The Copper Sign (18 page)

The trees were already beginning to lose their colorful foliage. Ellen quickened her pace. The ground was completely covered in withered leaves that rustled under her feet. The golden rays of the sun that fell through the thinning canopy of vegetation no longer had the same intensity as in the summer and offered little warmth.
How can such a wonderful day end in such misfortune?
Ellen thought as she glanced up at the cloudless, bright blue sky and hastened on. Perhaps she’d manage to get out of the forest before nightfall.
But I have no idea where I am headed
, she thought dejectedly.
Shall I go back to England?

Ellen heard hoofbeats behind her, and as always she left the highway and retreated into the woods, but it was too late. The rider had spotted her from a distance and spurred his horse on. By the time Ellen recognized who it was, she could no longer escape. The rider pursued her into the forest, the hoofs of his horse crushing the little mushrooms and the moss on the wet ground. When he had caught up with her, he jumped from the saddle and blocked her way.

“You are the bride of Satan, admit it!” he shouted at her, coming up close and looking her directly in the eye.

“What do you mean, Thibault?” Ellen stepped back.

“For all these years you have been deceiving me and everyone else into thinking you were a man! It’s too bad William isn’t here anymore. I would like to see the stupid expression on his face!” Thibault had dropped the reins of his horse, and the stallion was chewing peacefully on some dry grass.

Ellen noticed how tense every fiber in Thibault’s body was as he walked toward her. She wanted to avoid a confrontation with him and kept stepping back until she stood with her back against a huge oak tree.

“I whipped myself at night until the blood streamed down my back because, silly fool that I was, I thought I had an unnatural yearning for Alan, the blacksmith’s helper. Every time you looked at me with your green eyes, every time I touched you, my heart began to pound. I did penance again and again for those times I lusted so much after you, and that was much, much too often. But you’re not a boy at all, so I atoned for something that was not a sin at all, and now you will pay for it.” Thibault’s eyes looked very small and black.

Ellen suppressed an apprehensive laugh. Though she was exceptionally strong for a woman, she was now overcome by fear. Even before she knew what was happening, he punched her right in the face.

“I’ll beat the man out of you, you daughter of the devil,” he snarled at her with a demented gaze.

Ellen could feel how her upper lip was swelling after the blow and could feel warm blood running down her chin. The next blow followed immediately and just as unexpectedly. It left a gash in her eyebrow, and the blood running down clouded her vision. The next blow was to the pit of her stomach, and it made her feel like she was going to vomit. She was too surprised to defend herself, but in any case she didn’t stand much of a chance against a trained squire.
If I let him beat me, perhaps he’ll stop soon,
she thought, sinking to the ground. She remembered the beatings her mother used to give her with the leather strap. At first they hurt terribly, but with time she had learned to disengage her spirit from her body. Sometimes it seemed to her as if she were hovering overhead, near the ceiling, and could look down and see herself lying on the ground.

Thibault knelt over her and shook her.

She did not resist. It seemed to her like she was far away, and she didn’t even understand what was happening as he pushed up her shirt and discovered the cloth wrapped around her chest.

He broke out into a hoarse laugh. All it took was a little cut with his hunting knife to undo the bandage. With sadistic pleasure he slid the knife around her little breasts and down her belly to her navel. Then he tossed the knife aside and ripped off her braies.

“I wanted you from the very first day, you witch, and now you finally are mine!” Thibault panted with ecstasy and anger. “Woman is meant to be subordinate to the man,” he whispered in her ear, forcing her legs apart.

Not until now did Ellen understand what he meant to do, and she shouted at him angrily: “You can’t do that!”
If he knew he was my brother, he would never dare to do that
, she thought, half dazed.
I must tell him
.

“We’ll see if I can do that. You are not the first virgin I have had,” he laughed maliciously.

He wouldn’t believe her anyway and would probably not even listen to her, so all she could do was to plead with him: “Please, Thibault, don’t!”

Thibault grinned fiendishly. “You’re whining now just the way a dog does. Just keep it up, but it won’t do you any good.”

Ellen resisted with all her strength, but Thibault was gripped with a possessive fury and much too strong. He pressed his left arm against her throat and thrust his fingers brutally into her most intimate part. There was a whooshing in Ellen’s ears that got louder and louder as Thibault continued to press on her throat. She gasped for air, and Thibault released the pressure a bit so that she could breathe.

“I don’t want you to faint—I want you to know everything that’s happening.” He grinned, and then he penetrated her, groaning.

Ellen retched as the sharp pain confirmed the loss of her virginity.

But Thibault exulted. He moved faster and faster into her, panting.

In pain and humiliation, Ellen desperately sought a way out. She ran her hand along the forest floor alongside her and grabbed hold of Thibault’s knife. With her last ounce of strength, she slashed at him.

Thibault saw the attack coming out of the corner of his eye and reacted fast enough to prevent her from plunging the knife into his back, but she did cut him on his upper arm. The wound bled profusely, and the pain made Thibault even more furious, seeming almost to drive him out of his mind. He beat Ellen again and again, and then he got up and started kicking her.

I will die
, Ellen thought, strangely indifferent to her fate, and then she passed out.

