This Ravished Rose Page 3
“I know. There was really no choice for me. My father and I grew close, living alone as we did. He was reticent only about the court and what had happened there. I soon learned not to ask questions.”
“That was as it should have been.” Dame Ursula spoke almost absently, then let the silence stretch long. When she saw that Katherine waited on her words, she said, “You have closed the door to the cloister. Marriage alone is left for you.”
The girl knew that she spoke only the truth, but the bitterness of the realization rushed her into hot words. “I am over old for the market and have no dowry. The Hartley name is suspect, who wedded me would provoke the king. I will have no doddering old fool or pewling youth, nor will I be used for endless childbirth. No!”
She whirled about defiantly, the skirt of her old gown whipping behind her, the sun touching her hair with light, the green eyes brilliant. The cords in her thin throat worked with the fierceness of her outburst but she stood firm.
The Abbess began to laugh, the sound warm and full in the little study. Her flock would have been amazed, so seldom did she relax her cool vigilant exterior.
“You have chosen the world, Katherine. You must live by the terms it imposes.”
Emboldened, Katherine moved closer to her. “I believe that there are ways to bend those terms. Will you help me?” She had not meant to speak so directly but there was something about the Abbess which encouraged plain speech.
Dame Ursula said guardedly, “If I can, daughter.” Katherine put forth the scheme that had come to her in the nights when she had listened to Antony’s rasping breathing and which had solidified in the quiet days here. “I am learned beyond most of my station. I know Latin, French, some Greek, am well versed in Holy Writ. I read and write our own English as well as those I mentioned and I am familiar with the laws of courtesy. I could teach the young daughters of a wealthy household or lessen the hours of boredom for ladies who have little knowledge.”
Dame Ursula stared at the animated face. “That is foolish talk, Katherine. Best that you find an amiable gentleman who will take pleasure in the accomplishments you name.”
“Where is such a gentleman to be found? You well know that I would be counted little more than chattel. Even the wealthy and titled are granted small recompense by marriage. I will make my own way.”
Dame Ursula put a slender hand on the girl’s shaking shoulder and turned her around. “Pride is a sin.”
“Do you not have it? Why should I not?” The words were presumptuous but pride was all that had girded Katherine in many of her battles in castle and convent. She rushed on. “Help me to find such a post as I have described. I will heed the future when it comes.”
“What of the future? How will it be when you begin to age? When even a hard pallet is begrudged you and the very crust of bread you eat? What of now when the master finds you fair and seeks to bed you? Better a roof which is at least your own.” Dame Ursula had heard many young girls talk as Katherine did and go weeping to be wed, brought to bed ten months later and a child each year.
Katherine said softly, “I ask your charity for it cannot be otherwise with me.”
The Abbess appraised her critically with the look that her nuns had learned to dread. Katherine did not draw back from it.
“If I do not choose to help you in this madness, what will you do?”
In her nineteen years, Katherine had learned much of reality. There was humor and acceptance in her voice as she said, “I shall go to York, Lady, there to inquire at the great houses.”
“The Hartley name is tainted. Will you use it?”
“Wed would I be safe? I will use another name and take my chances.”
Dame Ursula capitulated then. But for a few years and another time, this girl might have been herself. She had had the courage of her faith. Katherine had her own strong will, it must be enough. She said, “I have some few friends in York still. I will send messages. Perhaps something can be arranged.”
Katherine sank to her knees, murmuring her gratitude.
‘You may have cause to rue this day, child, but I praise your spirit and praise the God who has given it to you.”
Head submissively bent, Katherine thought as she often did that one did far better to rely on oneself than on an often capricious deity but such thoughts were never to be voiced to anyone but Antony. Again she felt a bitter pang of longing for the sane intelligence of her father who had grounded her more thoroughly in the realities of life than either of them had known. Perceptively, with the uncanny quality that made her the power she was, Dame Ursula said, “But we also best help ourselves. Trust yourself, Katherine. You do not walk wholly alone, you know.” She extended her ring to the girl who touched her lips to it and rose.
“I will not forget. I do greatly thank you.”
“Word will be brought to you in due time. You may go.” The brief sharing was finished and Katherine was free.
She spent the next few days walking in the garden, moving up and down the quiet paths, touching the heads of the flowers, and pondering. She knew that there could have been no other choice but at times she thought of the peace here and longed to be part of it. The nights were otherwise, for in her restless tossing dreams she saw gray, fierce eyes looking down into her own, felt the hunger , of her body against his, and the awakening of a desire that had no place in the ballads. She would wake with her loins burning and her mouth dry, the sound of mocking laughter in her ears.
Early one morning, as she lay thus in lassitude, dreading the coming of another day of silence, there was a knock on the door. She called and the little mm, Sister Theresa, entered and stood looking about shyly.
“I am bidden by the Abbess to give you this message.” She held out a folded parchment. “She is in retreat and has been these past few days.”
Katherine took the paper and unfolded it. The words, as brief and spare as the Abbess herself, were simple. “Arrangements have been made for you to go to Lady Dorotea Randle in the city of York. She will welcome you for my sake. Beyond that I cannot go. God be with you.”
