The Copper Sign (21 page)

Ellen had to wonder if Mary, of all people, would intercede on her behalf, but instead of fear, a warm feeling of peace came over her. She felt as light as a feather floating through balmy spring breezes and being carried away to a far-off place that is wonderful and bright.
That can only be paradise
, Ellen thought happily.
The Lord has forgiven me and is not sending me to hell!
She could feel warm tears of joy and gratitude flowing down her cold cheeks.

“Ellen, please, stay with me.” She could now clearly hear Claire again, pleading with her, and she could feel how someone was rubbing her hands and arms that were numb from the cold.

“I am in heaven,” she whispered without opening her eyes.

“No, you’re lying here in the forest half dead, and if I don’t get you home at once this will surely be the end of you, so pull yourself together!”

Ellen heard the severity in Claire’s voice and smiled wearily.

“It doesn’t hurt, not anymore now,” she whispered.

“You’re feverish,” Claire said, touching her burning forehead, “and we must get you home at once. Can you walk if I help you?”

Ellen was still numb. She tried to regain control of her body but could hardly move her legs. Finally she struggled to her feet.

Claire put her arm around Ellen’s waist and Ellen’s hand over her shoulder, and slowly they started moving. But they had to stop again and again.

“I can’t go any farther. Let me lie down here and die in peace,” she whispered, just as they were coming out of the forest.

“Nothing doing, we’ll make it the rest of the way as well. I’ll take you home and get you back on your feet, and then you will tell me the whole story—why you were attacked and why you always wear men’s clothing and who was the father of the child. I trusted you even though I knew nothing about your past, and now you will tell me the truth, and don’t forget that.”

“You won’t like the truth,” Ellen sighed weakly.

“Let me decide that for myself. But first we have to bring down the fever and nurse you back to health.”

For the first two days Ellen felt as if she were enveloped in fog. She was too weak to eat but swallowed without complaining when Claire told her to drink, then fell back into a restless sleep in which she was tormented by dreadful nightmares. Her face changed color from ghostly white to burning red, the fever rose, and her whole body was wracked with cramps.

On the fourth night she suddenly sat bolt upright in bed— the grotesque, contorted face of Thibault had followed her! Ellen was still weak but not as numb as before. Claire had dozed off on the floor next to her and was fast asleep. It had to be night, because it was dark and quiet. The stump of a small tallow candle was still flickering on the table, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

Ellen lay back with relief on the soft down pillow that Claire used to sleep on. Her sweaty hair stuck to her head.

When she pulled the sheet up to her chin, she couldn’t help noticing that she was almost naked except for a folded piece of linen between her legs. She struggled to remember what had happened. Terrifying images flashed before her eyes. When she began to realize what had happened, she wished the ground would simply open and swallow her up. Claire must have wrapped the linen cloth around her in order not to get bloodstains on the sheets. Feebly she fell back and finally nodded off again. This time her sleep was dreamless and refreshing because the fever was finally subsiding.

The next morning she was awakened by the sweet fragrance of oats cooked in milk. She tried to stretch, but even the slightest movement caused her to wince and groan.

“How are you?” Claire said with a cheerful smile.

“Have you broken me on the wheel, or why does everything hurt?” Ellen smiled weakly.

“You had cramps from the fever. At times we didn’t think you would make it. It’s no wonder everything hurts.”

“We? Does Jacques know what happened?”

“No, don’t worry, he has been at the castle since the day it happened. I didn’t know what else to do and asked the Lady of Béthune to take him. Jacques thinks he is there to teach one of her sons how to carve figures. He can make wonderful things, did you know that? All he needs is a good knife, a whetstone for sharpening it, and a piece of dry wood. His father taught him how to do it.” Claire rubbed her nose.

“What in God’s name did you tell the lady?”

“Nothing, that was not necessary. She didn’t ask, she would never ask—she only wanted to help. If there is something you want to tell her, she’ll listen, but if you are doing something unlawful, she won’t be easy on you. I imagine this is the reason she doesn’t ask and would rather not know whether it was God’s will or your own. But as for me, I’d like to hear it all frankly and honestly, with nothing left out, and from the very beginning, if you please.” Claire smiled, but with a look of determination that made it clear to Ellen how serious she was.

