V Masters - The Castilians - A Story of the Siege of St Andrews Castle

She feels weary to her bones. There’s still no word from Mainard, although at this time of year none would be expected with most ships staying safe in harbour. She should have long given up on him, as it’s clear he’s done with her. She sighs and decides to block it all from her mind. Who knows what may come to pass in the next month or two; surely she can hold Norman off for that long.

Later she’s bent over her sewing, conscious of Mother nodding her approval, when Father comes in. ‘The water at the mill lade is frozen and the ice thick enough for the curling.’

Mother draws her shawl tight and leans closer to the fire. ‘It is fine for the Dutchiemen to be roaring upon their canals, but surely the men of Scotland have more sense than to be sliding stones around, especially with the town in such turmoil.’

‘I’m in need of some relief from turmoil. And likely no one, not even the barbarous beasts of the castle, will be wandering the streets on such a day. Bethia, you will come with me, and you too, John.’

Bethia shakes her head and even John’s freckled nose is wrinkling at the prospect, but Father insists.

Once by the pond she expects to be dull as well as frozen. The players take up their positions, faces tense with concentration. The game progresses quickly as there’s an icy mist rising, a forewarning of colder weather still. She stands beneath the trees, which give an illusion of shelter, listening to the soothing sound of stone sliding across ice. She wonders why it’s called a roarin’ game when it’s more like a whooshin’ one.

She stamps her feet, grateful that she has thick leather boots, unlike the poor weans they passed on the way here with their bare feet and legs mottled purple, and then catches sight of a figure wandering amongst the trees to her right. Elspeth! May the Holy Mother watch over her. What is she doing here?

Elspeth has spotted her and signals urgently. She looks to Father, but he’s crouched on the ice absorbed in studying his next move. She hastens over and gives her a hug but Elspeth flinches at the touch.

‘You were beaten?’

She nods.

‘Your father?’

She shrugs. ‘He thought it was his duty, although he did it most unwillingly.’

‘But your face…’

‘That was my fault. I moved when I should have remained still.’

Bethia strokes Elspeth’s arm. ‘When did you return? Did your father find you – he came to our house so angry he was fit to burst.’

The tears leak from Elspeth’s eyes but she doesn’t brush them away.

‘I only wanted to paint… and to be with Antonio.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘I left him,’ says Elspeth, and the desolation in her voice makes Bethia’s heart ache.

‘Why? Would he not marry you?’

‘He already has a wife.’

Bethia wishes Antonio was before her so she might take her staff and beat his face to a bloody pulp – and at least save some other innocent lass from his pretty ways. ‘Did you know?’

Elspeth stiffens. ‘No, of course not. I would never have gone with him if I had known; I am not a harlot.’

‘He should never have presumed upon you.’

Elspeth’s eyes are brimming like an overfull glass.

Over her shoulder, Bethia sees Father is watching them. He tips his head to her, and bends once more to slide his curling stone. She sees Elspeth’s father is here too, standing to the right of Father and so well wrapped up she hadn’t recognised him.

Elspeth brushes the tears away. ‘The wife came seeking him. I did not know who she was… at first. I saw them meeting, from my window. She was pleading with Antonio, a child holding onto her skirts. He passed her some coins and returned to our room: to me.’ She gulps and a sob escapes her. ‘Antonio claimed she was his sister. I wanted to believe him, but the doubts gnawed at me like a flesh-eating sore.’ She spreads her ungloved hands wide, fingers stiff and white with cold. ‘If she was his sister why would he send her and the child away when they were in need? Why would he not bring them to us?’

Bethia nods.

‘He said it was because we were not married; he could not expose the child to a state of sin. I wanted to believe him, I so wanted to believe him.’

‘But you could not, because he had told you there was no impediment to the marriage – and yet he had not wed you.’

It is Elspeth’s turn to nod. ‘The next day I followed him, although the streets of Antwerp are so overfull of people it was not easy. She was waiting for him by a hostelry near the docks. I saw him pick up the child and toss her in the air, and she called him Papa.’ Elspeth hangs her head. ‘I am ashamed to tell you that, if it had not been for the child, I may have stayed with him, wife or no.’

Bethia lays her fingertips on Elspeth’s. ‘It is as well you did not, for if he could leave one wife and child, he would as easily leave another.’

Elspeth picks at her shawl then looks Bethia full in the face. ‘I think he truly loved me. He begged me to stay; would not let me from his sight.’

Bethia wants to shake her – but what would be the use. ‘How did you escape him?’

‘Everyone has to sleep, and I stole the key and crept out then. I went to the docks and Mainard’s father was there and he helped me, once I explained who I was.’

Bethia jerks as though a cart wheel has run over her. ‘Did you see…’

Elspeth shakes her head. ‘Antwerp is a place of such size you cannot imagine. It was only by chance I saw Master de Lange, and I left the next day. The crossing was very bad, indeed I thought, and hoped, it would be my end.’

Bethia bites at her lip. ‘What will happen to you now?’

‘My parents say I am for a nunnery,’ Elspeth says through chattering teeth. ‘There are worse things, I suppose. I would still rather the nunnery than marriage to Fat Norman, although,’ she nudges Bethia, ‘I hear he has found himself a new bride.’

‘Do not speak of it.’ She grinds her teeth; there was perhaps another chance here when Mainard might have contacted her – and again he did not. She is as weak as Elspeth with her false hopes. She vows from this moment she will give him up.

‘I am sorry, my friend. Neither of us have the future we hoped for, although,’ Elspeth smiles for the first time, ‘they may let me paint and perhaps make designs for altar clothes in the convent, for my style is much improved under Antonio’s tutelage.’

‘How can you bear to speak his name after what he’s done?’

‘I would rather have had a few months of happiness with Antonio than years of misery with Norman Wardlaw. You too must make your choice, Bethia.’

‘There is no choice; I have no man to run away with – and it is not a wise path, as you have shown. I must do as my father bids, for the sake of our family.’

Elspeth grips her arm in sympathy.

The game is finishing and John returns blue-tinged and chittering from where he’s been smashing ice by the burn, and sets off at a run for home.

‘You will come and see me, Bethia, before I go? You will not desert me?’

Father is walking towards them, with Master Niven following behind.

‘Of course I’ll come and see you,’ she says, although she doubts it’ll be easy, for Elspeth is tainted goods now.

Father nods to Elspeth and holds out his arm for Bethia to take.

‘You knew Elspeth would be here,’ she says as they walk, the frozen grass crackling beneath their feet.

‘Aye, I agreed with Niven you might meet one last time.’ He stops walking and turns to face her. ‘Elspeth was allowed too much liberty and lost her way. Think on her fate and obey me, my lass, for I know what is best for you.’

Bethia looks down.

‘Are you listening?’