Joanna (67 page)

Later in the afternoon, Léon’s uncle, Louis, arrived, having been summoned by messenger the previous day. The ransom was counted and delivered. Geoffrey and Joanna were now truly guests, housed in the best guest room and free to leave whenever they desired. Unfortunately, that was more theory than fact because Geoffrey was still in too much pain and too weak to ride, and to carry him in a horse litter away from France would cry aloud to the world the strong possibility that he had been wounded at Bouvines. This would be an open invitation to be made prisoner again.   It was known that no ransoms had yet been paid to Philip. Thus, any wounded knight who could not identify himself as Philip’s man was fair game.

With herculean effort, Joanna maintained a placid demeanor during the next week. Geoffrey was winning his battle for health. His appetite was greatly improved. All the small cuts were clean and closed, and the large ones were less red and swollen and much drier. His bones were not so prominent, no longer threatening to pierce through his tight-drawn skin, and he did not tire quite so easily. If they had been at home, the satisfaction Joanna felt in this improvement together with the demands made upon her time and energy by her mother’s estate would have kept Joanna relatively content. At Baisieux, however, there was nothing for her to do but attend Geoffrey. They talked together, ate together, played togethereverything except slept together. And it seemed to Joanna that every accidental touch of Geoffrey’s hand, every word out of his mouth, stoked her fire higher.

Her manner grew daily more strained. By the end of the week, Geoffrey’s health had improved considerably and he was very aware that something was wrong with Joanna. He was horrified at the way she winced aside from his outstretched hand when he prepared to lead her from the dinner table, at the way she seemed anxious to look anywhere, at anything, except him. He made a few tentative efforts to discover what was wrong, only to be rebuffed more and more coldly and finally lost his own temper.

“Since I seem to be unwelcome to you, “he snapped, “I will go back to my bed.”

“Yes, yes, do,” Joanna responded.

Geoffrey nearly slapped her. He would have done so had they not been in a stranger’s hall. The worst of it was that she did not seem aware of what she had said. His judgment was quite right. Almost weeping with frustration, Joanna fled to find Gilliane as soon as Geoffrey was gone. She knew she had given Gilliane no reason to like or wish to help her, but she was desperate.

“At home I am busy all day,” Joanna explained   breathlessly. “I am not used to idleness. I have not even my embroidery.”

Gilliane was very much surprised. She had not thought such a grand lady did anything, but she took in the feverish spots in Joanna’s cheeks, the tenseness, and understood the girl needed help. Comfortingly, she slipped an arm around Joanna.

“Do not fret, child. Soon he will be well, but come, you can help me in the dairy. I must look to the cheeses today, and it will do you good to walk outside for a time. You are too much within.”

At first Joanna thought she would scream with impatience as Gilliane talked to her about cheeses, but little by little she grew interested. Roselynde made cheese too, of course, but this was of a different taste and texture. They sampled and discussed mixtures of cow and goat milk, length of hanging and smoking times, and Joanna felt her innards stop shaking. She was frankly regretful when Gilliane turned back toward the keep, but felt better again when the older woman suggested that she embroider a tunic for the elder of the two sons, who was to be presented for fostering and needed some handsome clothes. It would at least be a place to rest her eyes so that she would not need constantly to struggle not to stare at Geoffrey.

As they entered the hall, Joanna looked down. She did not know whether Geoffrey was up and about again and she did not wish to lose her newfound calm. Thus, she was very startled to hear Gilliane cry, “Mother! What are you doing?”

Joanna’s eyes came up just in time to see an elderly woman step away from the entrance to the wall chamber in which Geoffrey lay. Something shone briefly in the old woman’s hand as she turned toward them but was concealed by her skirt before Joanna could see what it was.

“I suppose I can walk about my own home,” the old woman said.

“But mother,” Gilliane protested breathlessly, hurrying forward, “you know you have been ill. You know Léon said you must stay above in the women’s chambers. Come   with me now. Come, before he returns and is angry!”

“You and Léon are fools!” the old woman spat, “and Louis is so lily-livered he will take the chance of the prize slipping through his fingers so as to be clear of any suspicion. They are devils, I tell you. There is no honor when one deals with the devil.”