Claire filled a clay bowl with hot oatmeal and added a good portion of honey. “She brought this for you, to help you regain your strength.” Claire blew into the bowl and handed it to Ellen.

Ellen ate the oatmeal slowly and with obvious enjoyment. “I’ve never had anything better!” she raved.

Claire smiled contentedly. “Here, take this,” she said. “You should drink five cups of her herbal brew every day. It wasn’t easy getting it into you while you were unconscious.”

After a few sips, Ellen felt pressure in her bladder and looked around. When she caught sight of the chamber pot, she carefully crept out from under the bed sheets, removed the linen cloths between her legs, and put on a shirt that was laid out for her at the foot of the bed. By the looks of it, it had once belonged to Claire’s husband. Ellen staggered over to the pot. Everything was spinning in her head, it was hard for her to breathe, and it felt like there was a heavy stone pressing down on her chest. Carefully, she sat down on the chamber pot. The pressure on her bladder was so great that it hurt to relieve herself. When she was done, she placed the cover back on the pot, pushed it aside, and shuffled back to her bed. Ellen wondered if Claire had set her on the pot when she was unconscious, and couldn’t remember. She closed her eyes again.

“I think the worst is over. The bleeding has stopped and the fever is gone, but you still have to rest.”

Ellen could hear Claire’s voice, but it sounded far away, as she fell back to sleep again.

When she woke up in the afternoon, she felt better.

“You’ll get better, but it has been a rough time. You were delirious with fever, and I was worried about whether you were losing your mind, and even if you would survive. You had such terrible cramps it seemed like you were possessed by the devil,” Claire told her.

“Possessed by the devil!” Ellen repeated, turning those words over in her mind. “Yes, I was possessed by the devil, and his name is Thibault, and he is my half brother.”

“Ellen!” Claire cried out in horror. “What are you trying to say?”

“The man who attacked and violated me is my half brother, and just imagine this: he doesn’t even know it!”

Claire sat down on the bed beside her and listened.

When Ellen had finished her story it was already dark. Claire lay down alongside her and gently stroked her forehead until she fell asleep.

The next day she didn’t wake up until noon.

“A messenger from your patroness brought a chicken a short while ago and told me I should make some soup. Well, I did it right away!” Claire declared with a laugh.

“Mm, it smells wonderful!” As proof of the sincerity of her words, her stomach growled loudly.

“We’ll put some meat on your bones.” Claire placed two soup bowls on the table and carefully filled them with the steaming liquid. Then she cut off a chicken leg for each of them, added some carrots and onions, and cut two thick slices from a large loaf of bread. “It’s so tender the meat falls right off the bones.” Claire licked her lips. “Do you think you can get up?”

“Yes, I think I can,” Ellen replied. “I already feel a lot better.”

“Then come and sit with me here at the table and eat so you’ll get your strength back soon.”

They eagerly ladled out the hot soup and dunked pieces of the crusty bread in it to soften them up.

“It tastes wonderful,” Ellen said.

“I’ve washed your things and put them there on the chair.”

Ellen looked in the corner where the chair stood and stared at the clothes. They seemed odd to her, like something out of an earlier life.

“Couldn’t you make me the dress instead?” she asked shyly.

Claire beamed and nodded. “But of course! I’ll go and get the material, and we can start right after the meal.” She jumped up from her stool and rushed out of the room.

“We? You said we. But I can’t even sew,” Ellen called after her anxiously.

“I know, my dearest, but I first have to take measurements, and you will have to try it on a few times or else it will hang on you like a sack.” Claire stroked her cheek to cheer her up.

When she heard that, Ellen couldn’t help but think of the tanner’s wife. Her life in Orford, and Simon, were so far, far away. Ellen felt a twinge of homesickness and sighed.

After the meal Claire took the long strip of cloth and measured Ellen’s height down to her ankles. She folded the material, cut the longer piece, checked the size of the smaller piece, and nodded. Then she cut a hole and a slit in the middle of the material.

