The Blacksmith's Wife (22 page)

She lay face down on the heather, panting, shivering and dizzy with shock until blackness closed over her.

* * *

Hal had watched Joanna ride away and said nothing. Every impulse in his body insisted he follow after her, but he ignored them. He put his arms around Valiant’s neck and leaned into the horse’s warm coat, giving himself up to the emotions and despair he had mastered while Joanna was in his presence. He was unsure how long he stood there before he was in sufficient command of himself to go back inside the cottage and even then he took little joy from the rest of the visit.

He could barely comprehend how the day had ended up with such bitter words and revelations. His outrage at discovering Joanna had followed him, the guilt of his deception and discovery of his part in Roger’s leaving her all paled into insignificance at the sheer despair her unwitting revelation had caused to fill his heart.

‘Is the lady coming in?’ Anna asked. Hal shook his head sadly. He could barely look at the child.

Unless he had misunderstood her gesture Joanna was carrying a baby. But whose? His eyes watered and he blinked violently to clear them. Four years ago the discovery of Kitty’s infidelity had been heartbreaking, but it was nothing compared to discovering Joanna’s, which ripped into him with the pain of a dozen swords.

He knew Roger’s methods of old and could scarcely blame Joanna for allowing herself to be beguiled by the words he would have whispered and the lies he would have spun. Joanna might be unfaithful and despite all his hopes still in love with another man, but she was his wife. And he loved her.

Terror surged inside him, slapping him from his stupor.

‘I have to go home,’ he said. He knew he would not catch up with her on the journey, but he would make sure she did not leave before he told her so.

* * *

He arrived back at the stable to find the door closed and Rowan standing patiently by her stall, still with saddle and bridle. Annoyed, Hal led both horses inside. As he brushed them down his mood changed to worry. Joanna knew better than to leave the palfrey in such a state, so to leave her like that was a clear indication of her emotional state. He finished quickly and returned to the cottage.

Hal sensed it was empty as soon as he walked through the door. He moved from room to room, looking for signs of where Joanna might be. He poured himself a cup of wine and sat at the table, intending waiting for her to return, but her absence filled the house and he paced the empty rooms restlessly. He drained his cup and looked out of the window. The sun was level with the bottom of the frame, indicating it would soon be sinking below the hills.

Joanna should have been here by now. If she was trying to punish him by causing him to worry she had succeeded admirably. A feeling of unease pulled at Hal. He walked to the forge. Watt jumped, startled from his doze by the forge, causing iron nails to scatter across the floor.

‘Has Mistress Danby been here?’ Hal asked.

Watt shook his head, yawning. ‘You said I wasn’t to let her in if she came, but she didn’t.’

‘Run along to ask your mother if she’s there,’ Hal instructed.

If she was, a confrontation on Meg’s doorstep was not something he wished to provoke. Better Watt go. He propped the door open and while he waited he unfolded the bundle on the workbench. The sword was good. Excellent, if truth were told. The blade was well balanced and sharp. The roses that balanced each end of the quillon bore no faults and the pommel was the finest work he had done. A slender figure, head erect and adorned with a circlet inlaid with coloured glass. It fitted his hand as perfectly as Joanna fitted his arms.

Watt ambled back in. ‘Mother hasn’t seen Mistress Danby all day,’ he said.

Hal took a deep breath, forcing himself to think logically. Joanna often went walking to the stones when she wanted to be alone with her thoughts, but returned before the sun started to set. Could he have ridden right past and not noticed? It seemed unlikely, but at this point he would try any possibility.

He saddled Valiant again and rode to the stones, eyes watchful for Joanna returning, but he saw no one. He reached them at dusk. The moss by the largest rock was scuffed and slightly flattened where a body might have stretched out, leaning back, but it was damp with gathering dew, so if she had been here it had not been recently.

With increased unease Hal galloped back to Ravenscrag. He hurried into the house, calling Joanna’s name, trying to keep the panic from his voice. There was no answer.

He ran back to the forge.

‘Go from house to house,’ he instructed Watt. ‘I want everyone who can to be out searching for her.’

‘It’s getting dark,’ Watt protested.

Hal rounded on him. ‘That’s
why
I want everyone out!’ The boy jumped in alarm.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hal said. ‘I can’t sit by and do nothing, knowing she is out there alone.’

He paced anxiously around the village green while his neighbours assembled, told them of his plight and begged their assistance. Joanna had made herself popular in the village and help was readily offered. It crossed Hal’s mind briefly that perhaps the afternoon’s drama had been a ploy and Joanna was even now with Roger. He remembered the suggestion he had spat at Joanna and further shame filled him. If she took him at his word Hal would never be able to live with himself, but he’d willingly relinquish her to Roger if it meant she was safe, not lost, or worse.

