Ellis Peters - Sanctuary Sparrow

In agitated whispers he poured out everything though he was telling her nothing she did not already know. She judged it time to soften against his shoulder, while keeping the mastery firmly in her own hands. He had been shocked out of his male complacency, and almost out of his skin, she felt pity and affection for him, but that was a luxury she could not yet afford.

‘Listen, we’ll go together. You have a confession to make, but so have I. We’ll not wait for the Lord Beringar to come to us, we’ll go to him. I’ll own that I lied to him, that you left me alone all that night, knowing you were gone to a paramour. You’ll tell him the same. I shall not know her name. And you will refuse to give it. You must say she is a married woman, and it would be her ruin. He’ll respect you for it. And we’ll say that we start anew, from this hour.’

She had him in her hand. He would go with her, he would swear to whatever she said. They would start anew from that hour; and she would be holding the reins.

In bed that night she clasped a devout, grateful husband, who could not fawn on her enough. Whether Hugh Beringar had believed their testimony or not, he had received it with gravity, and sent them away solemnly admonished but feeling themselves delivered. A Daniel eased of all fear that the eye of the law was turned ominously upon him would sit still where a hand could be laid on him at any moment.

‘It’s over,’ Margery assured him, fast in his arms, and surprisingly contented there, considering all things. ‘I’m sure you need not trouble any more. No one believes you ever harmed the man. I’ll stand with you, and we have nothing to fear.’

‘Oh, Margery, what should I have done without you?’ He was drifting blissfully towards sleep, after extreme fear and the release of correspondingly great pleasure. Never before had he felt such devotional fervour, even to his mistresses. This might have been said to be his true wedding night. ‘You’re a good girl, loyal and true...‘

‘I’m your wife, who loves you,’ she said, and more than half believed it, to her own mild surprise. ‘And loyal you’ll find me, whenever you call upon me. I shall not fail you. But you must also stand by me, for as your wife I have rights.’ It was well to have him so complacent, but not to let him fall asleep, not yet. She took steps to rouse him; she had learned a great deal in one unsatisfactory week. While he was still glowing, she pursued very softly and sweetly: ‘I am your wife now - wife to the heir, there’s a status belongs to me. How can I live in a house and have no place, no duties that are mine by right?’

‘Surely you have your place,’ he protested tenderly. ‘The place of honour, mistress of the house. What else? We all bear with my grandmother, she’s old and set in her ways, but she doesn’t meddle with the housekeeping.’

‘No, I don’t complain of her, of course we must reverence the elders. But your wife should be granted her due in responsibilities as well as privilege. If your mother still lived it would be different. But Dame Juliana has given up her direction of the household, being so old, to our generation. I am sure your sister has done her duty nobly by you all all these years...‘

Daniel hugged her close, his thick curls against her brow. ‘Yes, so she has, and you can keep your hands white and take your ease, and be the lady of the house, why should you not?’

‘That is not what I want,’ said Margery firmly, gazing up into the dark with wide-open eyes. ‘You’re a man, you don’t understand. Susanna works hard, no one could complain of her, she keeps a good table without waste, and all the linen and goods and provisions in fine order, I know. I give her all credit. But that is the wife’s work, Daniel. Your mother, if she had lived. Your wife, now you have a wife.’

‘Love, why should you not work together? Half the load is lighter to bear, and I don’t want my wife worn out with cares,’ he murmured smugly into the tangle of her hair. And thought himself very cunning, no doubt, wanting peace as men always want it, far before justice or propriety; but she would not let him get away with that sop.

‘She won’t give up any part of the load, she has had her place so long, she stands off any approach. Only on Monday I offered to fetch in the washing for her, and she cut me off sharply, that she would do herself. Trust me, my love, there cannot be two mistresses in one house, it never prospers. She has the keys at her girdle, she sees the store-bins kept supplied, and the linen mended and replaced, she gives the orders to the maid, she chooses the meats and sees them cooked as she wishes. She comes forth as hostess when visitors appear. All my rights, Daniel, and I want them. It is not fitting that the wife should be so put aside. What will our neighbours say of us?’

‘Whatever you want,’ he said with sleepy fervour, ‘you shall have. I do see that my sister ought now to give up her office to you, and should have done so willingly, of her own accord. But she has held the reins here so long, she has not yet considered that I’m now a married man. Susanna is a sensible woman, she’ll see reason.’

‘It is not easy for a woman to give up her place,’ Margery pointed out sternly. ‘I shall need your support, for it’s your status as well as mine in question. Promise me you will stand with me to get my rights.’

He promised readily, as he would have promised her anything that night. Of the two of them, she had certainly been the greater gainer from the day’s crises and recoveries. She fell asleep knowing it, and already marshalling her skills to build on it.

Dame Juliana tapped her way down the broad wooden treads of the stairs to the hall in good time on the following morning, determined to greet Brother Cadfael when he came after breakfast with all the presence and assurance of a healthy old lady in full command of her household, even if she had to prepare her seat and surroundings in advance and keep her walking-stick handy. He knew that she was no such matter, and she knew that he knew it. She had a foot in the grave, and sometimes felt it sinking under her and drawing her in. But this was a final game they played together, in respect and admiration if not in love or even liking.

Walter was off to his workshop with his son this morning. Juliana sat enthroned in her corner by the stairs, cushioned against the wall, eyeing them all, tolerant of all, content with none. Her long life, longer than any woman should be called upon to sustain, trailed behind her like a heavy bridal train dragging at the shoulders of a child bride, holding her back, weighing her down, making every step a burden.

As soon as Rannilt had washed the few platters and set the bread-dough to rise, she brought some sewing to a stool in the hall doorway, to have the full light. A decent, drab brown gown, with a jagged tear above its hem. The girl was making a neat job of mending it. Her eyes were young. Juliana’s were very old, but one part of her that had not mouldered. She could see the very stitches the maid put in, small and precise as they were.

‘Susanna’s gown?’ she said sharply. ‘How did she come to get a rent like that? And the hems washed out too! In my day we made things last until they wore thin as cobweb before we thought of discarding them. No such husbandry these days. Rend and mend and throw away to the beggars! Spendthrifts all!’

Plainly nothing was going to be right for the old woman today, she was determined to make her carping authority felt by everyone. It was better, on such days, to say nothing, or if answers were demanded, make them as short and submissive as possible.