“Put it on, see if your head will fit through.”

After Ellen had pulled the dress over her head, Claire tugged on it to straighten it out. “Your shoulders are so broad. It’s good I checked again or my measurements would have been off and your stitches would probably have burst later on!” Claire’s easy laughter took the weight off their minds and put sunlight back into their lives. Claire put the material on the table and made a cut on the left and on the right. “The shoulder will be here… well, I must still make an armhole,” Claire explained, “and we’ll put a gore on each side of the body piece to give your dress a nicer, wider shape.” She pointed at the top of the main panel of fabric and picked up the two pieces she had cut before. Claire worked fast and carefully while Ellen watched patiently. Before she finally stitched up the sides, she had Ellen try the dress on once again. “And we will cut this piece here in two, to make the sleeves.” Claire pointed at the remnant fabric she had cut off first.

Ellen was delighted that the dress was taking shape so quickly.

After she stitched up the side, Claire took some colorful trimming from a basket. “My husband gave it to me,” she said, delighted with how well the colors went with the blue in Ellen’s dress. “I think I’ll sew it on up here along the neckline,” she said.

“But he gave it to
you
.” Ellen looked at Claire in astonishment. “Why don’t you sew it on a new dress for yourself?”

“When it’s on the neckline of my dress I can’t see it, but on yours I’ll see it every day! I’m sure it will look very good on you. It’s your first real dress—please allow me the pleasure of giving it to you.” Claire furrowed her brow and began sewing on the trimming.

“You are so good to me. How can I ever repay your friendship?”

“You already have, Ellen, through your trust in me.” Claire looked at her with a gentle, beautiful smile.

Late in the afternoon Adelise de Béthune came to visit.

The dress was almost finished, and after the last fitting Ellen had simply not taken it off again.

Claire crouched down in front of her and finished the long seam.

“Heavens, what a change. Your cheeks have their color back again, child,” the lady said, delighted.

“Your chicken soup and the new dress have done wonders!” Claire laughed.

“Thank you so much for everything,
madame
. Without the help from you and Claire, I would have been lost.” Ellen looked down at the ground. “Is your son well?” she asked shyly.

“Yes, my child, he is very well, and no day goes by when he doesn’t inquire about you. He calls you his angel and wants to know if you can visit him soon. But first you have to regain your strength. We certainly don’t want to be the cause of a new fainting spell.” The Lady of Béthune smiled knowingly and gave Ellen an almost imperceptible wink.

After he had assaulted Ellen, Thibault felt better for a while, but the initial satisfaction after his act of vengeance soon left a bitter taste in his mouth. Ellen got no pleasure in sleeping with him, and that spoiled his feeling of triumph. Never would she yearn for him as he did for her. Thibault was impossible for days and took his bad mood out on the younger squires until one day he again happened to see Rose. He missed her, the tender caresses that soothed his famished body, the devotion, the way she threw herself at him, and the delight she showed in their love play. Thibault brushed the hair from his eyes and smiled at her.

Rose blushed.

She was still in love with him!

She quickly looked away and disappeared into the servants’ house.

Thibault straightened his shoulders. He had to win Rose back, and then he would feel better. He wasn’t worried—it would be an easy thing for him to cast his spell over her. Perhaps he could buy her a spicy ham, some honey cakes, or a pretty bronze ring. He knew exactly what girls liked! Why hadn’t he tried to win over Ellen instead of violating her? Furiously he pounded the door, and with a loud crash it flew open.

“What in the world is eating you?” Adam d’Yqueboeuf asked with a sigh. “Trouble with women?”

“Oh, shut up. What do you know about it? When they see you they run away, but with me they can’t get enough,” Thibault snapped at him.

“All right, all right!” Adam grumbled and returned to his bed. “Let me know when you are in a better mood.”

Thibault also fell down on his bed. He’d let a little time pass before he went back to see Rose. Certainly by then she would be waiting impatiently for him. He’d have to be careful not to say the wrong thing when they spoke of Ellen. She was surely worried that her friend had run away, and all because of him. At the thought of Ellen and her anxious, wide-open eyes, his excitement began to grow.