Philippa Carr - Witch from the Sea

I was delighted because I thought at last he was taking me into his confidence. I was actually going with him on a business venture; I was making the most of my riding too, because I knew that very soon I should be forbidden to ride.

This is the loveliest of all months, or perhaps it seemed so to me because I was so happy. The sky was cobalt blue with only the faintest hint of wispy white cloud. The choughs and the seagulls swooped and rose above the water and as we rode away from the sea into the lanes I was enchanted by the countryside. The white chervil on the banks reminded me of lace and the grass was spattered with blue forget-me-nots and red ragged robin.

The sun was warm and I was happy. I felt well and strong, and glad as I was to be riding with Colum I knew I should be just as delighted to go back and see my son. He was in good hands. The care of children was one thing Jennet could really be trusted with.

Colum sang as we rode along—it was the old hunting song which was such a favourite with him.

I did not recognize the road until we were almost at the inn. And there it was before us: The Traveller’s Rest, and there was the host who had been in such a quandary on that other night. Now he was beaming with delight, hands crossed on his chest.

Colum leaped from his horse and lifted me down. Grooms ran to take our horses.

“The Oak Room, host,” cried Colum.

“At your service, my master,” replied the host.

And we were mounting the stairs and there was the room which I remembered so well—the big four-poster bed in which I had slept with my mother, the lattice window from which I had looked down and seen Colum standing before me.

The host was saying, “There is venison, my master, cooked as you like it. And natlin and taddage pies as will tempt your palate. And if my lord so wishes, metheglin to wash it down.”

“Lay it on,” cried Colum. “For we have ridden far and are hungry.”

The host bowed and shuffled out and left us standing there looking at each other.

Colum came to me and laid his hands on my shoulders. “I always promised myself that you and I should sleep in that bed.”

“You are a man who cannot endure to be baulked.”

“What man worth his salt is not?”

“But most men realize that there are some things in life which must be denied them.”

“Not this man,” he retorted.

I laughed. “You planned this,” I said, “because of what happened here when I came with my mother.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I had business to transact so I thought, why should I not do it at The Traveller’s Rest? I will take my wife with me and we will share the Oak Room, for it will bring home to her the fact that she has a husband who will have his way sooner or later.”

“I can never understand why a man who is acknowledged as the king of his castle should have to go to such lengths continually to stress the fact that he is.”

“Because he is not sure that one person fully realizes it, and to tell you the truth, it is that person he is most anxious should.”

I laid my head against his chest and put my arms about him.

“I am content with life as I have found it, Colum. You are a strong man. I should be the last to deny it, but whatever I was made to accept I should always have my own views … you appreciate that.”

“I would not want a foolish simpering creature … like …”

I was glad he stopped, but I knew of course that he was referring to Melanie.

To change the subject I said: “You say you have come here to do business. Do tell me, Colum, I am most eager to know.”

I saw a shadow pass over his face. He went to the window and looked out; then he turned his head and said to me: “What do you know of my business?”

“Nothing much at the moment but I should like to learn.”

“There is nothing to learn,” he said. “I have some merchandise I wish to show to a merchant. We are meeting at this inn.”

“So it was because it is business, not because of that night?”

“Shall we say a little of each.”

“What merchandise have you to dispose of, Colum? Where does it come from?”

He did not answer that question.

He said: “Ere long two of my men will arrive with pack-horses. They will bring the merchandise.”

“What merchandise is this?” I persisted.

“It varies.”

He drew me to the bed and removed my cloak.

“Colum, there is much I wish to know. When I come to think of it there is so little I do know. You are my husband. There is nothing I want so much as to share my life with you and if I do so I must know …”

“Know what?” he said, loosening my hair from the net which held it. “What should you, a good and obedient wife, wish to know but that you please me?”

“I want to please you, yes. In every way I want to please you. But I want to help you too.”

He kissed me with more gentleness than I was accustomed to. “You please me and you please me most when you wait for me to tell you what I will.”

“You mean this business of yours is a secret?”

“Who talks of secrets? What a woman you are for creating drama from ordinary events. You store up ghosts in the Red Room.”

“You were secretive about that.”

“Secretive! I! Because I forgot something in the past which it can do no one good to remember. You should be grateful that my first marriage was a failure. It makes me more than ever contented with my second.”

“I know you are content, Colum, but I want to help you. I want to understand … everything.”

He laughed and pressed me back on the bed. He kissed my throat. Then he said: “Nay, the host’s table is awaiting our attention. We will eat and then mayhap I will attend to my business and when that is finished you and I will be together here in this Oak Room as I yearned to be when I first saw you here.”

He rose and pulled me to my feet.

“But, Colum …” I began.

“You have a hungry husband, Madam,” he told me. “He must needs eat before he can answer more questions.”

We went to the dining-room. Memories came back. I pictured his sitting there eating with gusto, catching my skirt as I passed. How I had hated him then! It was incredible that in so short a time that hatred could have turned to this passionate love.

He ate heartily, doing full justice to the muggety pie made of sheeps’ entrails, and taken with cream—a Cornish custom which we of Devon had never indulged in, although we were as famous for our clotted cream as the Cornish were. He drank the metheglin but rather sparingly, I thought, and while we were eating two men put their heads into the dining-room.

He acknowledged them but he did not introduce me. They did not remain in the dining-room but went away—I believed to wait until Colum was ready, and had come in either to see that he was there or assure him that they had arrived. They looked like merchants in their best clothes. One wore a russet jacket with camblet sleeves and there were pewter buttons on it. The other was in brown with grey kersey hose and they both wore steeple-crowned hats.

“They are friends of yours, Colum?” I asked.

“They are the men whom I have come to see.”

“On business,” I said.

“Aye, business.”

“I had thought you a man of means, not a merchant.”

“Merchants are men of means, wife. I have rich lands, a castle and many servants. To keep up such an establishment and maintain a wife is costly in these days. So now and then when the mood is on me I am a merchant.”

“What is your merchandise?”

“Whatever comes my way.”

“So it is no particular commodity?”

“Enough of questions. Your curiosity will make a scold of you yet.”