The Blacksmith's Wife (11 page)

Joanna’s heart stopped beating at the way in which Hal so easily dismissed the idea of a lord and a blacksmith’s daughter. Before this evening she would have declared that of course such a match was possible, but now she wondered if Roger had ever intended to marry her. The thought was like a knife to her heart.

Hal continued his tale. ‘My father swore he would not end his association with my mother. He continued visiting her in secret after his marriage, but before long there was evidence he could not deny.’

‘What do you mean?’ Joanna asked.

Hal raised himself on to his elbows. ‘Me. It’s hard to pretend there is no mistress when presented with a swelling belly. Much less when the curly-topped infant so clearly bears the signs of being a Danby.’

Joanna looked at her husband now her eyes had become more accustomed to the dark. His face was shrouded in shadow obscuring his features, but she could picture all too clearly the dark eyes and black curls of all three Danby men. Lord Danby would have been unable to deny fathering the man in whose arms she lay.

‘That must have been hard for Lady Danby,’ Joanna ventured.

Hal nodded in the blackness. ‘She threatened to return to her father, taking her dowry with her. Unfortunately she was already with child herself when my impending existence was revealed.’

He sighed and his fingers curled around Joanna’s shoulder.

‘She can hardly blame you for your conception,’ Joanna protested.

‘No, but hearts are not always rational. I don’t bear Lady Danby any ill will for her resentment towards me or my father. To live with someone and know every day that they wish to be with someone else cannot be easy. When I was brought into her household that must have been humiliating.’

They lay in silence. Joanna’s stomach curdled with shame. She wondered if Hal thought of their circumstances when he had said that. He had showed no bitterness, but she renewed her resolve to bury her feelings for Roger deeper so that Hal would never know how her longing scorched her heart. She pictured Anne Danby, married to a man who did not love her, bearing his child and rearing his bastard. Anne, like Joanna herself, had known from the outset that their marriage was nothing more than a business contract. She appeared fond of her husband now, but how long had it taken for them to reach that state?

‘Why were you brought here to live? Where is your mother?’ Joanna asked.

Hal’s jaw tightened. ‘It’s commonplace that men keep mistresses, especially those who have a marriage thrust on them, but do you think my father is the sort of man to flaunt another woman under his wife’s roof? Or that Lady Danby would tolerate such a thing?’

‘Of course not!’ Joanna exclaimed.

‘Until I was six we lived in Pickering with my grandfather,’ he said in a whisper. ‘My mother assumed I would follow my grandfather in his trade, but whenever my father visited he told me tales of knights and tournaments. I begged him to bring me to live here so I could learn to be a knight.’

He stopped speaking and gave a cough, as though it embarrassed him to be caught showing such emotion.

‘My mother died when I was seven. All I really remember is her laughter.’ Hal’s voice was tight with grief. Impulsively Joanna reached for his hand. He grunted in surprise, but laced her fingers in between his.

Joanna turned on her side and touched Hal’s cheek. His beard grazed against her palm and Joanna’s heart thumped disconcertingly.

‘Her heart was broken because you left?’ Joanna asked.

Hal gave a bitter laugh. ‘Do you think such a thing can really happen? She died giving birth to the child who would have been my sister.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

Abruptly Hal rolled on to his back but kept Joanna’s hand enclosed within his, drawing it across on to his chest as he moved his arm. Through the light linen of his shirt she could feel the steady, powerful thump of his heart.

‘My family died in the Great Pestilence,’ Joanna offered quietly. ‘My mother first, a day later my sister, my two brothers within an hour of each other, finally my father. I don’t know why I survived.’

A deep pit of sadness opened in her belly. She had never told anyone of this, not even Roger, but in the dark, in Hal’s arms, she spoke freely.

‘Simon took me in, but he never wanted me.’ Her voice cracked. ‘No one did.’

No one until Roger had walked into her life. She’d eagerly clutched at every glance, caress or kind word as proof of his devotion. Now seeds of doubt began to grow into vines that wound around her heart, squeezing the life out of it. Her eyes filled with tears.

They weren’t just for her pain but for Hal’s, for the trials of the day, their earlier quarrel, for her heart aching for Roger with an intensity that would never leave her in peace. It was too large to be stifled. She tugged her hand free and rolled away from Hal as hot tears burned her cheeks. She drew her knees up to her chest and made herself small, crying silently as she had done so many nights before.