Sister Theresa whispered, “I am to carry your answer to her.”
Katherine smiled and the pointed face was lit with a joy that had not touched it in many a day. “Tell her that I am very grateful, that I understand what she has said.”
Puzzled, Sister Theresa hurried away. Later she would gossip with the others in the few minutes given them and the tale would grow larger with the telling.
Katherine laughed to herself and began to untangle the snarls in her red-brown hair with a vigor she had not shown for weeks. Life was returning to her in full measure and this time she welcomed it.
Chapter 4
Meeting in York
Katherine stood in the long hall of Randle House and waited for its owner. The hall appeared seldom used, the air was cold and heavy with a scent of dampness. A canopied chair with a footstool occupied one end, a battered table the other. There was no other furniture except a faded tapestry high above. Absolute silence reigned.
Katherine paced up and down then. Surely it could not take so long to convey a simple message? The Abbess had seemed certain that she would be welcome. Was she to be treated as a beggar, a servant, or less? Anger rose and she kicked angrily at the small bundle she had brought with her.
“By the Faith, I will be no supplicant!”
“I have not asked you to be.” The voice was shaky as though it were out of breath, but the laughter that followed was rich and lively. “No, nor asked you to stay, either.”
Lady Dorotea Randle moved slowly into the room, leaning on her cane, her brilliant blue eyes sharp in the age-mottled face. Katherine stood her ground, a blush rising in her face.
“You do not have the look of your father.”
“You knew him?” Katherine could not give polite greeting nor remember any of the news she had been asked to convey. Since it seemed she might soon be in the street, she had to gain what information she could.
Tears burned in the girl’s eyes before she could blink them back and she knew that the lady saw.
“That was long ago and best forgotten. What do you want here, Katherine Hartley? I have read the message but I would have you tell me.” Lady Randle sank down in the chair and gave a sigh.
Katherine felt her anger rise but she kept it leashed. How often had Antony scolded her for her temper in the past? His memory kept her voice low and passionate as she recounted the scheme and all that she had told the Abbess. She finished, “I can earn my bread by teaching Latin if nothing else. I have my learning though my father’s name be smirched. I seek only to order my own destiny, Madam.”
Lady Randle said, “You do realize that you wish to have what only a very few can attain, the very wealthy and the very powerful, and even then not always.” Katherine moved restlessly as she said, “I want to try. I have recited those abilities which are mine. What more is needful?”
“A good disposition might help.”
Katherine stared at her and their eyes held before her own fell. She waited for her orders to depart for it seemed to her that she had failed.
Lady Randle spoke firmly. “Katherine, I think in time we might get on together. A meek lass would bore me but I will not tolerate rudeness. You must be well willing to learn. Stay and welcome if you understand that.”
Katherine felt that she had passed some test. Why? Great ladies were prideful creatures, she certainly had enough pride herself. The questions came to her lips but she managed to stifle them as she curtsied gracefully.
“I thank you, Lady Randle. I will try to render good service. Would you care to instruct me in my duties now?”
The rich laughter warmed the cold air of the hall. Lady Randle said, “Do not be so much the subservient wench nor the great lady, Katherine. We may yet be friends. What do you say to three months trial? We cannot totally drive each other mad in that time. This is a large house with few occupants and I grow lonely.”
“And if at the end of three months we are not agreeable? What then?”
“Then I will find you another situation more suited. You need not fear. The Abbess is my dear friend and your father was often kind to me.”
“How can I thank you?” Katherine could not relax her stiff manner nor speak more gracious words.
Lady Randle seemed to understand, however, as she held out a hard hand to the girl. “Welcome to my house, Katherine Hartley.”
“For my father’s sake, Madam?” The words came unbidden and she would have given much not to have spoken them for the clear eyes clouded momentarily and the warmth departed the old face, leaving only a skull.
“For his sake, Katherine, until you win it for your own!”
Katherine’s room was well hung with tapestries and several rugs lay on the floor rather than the usual rushes. The one window was tall and narrow, framing the view of a little garden in back. There was a steel mirror near the wide, canopied bed and a chest stood ready for her few belongings. The far sweet bells of the famous Minster rang out on the cool evening air which carried the scent of flowers. Katherine gave a deep sigh and sank down on the floor. A great hurdle had been overcome.
The next few weeks formed a pattern to which both women adapted easily. They walked in the garden, read and talked endlessly, listened to each other play on the lute and sing, recited poems and capped the lines in Latin or Greek. Once they went into the city to see some of the more famous sights but Lady Randle grew very weak and they had to return immediately. After that they stayed privately and grew to prize each other’s companionship. In a strange way it was almost a continuation of the quiet relationship she had with Antony, and Katherine grew content. They made exotic dishes, worked with herbs, prepared potpourri, planned elaborate banquets never to be given, helped a sewing woman to make several dresses for Katherine. Lady Dorotea saw to it that she began to learn the manners of the middle-class goodwife as well as the ordering of a great household and the training of servants that every daughter of the nobility learned. The evenings were spent in the solar which caught the last rays of the sun or in the garden where sleepy birds murmured. It was a calm, gathering-in time, and both women savored it.
