At least the girl was going to live, she thought, and then wondered how much of a blessing that was. Her mother was a widow who literally earned their bread by selling loaves on the street for a baker, in exchange for some of his produce. Adela had been selling her body for the past year to keep them warm and shod.
In a spurt of guilt and compassion, Catrin gave the girl's mother all but six pence from her twenty-four. Ethel watched and said nothing. She had parted with coins herself for light, warmth and wine.
A dull, grey November day had reached full light by the time the two women left the house and started back through the mud towards the castle.
'Good thing she lost the babe, Ethel said, leaning heavily on her stick. As she walked, the base of it disappeared in three inches of mud. 'Her hips are too small to carry a nine-months child, kill her for sure.
Catrin's eyes were so hot and gritty that it was difficult to keep them open, and one of her spectacular headaches was just waiting to pounce. She could feel it growing at the back of her skull, rather like the gathering of a thunderstorm. 'She might yet die if the fever sets in.
'Oh aye, she might, Ethel agreed, and paused for a moment to rest. The night had taken its toll on her too, and she was blue around the lips.
Catrin thought unhappily of the young whore she had seen snoring in the straw at Oliver's side in the summer. How easy it was for men to get hold of these undernourished girls to slake their lust. So easy that they did not stop to think. For the whores it was simple too; sell their bodies or starve.
Her thoughts were abruptly curtailed by the sight of two men slinking out from a noisome entry to block their path. They brandished nail-studded clubs and their garments were patched and tattered although, incongruously, one of them wore an expensive wool hat trimmed with ermine fur. Ethel tightened her grip on her stick and drew herself upright. Catrin backed up, shielding Ethel with her body.
The ruffian with the cap smiled, revealing a mouthful of worn-down teeth. 'Two plump pigeons ripe for the plucking. Give us your pouches. He thrust out his free hand.
Catrin's breathing quickened. 'We have no money. We're honest midwives about our duties. Let us go our way in peace.
'No such thing as an honest midwife, the other sneered, and took a menacing step forward. 'Come on, your money now, or you'll make the acquaintance of my cudgel.
'Touch either of us, and I will set a curse on you! spat Ethel, shaping her hand like a claw. 'I can, you know, and by Hecate, I will.
They hesitated, licking their lips, looking at each other. Catrin tried to feel for the small, sharp knife at her belt without being conspicuous. She also filled her lungs with a huge breath, ready to scream for aid at the top of her voice.
'Reckon as we're damned already, the man with the hat said. 'Your curses mean nothing, old woman, except they'll send you to hell before us. He made a grab for Ethel, whilst his companion leaped on Catrin. She released the scream, shattering the morning air with its power, and at the same time jerked her knee hard upward. Her assailant recoiled, clutching his genitals, and Catrin whipped the small dagger from its sheath, full knowing that it was an act of bravado. She could cut umbilical cords and prepare herbs with the blade, but never had she used it in aggression or even self-defence.
She dodged a blow from the cudgel, but was not fast enough, and it caught her arm, breaking no bones but severely bruising. As Ethel was thrown to the ground by the other thief, Catrin screamed again in desperation and prayed for doors to open and people to come.
Oliver spent a restless, uncomfortable night. Being one of the Earl's hearth knights meant just that, and he had to sleep beside the fire in the great hall, rolled in his cloak. The snores and coughs of the other men kept him awake, as did the knowledge that Ethel and Catrin were abroad in the city. The fact that they had an escort dampened his worry, but did not quench it entirely. They were still so vulnerable. And yet he dared not protest too hard lest he be accused of obstructing and stifling.
'Women, he muttered to himself as he turned over for what seemed the hundredth time.
'Aye, bless them, muttered Geoffrey FitzMar who was rolled up beside him.
Despite himself, Oliver gave a short laugh. 'Aye, bless them, he repeated, and closed his eyes.
For a while he slept, and chased brightly coloured images through his dreams. He was in a garden looking for Emma, but he could not find her. Amice was there and she kept pointing towards a grove of apple trees. But when he entered the grove in search of his wife, all he discovered was a mound of green earth that looked like an overgrown grave. He turned away, but when he looked back Catrin was sitting on it, stark naked except for her masses of raven-black hair and her crimson hose which ended just above her knees, in bright contrast to the white flesh of her thighs.
With a gasp, he snapped awake to find himself tangled in his cloak. Dull heat pulsed at his crotch and his body was damp with sweat. It was not the first erotic nightmare he had ever had, but it was certainly the most disturbing. The man beside him still slept, oblivious, but all around him others were rising. The fire in the hearth was blazing strongly and tendrils of steam rose from the cooking pot set over the flames. A glance at the high windows showed him that dawn had broken.
Untangling himself from his cloak, he went outside to piss and then washed his hands and face at the trough by the well. It was a murky November morning with a hint of drizzle that swiftly cooled the sweat on his body and banished any carnal residue from his dream. Although it was not long past dawn, a steady exchange of traffic between castle and town was well under way. Supplies and traders entered. Soldiers left.
Oliver watched the activity while he pinned his cloak and accustomed himself to the idea of being awake. His stomach rumbled, and he thought with anticipation of Ethel's hot griddle cakes, smeared with honey and butter — far better fare than the bowl of gruel he could expect in the hall. But it was not the thought of breakfast alone that sent him in the direction of Ethel's shelter. As he walked, he smoothed his hair and plucked a stray stalk of straw from his cloak. He also cupped his chin and grimaced to feel the prick of stubble. He should have taken the time to shave, but it was too late now.
With a swift step and rapid heart, he approached Ethel's shelter. The woven hanging was drawn across, but when he parted it to glance inside and see if the women were sleeping, it was empty, the hearth cold, and the coverlet on the bed-bench neatly arranged.
'They're not here, said one of the laundry women as she passed by with a basket of soiled linen. 'I called at first light for something to cure me toothache and there was no sign.
'They've been out all night then, Oliver said, with a sinking heart.
'Like as not. I ain't seen 'em for certes, but I wish they'd hurry back. Me gob's killing me. She went on her way, leaving Oliver gazing around the shelter. Despite the cheerful bedcovering, the rows of jars, sealed pig bladders and bunches of herbs, the place looked forlorn without its occupants. Ethel had said that they would return by daybreak. He glanced at the sky which had been light for perhaps an hour. They were not unduly late, but he could feel the apprehension gathering within him.
He forced himself to return to the hall and act as if this was just another morning. He ate a bowl of hot gruel without any enthusiasm, barbered his stubble, and returned to check on the shelter, but it was still as empty as before. Thoroughly unsettled by now, Oliver hitched his belt and set off at a determined pace towards the castle gates.
Once in the city, he made his way to the home of Payne the soap-maker and was greeted first with surprise, and then some consternation when the household learned of his enquiry. The manservant and journeyman were fetched from their tasks and made to tell their tale about the poor woman who had come begging Ethel and Catrin's help in the Shambles.