This night was different, however, because now Hal’s arms came protectively around her. Her body moulded itself to his as he held her tightly and silently until her tears were done and sleep claimed her.

When she awoke in the morning he was gone.

Chapter Eleven

H
al danced and spun, parried and thrust until his muscles cried out in protestation and his lungs burned. Over and over his sword locked with that of his opponent as strike and counterstrike increased in speed and intensity. Lost in the fight, Hal forgot all sense of time and place. His heart thumped beneath his padded leather surcoat. Shadows shortened as the sun rose higher.

A swift lunge forward and the short blades slid together until the cross guards were touching. The points tilted skywards, trapped close between the swordsmen’s bodies. Through gaps in visors their eyes met, both pairs screwed tight with determination and effort. His opponent was burly, carrying more weight than Hal, but Hal had the advantage of height. The two men edged round, feet digging into the sandy earth in an effort to gain the upper hand and still remain within the boundary of the square. Neither would give ground until, with an inward grin, Hal feinted to the left, then smoothly stepped backwards, sweeping his weapon away to the side.

His adversary lurched forward, losing his balance and landing on his knees. A quick feint to the side, a final twist and Hal was behind him, the point of his sword at the fallen man’s neck where helmet and surcoat met.

‘I submit!’ the man cried between heavy breaths, throwing his sword to the ground. The wooden blade bounced across the yard.

Hal lowered his sword arm and placed his own weapon alongside. He held the other out to help his opponent upright.

Ralf Ashby, Lord Danby’s bailiff of twelve years, lifted his visor, removed his glove and unstrapped the helmet. He scratched the grey thatch of close-cropped hair and gave a weary grimace. Hal removed his own helmet and loosened the neck of his surcoat. He disliked the garment, but even a wooden sword could leave a painful bruise.

‘Thank you, my friend. I’m glad you chanced by,’ Hal said, clasping Ralf’s arm tightly. ‘A half-hour striking at the dummy was becoming tedious and it’s good to fight a flesh opponent. I know your time is precious, but it’s been a while since I sparred with anyone.’

‘Too long by my reckoning. I nearly took you that time,’ Ralf remarked.

‘Never!’ Hal scoffed gently at his friend. ‘You’ve not beaten me once in the past five years.’

‘I’m twenty years your senior, if you can’t win against me you may as well melt down your weapon and join the brothers at Rievaulx. You were slower than last time.’ Ralf grinned wickedly. ‘Perhaps your new wife is keeping you up too long at night?’

Hal drew his lips back into an approximation of a smile. The bout had lifted his mood and the mention of Joanna threatened to plunge him into gloom again. True enough he had got precious little rest last night, though Ralf would no doubt be surprised as to the true reason why.

He tallied up the nights since his marriage. Four he’d spent sleeping alone on a wooden settle and the two he’d shared his wife’s bed she’d spent weeping or lying in trepidation of his touch. Last night, wrapping his arms tightly about her, he had been unable to ignore the sensation of Joanna’s body close to his. Her back curving against his chest, her buttocks brushing inadvertently against his crotch, the tangle of her legs between his had sent flames of lust pulsing through him that refused to be quenched, leaving Hal burning with frustration. He had been awake for hours, thinking about her words long after she had fallen asleep.

No one had wanted her.

Joanna’s voice had cracked with loneliness and Hal’s heart had cracked with it. He wondered if she had included Roger in her statement. Was she starting to realise that his professed affection had been a falsehood or was her regret that the man she believed
did
want her lacked the means to claim her?

More than that, did she include Hal himself in her assessment? After all, he’d made no secret of the fact that for him their marriage had been a convenient and advantageous match. He’d never given her reason to suspect there was anything more to his feelings than that, but last night it had taken all his strength to resist the temptation to wake her and demonstrate how much he craved her. It was fortunate Ralf had called on Lord Danby this morning and given him the opportunity for release of another kind.

‘Hal!’

The sound of his name dragged him from his reverie. He looked up to discover Ralf was watching him, a knowing smirk on his face.

‘Hal, were you listening at all?’ Ralf asked. ‘Are you going to tilt as well or is it another kind of lance you’re thinking of aiming?’

Hal rolled his shoulders back, feeling the ache from the unfamiliar positions he had forced his limbs into. He ignored the bailiff’s insinuation.

