The Traitor's Daughter (22 page)

“You do not need to return to Liss,” he said one
afternoon when he and Edmund were playing chess. “You could go with me.”

Alais and Edmund stared at him.

“And then what?”

He looked blank.

“And then what would happen?” demanded Alais.

“You are a fool,” said Edmund, angrily.

“Did I ask you to join this conversation?” asked Hugh,
sweeping the pieces onto the floor.

“You would try to browbeat Lady Alais into doing what is
wrong.”

“Leave the room,” shouted Hugh, turning pale in his
anger.

“You could not marry her,” explained Edmund, putting his
face so close to Hugh’s that Alais could no longer see it. “She is already your
father’s wife. The betrothal will not be dissolved. Would you disgrace her by
making her your mistress?”

Alais gasped and Edmund avoided Hugh’s swinging fist by
leaning back into his seat.

“You are hurt, my lord,” said Alais, dully as Hugh
clutched at the wound in his side.

Hugh shook his head as he stared into the fire. Slowly,
he turned to face her. “I had not thought,” he explained.

“You are unwell, the pain clouds your mind.”

He shook his head again. “No, my lady, I thought only
about what I wanted, not what it would mean for you. I will not mention it
again.”

It was Thomas who first asked why the physician was
still in attendance, when Hugh was so much recovered. One Sunday morning when
Hugh was well enough to be left alone, Edmund and Alais had gone to mass with
Thomas’ family. Alais thought that avoiding mass would cause more comment than
giving the family the opportunity to look at her and talk to her.

“It will be a while before Hugh is recovered enough to
manage without him,” said Edmund, hastily, trying to hurry them all towards the
church.

“What is it that makes you such a good physician?”
Edwina asked, innocently, stopping in front of Alais so that they all had to
stop. Alais drew a breath to reply, but Edwina carried on. “Is it the way in
which your small, delicate hands mix the ingredients for his potions, or is it
your pretty face or your sweet voice?”

Edmund coughed. “What do you mean?”

“I am just curious as to which of the physician’s skills
give Hugh the most comfort.” Edwina smiled up at Edmund.

“Would you have had Hugh die in your house?” asked
Edmund harshly.

“You told us he would die,” Thomas reminded him, gently,
“when you brought him to us. But it was a great disservice to bring his
mistress into my house.”

“She is not his mistress,” said Edmund, backing his
brother-in-law up against a wall and raising a fist.

“Then why come disguised as a man?” Thomas, although
much shorter than Edmund, refused to be afraid of him.

“That was for my own protection,” said Alais, stepping
up to Edmund and pulling his fist down. “I am sorry to have lied to you. I am a
healer and I am not Hugh’s mistress, but it is better that you do not know who
I am, for all our sakes.”

Now Thomas did look afraid. He looked beyond Alais at
his wife, then seemed to become determined. “Very well. I can see that you are
a great healer. Hugh was a dead man, but now he lives. I also believe that you
are not his mistress. Hugh has always respected the marriage bed, his own and
that of others. But as soon as Hugh is well enough you must go. You do intend
to stay until he is well, I suppose?”

Edmund nodded. “We will all leave together.”

“How long?” asked Edwina. Edmund frowned, but Alais
could not blame her, she, too, would want to know when her now unwelcome guests
would leave, if she were in Edwina’s place.

“Another fortnight,” she said confidently, “perhaps
less. Hugh is very strong and should recover quickly.”

“You may stay until then,” said Thomas, “Hugh has helped
us so much, we can hardly throw him out when he is ill.”

Edmund stepped away from him. “Thank you.”

They continued on their way to church, but Alais
wondered how long it would be before they realised who she was and demanded
that they leave immediately.

Alais was pleased that Hugh seemed to be getting a
little better each day and his colour began to return. His wound no longer
looked as angry as it had. He no longer flinched every time he moved. He began
walking slowly around the room and they all took their meals together
downstairs with the family. Alais still maintained her disguise in the hope
that the children would not know who had been sheltering in their home. After a
week Hugh was able to leave the house, leaning heavily on Edmund’s arm, but
walking nonetheless. The day after that he persuaded Edmund to help him start
training again and they borrowed the wooden swords that Thomas’ and Edwina’s
sons played with. They started slowly, with Alais looking on, then she joined
in, “To make sure that you do not overdo things,” she explained as they looked
on in surprise. She had watched Sir William’s wards train at Liss and she was
scared that Edmund would get carried away and tire Hugh or that the exercise
would put too much strain on his wound, but Edmund took his responsibilities
seriously and had worked out a routine that stretched Hugh, but did not demand
too much of him. When they had finished, Alais was satisfied that no harm had
come to him and saw that she now had to hand over responsibility for Hugh’s
recovery to Edmund.

