The Gallows Curse (32 page)

    'Have
you seen Athan? Is he well? Does he know where I am? Did he try to find me,
when he learned I'd escaped?' She babbled like an excited child, not waiting
for any answers. 'It was only Joan who thought I'd hurt my bairn. I know deep
down Athan didn't; he was just too frightened to say so in front of her. He
refused to speak against me at the trial, which proves he knew I was telling
the truth. He knows I've never lied to him.'

    Her
face was bright and eager once more as she spoke Athan's name. Raffe could see
the hope in her eyes and something more, something that made his guts knot hard
inside him. There is no mistaking when a woman is in love. Raffe had seen it in
others before, though never with himself as the object of that soft, longing
look. Elena was still in love with that oaf Athan even now, even after the
spineless numbskull had let his mother denounce her to that bastard Osborn.
Even that betrayal had not brought Elena to her senses.

    For a
moment Raffe came close to breaking his resolve and telling Elena the truth —
Your precious Athan is dead, hanged in place of you.
In his head, Raffe
watched that eager little face crumple, the tears well in her eyes, imagined
her throwing herself into his arms, sobbing and clinging to him for comfort.
But as he looked again at her face, he knew not even the knowledge of Athan's
death would cleanse away her love for the boy. It would only bring despair and
guilt, and Raffe had borne too much guilt in his own life to let her suffer
that.

    He
stood up, turning away from her, and stared out of the open door into the
sun-washed garden. 'I have come to tell you that you must start to earn your
keep here. Ma Margot is a charitable woman, but she can't afford to keep you
here unless you work.'

    'But
I thought you were coming to take me away from here?' He could hear the
bewilderment in her voice.

    Raffe
slammed the door shut and rounded on her in exasperation. 'And where exactly
did you imagine I was going to take you? You are a runaway villein and a
convicted murderer. Yes, I know you protest your innocence, but in the eyes of
the law you are a condemned woman. Unless you're going to tell me you've found
this cunning woman and she can produce your child to clear your name?'

    Elena
hung her head miserably.

    'I
thought not,' Raffe said. 'Osborn has put a bounty on you. Declared you a
fugitive from justice, a wolf's head. Any man in England has the right to kill
you on the spot and claim the reward for your body. And believe me, there's not
a man out there who wouldn't hesitate to do it for the size of purse Osborn is
offering. Who do you think is going to take you in and hide you?'

    'I
thought... a nunnery,' Elena murmured weakly.

    'Have
you forgotten the whole of England lies under Interdict? Where would we find a
priest to seal your vows? Where would you get the dowry to be admitted as a
nun? If you couldn't be admitted to holy orders, you'd be nothing more than a
lay servant and the nunnery would not be able to protect you. They'd have to
hand you over to Osborn.'

    Only
when he saw her trembling did he realize how terrified she was.

    He
took a deep breath and tried to speak more softly. 'You must remain here for a
year and a day; if you can do that undiscovered, you can be declared a free
woman instead of a villein and . . .' He paused awkwardly.

    What
could he tell her? Should he tell her the truth, that being declared a free
woman would by itself solve little? Unless she could also prove her innocence
she might never be able to leave. He crossed over to her and stood looking down
at her. He gently caressed her cheek with his thumb as a father might soothe
his little daughter.

    'You
must accept that you must stay here for a year at least. But much may change in
a year; who knows, this cunning woman of yours might turn up again with the
child. But,' he added firmly, 'you will have to work for your keep.'

    'I do
work,' she told him. 'I clean and tidy and do all that is asked.'

    Raffe
sat down in the chair opposite her again, fixing her with a grim expression.
'That is not what Ma means by work. It merely pays for the food you eat, not
for the risks she is running in keeping you here. She needs you to start
earning money.'

    He
stared down at his hands, unwilling to look into her wide blue eyes. Once, in
the Holy Land, he had witnessed the Saracens tie a man by his arms and legs to
four rearing Arab stallions. The stallions, simultaneously struck by their
riders, had galloped off in opposite directions, ripping the shrieking victim
to pieces between them. He felt as if the same was happening to his own being.
Part of him wanted to make her suffer for betraying him with Athan; for
refusing to trust him; for that look of revulsion he could see in her eyes
whenever she looked at him. He wanted to make her the whore she was, dirty,
humiliated, to have men look at her and despise her, as she looked at him.

    Yet
the thought of another man pawing her, laying his sweaty body against that
smooth flesh, was more than he could bear. Even now he wanted more than
anything to protect her, to have her come running to him for love and comfort.
He wanted to keep her pure and untouched, as he could pretend to himself she
was, now that Athan was dead. He and Elena were bound together by bonds
stronger than any wedding vow — why couldn't she feel that?

    He
swallowed and tried to keep his voice level and businesslike. You will not be
expected to serve the ordinary customers, that much I have made plain to Ma
Margot. But when she gets a special customer from time to time, you will attend
to him.'

    'Attend
to? What. . . does that mean? What will I have to do?' Her voice trembled.

    'Ma
Margot and the gentleman himself no doubt will tell you what is required each
time. All men are different in their appetites.'

