‘I’ve read other writings too, Grandmama,’ Gwenn said. Izabel made a clucking sound with her tongue. Swallowing down a giggle, Gwenn could not resist adding, ‘But it was the Bible that taught me about fornication and adultery.’
‘That’s enough, Gwenn!’ Izabel clapped her hands over her ears. ‘Enough!’
‘My apologies, Grandmama. What I’m trying to tell you is that I knew about mother being a concub–’
‘Don’t say that word.’ The old woman stopped Gwenn’s mouth with her palm. ‘We must pray that God in His infinite mercy will forgive your mother.’
‘You sound as though you doubt that, Grandmama.’
Silence.
‘Grandmama?’ Conscious of a disrespectful desire to shake her grandmother, Gwenn laced her fingers tightly together and lowered her voice to a whisper, for she did not want her mother disturbed. ‘Grandmama, I would like to understand something.’
‘Mmm?’
‘Why is it us they turn on?’
‘Us?’
‘The women of the family.’
‘They were after Raymond, too,’ Izabel pointed out.
‘Aye, but only because he came to my aid. It was me they were really after. I’ve noticed this before, Grandmama. People tolerate Raymond far more than they do you or me. And they seem to like Sir Jean. But when it’s you or me, or Mama...’
‘Your mother is a grievous sinner and will not repent.’
‘And she deserves to be reviled? Along with you and me, and no doubt Katarin too when she’s grown? No, Grandmama, I refuse to accept that. We’re all sinners. Mama hasn’t done more wrong than anyone else. She’s no more wicked than Sir Jean. All anyone has to do is look at the way she and my f...Sir Jean care about each other. They love each other. They are faithful to each other. I don’t see what difference there is between them and all the other married people in Vannes. It’s sheer hypocrisy.’
‘But, Gwenn–’
‘In fact, Grandmama,’ Gwenn ploughed on, ‘my parents are better than most. They are honest sinners. Did you know, for example, that Pierre, the herbalist down the street, is having a clandestine affair and his wife, poor love, knows nothing?’
‘I never pay any heed to the doings of the common townsfolk,’ Izabel said, loftily. ‘Honest sinners, indeed. What will you think of next? Clearly, this tutoring will have to stop.’
‘Pierre is an adulterer, Grandmama. Yet I can’t see him being lynched for his sins.’
‘It has been known,’ Izabel murmured.
‘Grandmama, I’m trying to understand. Why do they want us out of Vannes? Why do they hate us so? They condone Pierre’s adultery – can’t they see the good in Mama’s relationship with Sir Jean?’
Izabel pressed her granddaughter’s hand, but held to her litany. ‘She’s a sinner, a sinner in the eyes of Holy Church. And I am to blame.’
‘No, Grandmama.’
‘Do you mind what your mother has made you?’ Izabel asked.
Gwenn jerked her head aside and stared mutely at the flickering candle.
For Izabel that was response enough. ‘Do you care that every day Yolande stays with St Clair she puts her immortal soul at risk?’
‘I wish...’ Gwenn hesitated. ‘I wish you and Mama had trusted me enough to confide in me.’
‘Yolande wanted to tell you, but I thought you too young.’
Gwenn shoved a thick skein of hair from her face. ‘But not too young to lie to?’
‘Lie? I thought only to protect you, child.’
‘Too much protection can be dangerous,’ Gwenn said, astutely. ‘I wish you hadn’t protected me. I’d far rather have been trusted with the truth.’ She hung her head and plucked at her bedcover. ‘Grandmama?’
‘Mmm?’
‘There’s something I’ve never been clear about. And I’m curious. I...I’d like you to explain it.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘How is it that a woman of your...er...strong religious principles elected to remain with Mother after...after...she had become St Clair’s mistress? I would have thought you’d have left her, perhaps have become a nun. Didn’t you want to become a nun?’
An ominous silence fell, giving Gwenn time to regret her curiosity. ‘I’m sorry, Grandmama. Forget I ever asked. It was impertinent of me.’
‘It was,’ her grandmother agreed. ‘But since you have asked, I’ll try and answer you. Naturally, I never approved of your mother’s relations with St Clair. And she so young when it started. She was your age, you know.’
‘She was thirteen?’ Girls were often wed at that age, but Gwenn let that pass.
Her grandmother nodded sadly. Gwenn’s hair had flopped forwards again and tenderly her grandmother looped it behind her ear. ‘Thirteen. We had taken refuge in St Anne’s convent, but when Yolande was thirteen, we were cast out into the world. Yolande thought we’d not a clipped penny between us.’
‘A convent cast you out? Why, Grandmama? Why were you cast out into the world? What about your husband?’
‘He died before Yolande was born.’
Something in her grandmother’s voice warned Gwenn not to pursue that line of questioning. In the past, whenever Gwenn had asked about Yolande’s childhood, she had come up against a wall of silence. But tonight, Izabel seemed disposed to talk. Greedy for anything which would reveal more about her mother and her grandmother’s background, Gwenn felt her way step by tentative step. ‘What about your parents?’
No answer. Her grandmother was as motionless as a menhir. Gwenn tried again. ‘Where were they? Were they dead that you were lodged in a convent?’
‘I never think of those times, Gwenn.’
Gwenn grimaced; that solid wall again.
‘It’s too painful,’ Izabel went on. ‘Besides, I was ill. I...I had a fever as I recall, and was out of my mind. Yolande went to beg for food. She met St Clair, and the rest you know.’
‘They fell in love.’ Gwenn sighed, wondering how to wheedle more out of her grandmother. ‘He lifted her out of the gutter. It must have been very romantic!’
‘Romantic?’ Izabel laughed harshly. ‘It was nothing of the kind. Your mother sacrificed herself so she could look after me. And when I had recovered and realised what she had done, it was too late. She was a fallen woman.’ If only I had told Yolande about the jewel, if only...’
‘You said Mama did it for you,’ Gwenn reminded her.
‘Aye. She did it for me. She’s immoral, but she is my daughter, and that’s a strong bond, as you might discover if you ever have a daughter of your own. I love her, whatever I might think of her morals. Sometimes I can see my Gwionn shining through her expression. She’s all I have of him, and...’ Izabel gave her shoulders a little shake and smiled through the darkness. ‘And I confess she’s been lucky with her chevalier. Jean St Clair may not be the wealthiest of men, but he does care for us in his way. He bought us this house. Yolande did what she could when she thought us destitute, but the price was high – her immortal soul.’
‘Grandmama, you can’t believe that.’ Gwenn brought her brows together.
‘I love Yolande.’
It did not escape Gwenn that Izabel had avoided her question. ‘I know. Grandmama–’
The latch clicked, and a tall, slight figure squeezed past the door and crept towards Gwenn’s pallet.
‘Raymond?’
The figure, cloaked in shadows, went down on its haunches. ‘The same,’ her brother’s voice confirmed. ‘I could hear you from the landing. What are you two whispering about?’
‘We haven’t woken Yolande, have we?’ Izabel asked.
‘She’s not asleep,’ Raymond said. ‘St Clair’s with her. They’re talking.’
Izabel held out an arm to her grandson. ‘Help me up, Raymond.’ She heaved herself upright. ‘My thanks. I’m glad you’ve come in, because I’ve an errand you can run in the morning.’