Now that she no longer had to be watching Hugh or making
poultices or potions for him Alais began to be restless. Her mind lingered on
what would happen when they arrived at Liss. Sir William would know that they
had been together. She wondered whether the servants had arrived yet, or
whether they had even set out. She had not been paying attention to the weather
and it was possible that it still snowed and they were all still at the palace.
She wondered how she could find out without riding to the palace and asking.
After two days of mulling it over she decided that this would be a sensible
thing to do, but Hugh was furious when she mentioned it to him.

“Is it not enough that you risked your life to come here
in the first place, must you risk it again on something this frivolous?”

“I do not think it frivolous. If they have not left, I
can return with them and Sir William will not know that I disobeyed him.”

“And where will you tell him you have been all this
time?”

Alais hesitated. This was the weak part of her plan. “I
do not know,” she said lamely. “I cannot pretend that I was lost in the palace
for two weeks, or that I was taken unwell, or that Lord Neville wanted me as
his secretary again.”

“No,” said Hugh, “it is not a good idea. If you want to
get out of the house, Edmund will go with you, but you may not go to the
palace.”

“I am not yours to command,” she spat, suddenly angered
by his spirited refusal.

He bowed. “I beg your pardon, my lady, you are correct
when you say that you are not mine to command. However, my love for you demands
that I do everything possible to keep you alive.”

His sudden calm allowed Alais to see how wrong she had
been.

“I am sorry, Hugh. You are right, it was a foolish idea.
I will not mention it again.”

He turned away stiffly, “I am glad to hear it.”

The next few days seemed interminable as Hugh quarrelled
with both Alais and Edmund at the slightest excuse. Edmund eventually took Hugh
out of the house and walked with him until he was exhausted. Alais assumed from
the chastened expression on Hugh’s face when they returned, that Edmund had
also taken the opportunity to express himself more clearly than he would have
been comfortable doing in her presence. It made no difference. Alais knew that
Hugh was thinking about how his father would receive them, as she was. Edmund
was a free man and could go straight to Leigh to meet his family, although Alais
knew that he would ride with them to Liss and then leave them there. She did
not know what Hugh would do. It would be better for him to return to Hill and
leave her to her fate. She had begun to worry lately that he would challenge
his father over her. As each day passed, the more likely she thought this was
and it seemed that Edmund agreed with her. The idea was unbearable; Alais knew
that she had disobeyed her husband and would be punished. That was only right.
If that punishment brought about her death, so be it. The alternative was to
watch Hugh marry Katherine, knowing that that marriage would be as cold and
lifeless as her own.

 “How did you know?” Alais asked Edwina when they were
alone on their last afternoon in the merchant’s house in Southwark, preparing
for the evening meal.

“That you were not a man?”

“Yes. I tried so hard not to give it away.”

“Never fear, you did not. When I saw you I was convinced
that you were a man, well, a boy. No, it was Hugh. He was so insistent that
Edmund fetch you that I knew you were more to him than a physician. I guessed
that Alfred was a disguise, but when I saw that you had short hair I took you
for a boy.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat where she was stirring
something over the fire. “For a while I was afraid that Hugh had grown to be
like Geoffrey.” Alais remembered the boy who had brought about Geoffrey’s death
and her eyes opened wide in a new appreciation of what Hugh had carefully not
told her. Hilda saw her expression. “No, I know he is not. Hugh is a good man.
Such sin would be beyond him.”

Wondering how Edwina seemed to know something that was
not even whispered at Liss, Alais regained control of herself, “How did you
know in the end?”

“It was simple,” grinned Edwina, “he said your name.”

“Ah. That was careless of him. So you know who I am.”

“Of course I know, Alfred. You are a great physician and
the whole of Southwark will know once you are gone. They will be sad to hear
that you have moved south with your lord and will not be available to heal
their aches and pains.”

Alais smiled her thanks. Such a story would protect them
all, especially Thomas and Edwina.

