Love's Ransom (7 page)

There was a little more with her mother’s blessing and Isabella read the letters several times with tears running down her cheeks then she put them safely away in a little wooden box which Henry had carved for her to store small treasures.

‘I almost forgot, Isabella, your mother sent you some onion seeds from her garden and several other plants. I kept them safely in my saddle bag. She is happy that you will have a garden of your own. She also sent some apples, pears and plums and hopes you will be able to plant the seeds, though she says it will take them many years to grow into trees which bear fruit but they will do best if you manage to grow more than one of each kind.’ He chuckled. ‘I can see you will have to make an extension for your wife to have a fruit garden, Henry.’ Later he took his son aside.

‘What news of a baby, Henry?’ he asked ‘I had hoped to see signs of one by now.’

‘I’m afraid you hope in vain, Father,’ Henry said, feeling wretched.

‘I can’t believe a son of mine cannot beget a child, especially with such a brave and lovely wife.’ His disappointment was evident. He controlled his anger but Henry sensed it, as usual.

‘You must accept that I am not the son you hoped for, Father. You said I was a puny twin and my sister’s birth killed our mother,’ Henry said unhappily, willing his father to understand his feelings, or lack of them. ‘I couldn’t bear to cause such suffering for Isabella.’ If only he could join the monks in the monastery, he thought for the umpteenth time, he would be free from this kind of burden. After all he had not consummated his marriage with Isabella, even though his father seemed convinced that he had.

‘Are you telling me I shall have to bed the girl myself to get a grandchild?’

‘No! You wouldn’t. It’s obscene. You’re an old man, and her father-in-law.’

‘We’ll see whether I’m an old man or not if you don’t get some results soon.’

Henry shuddered at the possibility that his father might carry out his threat. He sensed there were times when Isabella longed to be hugged, or comforted. He believed she yearned for a child of her own to love. He supposed these things were important to a girl, especially when she had been uprooted from a loving family, but he could only guess at the shock any innocent young girl would suffer if his father carried out his threat.

It seemed even Zander had deserted them. At least he had made Isabella laugh. He was thankful Anna and Isabella had become good friends but it was less than three months now to Anna’s wedding and when she moved to her own house they would be unable to spend as much time together.

Five

Although her own home was not much more than twenty or thirty miles to the south as crows fly Isabella had never seen so much snow. During most of February it seemed to drift continually up to the sturdy oak door. Sheep and cattle were brought into the yard for shelter. Several animals had been killed and the meat salted, but she was used to this policy. There was never enough hay and straw to feed all of the animals through the winter. The wild pigs seemed to survive, routing for food beneath the trees in the various woods but even the deer foraged closer to the village and the farms. Although the woods and deer belonged to the king they had enjoyed fresh venison a few times and it was a welcome change to the salt beef.

The women were glad to gather together in the living quarters where the mullioned windows had been installed. They kept out the cold air while letting in some light during the short days. The windows on the lower and upper floors had only wooden shutters and when these were opened to let in light they also let in the cold winds of winter and made everyone shiver. Isabella was grateful for the extra covering of a large patchwork quilt she had made from the bags of material scraps which Anna had shown her. It was both warm and pretty and now she was making a covering for the window too because Henry always liked to sleep with at least one of the shutters open. Neither the snow nor the cold seemed to trouble him, especially when the moonlight beckoned him to wander through the countryside. One night when she found herself alone Isabella leapt out of bed in fright at the eerie, wailing sound which seemed to come from nearby. It echoed and re-echoed around her turret room. She crept to the window and peered out. The snow clad fields and hills were bathed in silver and she could see nothing which could have made such unearthly sounds. Then the wailing call came again. Swiftly she closed and barred both of the wooden shutters, no matter what Henry thought. She felt angry. He should have been here with her to comfort and reassure her and warm up her freezing toes. It was a long time before she slept again so she was tired and irritable when she wakened. Henry had returned and was sound asleep on the other side of the long pillow. In a rare fit of pique she jerked it aside and shook him until he opened his eyes.

‘Did you hear that dreadful wailing noise during the night, Henry? It frightened me. You should have been here with me.’

‘It was only a wolf. She was calling to her mate. She looked beautiful by the light of the moon, silhouetted against the snow on the side of the hill.’

‘A wolf?’ She shuddered. ‘It was an awful chilling sound. Weren’t you afraid, being out there alone? What if she had attacked you?’

‘She wouldn’t do that,’ Henry laughed. ‘I leave the animals in peace and they have never hurt me yet.’

‘But it seemed so near, so –so wild and lonely.’

‘Haven’t you heard wolves before?’