Gilliane had now seized the woman, turned her about, and was drawing her forcibly toward the stairs leading to the women’s quarters. Joanna stood transfixed. She was not sure why, but a terrible chill passed over her. The woman’s words were incomprehensible. Nonetheless, there was hate and an enormous threat in them. Fear grew and movement came back to Joanna. That was a knife in the old woman’s hand! She ran headlong into Geoffrey’s chamber and, throwing back the bed curtains, began to examine him feverishly.

Startled awake, he seized her hands. “Joanna! What are you doing?”

“Are you hurt?” she whispered tensely, “Are you hurt?”

“Hurt? Are you mad? You have been tending my hurts for a week.” He saw she was trembling. “What ails you, Joanna?”

“I fearI fear!”

“Do not begin that again!” Geoffrey snapped, irritable from being wakened too suddenly and remembering how furious he had been when they parted. “I tell you, we are safe here. Sir Léon and Lady Gilliane wish us no harm.

“Yes, that is true, but the old woman”

“Sir Léon’s mother? I have never seen her, except” Geoffrey’s voice grew uncertain as he remembered the vague dreams of delirium, of being tortured by an old woman. He pulled Joanna closer. “Why do you fear her?”

“She had a knife. I did not see it clear, but I am sure it was a knife, and she was coming in here. Gilliane was frightened too. She almost dragged her back to the women’s quarters. Gilliane said the old woman was sickbut, Geoffrey, she was not, not weak or pale. I fearShe saidshe   said one did not need to be honorable in dealing with devils”

“How sad,” Geoffrey interrupted, looking concerned but not in the least alarmed. “The poor woman must be disordered in her wits. That is why they keep her above. Probably she believes any stranger is a devil. I suppose she would give Gilliane no peace until she promised that Sir Léon must come home before I was freed.”

“But she had a knife. Geoffrey, she had”

“No, my love, no,” he soothed, smiling. “More like she had a crucifixand was about to exorcise me. One does not leave knives where madwomen can get at them.”

It was possible. Joanna drew a shuddering breath. Geoffrey pulled her still closer, his bad humor greatly assuaged by her fear for him, but she stiffened and resisted.

“Let me go,” Joanna whispered, beginning to tremble again but unwilling to pull away forcibly lest she hurt him. “Do not touch me, Geoffrey, please do not.”

“What have I done?” Geoffrey asked, unsure of whether he was more hurt or angry. “Why do yot shrink from me? Why will you not look in my face? Have the few marks upon me made. me Joathesome to you? Have you cast your eyes elsewhere, thinking me dead?”

The last question made it clear to Geoffrey himself that he was furious rather than hurt. He tightened his grip upon Joanna brutally. Utterly unstrung by her frustration and a horrible chill of fear that Geoffrey’s reasoning had not really removed, Joanna began to sob. It seemed to confirm Geoffrey’s worst fears. He released one of her hands and slapped her faue, then began to struggle to lift himself upright without letting her go completely.

“No, no,” Joanna cried, choking, “no, Geoffrey. You will hurt yourself. Indeed, indeed, there is no one but you. Let me go, oh, please let me go. I want what you cannot give me now. My love, let me go. I cannot bear my need for you.”

Geoffrey stopped moving instantly, but he did not let Joanna go. There was a short silence. Joanna wept afresh   and slowly subsided onto the bed, her face buried in the pillow beside Geoffrey’s head. She heard him chuckle softly.

‘‘Little fool,” he whispered into her ear, “no damage was done to that part of me. Call me ‘love’ again, and you will see how able I am.”

“No, Geoffrey, no.”

“What a wife you are,” he laughed. “I swear you are the most disagreeable woman in the world. All you say is ‘no.’ Do you wish me to repudiate our marriage on the grounds that you will not perform your marital duty? For shame!”

“Oh, Geoffrey, do not tease me,” Joanna sighed, turning on her side to face him and sniffing, a tremulous smile beginning to show on her lips. “I am so miserable.”

“You mean uncomfortable,” he corrected, grinning. “I know. If you will but bestir yourself to look, you will see that I am just as uncomfortable myself. A delicious discomfortis it not?”

“You are mad,” Joanna faltered. “You will open your wounds again. Let me go. I am over it now. It was only my fright. Let me go.”

“Ah, but I am not over it. Not in the least. And I assure you it will do me more harm to be left in this state than to have my urgent need satisfied.”