“You have been very kind to us. I am very grateful.”

“Did you know that Hugh gave me my dowry?” Alais shook
her head. “Without it I would have had to marry one of the serfs at Liss and
then I would have had to be near him…my father.”

Alais frowned. “I thought Sir William ignored all his
illegitimate children?”

Edwina nodded. “He pretends we do not exist. He also
takes every pretty girl at Liss to his bed.”

Alais could not hide her shock or her disgust. “Hugh had
me married off just in time. No man at Liss knows whether his children are his
or Sir William’s.”

That explained much, why there were so many secrets at
Liss and why everyone was so unhappy.

“And are you happy here?” Alais finally managed to ask.

“Oh yes.” A brilliant smile flashed across Edwina’s
face. “Thomas is a good man, a good husband and a good father. That is why I
will do anything for Hugh. He made it possible. He is also a good man and will
be a good father.”

“Then Lady Katherine will have much to be grateful for,”
said Alais, more bitterly than she had intended.

“Who is she?”

“She is the woman that Hugh is to marry.”

Edwina was surprised. “Hugh is not to marry you?”

Alais had not realised that Edwina was so cut off from
events at Liss. Surely Hilda must have visited them during the four months she
had been at court. If Hilda had not told the story of Sir William’s betrothed
coming to Liss, it was certainly not Alais’ place to tell them exactly who she
was. She shook her head, “No, I am betrothed to another.”

“But Hugh loves you,” protested Edwina.

“Love is not enough,” said Alais, surprised at the
asperity in her voice.

“Then I am sorry for you.”

“I do not want your pity.” Alais stood, knocking over
the pot into which they had been placing vegetables.

“It is not my pity that I give. I simply share your sorrow
that you are to marry a man you do not love.” Edwina bent to begin picking up
the vegetables.

“I apologise. Please do not tell Hugh.”

“That you do not love your husband?”

“That I love him.”

Edwina nodded. “You are right. He is probably the only
person in this house who does not know what is before his very eyes. Have no
fear. I will not tell him. So, tell me about this Lady Katherine who is to be
his bride. What manner of woman is she?”

Alais sat down again and began to describe Katherine.
She had not intended to be fully truthful, not wishing to distress a woman who
loved Hugh, but she found herself giving a complete description of Katherine.
By the time the meal was ready, Edwina, too, was very subdued.

For the first time since she had arrived at Thomas’
house, Alais and Hugh were alone. Edmund was packing their bags and making sure
their two horses were ready for the journey. Alais was sitting at the seat
looking out of the window, wondering what sort of weather they would have
today. Hugh came and knelt at her feet.

“My lady, I fear I said many things to cause you sorrow
when I was ill.”

Alais looked at him in surprise. “It was the fever
talking, not you.”

Hugh’s expression was contrite. “It was me talking, the
fever merely loosened my tongue.”

Alais did not know how to reply. His sudden formality
worried her.

“My lady? Alais?” She relaxed again, then she remembered
that they had only three more days when they could call one another by name.

“Hugh, I have known more sorrow and more happiness in
these last few days than I have ever known.” This was no more than the truth.
Even her mother’s death had not caused as much sorrow as the realisation that
she loved and was loved in return, but was promised to another. “Wait.” She
held up her hand, as he would have spoken. “I thought you were dead, yet you
lived.”

“And the rest?”

“The rest?”

“Alais, I love you. I do not want you to marry my
father.” She longed to reach out and touch his face as she had done in the
king’s palace

“I cannot do anything else, you know that.” She made to
stand, but he caught and held her hands, pulling her back onto the seat. He
brought both her hands to his lips and kissed them. Alais felt dizzy at his
touch, but could not afford to let him see it. His face was as pale as it had
been when Edmund had first brought her to this house. He looked up at her in
hope. “And if you were free?”

And if I were free, thought Alais, I would go with you
to the ends of the earth. I would never leave your side and I would spend every
minute of every day for the rest of my life showing you how much I love you.
She fought against the smile that such a picture summoned to her face.

“I am not free.” She tried to pull free of his hands,
but he held her fast.

“At least tell me you love me. I can bear anything if I
know that.”

“How? How could that make a difference?”

She saw that Hugh’s eyes were full of tears. She felt
his pain in her own heart. Perhaps it would be easier for him if he thought she
did not love him, although she did not understand how he could not be aware of
what she felt for him.

