Elliott, Kate - Crown of Stars 1 (30 page)

Rising up, even to a half sit, made her head throb. The pain in her abdomen came and went in waves. The clammy hand dropped away from her face, but it was only a cold rag. Through her good eye she saw Mistress Birta and, in the background, Dorit. Mistress Birta straightened up from her crouch at Liath's feet. Her hands were blood red.

Dizziness swept Liath. "I have to lie down," she gasped. Even as Hanna lowered her, she fell completely out of consciousness.

Came up again, still lying on the hard surface. Mistress Birta was speaking.

"We'll move her upstairs. I've done all I can."

"I've seen him hit her a few times, now and again," said a new voice which Liath vaguely identified as Dorit's, "but with that temper she has, and her his bonded slave, I've never blamed him. But this." There was a heavy silence, followed by the clucking of tongues. "It's a sin against Our Lady, it is. I couldn't let her lie there, bleeding, when I saw she was losing a child."

Hanna and Birta carried her upstairs. It took that long for Dorit's words to sink in.

Losing a child.

They laid her on Hanna's bed and padded her with moss to absorb the blood still flowing from her. Birta pulled a shift down over her hips, so she might rest modestly.

She choked out the words. "Is it true? Was I pregnant?"

"Well, surely, lass. Do you suppose you can bed with a man all winter and not become pregnant? Hadn't you noticed that your courses had stopped?"

Liath just lay there. She felt Hanna's warm hand come to rest on her hair. So comforting. Dear Hanna. "I'm so tired," she said.

"You sleep, child," said Mistress Birta. "Hanna will sit with you for a while."

"Why did I never think of that?" Liath whispered. "Hugh's child. I could not bear to have Hugh's child."

"Hush, Liath," said Hanna. "I think you ought to sleep now. Lady and Lord, but he beat you. You're all bruises. He must have gone mad."

"I won't be his slave," whispered Liath.

When she woke again, much later, she felt a pleasant lassitude. The little attic room was dim, but some light leaked through the shutters. The old blanket draped over her was scratchy but warm. She was exhausted, but she was at least alone; Hugh was not here.

That counted for something.

Then she heard the pound of footsteps on the back stairs accompanied by raised voices.

"I will not let you wake her, Prater!"

"Let me by, Mistress, and this time I will ignore your impertinence."

"Prater Hugh, it may not be my place to speak so to you, but I will, so help me God, send my husband with a message to the biscop at Freelas about this incident, if you do not listen to me now."

"I am sure, Mistress, that the biscop has greater concerns than my taking a concubine."

"I am sure she does," replied Mistress Birta with astonishing curtness, "but I do not think she will look so mildly on your taking a concubine and then beating the young lass so brutally that she miscarries the child conceived of this illegal union."

"It was no child. It had not yet quickened."

"Nevertheless it would have become one
—if the Lady willed—had you not beaten her."

"I remind you that she is my slave, to do with as I please. You forget, or likely you do not know, Mistress, that the biscop of Freelas, though a noblewoman of good character, does not have powerful kin. But I do. Now
stand aside."

"But she is still a child of Our Lady and Lord, Fra-ter Hugh. It is Her Will, and not yours, that chooses whether a child be lost before its time. For we women are the chosen vessel of Our Lady, and it is by Her Will that we have been granted the gift of giving birth, a gift accompanied by pain, for how else shall we know the truth of darkness in the world and the promise of the Chamber of Light? I have midwifed many a woman in these parts, and I have seen many a woman miscarry from illness or hunger or by the chance lifting of Her Hand, and I have watched women and their babes die in childbed. But I have never seen a woman beaten so badly that she lost her child, not until now. And I will testify so, before the biscop, if I must."

There was a silence. Liath measured with her eyes the distance from the bed to the shutters, but she knew she hadn't the strength to get there, to open them, to throw herself out in order to escape from him; and anyway, even now, she did not want to die. Light bled into the room and from the yard she heard the cock crow. It must be early morning. The silence made her skin crawl. She waited, shuddering, for the latch to lift.

Finally, Hugh spoke. His voice was stiff with controlled fury. Ai, Lady, she knew him so well, now, that she could see his expression in her mind's eye. "You will return her to me when she can walk. We are leaving for Firsebarg in ten days."

"I will return her to you when she has recovered."

He was furious. She heard it in his voice. "How dare you presume to dictate to me?"

"She may yet die, Frater. Though she is not my kinswoman, I have a certain fondness for her. And she is a woman, and like myself and all women, under the special care of the Lady. For is it not written in the Holy Verses: 'My Hearth, where burns the fire of wisdom, I grant to women to tend' ? You may threaten me if you like. I do not doubt you could easily ruin me, for we all know your mother is a great noblewoman, but I will see Liath well before I let her travel such a difficult road."

"Very well," he said curtly. Then he laughed. "By Our Lord, but you've courage, Mistress. But I will see her before I go today."

Liath shut her eyes and hoped against hope that Mistress Birta would send him away.

"That is your right," said Birta finally, reluctantly. The door opened.

"Alone," said Hugh.

Liath kept her eyes shut.

"I will wait outside," said Birta. "Right out here."

Hugh shut the door behind him and latched it. She heard the sounds he made, the slip of his boots on the plank flooring, his intake of breath, the creak of a loose plank under his weight, the door closing, tugged shut, the snick of the latch, sealing them in together. She did not open her eyes. He said nothing. She was so alive to him that she knew exactly how close he stood to her, how a bare turn would brush his robes against her blanket, how near his hands hovered by her face.

But she knew very well he would not go away just because she kept her eyes shut. Da always said you must face what you feared or otherwise become its victim. Of course, Da had always said it with a derisive smile, since he had been running ever since her mother died.

