As Meat Loves Salt (6 page)

We sat on the warm stone seat, carved with suns and hour-glasses, and twined ourselves in an embrace. My hat fell off onto the chamomile behind the bench and so that we should be equal I pulled off her cap and kissed her stiff yellow coil of hair. She laughed and put her face up to mine. There was cider on her breath. I touched my mouth to hers and she looked straight at me, then closed her eyes. Very slowly, softly, she nibbled my tongue as I slid it between her lips. I closed my eyes also, the better to feel the inside of her mouth. We stayed like that some time, tasting and toying, while bees droned up and down the rosemary hedges, until Caro broke away and kissed me on the nose. 'I should go, Jacob.'

'A little longer—' I pulled her onto my lap. The skin of her breasts, as much as I could see and stroke, was like petals of the purest white roses. I wondered, not for the first time, how it must feel to embrace

a woman without her stays, without even her shift. My breath came faster and I strained her to me.

Caro whispered, "The Mistress may come out.'

'She may indeed.'

A tussle followed, with much laughter and tickling, but at last I let her go and she went back to sitting at my side. Holding hands, we contemplated the knot garden while I suffered the familiar pain which would only be eased upon our betrothal.

Once, in that garden, I had put my hand right down her bodice while we kissed, and felt the tender bud of her breast swell and push greedily between my fingers. My own flesh had straightway begun to ache, and I caught such a look in her eyes as told me plainly what would happen next if I did not stop. I did stop; I withdrew my hand, and heard her moan with disappointment. I had passed up a chance, but gained a knowledge inexpressibly sweet. Many men are wed for their purses, the man being taken, oft grudgingly, along with the money. I knew with proud certitude that this was not my case. There was no need to hurry, to take her in that furtive way in which Zeb conducted his loves. We would wait until the appointed night. It might even be that something in me took pleasure in teasing her. Sometimes, as we worked together or sat decorously side by side, I recalled that pleading moan of hers, and smiled.

'Poor Chris.' Caro interlaced her fingers with mine. 'A hideous death.'

I had forgotten Walshe. The eager shoot that was my body shriveled as if she had thrown cold water on me.

She frowned. ‘And yet—'

'Yet?'

'Now that I think on it - he was always strange. What was his business here? Wandering at night, on another's land?'

'Perhaps he was stopped by someone from the house,' I said. My, stomach fluttered; I wondered would she notice the sweat which had begun squeezing from my hand.

'Folk naturally defend their own,' Caro went on. 'Or a servant who kills a trespasser by chance, shall he be blamed?'

My guts coiled within me for I thought I saw a way out of my gaol. 'So,' I put it to her, 'if it were one of us dispatched Chris, would you deem him guilty?'

‘
^’
Twould depend why he did it.' She straightened suddenly. 'Why Jacob, do you suppose it
is
one of us?'

I hesitated.

'Yes! You have a man in mind,' she insisted.

'For myself, none. But we are servants, we must look to be suspected.'

Caro seemed satisfied with this. However, in speaking it, I had slammed the door of the gaol on myself, and now felt my courage begin to slip away.

'I saw you from the window,' Caro went on, 'dragging the pond. I had made up my mind for Patience.'

'Well, you knew what cause she had to despair,' I said. 'Her condition.'

Caro's hand stiffened in mine but she said nothing.

'I am not Godfrey, that things should be kept from me,' I said.

'Zeb asked me not to.'

There was a thunderbolt! I had thought to receive some such an
swer as, I
did but yesterday find out,
or I
do not like such talk.
My love,
the woman I had near entrusted with my secret, with my very life, was all the while in private conference with my own brother.

I put Caro away from me and searched her face. 'Zeb told you—'

'Asked.' She looked back frankly, without shame.

'But why should I not know? He is my brother. I am the child's uncle!' I went on, growing more angry as the full sense of it came to me. Why, he had gone so far as to mock me for my ignorance.

'He said he must tell you himself,' she said quietly. 'Do you not think that was right, Jacob?'

'Aye! Would that he had told me before he told you!' I got up and retrieved my hat. Then, not wanting to sit down again, I put it on and stayed behind the bench, away from her.

'It was Patience first broke it to me, not Zeb,' protested Caro. She twisted round to speak to me; there was a flush beginning in her cheeks.

'I do not think he would ever have told me,' I brooded. 'Had we pulled her out of the pond, how happy he would be!'

'No, Jacob! How can you say such things of him?'

'Well, does he look miserable? Does he weep, is he unable to eat?'

'Not while you are there. But I have seen him weep.'

'Frightened he'd be made to marry her, most like.' I circled the bench. 'And had I known it, he would have been.'

'Well, you know now,' Caro said. Her eyes were dry and not as soft as I had seen them when we came into the maze.

'He has angered me. And so have you.'

'You are too easily angered.' She sat very straight with her fingers intertwined on her lap. "That is why you are not told things.'

I was amazed. 'Is this how you speak to your future husband? So you have let Zeb give an account of my character!'

'No indeed. I have eyes and ears of my own.' Caro stood up and arranged the top of her gown. 'It may be he would not marry her, but to say he wishes her dead! You are too fierce with your brother.'

'Was it not you, yourself, told me of her filthy braggings? Said it sickened you? Would a man want to marry
that?’
I grimaced in disgust.

'Such women do marry. What would you have him do?' She replaced her cap. 'But you are troubled, it is natural with Chris's death. Surely that's more terrible than—'

'What has Chris to do with this?'

'Jacob! Zebedee has lost both friend and love. Have some pity.' Caro turned and walked through the first gap in the maze.

'He plays on the pity of silly maids and then he ruins them,' I shouted after her.