Katherine had once, early in their relationship, sought to lead Lady Dorotea to speak again of Antony and the brilliant court he had graced. “I am done with all that and have come to spend my last days in the city where I was born. I will have nothing more to do with turbulences,” she had said when pressed, and the girl knew that she would learn nothing. The slight rebuke rankled and the old lady knew it.
Several days later she and Katherine were in the solar sorting materials for reworking and repair. Lady Dorotea saw the longing glances Katherine cast toward the outside, as well as the way her once nimble fingers idled in the bright morning.
“Katherine, would you do an errand for me?”
“Certainly, my lady. What is your need?” Katherine hoped that some activity might be needed. She was sometimes made weary by the very calm of the house, for Lady Dorotea lived in very straitened circumstances for her rank. There were several maids, a man servant or two who doubled as guards and escorts, and a boy for errands. There were no callers and she never went out. She rested long in the afternoons but her face was often pale, the lips bluish.
Lady Dorotea went on, “I need lace for matching. We have run short. Here, you can take this piece with you to the market. The maid, Helena, will go with you.”
The northern air was fresh and clear, the sun warm on Katherine’s face from which the tan was rapidly fading. Her eyes shimmered green with delight as the market swirled about. Peddlers called to the throngs, housewives sought bargains, gentlemen strolled by catching the eyes of some of the pretty girls in the stalls, farmers from beyond the walls brought fresh vegetables to sell, a juggler tossed balls in the air and deftly caught them, a scribe wrote busily for a merchant close by.
Helena spied an acquaintance at the ribbon stall and begged leave to chat for a time. Katherine, lured by the activity, readily gave permission and then followed one bright display after another until she entered a narrow lane which ran past several shops. To the side of one of them was a storyteller who was spinning a tale of enchantment to an enthralled audience which knew little of Persians but did know a goodly tale when they heard one. The storyteller, a slender man with a forked beard and darting eyes, assessed the caliber of his listeners and paused at the crucial moment when the heroine lay swooning at the feet of her ravisher. Katherine’s clear voice was among the indignant ones promising coins if he would continue.
A heavy coin bounced down in front of the storyteller who cried out with delight. A familiar, sardonic voice said, “Continue, man, I would hear more of this peerless damsel and her perils.”
Katherine whirled around to meet the gray eyes of the man from the tavern, he who had haunted her dreams since then. He wore rich claret velvet, a cap with a green feather on his wheaten hair, and emeralds on his long capable fingers. His darker brows moved upward as he said, “You are far from the tavern, wench. With your hair washed and your dress decent I can quite see my cousin’s passing fancy. Have you come to seek your fortune in the great city?” He put a hand on her shoulder as if to draw her to him.
Katherine tried to jerk back but the remorseless fingers held her. “Let me go at once.”
Startled and amused by her reaction, he released her but bent over as if to kiss her mouth. She caught the scent of sun-warmed skin, leather and freshness. Little lights flickered in the gray eyes so close to hers and her senses reeled as her body swayed slightly toward him. Her mouth was suddenly dry.
He saw and began to laugh. “Nay, wench, it is not for myself that I seek knowledge of you. Those were haughty words you gave back with the wine. Are you t
ruly as simple as that? I wonder. My cousin ever loves a merry tale and I fancy the one of your journey might be such.”
Katherine did not pretend to misunderstand her own feelings or deny the quickening that touched her still at the very sight of him but her fury swamped all other emotions. “You are misled by your opinion of yourself. I will not have speech with a man who insults me. Leave me be!” She turned and started to move away.
The hard voice followed her, laughter wiped from it. “Courtesy toward your betters is one of the first lessons you peasants should learn. I can see that you want schooling.”
Katherine swung around to face, oblivious to the crowd which stood fascinated, the storyteller abandoned. “My betters are those who prove themselves so, my fine rooster!”
Red splotches flared on the dark cheeks and he lifted his hand as if to strike her. Not to be outdone, Katherine stood her ground, glaring at him. They stood in a pool of silence until he looked around and burst into laughter, good humor apparently restored.
“Come, wench, let us not quarrel. You have courage, I give you that. Will you come and drink with me in yon tavern for a short time and tell me your adventures? I have gold and your time will not be wasted.” Some of the men guffawed and Katherine felt a trickle of shame mixed with desire to be with this man for whatever reason. She said, “I will tell you but that is all. A cup of ale would not be amiss.”
“Good.” He turned to the watchers and the snarl of authority was in his voice. “Return to the storyteller. I have paid for his time, see that he does not cheat you.” They sat over ale in the little tavern several streets over from the market. The innkeeper himself served the man called Jamie and then discreetly departed. Katherine drank deep for courage and then smiled boldly at him.
“My name is Kate and my tale is short and easily told. You have heard the like many times before I doubt not.”