Elizabeth Chadwick - The Love Knot

Taking his cloak, he returned slowly to the fire where the living were gathered.

Catrin rose from her place beside the boy and hurried to meet him. Her eyes went from his face to the cloak draped over his arm and he saw the small shudder run through her body.

'I will tell the lad, he said quietly. 'Go and prepare her so that he can look at her if he wants.

Her gaze filled with hostility. 'It is not right. You are a complete stranger to him.

'Sometimes it is better that way. You will still be here to give him comfort, won't you? He nodded towards the small shelter. 'I'm sorry.

'Don't be! she snapped. 'You know nothing about us! Her face started to crumple and she pushed blindly past him.

Oliver frowned and smoothed the fur on his cloak. Perhaps his regret was for not knowing until it was too late. After a brief hesitation he went to the fire and took Catrin's place beside the boy.

'You don't need to tell me, Richard forestalled him. 'I know she's dead.

'Weep if you want. Oliver extended his hands to the flames, drawing life and warmth back into his body. Across the fire, Gawin poked the burning wood, sending flickers of yellow heat into the night sky.

'I don't feel like weeping, Richard said stiffly.

'It will come. Oliver took the flask of ginevra that Gawin stretched out to him, gulped a burning mouthful and passed it on to the boy. 'Sooner or later everyone has to weep.

Richard took the flask, drank, then choked on the fiery brew; but when he had ceased coughing, he put the flask to his lips and took a second, longer swallow. 'She is better dead.

Which was not the kind of remark for a ten-year-old to make about his newly deceased mother.

'Why do you say that? Oliver retrieved his flask before the boy could avail himself again.

Richard shrugged. 'She always had to ruin what she had, he said moodily.

When nothing else was forthcoming, Oliver broke the silence by murmuring, 'I knew her before you were born, when Earl Robert was her guardian.

'Did you lie with her like all the others?

Oliver's palm flew, but he stopped it just short of the boy's ear. Richard did not flinch, his stare blank and dark with misery. 'Christ, boy, what sort of question is that? Lowering his hand, Oliver wrapped it around his belt and drew a steadying breath. 'No, I did not lie with her, he said evenly. After all, it was the truth, no matter how easily he could have joined the ranks of 'all the others'. 'She was my wife's cousin and childhood companion. Last time I saw her was at your father's court when you were a tiny baby.

'We didn't stay there long, the child said in a savage voice. 'Did you know that she wasn't married to Aimery de Sens? He's just my most recent «papa», but of course he's dead now too.

Oliver's fingers tightened around his belt. He made a conscious effort to relax them. The boy's pain was a raw, open wound, hence the provocative tone, but what he said was probably true. Amice's nature had been inconstant and wanton as he had cause to know. Had she been male, she would have been granted a modicum of leeway, but as a woman she was damned as a whore. It was unfortunate if the boy had been a witness to the darker machinations of adult behaviour. 'No, I didn't know, he said, 'but it makes no difference to me. She was a friend, and she was kin by marriage.

Richard frowned and toyed with the frayed end of one of his leg bindings. 'What will happen to me now?

'As to that, I do not know. I told your mother that I would take you to your half-brother, Earl Robert, at Bristol. You will be cared for, I promise.

'Promises are easy. The boy's tone was far too adult for his years.

Oliver sighed and rubbed his hand over his jaw where the prick of red stubble was beginning to replace the morning's smoothness. 'Not to me, he answered, 'and not of this moment. I swore to your mother that I would see you safe, and do so I will. Catrin too.

'What if I don't want to go?

'Since I promised your mother, I suppose I would have to tie you to my saddle.

The boy threw him a look to see if he really meant it. Knowing that he was being tested, Oliver returned the look for long enough to impose his will, then rose to his feet. 'Do you want to see her?

Richard silently shook his head.

Oliver rubbed his jaw again in thought, then turned and stooped. 'Here, he said gruffly, 'roll yourself in my blanket and try to sleep. It will be a long journey on the morrow.

When Richard did not move, Oliver draped the blanket around the boy's shoulders himself and then went to check on the horses before walking a circuit of the burned-out settlement.