It is a woman of all people who should see the danger in such a fellow, and a woman who never will. I sat arguing it out with her though she could no longer hear me. She was as obstinate as Izzy, who was forever telling me that Zeb was not really bad, for all the world as if he too were a wench dazzled by Zeb's eyes.

They were both of them deluded. He would never be anything but fickle, tasting one love and flying on to another. There had been a

tramping woman, older than himself and no innocent, when he was but fifteen: I had caught Peter letting him in late at night, flushed and exhilarated. Being once alerted by Izzy, I had observed Zeb's steady heating of Patience, who was only too hot already: his tickling her, putting the point of his tongue in her ear, and generally laying siege to that tottering fort, her virtue. Whenever I saw him at it, rage choked me. Had he been younger, and under my authority, I would have prescribed him a beating.

Back indoors, I again took up the tray and went on with my scouring, pressing the grains of sand against the pewter until each dish would have passed, at a distance, for silver. Near me sat Izzy, scraping teasels over Sir Bastard's coat to raise the nap.

'That will have to do.' He stood and held up the garment. 'What do you think?'

'You've wrought marvels with it.'

'It stinks of wine. God, how the man slobbers and sicks!' He threw it aside. It was not like my brother to let ill temper gain on him and I saw in his petulance how weary he was.

'The house is quiet without Zeb,' I ventured.

'Why do they keep him so long!' Izzy moaned. 'Is he suspected?'

'No reason he should be.'I rinsed the pewter clear of sand and began drying the pieces on a cloth. At that moment the sound of rapid footsteps came to us from the corridor. With a quick glance at me, Izzy ran to the doorway and looked out. I heard someone whispering and saw him gesture in reply. He closed the door and came back to where I was stacking the dishes.

'That was Caro. Zeb's back.'

'Has he seen the Master yet?'

Izzy shrugged. We left the scullery and made our way to the hall, where we found our brother in council with Godfrey.

'If the Mistress would be so good,'Zeb was saying.

Godfrey listened judicially, nodding from time to time. 'I will inform her. And when does he expect to have the cart, did you say?'

'Tomorrow. O, and he asks that the boy's friends here may be let go to the funeral.'

'We shall see,' the steward answered, frowning. The frown meant nothing, for Godfrey had never been known to grant anything on the first request and we would most likely get a half-holiday if we wished it. For my part I had just as lief stay home.

'That is all the message he sent,' Zeb prompted.

'Thank you, Zebedee. Now, have you and your brothers sufficient work?'

'Were we not to beat the hangings?'

'Indeed. Pray do so.' Godfrey turned and strode towards My Lady's parlour. I groaned inwardly, for if there was one task I detested, beating hangings was it. 'In God's name, why remind him of that?' I muttered as the door closed after the steward.

'I want to talk to you both, out in the orchard. Anyway, Jacob, we should have to do them some day soon, so why wait until it rains?'

'What did Biggin say?' demanded Izzy. 'Is he coming over to fetch the body? Do they know what the boy was doing here?'

'During the night? No,' Zeb returned. 'He is to be carried back there tomorrow. The most suitable cart is out at present, but they will send it over with a coffin — the carpenter is put to the job already.'

'And the surgeon?' I asked.

'They had no cause to tell me. I guess they'll call one to the house when the boy arrives. You washed him, Jacob. Did you see—?'

'Slit right up the belly. They won't need a surgeon to interpret that.'

'O, the little fool!'

Izzy stared at him.
'Fool?'

My heart began to thump. Supposing Zeb was risen, gone to the chamber window. It was bright moonlight when I grabbed the boy's knife, and my empty bed — but no, his way of speaking to me earlier on—

'Out,' Zeb insisted. 'Let us go out. You fetch the hangings, I will set up the line, when I have once rid myself of these clothes. I am not Sir Bastard, to ruin them with dust.'He hurried off towards the stairs

leading to our chamber. Izzy and myself gazed at the hangings which covered three walls of the hall, and then at one another.

'Hold hard - there's a corner come down - let me not trip!' Thus, standing on a chair, did I bully my brother from above. It was my task to unhook the tapestries from the wall while Izzy gathered up the edges and held them away from my feet.

'I have it,'he assured me. 'Step down.'A spider ran over my neck as I dangled one leg in the air, almost causing me to fall, but at last we laid the third hanging on the worn flags of the floor. Izzy loaded me up and we progressed along the corridor, my brother going ahead to open each door as I came to it.

'Wait,' he said as we emerged into the sun. I was glad enough to stand and do nothing as he ducked back into the house, coming out directly with the carpet-beaters. There were five of these, supposedly from Turkey, of fine withy and all different in form. Godfrey said they had been presented to My Lady by some traveller much taken with her in that far-off time, her youth. I wondered what Caro would say to such a gift. With Izzy holding up the hangings behind me like a maid holding her mistress's train, we passed by the maze where I had been scolded by Caro, by the pond where Christopher Walshe had been fished up by the armpits that very morning, and along a stony track to the orchard.

Zeb was not there. 'He is sloth itself,' I grumbled, all the while dreading the sight of him. We spread the hangings over some bushes until our brother should come up with the line. Izzy sat in the shade of a pear tree and began swishing about him with the beaters, as if killing flies. 'This for me,' he said, setting one apart from the rest. 'Do you wish to choose?'

'They're all alike.' Surely Zeb was lingering in the house expressly to torment me.

'Not in the least,' said Izzy. 'This one is the fastest, and that the prettiest.'

Sometimes, I reflected, my brother had odd notions: he had preferences in cups and candles as well as in the customary things like

food and music, wherein each man has his particular taste. He had once told me that when we worked in the fields as children, every implement had for him its own character. But this was, after all, a small oddity. Apart from Caro, I loved Izzy better than anyone I knew, much more than I loved Zeb or my mother, perhaps because he never teased me.