‘No. I don’t think they came hunting near the marshes and the river was not so far away on the south side of Braidlands. I have heard tell of them stealing fowls or sheep though. We heard stories they had stolen a baby once, but I don’t know whether I s true.’ She was amazed that Henry seemed so meek, almost timid, for a man, yet he had no fear of being out alone at night, or of encountering a fox or wolf, a wild boar or a stag.

The following afternoon Thomas brought news that a wolf had been seen stealing one of the sheep at an outlying cottage. It was the only ewe the man could afford to keep through the winter and it slept in the shed adjoining the house. The wolf had managed to squeeze through the rickety door and killed the sheep.

‘Old Edgar said it must have been starving because it had apparently stayed long enough to eat, then carried away part of the remaining animal.’

‘We must keep a look out,’ Sir William said. ‘Tell the guards to have a pistol ready in case they see the wolves slinking near the barns.’

Eventually the snow cleared and the first wild flowers began to bloom beneath the trees in the little copse near Isabella’s garden.

‘It is time to dig over the soil ready to plant,’ she said happily. One afternoon in the middle of March, the day before her seventeenth birthday and a month before Anna’s wedding, she was gathering leaf mould beneath the trees to enrich her plots when she heard voices. She looked up and saw Zander waving to her. She could scarcely believe it. He handed his horse, and the mule he was leading, to one of his companions to take to the stables and came hurrying towards her, vaulting over the low bushes in his eagerness to reach her. She dropped her bag and ran to meet him.

‘You have returned!’ she gasped as she went joyfully into his outstretched arms. ‘You are all safe? I thought I might never see you again.’ He was holding her close against him, his heart raced at the feel of her in his arms. He thought he had put her out of his mind, and his heart, but he knew now he would never succeed in doing that. He held her a little way from him. There was no sign of a baby. For Henry’s sake, and his uncle’s he knew he should be sorry. He had always felt a deep affection for his younger cousin and he knew Henry’s failure to produce a grandchild, even a girl, would arouse William Douglas’s bitter disappointment, even anger. Anna would take Walter’s name soon and her children would be Nixons. The name mattered so much to his uncle. He knew that better than anyone and he was still paying the price however much Douglas blood ran in his veins. He bore the name of Latimer so William Douglas would never call him “son”. Did he ever consider he was to blame for his first born bearing another man’s name because he had not been there to marry the woman he loved? Zander knew he would have married Isabella if he had been a Douglas. The knowledge filled with bitterness towards the man he called uncle instead of father. Perhaps it was justice if Henry did not give him a grandson he craved. Even Zander did not guess the form his uncle’s wrath might take. He bent his head and kissed Isabella’s upturned face, hugging her close. From an upper window Henry watched them. He felt not the slightest twinge of jealousy. Instead he marvelled at the happiness which lit up Isabella’s face. He knew now what he had to do.

‘Did all the men return safely?’ Isabella asked eventually. ‘I thought there were more of you when you went away.’ She saw Zander’s eyes cloud with sadness.

‘We lost Donald at sea. We sailed on a small ship to the south of England. A storm blew up. It tossed the boat about. Young Donald was sick. I saw him leaning over the side. A huge wave almost capsized us and when we gathered ourselves together again Donald had disappeared. The captain tried to search for him but we could see no sign. The captain had to consider his ship and crew so he put in to shore for shelter until the storm abated. Soon I must go and tell Donald’s mother what has happened. He was her elder son.’

‘Poor Donald. I remember him,’ Isabella said. ‘He was a nice boy. Please tell his mother I am deeply sorry for her loss.’ Isabella’s eyes were luminous with tears and Zander loved her more than ever for her compassion.

That evening everyone gathered around the long table. The women had been busy cooking roasts of meat and the fish which Walter had brought from the river. They all welcomed Zander and his men home. He had brought several rolls of material as well as a gold necklace for Anna and Isabella, but the gift Isabella cherished most was a silver needle case containing every possible size of metal needle, as well as a larger bone needle for threading wool or ribbon. The outside of the case was engraved with delicate scrolls. She wanted to hug Zander for his thoughtfulness but with so many pairs of eyes watching and smiling she could only thank him shyly.

The day of Anna’s wedding to Walter Nixon bloomed bright and fair. Spring was in the air and the first lamb had been born that morning at the end of April. Everyone was in high spirits. Anna looked beautiful in her wedding finery and Isabella loved the dress she had been able to make with the crimson silk brocade Sir William had brought for them. She had added some embroidery to the bodice using the gold thread which Zander had brought.

It was almost time for the women to escort Anna up the hill to the new house which Walter had built beside the Watchtower. The evening air was growing chilly and Isabella was searching for her shawl in one of the alcoves, hidden from view, when she overheard Sir William talking with Zander and Henry. He had drunk too well of the French brandy and his tongue was free.

