Candace Robb - The Cross Legged Knight

Dear Cisotta, God grant you peace .

Lucie had tried all day to push away the image of the cold, hard buckle pressing into Cisotta’s throat. But such horrors gained strength in the middle of the night. She imagined the man seizing Cisotta — had he come from behind? He dropped the belt over Cisotta’s fair head. She reached up, opening her mouth to scream, but he pulled the belt tight. She clutched at the air, at her throat, slipping down all the while. Now the man’s face was exposed — it was Poins.

If he is guilty may his pain torment him this night .

But if it was not him — no, Lucie was certain. That was why God had so punished him.

Lucie’s hands were shaking, her heart racing. Her stomach ached and where the discovery of her flux had given her joy only a while ago, now she feared it for the disappointment it would bring. For surely, surely she grew too old to conceive and bear a child through all the long months. It would have been better had her flux not returned, better not to hope again. She set the cup aside, still half full, and dropped to her knees. Heavenly Mother, Holy Mother of God, show me what to do, help me banish this despair, quiet my devil . She buried her head in her arms and wept.

Something brushed past her elbow, and again. A cold nose nuzzled her hand, a rough tongue licked it. Lucie sat back on her heels and Melisende climbed on to her lap, butted her head against Lucie’s chin. Gathering the skinny elderly cat in one arm, Lucie eased up and settled back in to the chair by the fire, Melisende on her lap. At first the cat stiffened, but as Lucie petted her she relaxed, finally settling down, her chin resting lightly on one of Lucie’s forearms, a warm, purring comfort. She was just a wisp of a cat now. Lucie had not been aware of how Melisende was fading.

In the morning, Lucie was puzzled to awaken to Kate’s gentle prodding. ‘The captain is out in the hall, Mistress, breaking his fast with Gwenllian and Hugh.’

Lucie lay alone on the pallet before the fire. Some time in the night she had slipped beneath the blanket next to her aunt. ‘Where is Dame Phillippa?’

‘She is in the hall, too, but she will not eat. She is confused today and does not know me.’

More was coming back to Lucie now — she feared she had added too much valerian to her tisane last night, so slowly was she waking. ‘Cisotta’s funeral. Am I too late?’

‘No, Mistress. I woke you in time to help ready Mistress Cisotta’s children, as you wished.’

‘How will you manage with my aunt unable to help you? Perhaps I should not go. Someone must see to the chores while you watch the children. Jasper will be busy in the shop.’

‘You have nothing to worry about, Mistress. Alisoun Ffulford is here. The Riverwoman sent her, just as she promised, though I had not expected her so soon. She says she has much experience minding children.’

‘Alisoun — I had not thought of her.’ The girl had taken care of several sets of young cousins since she lost her family in the last visitation of the plague, even though she was young — a year younger than Jasper. ‘I do not recall Magda offering to send for Alisoun.’

‘She told me as she departed yesterday. She said Dame Phillippa was due for a troublous time, and you and the captain would be too busy to help with her. I forgot to tell you last night, but I thought it would be days before she came. I can comb your hair when you are dressed, Mistress.’

‘So you can.’

Magda had said nothing of being able to predict Phillippa’s spells.

Kate gave Lucie a hand up from the low bed. ‘Already Alisoun has Gwenllian and Hugh in hand.’

‘From what I remember she was as wilful as my Gwen — perhaps my daughter has met her match.’

Kate handed Lucie her shift. ‘I put your clothes by the fire so they would be warm.’

Seeing the dark-blue gown, Lucie remembered the missing buttons, how calm and content Phillippa had looked as she sewed by the window last night.

‘Dame Phillippa sews buttons so neatly,’ Kate said, kneeling to help Lucie with all the fastening. ‘I did not think old folk could see well enough to do such work.’ She laced one of Lucie’s sleeves to the shoulder of her gown.

When Lucie was dressed, she slipped out to the privy. The dew was heavy on the grass, the sky striped by fast-moving clouds. A penetrating breeze set her shivering. By the time she returned to the hall the chill had cleared her head.

At the table set near the garden windows Owen sat beside Phillippa, one hand cupped beneath and one over her folded hands, talking to her in a comforting tone. The elderly woman, with her better ear cocked towards him, wore the ghost of a smile. Bless him for his kind patience . As if he had heard her prayer, Owen glanced up and wished her a good morning.

‘Who is she?’ Phillippa demanded. ‘Was she invited?’

In the far corner beneath the windows Alisoun held Hugh on her lap and Gwenllian sat beside her. Alisoun was singing in a high, clear voice while nodding to the children to clap as she did to the rhythm. Gwenllian held her hands stiffly up towards her face as she focused on Alisoun’s hands, struggling to catch the beat while stumbling over the words as she tried to sing along. Hugh seemed more interested in Alisoun’s hands than his own, giggling and squirming.

How the girl had grown since Lucie last saw her. She had been a sullen, skinny child with wild hair and ill-fitting clothes. But there she sat with her hair tamed by a crisp white cap, the bodice of her gown fitted to her slender frame, the skirt draping well and the hem tidy.

‘Good-day to you, Alisoun,’ Lucie said.

Gwenllian jumped from her bench and ran to Lucie, hugging her legs. ‘I was singing.’

‘I heard you.’

‘God be with you, Mistress Wilton.’

Alisoun’s eyes were as Lucie remembered, dark and wary, and the chin defiant. But she moved with Hugh’s squirms, gently containing him.

‘You can stay today? You are not expected back at your aunt’s house?’

‘No, truly, I intended to begin at once. The Riverwoman said you needed me.’

‘We do. God knows that we do.’

Gwenllian ran back to Alisoun to ask for another song. The girl looked to Lucie for leave to resume.

‘Your voice is cheering — we have need of that today,’ Lucie said, withdrawing.

‘I did not guess what new troubles the day would breed,’ Owen said as Lucie sat down beside him at the table. ‘I thought I had done with Alisoun Ffulford.’

‘We need someone to watch the children.’

‘What are you doing in my dress?’ Phillippa demanded.

‘You mended this gown for me yesterday, Aunt.’

Phillippa frowned at Owen. ‘Who is she to call me “aunt?”’

‘This is Lucie, Sir Robert’s daughter, your niece,’ said Owen.

‘No no no.’

Kate served Lucie bread and cheese, then asked Dame Phillippa to help her in the kitchen.

‘Is cook unwell again?’ Phillippa asked in a shrill voice as she placed her walking stick firmly on the floor and leaned on it to rise, Owen helping with a hand to her elbow. ‘I told you it was a mistake to permit her to marry.’ Phillippa shook her head at the past as she followed Kate to the kitchen.

‘Poor Phillippa,’ Lucie said, ‘she was looking forward to going out today.’

‘Was it truly because of her that you slept in the kitchen?’ Owen asked.

‘What other reason could I have?’ Lucie put her hand over Owen’s, stared at him until he met her gaze. ‘She is entirely to blame.’

‘I did not know what to think when I woke before dawn and found your side of the bed cold.’

‘You could have come to fetch me.’

He watched her as she ate, and only when she began to slow did he speak. ‘I must tell Wykeham about the Ferriby boys before he hears it elsewhere. More time wasted.’