“Geoffrey, no. I am afraid”

Her voice trembled into silence. He held her firmly with one hand, but the other was very active. Joanna’s eyes closed and she shivered, her body moving uncontrollably under his touch, her breath coming in irregular gasps. With a last flicker of sense, she tried to pull away, sighing, “Someone will come. It is midafternoon. Geoffrey, stop.”

“Close the bed curtains,” he replied thickly, “and take off that gown. Do not deny me! In the name of God, it is more than three months since I have touched a woman. Now that you have roused me, you must content me. You will not hurt me. I will show you how. Only take off your clothes.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, but her hands were already tearing off her garments, throwing them helter-skelter away. “Are you sure, Geoffrey?”

He did not answer, only laughed, his eyes shining and   golden. Such a sweet answer as this was to the ugly questions he had asked. He untied his chausses and pulled them down, wincing as he lifted his buttocks and dislodged the pad that covered his hip. Joanna winced too and drew back as her eyes fell upon the raw flesh, but Geoffrey seized her before she could move far. His arm went high around her back and fastened on her breast. Both nipples hardened and swelled even more, although they were already firm and protuberant. Joanna’s eyes slid from the sore to Geoffrey’s upstanding shaft. He laughed again and spread his legs wide.

“Mount astride me sidelong,” he urged eagerly, “so you rest on my good hip. So! Ah! Just so!”

To say more was not necessary. As Joanna slid down upon him, up and then down again, Geoffrey moaned softly, but she did not fear the sound was drawn from him by pain. The position was odd only at first. Joanna found she could support herself on a bent elbow just high enough to put hardly any pressure on her husband’s body. This was convenient because if Geoffrey bent his head sideways, it brought the breast he was not fingering just athwart his lips. He accepted the invitation eagerly and soon Joanna heard herself crying softly, “Hurry, oh hurry, please hurry.”

It was a most unnecessary plea. As the climax she could not resist convulsed her, Geoffrey was jerking beneath her in his own. Somehow, in spite of the violence of her release, Joanna managed to twist backward and turn so that she fell beside Geoffrey rather than atop him. For a time there was no sound but the mutual rasp of labored breathing. Then Geoffrey began to chuckle again.

“You are filled with endless delights and surprises,” he murmured. “You gave me a most pretty answer to a base fool’s question and then, when I was wild with fear I would die away too soon, there you are squeaking at me ‘hurry, hurry.’ Never have I heard such sweet words.”

“I did not squeak,” Joanna protested, her eyes laughing, while she pretended indignation. “I only”

“You are sought, my lady.” Edwina’s voice was neutral and came tactfully from outside the door.   “Oh dear,” Joanna exclaimed, blushing up to her hair and right down to her breasts.

That set Geoffrey off again. “We are man and wife,” he chortled. “You are not caught in sin.”

“No,” Joanna hissed, half-amused and half-annoyed, scrambling into her clothing as quickly as she could, “but what must be thought of me to permit or, worse, to press a man in your condition to such an act?”

“Do not you dare ever say such a thing,” Geoffrey expostulated, laughing harder. “What must be thought of
me
to need such urging?”

In the hall, Gilliane waited in a fever of impatience and anxiety. Edwina had known what her lady was doing; she had heard the opening moves and had just settled down to listen with enjoyment when Lady Gilliane had entered the antechamber. Most firmly, Edwina closed the door and resisted interruption. Even if the castle had been attacked at that moment, for no reason except threat of immediate death would Edwina have called her mistress. She, after all, bore the brunt of Joanna’s bad temper. She was not going to allow anything to interfere with the relief of Joanna’s frustration. Lady Joanna was attending her husband, Edwina said stubbornly; she would come in a few minutes, when she was finished.

Gilliane was too distressed to judge correctly Joanna’s heavy eyes and flushed face when she came from the inner chamber. “Is Lord Geoffrey worse?” she asked anxiously.

Joanna was surprised. From the day after their arrival, Gilliane had shown only a polite interest in Geoffrey. Now her question had an intensity that was far beyond politeness. “No,” Joanna replied, and then thinking of what they had been doing, “I hope not, but he is asleep now, I think.”

Gilliane hesitated. It was against her training to wake a man except for an immediate emergency, but what she had to say seemed to need a man’s decisiveness. On the other hand, it would be far easier to say what she must to Joanna. God knew what a man would do when he heard it.