His stomach twisted as he took the miller’s son to one side. ‘Send a message to Wharram Danby and inform them, too. If she isn’t there...’ his throat seized ‘...if she isn’t there ask my father to send aid.’

As he watched the men walk off in every direction, lanterns and torches aloft, he felt a soft pressure on his foot. Simon the dog whined softly.

‘Are you missing your mistress?’ Hal asked, bending to scratch the dog’s muzzle. ‘Me, too.’ He scooped Simon into his arms and ran to Valiant, folding the small dog inside his cloak. ‘Let’s go find her.’

Chapter Twenty-Two

B
lack clouds had gathered overhead and the air smelled of rain. Hal rode until he passed the furthest searchers on foot, dismounting once he reached the brow of the hill. He put Simon on the ground and walked the horse alongside, searching in a wide arc across the dimly lit landscape. It took a little less than an hour before he reached the stones and he had cried her name unceasingly until his throat was raw.

He leaned against the largest stone where he was convinced she had sat and closed his eyes in despair. Rain began to fall, cooling him, but adding to his anxiety. If he did not find her soon it would become increasingly unlikely she would be discovered before morning. He shouted her name and listened for the answer he knew would not come. He circled the rocks, Simon at his heels, calling out, pausing for a reply, then moving in ever-widening spirals. His feet squelched through bog water and he gave a grunt of revulsion as he pulled them free.

Hal called her name once more. There was a moan on the edge of his hearing, so soft he wondered if he had imagined it, but enough to set his heart racing.

‘Joanna!’ he bellowed once more. ‘I can’t see you,’ he called. ‘I’m here, but I need to know where you are.’ He stood silently, counting his heartbeats. Finally from where the heather clumps were darkest there came a wordless moan.

Simon whimpered excitedly and raced arthritically back and forth across the muddy moss. Hal gave a sob of relief and followed, sinking in to his calves as he took long strides, peering ahead.

‘Hal?’ Joanna croaked. Her voice was closer now. ‘I slipped. Rowan ran off.’

Hal paused, raised one foot and lowered it. He could make out the sound of water—a stream gurgling over the gully. He began to edge forward instead until he felt the ground tilt. He blinked to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. Simon was nuzzling at what Hal would have dismissed for a twisted clump of heather but for the pale mass of hair tangled down one side. She was lying on her stomach. Hal half-slid down to where she lay, running his hand over her damp dress. He rolled her over, his blood chilling at the sight of her face drained of colour save for scratches and a gash to her temple. Now he had her, relief and panic flooded through him. He eased himself to his knees and helped Joanna upright.

‘Can you walk?’ he asked brusquely. She nodded, but swayed alarmingly in his arms.

‘My head hurts. I’m so tired.’ Joanna sighed. She clutched anxiously at her belly, cradling it in a manner that Hal could not mistake for any other gesture. ‘My baby!’

She said nothing more, slipping to her knees and into a faint.

My baby.
Not ours.

Hal could not think about that now though, the only thing that mattered was taking Joanna to shelter. The bank was steep and more than once Hal’s feet slipped, each time his blood pounding in case Joanna or her child suffered harm. Exhausted, he laid her on the flatter ground, dropping on to his back beside her. Joanna lay still, eyes closed. Simon snuffled her and licked her hand. She sighed, but did not open her eyes. Hal peered at her in the gloom. Her forehead was crusted with blood at the temple, but her heart beat evenly beneath Hal’s palm, giving him hope.

Now the ground was more stable he could lift her easily. He held her close as he made his way back to Valiant. She was so light, her hands ice cold. Somehow he contrived to hold her and the dog in front of him on the horse.

* * *

By the time they reached Ravenscrag it was raining hard. Joanna was stirring from her faint, but shivering and not fully conscious. The bedchamber was chilly; no place for anyone who had been lying on the dark moors for so long. Hal turned back and carried her to the forge. Ignoring the protests of Meg and the women who had gathered, he laid her down by the furnace and demanded blankets and mead be brought.

‘As soon as it is light send a message to my father. Ask him to send for the physician,’ he told Meg. Most likely there would be no need but why take the chance?

Once they were alone again Hal tenderly eased Joanna out of her damp, filthy dress and lay back against the wall, cradling her in his arms. She sighed and her eyelids flickered open, though her eyes were unfocused. She tried to speak but no words came, only a hoarse, unintelligible whisper. Hal held the bottle of mead to Joanna’s lips, tipping the liquid into her mouth.

