alice and I. Always he went away and always he came back—richer than before and bearing wonderful gifts. But we never knew when to expect him, for it is the nature of ships to be ever at the mercy of the winds.

One time he dressed himself as a peasant—dirtied his face and pulled a cowl over his head, so we would not know him—and knocked upon our door. Liddy would not allow him into the house, but did agree to “give the mistress this package.”

I was busy with our accounts when she came in, most apologetically, and handed me a wad of rags, saying a filthy beggar had insisted she deliver it. I took it in my hand with some reluctance, for the cloth was soiled and reeked of garlic. But then I felt the weight of it, and became most curious, so that I began unwrapping it in haste. Inside there was a gold necklace—and I knew my husband was home! Ah, whoever had such a man!

So we waited with good patience, long past the time he might be expected. Then we waited still a month more. The cold came early that year, with one storm after another moving across the land. I comforted myself by imagining that he had been forced to take shelter in some harbor along the way. But another month passed, and still he did not come. Now the snow was falling, and though I tried to train my thoughts to be hopeful, I began to fear the worst.

One morning there came a knock upon the door. I could think of nothing but that he had finally returned. I would not have Liddy delay him a moment longer, and so I ran to open it myself.

But it was not my husband. It was Mortran Greatbeard, father of Marianne's betrothed. His mien was grim, and he wasted no time on pretty words. My husband had been declared lost at sea, he said. Our creditors would demand full payment of all we owed, most likely that very day. Mortran had come to give us fair warning, for it was being much talked of all over town.

“You understand, of course,” Mortran said—and I think I saw a flash of shame cross his face as he said it—“that the arrangement between my son and your daughter is now invalid, as your circumstances have changed.”

Oh, such nice wording that was—“your circumstances have changed.” Meaning, of course, that we would soon lose our home, our horses, our furnishings, our dresses and jewels, the candlesticks and the saltcellar and the glassware, the bed hangings and sheets and the silver platters and the goblets and the cunning little carvings from the Far East. My husband's things, too—his books and clothes. I could not bear the thought of it!

According to the laws, our creditors should not have been allowed to take my dower lands, and that would have saved us. But no—I had been bold, too. “Borrow against my dower lands,” I had said. “The more you have to spend on cargo, the greater the riches in the end!”

Now the greater the ruin.

Mortran, having said his piece, bowed curtly to us all and left. Marianne managed to keep her composure until the door was shut, then ran screaming to her chamber. I did not go after her, for my legs were trembling, and I felt so light-headed I feared I might faint. I went over and sat down on the bench beside Alice, though she seemed not to notice I was there. She sat, unmoving, her hands crossed over her lips and her eyes very wide.

“Mistress?” It was Liddy. I had not heard her approach, and so her voice startled me. “Mistress,” she said again, “pardon that I overheard.”

“So then you know everything,” I said, not turning to look at her, but staring dejectedly into the fire. “That is just as well. I will pay your wages now, while I still have something left. Obviously, then, you must go. Cook, too. All of you.”

“But Mistress,” she said, “just a little thought . . .”

I turned around now. She was wringing her hands nervously, but her face was eager.

“Do they know—do your creditors know
everything
you have? Every dress, every silk shawl or ivory comb?”

“Well . . . ,” I said, trying to imagine what path her thoughts were taking. “Not
every single thing
in this house is itemized. Only those things of greatest value.”

“So then, that's good.”

“Liddy, please make your point.”

“I will, Mistress. See, when I go home in the evenings, from time to time I take a basket of stale bread or the like. It is common practice enough.” I had long suspected that more than stale bread went home with Liddy, but I was prepared to hear her out.