    'Appetites,'
she repeated dully.

    Was
she deliberately trying to be stupid? Did he have to spell it out for her?

    'Don't
play the innocent with me, girl,' Raffe snapped. You've borne a child, so you
can't pretend that you don't know what goes on between a man and a woman. Or
are you now claiming it was a virgin birth and then your bastard miraculously
ascended into heaven? Is that why we can't find him?'

    Before
Raffe had time to realize what she intended, Elena slapped him hard across his
face, her cheeks blazing scarlet in fury. Raffe gaped at her, stunned. It was
the second time that afternoon he had allowed a woman to take him unawares and
assault him. Had he lost all his soldier's instincts? Ma Margot he knew of old
and should have expected her to defend herself, but no villein had ever dared
to strike him before, especially not a woman.

    It
took him a moment or two to realize Elena was shouting at him, her eyes flashing
and her fists clenched in fury. 'I may not be freeborn, but I am not a whore. I
will not sleep with any man except Athan. He is my husband in all but name. He
knows I didn't murder his son and he will wait for me until I can prove it to
the world. I won't betray him. I won't!'

    Raffe
caught hold of her wrist and dragged her towards him; grabbing her face in his
other hand, he tilted it up towards him, lowering his mouth close to hers. She
screwed up her eyes and tried to wriggle away as if she thought he was trying
to kiss her.

    Raffe
tightened his grip and spoke with exaggerated slowness, to force her to listen.
'You will do exactly what Ma Margot asks of you,
all
that she asks of
you. And you will do it with a smile on your pretty little face, because if she
can't get her money one way, she'll get it another. You refuse and she'll hand
you straight to Osborn and claim that bounty. Osborn will hang you and this
time there will be no escape. And I know Osborn of old — before he hangs you,
he will make you suffer in ways you cannot begin to imagine. The fact that you
are Athan's betrothed won't stop him using you in any way he pleases, in fact
that knowledge will only add to his pleasure.'

    'But
Athan,' she moaned faintly.

    'Athan
is already in the arms of another! Trust me — Athan is not waiting for you!'

    He
felt her go limp in his hands and lowered her down on to the bench. She sat
there, her body trembling, but she did not cry as he expected and he grudgingly
admired her for that.

    'My
cousin Isabel? Athan's with Isabel, isn't he?' she said, staring up at him.

    Raffe
didn't answer. She seemed to take that as confirmation. Was silence a lie?
Perhaps it was the worst kind of lie, Raffe thought, and by God he was guilty
of enough silences in his lifetime.

    Elena
stared at a fly that was dashing itself aimlessly against the wall. 'Isabel
won't last long with Joan around; she's always called her a slut. She'll soon
send her packing'

    'You're
not listening to me,' Raffe yelled at her. 'He will
not
be there waiting
for you. Stop playing the little fool and make up your mind to do as you are
told, because make no mistake, you have to do this, and it'll go a lot easier
with you if you do it willingly.'

    Elena
was shaking so violently, Raffe thought her body would break into pieces. He
knelt down in front of her, gently taking her cold hands in his.

    'Look,
all Ma wants is for you to be pleasant to a rich merchant or ship's captain
once in a while. Is that really so hard? Can it be worse than being raped or
tortured by that bastard Osborn? At least you'll be alive. And believe me,
nothing on this earth is worth as much as life itself, not your virtue, not
your pride, not even your love for Athan. If you die unshriven, strangling to
death on the end of a rope, there will be nothing except endless misery and
torment spread out before you for all eternity. Whatever happens, you must
cling fast to life with both hands, no matter what it costs you. You must stay
alive for me, Elena. I need you to live.'

    
Roses
— If mortals dream of a red rose, they shall be granted the love their hearts
yearn for, but if they should dream of a white rose, it is a bad omen, for they
will know only sorrow in love. If a maid would bring back a faithless lover,
let her pluck three roses on Midsummer's Eve. The first she must bury beneath a
yew tree, the second in a new grave and the third place under her head when she
sleeps. After the third night she shall burn the rose to ashes. Thus her lover
will be tormented by thoughts of her and will know no rest until he has
returned to her.

    If a
maid desires to find her true love she must pluck a rosebud on Midsummer's Day
and lay it in some secret place till Christmas Day, then if it still be bright
and fragrant, she must wear it and her true lover will pluck it from her, but
if it has shrivelled and turned brown, she must beware her life, for it is an
evil omen.

    White
roses signify silence, for Cupid gave a sacred rose to Harpocrates, the god of
silence, so that he would not reveal the amorous secrets of Venus, Cupid's
mother. Thus noblemen carve or paint a rose on the ceiling above the table
where they dine, or hang a white rose from the beams where they meet to show
that nothing which is spoken in that place must be revealed. So mortals speak
of
sub rosa
or 'under the rose', when they desire to hold their
discourse in secret. But mortals beware, we mandrakes see all and will reveal
all in time, for the rose has no power to stop our ears or our mouths. At the
end of days we will break the silence of gods and mortals alike, for were we
not birthed in a scream?

    The
Mandrake's Herbal