‘Don’t try to speak,’ he told her. ‘Rest now. I’ll be here when you wake.’

He reached for her cold hand and enclosed it within his, holding it long after her body had gone limp and she slid into a deep sleep. He wrapped the covers tighter around them both and settled back. He closed his eyes and remembered the last time they had lain here together and what they had done before and after. It had been the first suspicion Hal had that Joanna’s feelings towards him were anything more than fondness, her actions more than duty. He realised now how little he had appreciated that. He cast his mind back and realised with shame he had never actually told Joanna he loved her. He vowed that when she woke he would tell her every day.

* * *

The first sign that all was not well was when Hal awoke with a searing heat on his chest. Joanna’s cheek was pressed against him, hot to the touch. He sat up, alarmed at the way her body flopped against him. He eased himself free of their covers and pushed the forge door open, letting light flood in. Still she did not wake.

Panic chilled him. He carried her back to the house and laid her on their bed, not leaving go of her hand until he heard the cart that signalled the arrival of the physician. He was not alone. Roger followed into the room.

‘Get out,’ Hal growled, his blood rising until he felt as hot as Joanna did. ‘You’re not welcome in my house any longer.’

Roger backed out at the venom in his voice. Hal slammed the door. He paced around the bedchamber as the physician examined Joanna.

‘She has suffered from the cold. I do not believe she has drunk or eaten for many hours,’ the physician said. ‘Now she has a fever, which is good. It will restore the balance of her humours. If this breaks, perhaps within three days or four, all will be well. Any longer than that I cannot vouch for her recovery.’

He put a cup of bitter-smelling liquid to her lips.

Hal seized the physician’s wrist. ‘She is with child,’ he said. A chill coursed down his spine and curled like fingers of ice around his belly. He forced tears back.

The physician shrugged. ‘Then we must hope the fever breaks sooner rather than later. This will do the child no harm. Give her broth or small beer if she will take it.’

He administered his draught, gathered up his belongings and left.

Hal followed him out. Roger was at the table, drinking.

‘Why are you still here?’ Hal snarled. ‘I warned you to stay away from my wife and yesterday I find you’ve been visiting her behind my back.’

‘Whatever she told you, it was all done in jest!’ Roger said.

‘Jest! Was it not enough that you took Kitty from me, but you had to seduce Joanna, too?’ Hal spat.

‘I did not seduce her,’ Roger exclaimed. ‘Joanna is innocent of any wrongdoing. I did not expect her to agree and she did not.’

Hal’s blood turned to ice. Visions of events too terrible to contemplate flashed before his eyes. ‘She was unwilling?’

‘Yes.’ Roger held his hands up in supplication. ‘Completely so. What I did was wrong, I admit it.’

Hal swung a punch that collided with his brother’s jaw, knocking him to the floor. Roger scrambled to his feet. Hal readied himself for Roger’s return blow, dodged aside and drove both fists heavily into his stomach.

‘I understand, you’re angry,’ Roger panted, hands out in supplication.

Hal lunged forward, grabbing his brother round the waist and bore him to the ground.

‘Angry does not begin to cover what I feel,’ he roared. ‘You told her I had forced you to give her up against your will. You twisted facts and turned them to poison.’ He drove his knee into Roger’s belly, pinning him down. ‘I accused her of infidelity. Of willingly lying with you and now I find it was rape!’

Roger’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open. ‘No! Never. What makes you think that?’

He wiped a trickle of bloody saliva from his lip. ‘Yes, I visited Joanna. I wanted to see if she still had feelings for me, but it was nothing more than a kiss, I swear, and that I took from her unwillingly.’

‘A kiss! She is carrying a child!’

Roger gave a curt laugh. ‘And you think that’s mine? You’re an imbecile, Hal. You’re so consumed with jealousy and self-pity. She’s carrying your child, Hal. She told me so weeks ago.’

‘I’ve always taken care regarding that,’ Hal said.

Hadn’t he? His heart lurched as he recalled May Day and the morning afterwards where there had been no thoughts of prevention. No thoughts of anything else but his urgent need for Joanna and hers for him.

‘But she told you, not me,’ Hal muttered, agony piercing his heart.

‘She didn’t want to tell me,’ Roger said. ‘I saw her vomiting and guessed. I forced her to admit it.’

Roger shielded his face with his hands, anticipating a further beating, but Hal sat motionless. His brother’s words rang true in his ears. His hands dropped to his sides.

