The Virgo creaked and heaved at her moorings, her stirring ever more restless as the incoming tide lapped her sides. Stars sparkled in the frosty night, and on deck the passengers had wrapped themselves in their cloaks for warmth.
A pouch of silver hung in heavy comfort from Louis's belt.
He had sold his horse and the dice had smiled on him in alehouse and tavern. There were better horses to be had in the Holy Land, swift stallions of hot Arab blood. Swift mares too, dark-eyed, slim-flanked and wild for the riding. There were fortunes to be made, hearts to be won and broken.
If he thought of Wickham at all, it was with the relief of a prisoner unfettered from his chains.
As the wind bellied the sails and the Master's shout sent a sailor to free the mooring and the steersman to take the rudder, Louis de Grosmont cast off his name like a snake shedding an outworn skin. From this moment forth, he was Louis le Pelerin — Louis the Pilgrim.
Chapter 25
It was a long, cold road from Wickham to Bristol. Although the distance was little more than fifty miles, it took Catrin over a week to cover it. The roads were unsafe for folk of all rank and those who had to travel did so in groups for protection. On the second day, she joined three monks, a wool merchant and two young men with spears heading for Gloucester. The weather was atrocious and progress so slow through a mizzle of sleet and rain that it was not until the fifth day that they arrived in the city. Two more passed before Catrin felt fit enough to set out on the last leg to Bristol.
She arrived at dusk, Rosamund bawling fretfully in her arms, and was frowned at for her tardiness by the soldier preparing to close the gates for the night. In the castle ward, Etheldreda's shelter was occupied by a cowherd and his family, eating their supper over a fire of dried dung. Her back and buttocks aching from the saddle, her eyes gritty with weariness and strain, Catrin paid a groom to take her tired mare and made her way to the hall.
Steward Bardolf still held his position and tyrannical inclinations. Scowling like the guard at her late arrival, but otherwise not giving her a second glance, he directed her to a place on one of the lowlier trestles near the draught from the door. Through the open screens at either side of the hall, servants hurried back and forth with heaped trenchers. The meaty smells of ragout and pottage, the sight of the baskets of flat loaves on the trestle made Catrin feel faint with hunger. Obviously possessed of a similar affliction, Rosamund continued to whimper and grizzle. Catrin discreetly lifted her cloak, unfastened her gown and put her to suckle.
Grace was said and folk started to eat. Although only having one hand free, Catrin still managed to break bread and help herself to a generous bowl of mutton stew. While eating, she glanced around the hall and saw many familiar faces, but not the one she sought. But then, why should Oliver be here? As often as not he was absent on the Earl's business and a year and a half would not have changed the situation. Between courses, she asked her companions for news, but none of them were well acquainted with Oliver and they could not help her.
As supper finished and the servants cleared the trestles, Catrin made her way to the women's chambers on the upper floor. She was challenged once by a guard, but then he recognised her and, after a smile and a word of greeting, let her pass.
Catrin's breath grew short with tension as she entered rooms which were familiar to her but where she no longer had a right to be.
'Hello, lady, said a very small boy, staring up at her from solemn hazel eyes. He had a mop of curly blond hair and there was a peeled, half-eaten apple in his hand.
'Hello, Catrin responded. 'Who are you?
'Effry, he said, and looked at Rosamund bundled up in Catrin's arms. 'I've got a baby too. He took a bite out of the apple and then offered it to Catrin.
'Geoffrey, come here, what have I told y… Edon FitzMar stopped in mid-speech and stared in astonishment. 'Catrin? Holy Virgin, I do not believe my eyes!
'I do mine, Catrin laughed, and tears blinded her eyes. Foolish, vain, giddy Edon looked like an angel at that moment.
With a cry of delight Edon threw herself at Catrin, stopping the hug short when she saw the baby wrapped in her cloak.
'My daughter, Rosamund, Catrin said with pride.
'A little girl! Edon parted the blanket to look into the tiny features. 'Oh, just look at those eyelashes! she cooed. 'Isn't she pretty! She stroked Rosamund's petal-soft cheek and looked at Catrin. 'What are you doing in Bristol?
Catrin shook her head. 'It is a long story. We are here seeking refuge — yet again.
Edon gave her a look full of blatant curiosity but, to her credit and increased maturity, did not seek to have it satisfied there and then. Instead, she drew Catrin to a cushioned window seat, set the youngest maid to making up a pallet, and brought wine with her own hand. Then she stooped by a cradle and picked up a baby of a similar age to Rosamund. 'My second son, Robert, she announced. 'I wish you had been here. The midwives weren't as good as you and Ethel. At least he came head first and without difficulty. She popped the baby back in the cradle. The little boy came to peer and poke at his younger brother.
'I wish I had been here too, Catrin said with a tired smile. She shed her cloak to reveal the top gown of blue wool with its lavish gold embroidery.
Edon's eyes grew huge. 'Have you been stealing from the Empress's wardrobe? she gasped.
Catrin sipped the wine and laughed bitterly. 'My husband is a man generous beyond all belief, she said, and flicked back the hem of the first gown to show Edon the fir-green of the second dress. 'I left three others behind. By now they will be gracing the forms of Flemish whores in return for favours.
'Your husband… Edon said hesitantly. 'Then it is true.
'I don't know. What have you heard? A defensive note entered Catrin's voice.
'That he was not dead, that you had found him again. Geoffrey said that he was a noble man. He treated the prisoners honourably and they liked him. Geoffrey was sorry for Oliver and pleased for you. She swept to her feet and grabbed her eldest son. 'No, sweetheart, not in his eye, there's a good boy.
'Louis can make anyone like him if he tries, Catrin said dully. 'He swore to me that he had changed but he hadn't, and I was still too blind to see through his charm. He demanded all my attention like a greedy child, but once he had it, he lost interest. He wanted a son and I disappointed him with a daughter, for which he has not forgiven me — not that I care for such things. She shook her head. 'It was the same with Wickham. First the passion and desire, then the desertion.
'He deserted you? Edon wrestled with her struggling son and looked perplexed.
Catrin shrugged. 'Yes, he did, but this time I did not spend a year in grief before I took up the threads of my life. Briefly, and against the background of a thwarted, screaming two-year-old, she told Edon about the siege and how she came to be at Bristol. 'So, she defended herself with a vulnerable half-smile, 'I have come to find Oliver and beg his forgiveness on bended knees.
The youngest maid had finished making up the pallet and offered to show Edon's son the caged finches in the adjoining chamber. As she led him away and peace was restored, Edon readjusted her skewed wimple. 'He doesn't take after me, she said with firm denial, and then she sighed. 'It nearly broke Oliver when he lost you. It was all my Geoffrey could do to prevent him from drinking himself stupid every night or seeking his own death in battle.
Her words deepened Catrin's feeling of guilt and renewed her apprehension. Perhaps Oliver would not forgive her, or even want to see her. 'I had to choose, she said. 'And I would not wish that kind of choosing on any woman. She bit her lip. 'In the event, I made the wrong decision.