Alys Clare - Girl In A Red Tunic

She hadn’t thought of that. ‘Sir Josse, is it possible, do you think?’ she asked, turning to him.

He was frowning hard. ‘We came by a route other than the main way, did we not?’ he asked.

‘Yes, but the main way would, I believe, have been more direct and therefore quicker. If they came that way then they should already be here.’

‘Aye, my lady, so I appreciate, but what if Leofgar too took a less frequented and more roundabout road? After all-’ He made himself stop.

But she guessed what he had been about to say: after all, a man who creeps away under cover of darkness is unlikely then to ride home along the best-used and most public road, especially if that road takes him through a populous market town and over one of the busiest river crossings in the south-east of England.

‘Yes, I understand your meaning,’ she said quietly. ‘And Wilfrid is right in saying that they may well be still on their way home.’

‘My lady, I would be delighted to offer you hospitality,’ Wilfrid said quickly. ‘Will you and Sir Josse not come inside? I will light a fire and food will be prepared for you while you wait for your son to arrive.’

It was a kind offer, she thought, and her opinion of this man of her son’s rose a little more. And indeed, what else was there to do but wait at the Old Manor and see if Leofgar turned up?

‘Thank you, Wilfrid.’ She exchanged a look with Josse, then said, ‘We would be very pleased to accept.’

Wilfrid turned and gave a whistle and a boy of about eight came running round from behind the house. ‘This is my lad,’ Wilfrid said. The lad gave the visitors a big grin. ‘We’re teaching him the care of horses. Here, Simeon, take these two and make sure they want for nothing.’ With a formal bow he took the two sets of reins from Josse and solemnly handed them to his son who, despite his small stature, gamely took them and, making an encouraging clucking sound with his tongue, led the horses off behind the hall. To the stables, Helewise remembered. The smell of sun-warmed hay fleetingly filled her nostrils and there was a memory of laughter; then it was gone.

‘Please, my lady, Sir Josse,’ Wilfrid was saying, ‘follow me.’

They climbed the steps up to the main door, Wilfrid going ahead. He opened the door and, stepping back, waved his hand to usher them inside. Little had changed, Helewise saw: new hangings over that far door that was always draughty; a different table at the far end of the room; a careful and clearly recent repair to the huge iron-bound wooden chest that stood against the wall opposite the door. Otherwise it was very much the place she had left eighteen years ago. Her eyes went to the section of wall on the far side of the room, beyond the sooty stones where the fire would soon be burning in its central hearth; Wilfrid was already busy with flint, straw and kindling. There on the wall, in the place where it had always been, was the ancient shield of the Warins, Ivo’s kin. Dark with age now and blackened by the smoke of a thousand fires, the device could still just be made out. A bear, long-clawed and fierce, stood on its hind legs against a background of deep blue sky and soft green grass on which there was depicted a tiny castle flying a long red pennant.

The fire began to crackle and Wilfrid pulled forward two high-backed, carved oak chairs. Then he excused himself, saying he would see about some refreshments, and Josse and Helewise were left alone. Josse paced slowly away down the length of the hall, touching the old stones, smoothing his fingers across the shiny surface of the table, looking everywhere.

Helewise stared into the fire …

She is in the hall and her new husband is impatient with the servants who bustle around them, telling them to hurry up and bring this meal they’ve prepared. But it is clear that there is no malice in his words for the fat woman and the slim young man who serve the food are clearly amused and trying not to laugh out loud. She has a sudden fierce hope that Elena will be happy here, that she will like the fat woman and the slim young man, for where she goes, Elena goes; but it is important to Helewise that her old nurse settles in this new place to which her young mistress has brought her. She hears the fat woman say something to the dark young man, not quite quietly enough, but although it is a ribald remark and the fat woman should not really have made it, the young bride is so glad that she did because it’s just the sort of earthy, crude, rude thing that Elena would say.

The meal is served, eaten and cleared away in record time. At last the servants melt away into their own quarters at the back of the house and Ivo takes Helewise on to his lap. She puts her arms around his neck and kisses him passion ately, gasping between kisses ‘I’ve been waiting — hours — and hours — to do that to you!’

His hand slides inside the bodice of her red tunic and his fingers cushion the warm, smooth roundness of her breast, taking the nipple in gentle fingertips and playing with it until it stands erect. ‘And I this to you,’ he says huskily.

She is sitting astride him now and she feels his hard penis push against her. A moan of desire escapes her and she whispers in his ear, ‘Is this where you mean to bed me, husband?’

He laughs. ‘Oh, aye, wife. I shall fling you on to the clean rushes and ride you like a man on a wild horse until you cry for mercy!’

‘Until I cry for more,’ she corrects him, greedy for him, hungry to have him …

‘Are you hungry, my lady?

Wilfrid was addressing her. Wilfrid, who so resembled his father whom she had just been seeing again in her mind’s eye as the slim young servant he once was.

She was not hungry at all; far from it, for her stomach felt as if it were tied in knots and she sensed the onset of a slight queasiness. But Wilfrid, or someone, had prepared a platter of cured strips of meat and bread generously buttered, and in these times of hardship she knew she must not refuse. ‘Thank you, Wilfrid’ — she was very relieved that, despite the tumult of her memories, her voice sounded perfectly calm — ‘I should like to take a little food.’

He held out the platter and she helped herself, then watched as he did the same for Josse; he, she noticed, had considerably more of an appetite. Then Wilfrid offered them some watery beer — ‘I’m sorry that it’s not better quality but, like every household, we’re not able to offer ale of our usual fine standard at present’ — and they both drank. When they had consumed all that they wanted, Wilfrid took away the leftover food and the beer jug and once more disappeared down the passage that led to the kitchen quarters.

Josse went over to the door and stood looking outside, as if by staring down the track he could somehow make Leofgar and Rohaise appear. He was, Helewise had observed, unusually quiet and she wondered if his silence might be out of respect for her and her memories. If so, she would really rather he chattered away to her on virtually any subject under the sun, her memories being almost more than she could cope with.

To encourage him to talk to her, she said, ‘How long, Sir Josse, should we give them, think you?’

He turned from the door, closed it — there was a cold wind blowing in — and came back to the hearth where she sat, throwing himself down into the other chair. ‘I have been thinking, my lady, that it may be that they travel only by night. If indeed they have a need to keep their journey a secret, then maybe they rode out from the Abbey and then, when dawn broke, found a place to hide themselves away out of sight for the hours of daylight, planning to set out again once it is dark.’

‘But why should they want to disguise the fact that they are returning here?’ she asked. It was all so strange! ‘They live here. Why be furtive about their homecoming?’