Kneeling beside her former mistress, all signs of the bloody struggle cleared away, Catrin sniffed and knuckled her eyes. She had been fond of Amice, who had taken her in, a soldier's widow with nothing more than two silver pennies and a roan mule to her name. For almost three years Catrin had sheltered beneath Amice's generous, mercurial wing, turning a blind eye when a blind eye was required, being a companion and confidante, sometimes a scapegoat, but always needed — if not by Amice, then by Richard. What would happen to her and the boy now she did not know; she could only hope that Robert of Gloucester would have the compassion to take them in, penniless dependants as they were.

A shadow passed between Catrin and the fire. She glanced up in alarm, then breathed out in relief as she saw it was the knight, Oliver Pascal.

'I didn't mean to frighten you, he said, and crouched at her side, adding when she did not speak, 'I'll keep vigil now while you go and rest. I'm taking you and the lad with me to Bristol on the morrow and it will be a long ride.

Catrin eyed him warily. 'I suppose Amice asked you.

'She did, but I'm bound there anyway. I serve the Earl and I've to report to him. He looked at her curiously before leaning over to replenish the fire. 'Amice said you are a widow without kin, but surely you must have had a home once?

Catrin watched him select and arrange the split logs. In all the earlier conflagration it was ironic that the wood pile had not been touched. 'Chepstow, I suppose, since I was born there, but there is no one left in that place to welcome my return, she said with a shrug. 'My mother was Welsh, my father a serjeant of the Chepstow garrison, but they are both dead. My husband was also a soldier there. She compressed her lips, her mind filling with a vision of Lewis's thin, dark features and blazing smile. 'And he too is dead. 'I'm sorry.

The predictable response. She had heard it from so many lips by now that it was irritating and meaningless, a stepping stone to buffer the discomfort of others. 'Amice came to Chepstow a six-month after my husband's death, she said, eager to have done with her story. 'When she left, I begged to go with her rather than dwell alone with my memories.

He positioned the last piece of wood and dusting off his hands, rested them on his thighs. 'I too am a soldier, one of Robert of Gloucester's hearth knights, he said after a while, 'although not by choice. My family lands lie close to Malmesbury and my older brother lost them, together with his life, when he declared for the Empress Mathilda. I'm his heir — his dispossessed heir.

'I'm sorry, she said in the same polite tone he had used to her, paying him back in the same coin. Then felt honour-bound to add, 'And I'm sorry about your wife. Amice told me about her.

He gave her a long, level look. 'Sorry doesn't help, does it?

Catrin blinked and turned away. Mary Mother, she was not going to weep in front of this man. 'I must go to Richard, she said and started to rise.

Oliver grimaced. 'Be warned then; he was angry — with her, not me — and because of the anger, the grief is trapped within him. He asked me if I had lain with his mother like "all the others". He glanced grimly at the dead woman's shrouded figure, the red shadows licking the hem of her gown. 'How many «others» were there?

'Because it matters to you or to him?

She saw the twitch of his brows, the knotting of muscle in his jaw. 'Obviously it matters to him, he said stiffly. 'I am not about to sit in judgement if that is your fear.

'I do not fear your judgement, Catrin snapped angrily. What else was he doing but sitting in judgement? 'Yes, she liked the company of men, yes, she took them to her bed when she would have been wiser to abstain, but Richard was always well cared for. Her heart was too soft and she sought for love in all the wrong places, but if that is a sin, then more than half of us are damned! She drew an unsteady breath that caught across her voice in distress.

He stared at her, his mouth slightly open in a surprise that might have been comical under different circumstances. The fire spat and a burning ember flared in the space between them. 'And the rest either find it or go without, he rallied as the blossom of wood dulled to grey, but his gaze held poignancy and regret rather than challenge. He made a rueful gesture. 'Go and take what rest you can. Tomorrow will be a long day.

That at least was not something to be disputed. Catrin had neither the heart nor the sharpness of mind to spar any more tonight. Glancing at the weary set of Oliver Pascal's shoulders, she thought that neither did he.

The morning dawned overcast, with a whisper of drizzle in the air. The stink of smoke had seeped into clothing, hair and skin. Every breath tasted of it and everyone was eager to leave the remains of Penfoss behind. It was impossible to take the dead with them or, with just three adults and a child, to dig graves here. Only Amice's body was going to Bristol. As Earl Robert's former ward and Richard's mother, it was politic to bring her for burial at the church of Saint Peter. The other corpses were laid out in the compound and covered with green branches cut from the forest by Gawin's war axe. Oliver prayed over the bodies as a mark of respect but he did not linger. A priest and burial party would come from Bristol within the next few days to perform the necessary rites.