Philippa Carr - Witch from the Sea

I was delighted. I loved to see the joy Colum found in his son.

And I had given him to him. I sometimes marvelled that this boy of ours should have been conceived in such a manner. I think Colum did too. But there was nothing that could have made him happier than the possession of this son.

My mother stayed with me for a month after the child’s birth and then she thought she should return to Lyon Court. She had young Damask to look after. Next time she came, she said, she might bring her, although she thought she was a little young to make the journey. My father had set out on the first of his trading voyages and would be home, she believed, by Christmas. We must all spend Christmas together. It was unthinkable that we, living so near, should not. I must persuade Colum to come to Lyon Court but perhaps because of the baby they should come to us.

We said goodbye. It was September and a touch of autumn already in the air. The mornings were misty and the sea calm but grey. I thought that at Lyon Court they would soon be gathering the apples and pears and I remembered how we had done it the previous year and stored the fruit in the apple room.

I watched her ride away for as long as I could see her. She did not look round. I fancied there were tears in her eyes. But she had confessed herself well pleased with the way in which everything had turned out. I think she was comparing me with herself and perhaps on consideration she could say her marriage had been a happy one.

I wished that we were just a little nearer. If Castle Paling had been as near Lyon Court as Trewynd Grange was how happy I would be! The fifteen miles or so which separated us just made frequent visits not so easy to achieve.

The christening of Connell was a great event. There was a big christening cake and Colum had asked a great many guests from the surrounding country. People whom I had never met before came to the Castle and there was feasting and revelry for two days and nights.

I was living in a dream of happiness and it seemed as if Colum was too. The beauty of the ceremony in the castle’s Norman chapel touched me deeply. My son wore the christening robes which had been worn by several generations of Casvellyns and I wondered whether the husband of Ysella and Nonna had worn them.

Colum had chosen the godparents—friends of long standing, he said. Sir Roderick Raymont was one—a man I did not take to—and another was Lady Alice Warham, a handsome woman who came to the castle with a meek husband several years older than herself.

Lady Alice carried my son to the font; and the ceremony was performed beneath that vaulted roof with its Norman archway and its massive supporting pillars of stone.

Connell was good and uttered no protest but I felt a great desire to snatch him from the arms of the woman who held him. I did not know why this fierce jealousy came over me and I knew I would be glad when all the visitors had departed.

When the ceremony was over and the cake had been cut and the baby had been admired by all, I took him to his nursery and gloated over him and I felt I was the most blessed of women, to have married in such an unusual manner and to have found a husband who excited me more than any other person ever had, and to have my union with him crowned by this blessing of a child.

The guests lingered for a few days and it was during their stay that I made a discovery.

The great hall, which was rarely used when there were no visitors, was now the centre of our entertainments. All through the day there came from the kitchens the smell of roasting meats and many of the inhabitants of Seaward were pressed into service. “You see,” said Colum to me, “there are occasions when we need these servants.”

I asked him if he entertained frequently, since we had not done so during the first months of our marriage.

“I did not wish it then,” he said. “I wanted to have you all to myself. Moreover I thought it might be bad for the child.”

“Will these people think it strange that there was no celebrations of our wedding?”

“It has always been my way to let people think what they will,” he answered, “as long, that is, as it does not offend me .”

Then he talked of the boy and how he was much more advanced than other boys, how he believed that he would grow up into a fine Casvellyn and he could scarce wait to see it.

“As he grows older,” I said, “forget not that you will also do so.”

“And you, wife,” he reminded me.

Then he laughed and held me against him and I was very happy knowing him to be content with our marriage.

I think that was the last time I was entirely contented, for it was that night that I learned something which had not occurred to me before.

It was Lady Alice who began it, and I wondered after whether she did it purposely. I asked myself whether she sensed my complete abandonment to pleasure and, being envious of it, sought to destroy it.

We were at table. The venison was particularly delicious, I was thinking, done to a turn. The rich golden pastry of the pies was appetising and the company was merry. Colum, at the top of the table, flushed and excited, basked in the pride he felt for his son.

I was thinking to myself: May he always be as happy as he is now and may I, when Lady Alice said: “You have made your husband a very proud man.”

“It is a wonderful thing to have a child.”

“And so shortly married. You are indeed fortunate.”

Her eyes were enormous—great dark eyes, not quite as dark as Colum’s. I did not recognize the malice in them then.

“Colum, I know, is beside himself with joy. I am not surprised. When you remember the past disappointments …”

“Disappointments?” I said.

“Why yes, when he hoped and hoped … and it never happened. And then the second time he is fortunate immediately. It is not a year, is it, since your marriage and already that beautiful boy. One could almost say it was a happy release … although so tragic at the time.”

“You are referring to …” I began hesitantly.

“The first marriage. So tragic. But it has all turned out for the best, hasn’t it?”

I felt a shiver down my spine. His first marriage! He had not mentioned a marriage to me. What had happened? Where was his wife? She must be dead. Otherwise how could I be his wife? And why was it so tragic?

It seemed as though a chill had crept into the hall. I could see Lady Alice watching me intently. There was a glint of amusement in her eyes. She would realize of course that Colum had told me nothing of his previous marriage.

It was in the early hours of the morning before we retired. Together we looked into the nursery next to our own bedchamber, to assure ourselves that Connell was safe.

When we were in bed and the curtains drawn I said to Colum: “I learned tonight that you had been married before.”

“Did you not know it?”

“Why should I? You didn’t tell me.”

“Did you think a man would get to my age and not take a wife ere that?”

“It seemed strange that it was never mentioned.”

“The point never arose.”

“That seems strange to me.”

He drew me towards him. “Enough of others.”

But I could not rest. I said: “Colum, I felt so foolish. That woman mentioning it and I not to know.”

“Alice is a sly creature. She was jealous of you.”

“Why? She has a husband. Has she no children?”

He laughed loudly. “A husband. That poor stick! Much good he is to her. He is incapable of begetting children.”

“I’m sorry then.”

“Don’t waste pity on Alice. She is not at heart displeased. She has free range to select her bedfellows and he is complacent enough. As for children, I doubt she wants them. She would find them a nuisance and they might spoil her figure.”