She tightened her grip on the blanket, took in a deep breath, and looked up at Hugh. He studied her with a curious, intent expression. She stared back at him, suddenly so overwhelmingly tired that fear could take no grip on her.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" she whispered.

Hugh chuckled, smiling. "You are far too precious a treasure to cast away so carelessly." Then his expression changed, so fast, like a black storm rushing in from the sea. "But you must not cross me, Liath. Not ever, not like that, again."

She looked away from him to the coarse wooden slats of the wall. A few stray pieces of straw poked through from the loft beyond.

He settled down comfortably beside her. "You will need some kind of servant while we travel, and I am sure you would feel more comfortable settling in, in Firsebarg, if you had someone you knew with you. There was some talk of the Mistress' daughter marrying one of the freeholders, and also some talk that she was unwilling to. I think it might be well if the girl came with us. Then you would have company, and someone to do the work and perhaps, even, if she proves herself clever, to become chatelaine of our household. That would be a fair opportunity for someone of her birth. If you would like that, then I will speak with Mistress Birta now."

Our household.

No matter what she did, not matter how strong her will to resist him, no matter how angry he became with her, how cold she remained to him, no matter how well she had locked away her heart or how well she had hidden Da's book and knowledge, Hugh's sheer stubborn persistence would eventually wear her away to nothing. He was utterly determined to possess her. And if she ran away, where would she run to? To death, most likely, or to a life far far worse in degradation and hunger and filth. If she even could run away. No matter how great a head start she gained, Hugh would catch up to her. He always knew where she was and what she was doing. As long as he owned her, as patient as he was, she was helpless against him.

"Count Harl has granted Ivar permission to take Hanna south with his party, to Quedlinhame," Liath said. Her voice was a little hoarse; she didn't know why. She hardly knew she was speaking at all.

"Hanna? Ah, is that the girl's name? Well, I will be abbot, Liath, and in a few more years I will be elevated to the rank of presbyter and gain the ear of the skopos herself. I can offer her better prospects than a common monk can. If you want her, I see no difficulty arranging the matter with her parents. Do you want her?"

Why not give in to the inevitable? If she had only managed Da's affairs better. If she had only insisted he live more frugally. If she had not begged him last spring to let them stay just one more summer in Heart's Rest.

What good did it do to fight this incessant struggle, when she could not possibly hope to win? She could not go on and on and on and on. And if Hanna was with her, surely everything else would not be so bad? She could study, and learn, and divine the secrets of the stars and perhaps far more besides. Perhaps she would discover the mystery of the rose burned into wood. That would be her consolation.

"Yes," she said. Her voice emerged thickly. "I would like Hanna to come with us."

"Where is the book, Liath?" His expression did not alter.

"The book."

"The book," he echoed. "The book, Liath. Tell me where the book is, and I will allow you to bring the girl with us."

She closed her eyes. He touched her, drawing his fingers delicately around her collarbone, tracing her slave's collar
—no actual substance, not iron or wood or any element one could touch, but just as binding.

He had won. He knew it, and so did she.

She did not open her eyes. "Under slats, beneath the pigs' trough, in the inn stables."

He bent to kiss her lightly on the forehead. "I will arrange for the girl to accompany us. We leave in ten days."

She heard the latch lift and then Hugh's voice as he spoke to Mistress Birta, drawing her away down the stairs to the common room below.
Ten days.

She covered her face with her hands and lay there, despairing.

days dragged by for Liath, one long day after the next. It took her far longer to recover her strength than even Mistress Birta had expected. At first she slept most of the time, an aching, fitful sleep made worse by the uncomfortable straw ticking of Hanna's bed. Even getting up to relieve herself in the bucket by the door exhausted her.

By the time ten days had passed, she could negotiate the stairs once a day. She was sitting slumped on a bench downstairs at mid-day, waiting for the Mistress to bring her a meal, when Hanna came in from the yard.

Hanna's face was red from the sun, but her eyes were red from tears, and she wiped her nose with the back of a hand, sniffing as if she had caught a cold. She sank down on the bench next to Liath, looking no less dispirited. "Ivar left this morning. I ran down when I heard, but he'd already gone. He didn't even leave a message for me."

Bitter shame wormed its way into Liath's heart. "Mine is the fault. I'm sorry. He needed you. I shouldn't have begged you to stay with me. He never wanted to be forced into the church. He wanted to ride in the Dragons. And he could have, if it wasn't for me."

"Ai, Mother of Life, spare us this!" exclaimed Hanna, letting out an exasperated sigh. "You're as bad as he is. Of course he'll be fine. Count Harl sent two servants with him, so he'll have familiar faces with him at Quedlinhame. And if it's true that King Henry stops there each spring, then he'll be able to see his sister Rosvita, too. She's a cleric in the king's schola. So between her position and the gift Count Harl is making to the monastery, I'm sure Ivar will be treated very well. Probably better than his own father treated him, for there's only the one child younger than him, and she's the apple of her father's eye. With the help of his sister Rosvita, Ivar might even come to King Henry's notice. Don't you think?"

Liath was able to emerge far enough out of her own misery to recognize that underneath Hanna's practical assessment of Ivar's situation lay a real misery of her own. "Yes," she said, because it seemed to be the reassurance that Hanna wanted, "I'm sure he will. They'll educate him." She paused and took one of Hanna's hands in her own. "Hanna." She glanced around the empty room, listened, but they were alone. "I know you can tally well enough, but I'll teach you to read and write. You'll need to know, if you wish to rise to the position of chatelaine."

Like an echo, Hanna looked around the room also, then toward the door that led out to the yard and the cookhouse. It sat ajar, and through it they heard Mistress Birta ordering Karl to run eggs down to old Johan's cottage to trade for herbs. "But I've no church training. If I know how to read and write, won't people call me a witch or a sorcerer?"