‘She told me nothing,’ he admitted.

Roger sneered. ‘And you didn’t guess yourself? You didn’t see how pale she’s become? How tired she is? Why do you think she kept it from you?’

Remorse filled Hal. He had noticed, but had not bothered to ask, preferring instead to throw his attentions into his work. His anger at Roger faded, replaced with an all-consuming guilt and fury at his own negligence.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he said quietly, standing up. ‘I wronged you.’

‘It isn’t mine you should be begging.’ Roger stood and walked stiffly to the door. Hand on the frame, he glanced over his shoulder. ‘If you’ve lost Joanna, it is none of my doing. You need to seek elsewhere for the blame. Yourself, perhaps. Yesterday I came to tell Joanna I’m leaving the country. She was distressed. I don’t know why, but it was not my doing, I swear. I asked her to go away with me, but she refused.’

‘Then why did you come back today?’ Hal asked.

‘Father sent me with the cart to see if you were ready to leave for York.’

‘I’m not going to York,’ Hal said quietly.

Roger gaped at him. ‘But the guild is expecting you.’

‘The guild can be hanged,’ Hal said. ‘I’m not leaving Joanna’s side.’

Roger rolled his eyes. ‘You’re a fool,’ he said.

Hal folded his arms and squared his shoulders. ‘I’ve been a fool too long,’ he said. ‘I’ve put my work first too many times. Go to York; enjoy your tournament. I wish you well, but I’m going to be with my wife.’

He returned to the bedchamber and took Joanna’s hand. Her skin was pale, her hands hot and clammy to touch.

* * *

For three days he stayed with her. He sponged her brow and throat when she burned and wrapped her in furs when she shivered. He refused all Meg’s offers to take his place. The food and drink that passed his lips went unnoticed. He might as well have been consuming dust for all he cared.

Sometimes Joanna sighed, her voice a croak. Mostly she lay silently and still. In the lonely nights Hal stared at the sword he had asked Watt to bring to his bedchamber. Joanna’s sword. He’d show her it when she woke. The thought that she might not wake made him double over in agony so real and physical that he could not bear to contemplate it. Instead he remembered the days he had spent crafting and coaxing Joanna’s form from the metal, of the early mornings slipping from the bed when he should have stayed with the warm, living woman, and he wrinkled his nose at his stupidity. None of it meant anything if Joanna was not by his side to share it.

* * *

Joanna was lying on something soft. Her limbs felt stiff and heavy but the pain in her temple had gone. It was still dark, but an orange glow shone behind her eyelids. Was she still on the moors or somewhere else? It didn’t feel like the heather where Hal had found her and which had been her last clear memory. She took a deep breath that hurt her throat and immediately a pressure tightened around her hand, as though it was being squeezed in a vice. She heard her name spoken through a thick sob and forced her eyelids open. Candlelight explained the orange glow. Hal was bending over her, clutching her hand in his.

‘You bloody fool,’ he cried. ‘What were you thinking? I warned you not to venture too far.’

Tears would have racked her body if she’d had the energy to sustain them. As it was, one violent sob was enough to send her into convulsions of shivering in his arms. She turned her face away from him.

Hal eased his hands beneath and around her body.

‘It’s myself I’m angry with, not you,’ he said. ‘Furious. Terrified. You could have died. I could have lost you.’

Something dripped on to Joanna’s cheek. To her amazement Hal was weeping. Joanna’s own eyes began to blur. After the harsh words between them it seemed incredible she was now held so tightly and tenderly in his arms. Even through her anger, ripples of desire coursed through her. She buried her face in his neck and said nothing.

‘After we quarrelled I thought you were trying to punish me,’ Hal said, his voice steadier. ‘I should have come to find you immediately, but I didn’t.’

‘I didn’t intend to go off the path. I was going to set off home, but I heard the stream.’ Joanna licked her lips, which were still dry. Her belly felt shrunken with hunger. ‘I haven’t drunk anything since this morning and I was thirsty.’

‘This morning?’ Hal’s arms stiffened around her. He pulled away and regarded her intently. ‘Joanna, I found you three days ago.’

She opened her mouth to argue, but then she peered closer at Hal. The stubble of his beard had grown fuller than the absence of a few hours would explain and his eyes were dark, sunken circles. His shirt hung open at the neck, crumpled and carelessly worn. From his appearance it could have been him lying on the moors, not her.

Hal brought her a mug of wine and she drank it, warmth spreading through her. He fed her sweet cake as he described in a voice thick with emotion how she had lain insensible, in and out of waking and in a fever.