'And what was that?
'We were both duped into seeing gold where there was none, him with his keep and me with old dreams. She drew an impatient sleeve across her eyes. 'It is finished now.
'But you are still his wife by law.
'Not my law. Her face was suddenly tight with anger. 'If he walked in here now and commanded me to go with him, I would spit in his face. Priests say that it is God's rule that a woman should submit to her husband. All her worldly goods become his. They say that if she transgresses, he has the right to beat her. She drew a deep breath. 'Well, I tell you that neither my daughter nor I are going to live by such rules. No woman should do so.
Her pain and rage surged at him, but he did not recoil from its intensity for he could match it. 'I agree, he said. 'But if you had stayed with me, you need not have suffered.
'He was my husband; you were his prisoner. What was I supposed to do? In the basket, Rosamund whimpered and Catrin stooped over her with a soothing murmur.
'You could have looked before you leaped.
'Hindsight is a wondrous thing, she snapped. 'It is always easy to have eyes to see after the event.
'So what now? he asked, with a swift gesture of his good arm. 'Have you come to Bristol for refuge because it is familiar, because there are people you know — or did you come seeking me?
Leaving the basket, she began to pace the room, kicking out the full skirt of her blue gown with each step. 'I came for all those reasons, she said at last, and stopped at his side. 'But the greatest was to find you and somehow right a wrong.
Oliver turned his head. 'I do not want your pity or the ministrations of your tender conscience. Dear Christ, I need not have suffered either.
'I'm not ministering to you out of compassion, you fool! Catrin's eyes flashed. 'Nor out of guilt, although God knows it does burden me. When Godard brought you into the hall last week, you were on your way to death. Kneeling by the pallet, she touched his bandaged ribs and arm, then took his good right hand in hers. 'If I had any compassion I would have dulled your pain and let you go. But I don't. I have learned from Louis to clothe myself entirely in selfishness. I wanted you to live because I want to live too. Her tone grew vehement and her grip tightened. 'I want a man at my hearth who is not going to whine like a child or run off futtering other women when the whim dictates. I want a man who keeps his word whatever the cost. I want a man who will love me beyond the first fire and into the embers. I want a father for Rosamund who will teach her how to judge men.
Oliver swallowed the lump in his throat. 'You don't want much, he said shakily, and thought that with speeches like that inside her, she should have been a battle commander.
'Only what you can give, if you still have it within you.
He swallowed and meshed his fingers through hers. 'Mangled and torn like the rest of me, but what remains is yours… and Rosamund's.
The kiss was somewhat clumsy but its importance far outweighed its technique. His good arm pinned her close, while she tried her best to keep her weight from his damaged left side.
'Catrin, Catrin, he whispered as their lips clung and parted. And then he laughed. 'If this is another wound-fever dream then I don't want to wake up.
'It's not, it's real, I promise. She pressed her face against his shirt.
'I thought I was the one to make promises.
They kissed again. 'It is my turn now. Catrin pulled away and went to her satchel. 'Do you remember this? From the bag's depths she produced the singed love knot woven by Ethel before her final illness.
Oliver's eyes widened. 'I do, he said, 'but by rights it should not exist, since I threw it on the fire.
'Godard rescued it. He thought you might regret the act in time to come.
He took the token from her and looked at the intricate detail of the pattern, yellowed and blackened on one side by the fire-damage. 'I owe Godard more than I can repay, he murmured.
'We both do. She touched the love knot, then twined her fingers over and around his. 'And Ethel. As she spoke the name, she glanced around the shelter and a half-smile curved her lips.
Oliver could almost feel the strength flowing back into his body from the token, from the contact of Catrin's fingers. If far from perfect, life was worth living again.
Chapter 27
'Waes Haell' The cry resounded around the crowded alehouse and fists thumped the trestles as the wedding guests toasted the laughing bride and her smug groom. Outside a March gale battered at the shutters, but no one cared, least of all Godard and Edith whose nuptial feast this was. Edith wore Oliver's gift of a silver and garnet brooch in her scarlet gown, and on the table stood his present to Godard, a pitcher in the shape of a bear but given Godard's face and quarterstaff.
Edith had surpassed herself with her latest brew of ale and the guests were enthusiastically appreciating her skills.
'I can see why you're leaving me, Oliver remarked to Godard as he drained his cup. 'I doubt even the best French wine could compete with this.
'Then perhaps you should stay too, my lord, Godard answered. His colour was high and his eyes sparkling. Some of his ebullience was the result of his new wife's ale, but the greater part was caused by the pleasure of his new wife herself.
Oliver smiled. 'A certain young prince might have something to say about that, he said. 'Besides, I've my way to make in the world. Almost unconsciously he flexed his left hand, testing the damaged sinews. It was three months since his wounding. A week from now, he and Catrin were due to sail across the Narrow Sea as members of Prince Henry's retinue and make his court their home.
Apart from ridges where they should have been smooth, Oliver's ribs had healed remarkably well and gave him little pain. His left shoulder was still weak but much improved from its first stiffness. It was the blow to his forearm that had caused irreparable damage. De Mohun's blade had crushed and cut sinew, tendon and bone. Not even the best chirurgeon in the land could have mended such injuries. He had some feeling and restricted movement, but the only shields he could grip were the small, light ones used to train the youngest squires, and then for no longer than a few minutes at a time. Catrin assured him that he would improve as the weeks went by, but they both knew that he would never have the whole use of that arm again. The way of his making in the world could no longer be the way of a soldier.
'You stay with Prince Henry and your fortune will be made, Godard said, with a knowing nod. 'Mark me, you'll be a lord high sheriff before you're done.
Oliver laughed and shook his head. He knew what was and what was not possible.
Squashed against Oliver at the trestle, Catrin observed the humour in his eyes and was relieved to see him in good spirits. There were often difficult days when he became so frustrated and furious with his disability that he was impossible to reach. What had been a sound, strong limb was now disfigured and impaired. She had watched him struggle and fail at the simplest tasks, such as fastening a belt buckle, and had bitten her tongue and stood back. Time would heal and practice would compensate. It was only three months; he expected too much and was impervious to the voice of reason.
She thought perhaps Godard was not so wrong in his light comment about 'lord high sheriff though. If Oliver's other faculties could be channelled, there was every opportunity for advancement in Prince Henry's household.
Catching her thoughtful stare, he raised his eyebrows. 'Brewing potions in your mind? he asked.
Catrin pressed lightly against him. 'Several. She darted him a provocative look through her lashes.