‘Not today. I plan to be home before dusk. I have work waiting for me.’

‘And a new wife to spend time with, surely?’ Ralf laughed.

‘Of course,’ Hal replied. He clapped Ralf on the shoulder. ‘Come, I need a drink and I’ll wager you do also.’

A bath, too, he decided, as side by side they crossed the yard. Two days travelling and his exercise this morning had left Hal craving a plunge into the nearby beck. Even in late summer it rushed in ice-cold foam over the rocks. In spring it would be bitterly cold; enough to cool the hottest ardour. He unbuckled the surcoat as he glanced across to where Lord Danby stood by the barn leaning on his stick.

His father was not alone. Joanna was standing by his side. Their heads were bent together and Joanna was whispering in his father’s ear. Lord Danby had been alone when they had begun the bout so how much had Joanna witnessed? The thought of her watching while he was unaware of her presence sent a tremor of excitement through Hal.

As he and Ralf approached she took a step to the side, folding her hands demurely in front of her. She was wearing fresh clothing; a deep-green kirtle he had not seen before laced tight beneath her breasts. Her cheeks were pink and her hair, smoothly parted in the centre and coiled in thick plaits high above her ears, was damp. She had clearly taken the opportunity to bathe, too, though he presumed in the house rather than the fast-flowing beck that he intended to hurl himself into.

Hal’s heart gave a violent thump as the image crossed his mind of Joanna swimming naked, the current twisting her hair in fierce tangles and icy water caressing her skin. He could not prevent the grin that formed on his lips.

‘Good morning, Mistress Danby.’

Joanna’s eyes widened as they travelled the length of Hal’s body. He became acutely aware of his own appearance and how unkempt he was. Even though the bout had been friendly Ralf never gave quarter and Hal had fought hard. When he eased the surcoat off his damp linen tunic clung to his chest and back. His face bore a week’s growth of beard and as he pulled the linen cap off, shaking his hair free, it stuck in thick tendrils to his scalp and cheeks. Sweat trickled down his neck and he lifted an arm to wipe it away on his sleeve.

Joanna looked away, biting her lip. The gesture reminded him of Lady Danby who never bothered to hide her distaste and his heart sunk.

‘Who won?’ Lord Danby asked impatiently.

‘Your son, of course,’ Ralf answered. ‘I believe he has been practising despite his assurances he has not. Something has given him vigour he did not previously possess.’

Lord Danby gave a satisfied snort as though he had never doubted the outcome.

Hal looked down to find Joanna’s long-lashed eyes on him again. Her expression was intense and her lips slightly parted. Her cheeks flushed pink as their eyes locked.

A fist drove into Hal’s chest and he realised he had been mistaken at first. It was not distaste that had made her look away, but a hunger she either did not recognise in herself or did not know what to do with. A hunger for him. His blood rose once again. His fingers itched to touch her and awaken the desire he had sensed brimming below the surface when he had lain with her before. Tonight they would sleep in his bed and nothing would prevent him quenching the thirst he felt.

‘Why are we out here when there is wine and food inside?’ he asked. ‘Joanna we need to leave soon and should eat before we do.’

Joanna put her hand on Lord Danby’s arm to lead him back towards the house. Hal smiled at the sight.

Lord Danby patted her hand. ‘Thank you, but I must ask Master Ashby to escort you back. I would like words with my son.’

Joanna glanced towards Hal. He gestured her to go ahead, watching as she took Ralf’s arm and returned to the house.

‘I like her,’ Lord Danby said. ‘I don’t know what kind of woman Roger will eventually present as a bride, but I’m glad to see one of my sons is capable of finding a sensible woman.’

Hal gritted his teeth at the irony of his father’s words. He said nothing, his eye still on Joanna’s shapely figure.

‘Your marriage wasn’t for love, I don’t need eyes to see that. You aren’t at ease with each other,’ Lord Danby continued. ‘Is she with child?’ His face darkened. ‘Is it yours?’

‘No!’ Hal bunched his fists. ‘There’s no child. Joanna was a virgin.’

His mind flew back to Joanna’s promise to bear his children. Yesterday morning he had been reckless. He would have to take more care in future. He intended to produce no unwanted accidents himself.

‘The man she hoped to marry did not want her.’

Your son
, he wanted to rage. The urge to reveal the truth to his father was overpowering.