When she regained consciousness it was pitch dark.
Am I dead?
she wondered, trying to move. Her head felt like an anvil being pounded by a giant sledgehammer. She couldn’t see anything, so she put her hands up to her eyes. Her face was badly swollen and painful, but when she looked up she discovered some points of light in the sky. It was night, and only a few stars were shining—that was the explanation. Ellen ran her hands all over her body. Her shirt was still pushed up to her breasts, and her lower body ached like one huge wound. She searched the forest floor for her braies and managed to put them on again, then pulled her shirt down and put her belt on. She even found her purse nearby with all the money still in it. Her belly hurt around her navel, and she remembered he had kicked her in the stomach.
That damned swine
, she thought, and then she staggered a few steps through the darkness before losing consciousness again.

When she came to in the morning, she was face to face with a woman who was bending over her. After the first shock, Ellen tried to move but then groaned with pain.

“Easy, easy…nothing more is going to happen to you. Do you think you can stand up if I help you?”

Ellen nodded hesitantly and clenched her teeth as she struggled to her feet.

“Your face doesn’t look good. What kind of brute did that to you?” The woman shook her head disapprovingly but didn’t seem to expect an answer. She took Ellen’s arm and laid it over her shoulder, then reached under the other shoulder to support her and in so doing touched her breast. Astonished, she looked at Ellen. “You are a woman,” she said. “I took you at first for a boy. You were lucky then, I believe.”

Ellen understood that the woman had no idea of what Thibault had done to her and was grateful she didn’t notice the shameful thing that had happened. She tried to walk despite the severe pain.

“Jacques, my lad, come and lend a hand,” the woman called out, and a boy about twelve years of age came hobbling over. “We’ll put her on the pony,” the woman said. “You can walk, and when you get too tired I’ll change places with you.”

Jacques looked at his mother questioningly.

“Don’t just stand there, go and pick up her bundle—it’s right over there, do you see it?” The woman pointed to the place where she had found Ellen.

The boy nodded and trudged over to it. When he picked it up, he made a reluctant face.

“What is the problem?” the woman asked. “Come on.”

“The bundle is heavy. What’s in it, stones?”

His mother looked at him sternly.

“I am Claire, by the way, and this is my son Jacques. Would you mind telling us your name?”

“Ellenweore,” she answered with a hoarse voice.

“Oh, like the queen! Did you hear, Jacques?” She was clearly delighted.

Ellen managed a weak smile.

“Now we have exchanged enough pleasantries.” Claire took her water skin and held it to Ellen’s mouth. “You must be thirsty.”

Not until then did Ellen notice the burning in her throat, and she nodded gratefully. She drank a few sips and coughed.

“Somehow we must get you up on the pony. Can you ride?”

Ellen shook her head. “Not as far as I know.”

“That doesn’t matter. Judging from the way you look, we’ll not make very fast progress anyway. The main thing is for you to hold onto the horse tightly and not fall down.” Claire smiled engagingly.

Jacques, like so many boys his age, was not especially talkative and not much help.

“Where are we going?” Ellen asked after they had been traveling for a while, relieved to see they were not going back to Tancarville.

“We’re from Béthune, in Flanders.”

“Is that very far?” Ellen asked warily.

“A full week, at least, perhaps even two,” Claire replied.

“May I travel part of the way with you?”

“Surely, and if you think you can manage, you can come all the way to Béthune with us.”

“I’d like to do that.” Ellen nodded gratefully and was glad they were going so far away.

The first night they spent huddled together around a fire in the forest, but they could hardly sleep because of the cold. For this reason, early in the evening of the second day they sought out a small convent that lay in a secluded location deep in the forest. An old woman, a charcoal burner whom they had met earlier, recommended that they stop there and ask for a place to spend the night. The sun had almost set, and once again the air was becoming uncomfortably damp and cold so that their breath rose up in front of them in white clouds.

Claire told Ellenweore to dismount, and then she slid down from the horse as well, walked over to the heavy oaken door, and knocked.

The gatekeeper opened a little barred window, peered out, and asked what they wanted.

“We are freezing, dear sister, and looking for a place to spend the night. My name is Claire. I am a tradeswoman accompanied by my son Jacques. On our way back home to Béthune we found this unfortunate girl in the forest. She had been attacked and badly beaten—here, see for yourself.” She pushed Ellen up to the door.

“She doesn’t look like a girl,” the gatekeeper mumbled.

“The clothing is deceptive. Hers was torn, and all I had to give here were a few old things belonging to my husband. I tried to sell them in the marketplace but had no takers,” she explained, and Ellen wondered why Claire lied for her.

Ellen’s head started spinning again, and she slumped down. Claire was just able to catch her before she fell to the ground.

“Sister Agnes is our nurse. Wait, I’ll call her,” the gatekeeper mumbled before shutting the little window and shuffling away.

Shortly after, a small creaking door none of the visitors had noticed until that moment opened on the left side of the stone wall. A small woman ducked through the opening and then straightened up and walked toward them.

“I am Sister Agnes. Our sister the gatekeeper thought perhaps you needed my help.”

By now night had come, and the forest encircled the nunnery like a black wall. All that was visible in the gathering darkness now were a few isolated trees.

Sister Agnes nodded briefly at Claire and then turned anxiously to Ellen, raising her lantern in order to see better.

“Your face looks bad—does anything else give you pain?”

“My entire body hurts,” Ellen moaned. She was barely able to stand anymore.

“She’s dizzy—she almost fell down just now,” Claire explained.

The nun passed her hands over Ellen’s shirt and upper body. “Two ribs may be broken, but I’m not sure,” she said softly after she had felt her rib cage.

Ellen had to control herself in order not to laugh, as it tickled.