‘I’ve hear some men are better at bedding their women if they have a good whipping.’ He laughed loudly when he saw Henry flinch. He knew his son hated violence to both men and beasts. ‘You’ll wince a damned sight more, Henry if you don’t produce a grandchild for me before Walter Nixon does. You’re making a laughing stock of me. Do you want me to sire the babe myself? I’m not that old I couldn’t show you how, especially with a fine lassie like Isabella.’ Isabella pressed her hand to her mouth in horror.

‘No!’ Henry protested, more loudly than he ever spoke. ‘You cannot…’

‘Cannot? Don’t be too sure. If your wife will not use the whip on you I’ll strip you naked and whip you myself.’ Isabella gasped with shock. Surely a father would not do such a thing to his own son? She knew the humiliation would be far worse for Henry to bear than the pain. He never allowed her to see him naked. Sir William moved away to pour more brandy. Isabella saw Henry’s face was white as he and Zander moved nearer to where she was hidden.

‘You have to help us, Zander. Your child would bear the Douglas blood.’

‘I may carry the same blood as you, Henry but it is the name he wants.’

‘He has only himself to blame for that!’ Henry retorted bitterly. ‘He should not have bedded your mother then gone away before they married. Lizzie told me he had to flee across the water to save his neck. He left your mother carrying his seed. What else could she do but marry Latimer when he did not return before you were born? Lizzie said everyone knew Latimer was already too sick to father a child and he didn’t even live long enough to see you born.’

‘I have heard Lizzie’s story too,’ Zander said, ‘but nothing changes the fact that my name is Latimer.’ Isabella understood now why he and Henry were so alike, and so close. They had the same father and their mothers had been identical twins.

‘I can’t bear the thought of him forcing himself on Isabella, but I shall drown myself before I let him whip me,’ Henry said in desperation’

‘No! No, Henry you must not do that,’ Isabella said, driven from hiding to comfort him. He sounded like a wounded small boy. ‘Your father does not mean it. He would not whip you. The brandy is making him stupid. My mother told me it does strange things to men.’

‘It is in his mind to do it,’ Henry said bitterly. ‘The brandy only made him speak his thoughts out loud. I know what is in his heart.’ Isabella looked pleadingly at Zander.

‘I must go with Anna and the women. Please help him, Zander. Please?’

‘I will try,’ Zander promised slowly. He longed to take Henry’s place but he doubted if she understood what she was asking of him.

There was a lot of laughter as the women prepared Anna for her bridal night. She had given Isabella her own bridal night gown so they had stitched another in fine white lawn and Isabella had embroidered the yoke with garlands of white flowers.

‘You are so much better at that than I am,’ Anna said gratefully.

‘Each petal is a symbol of love and happiness for you,’ Isabella said. Now here they were and Anna was too excited to be modest as the women undressed her and put on her robe before tucking her into the big bed which Walter had made himself under instruction from Hubert, the carpenter. Isabella was last to leave. She bent to kiss her, whispering, ‘You look radiant and beautiful. I hope you will be happy.’

She hurried to catch up with Lizzie to walk back down the hill.

‘It will be a full moon tonight,’ the old woman said as she stared up at the silver disk which seemed to float across the heavens. ‘Even as a wee boy Henry worshipped the moon. He said it filled him with magic.’

‘He still goes out on the nights when the moon is full, even during the snow,’ Isabella said, unaware how wistful she sounded. ‘He was not afraid of the wolves.’ She shivered at the memory and huddled into her shawl.

‘He’s convinced if he doesn’t hurt the animals they will never hurt him,’ Lizzie said, ‘but I’m not sae sure. When they’re starving, or angry, I wouldna trust them, moon magic or no’. They met the men half carrying Walter up the hill to his new bride. They were laughing and making ribald comments at his expense but he didn’t seem to mind. Zander saw her with Lizzie and his heart softened at the wistful expression on her young face. Now that Anna was married there were no other young women in his uncle’s household with whom she could share her interests and friendship. He knew the women liked and respected her. Even Eliza sang her praises and Maggie admired her sewing, but it was not the same as having a friend near her own age. He sighed. Henry had his reading and writing, his herbs and medicines, in common with Isabella. If only he could relax and treat her as a friend. Zander was concerned about the effects Sir William’s threats had had on Henry.

After the women had left, Henry had pleaded again for Zander to help him and he understood the full implications of what he was asking.

‘You’re asking me to give your wife a child and deceive your father, Henry?’

‘Why not? It would be better than my father forcing himself upon her.’

‘He’d never do such a thing!’

‘Wouldn’t he?’ Henry’s tone was cynical. ‘That was not the first time he has threatened. I think he relishes the idea. I would rather he didn’t have an excuse. Isabella loves you. We’re both his sons. The child would have his blood and bear my name…’ He did not see Zander wince. Could he bear to sire a child and hear it call another man Father? Even for Henry?