‘So you took his place? Would this man be someone known to me?’ Lord Danby asked shrewdly.

Hal stared at his father in surprise. Because of his condition Lord Danby seldom travelled further than Pickering, yet no information seemed to pass him by.

‘What makes you say that?’ he asked warily.

‘You went to York with Roger and returned with a wife. I know my sons. We both know you see Roger’s transgressions as something you need to handle. You aren’t obliged to make amends for all his mistakes.’

Hal’s mouth twitched. A feeling of nausea began to fill his belly. He folded the surcoat over his arm, his throat tightening. ‘I didn’t marry Joanna for Roger’s benefit. It suited us both to marry,’ Hal said.

‘I hoped you would marry a woman you cared for.’ Lord Danby sighed.

‘Why?’ Hal asked.

Lord Danby closed his cloudy eye and stared unseeing towards the moors. His voice became wistful. ‘Because you share my nature...and you’ve always known your mind. Bastardy can be a curse, but it gives you the freedom I never had.’

‘Freedom, yes. Advantages, no,’ Hal snapped. He regarded his father. A man who had kept a mistress far too long after taking a wife, who held romantic notions like a character in a troubadour’s tale. Hal owed his existence to this man’s weakness, but their natures were nothing alike.

‘My status closes as many doors as it opens. Joanna needed a husband and her family connections will open doors for me no other wife could. How could the notion of love compete with such an opportunity?’

‘In that case I’m sure your marriage will be happy,’ Lord Danby said. ‘Or at least no more unhappy than any.’

Lord Danby reached for his arm and in silence father and son returned to the house.

* * *

Midmorning came before they bade their farewells to Lord Danby and Lady Danby. Wrapped in their travelling cloaks, Hal and Joanna stood side by side as Lord Danby’s stable boy led Valiant, Hal’s tan courser, to the front of the house. Joanna’s mouth became a circle as the animal tossed its head and stamped impatiently.

‘Where’s the cart?’ she asked in alarm.

Hal took the reins and held his hand for Valiant to catch his scent. The horse snickered in recognition and he ran his hand along the animal’s smooth flank.

‘We’re leaving the cart here,’ he explained as he led the animal closer to Joanna. ‘One of my father’s servants will drive it over. I stabled Valiant here before I came to York. The hill to Ravenscrag is steep and the cart would be too slow for my liking today. I want to get home quickly.’

Joanna took a step backwards. ‘I don’t know how to ride,’ she protested.

‘You don’t have to know how to ride,’ he told her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. ‘You just have to know how to hold on.’

‘To the horse?’ She sounded doubtful.

Hal took her hand. Did he imagine the catch in her throat or the way her skin seemed to flutter at his touch?

‘Not to the horse. To me.’

He swung himself on to Valiant, then pushed the stirrup back. ‘Put your foot in and get ready to swing your leg across,’ he instructed. He twisted round in the saddle and slipped his hands beneath Joanna’s arms. She was light and he lifted her with ease behind him as she obeyed his instruction.

‘Now put your arms around me.’

Her hands slid beneath his arms and tightened around his waist. She pressed herself against his back. Hal allowed himself a moment to enjoy the sensation before he looped his foot back into the stirrup and spurred the horse into a trot. Joanna gave a muffled cry of alarm and her grip tightened, squeezing the breath from him. Casting a look behind him, he saw Joanna’s bowed head hidden beneath the hood of her cloak.

Hal almost turned back for the cart, but he’d spent too long away from his forge. He was impatient to get back to the heat of the flames and smell of the charcoal. His muscles were complaining from the bout with Ralf and his skin still stung from the icy water of the beck. Now he craved the aches that came from a day hammering and lifting the iron. There would be work waiting—jobs that he could not leave, but that would take time from his new masterwork. Whatever he might tell his father, he knew marriage to Joanna was no guarantee of admission to the guild. He wondered if he should have negotiated harder with Simon Vernon for greater concessions.

They reached open ground and Valiant began to gallop. The moor was flat here and they could make good speed. Hal felt Joanna’s grip shift and glanced over his shoulder. She was gazing around and a wide smile had transformed her face.

‘Are you all right?’ he shouted over the wind.

Joanna nodded, her eyes burning with excitement. Her hood fell back, caught by a gust of wind, and she laughed out loud, causing Hal to do the same.