“How else can I live? When I thought I was going to die,
I was happy, because I knew I would not see you married to my father. I thought
I could not survive that…I will not survive that.” His voice fell to a whisper.

“You will,” said Alais, as sharply as she could, pulling
her hands away from him, although she wished they could stay like that forever.
“You will see me marry him and I will see you marry Katherine.”

“I will not marry her. I love you. I cannot… will not
marry anyone else.”

“Then you will not marry. I am promised to you father
and I will marry him.”

The tears began to spill from Hugh’s eyes. “At least
tell me that you love me.”

“You know that I cannot.”

“Then kiss me.” Hugh lifted himself so that their faces
were level.

“My body belongs to your father,” she said carefully,
aware that he would hear only her words and not her meaning. Desperate to feel
his lips against hers, not knowing where it would lead, she turned her face
away, relieved that they were no longer touching and he could not feel the
shudder through her body at the effort of turning away from him.

Hugh fell back on his heals. “Then I can have no hope.”

“There never was any hope,” said Alais, as she blinked
away her own tears, hoping he could not see them. “I am your father’s wife.
There could be nothing else.”

The door opened and Edmund entered. “Are you ready to
go?” he asked, as Hugh pulled himself to his feet.

“Yes,” said Hugh, putting out a hand to help Alais from
her seat. “Quite ready.”

There were many farewell hugs between Hugh and Edmund
and Alais and Edwina and Thomas and the children. Hugh promised to send a
messenger to let them know that they had arrived safely at their destination.
Alais did not like the look that Edwina gave her, but she pretended not to
notice. It was cold in the street and the family went back inside without
watching them leave. Alais was grateful. It had only been a few short days, but
she had enjoyed the company of Edwina and Thomas. They were uncomplicated
people who did not seem to have secrets and whose thoughts were clearly visible
to anyone who had the patience to watch their faces and listen to their words.
Alais was sorry to be leaving them. She had been happy in their home and she
knew that she was going to unhappiness.

Full Moon greeted her as if he had not seen her for
months instead of hours. She fed him the apple that Edwina had given her.
Edmund turned to her and held out his hand. “My lady, will you ride with me on
my horse or your own?”

“You will not ride with her on any horse,” shouted Hugh
angrily, pulling Edmund away and punching him in the face so hard that Edmund
fell to the ground. “Touch her again and I will kill you.”

“Stop!” Alais threw herself in front of Hugh, afraid
that he would hit Edmund again as he struggled to his feet. Deliberately, she
turned her back to Hugh and examined Edmund’s face.

“Do not touch him!”

Alais did not deign to respond, but continued to examine
Edmund’s face, her back to Hugh. She searched in her pouch for the ointment that
would do most good and retrieved a small pot. Angling Edmund’s face so that she
could put the ointment in the right place, she dabbed it on carefully. They
exchanged glances and Alais sighed. Once she had completed her task, she
stepped aside.

Edmund straightened and faced Hugh. “I seek only to
protect you from yourself.”

“I told you, I shall kill any man who touches Lady
Alais.”

“Does that include your father?”

Alais screamed as Hugh launched himself at Edmund again,
but Edmund simply stepped aside and Hugh fell into the melting ice that filled
the street outside Thomas’ shop.

“Stop!” shouted Alais, afraid that Hugh would die of
cold from the ice in the street.

Edmund offered a hand to his brother, but was refused.

“You will die of the cold,” hissed Alais at Hugh.

“Then I will die of the cold.” Hugh looked so despondent
that Alais was shaken to her core. How much worse could things be when they
arrived at Liss?

“Pick him up,” she said to Edmund. Edmund obeyed without
a moment’s hesitation and Alais felt a moment of victory that the man who had
followed Hugh so devotedly for so many years was now hers to command. Hugh did
not fight his brother this time and Alais was scared that he had lost the will
to live, which had been so precarious these last two weeks. Hugh stood before
her, shivering in the cold from the ice into which he had fallen.

“Do you have another cloak?” Alais knew it was a stupid
question.

“No.”

“Take it off.” Hugh obeyed without question. Alais
removed her own cloak. “Take this. I will ride with you and we will try to warm
one another.”

“My lady…”

“It does not matter, Edmund. I will ride with Hugh. He
may kill my husband when we get to Liss, but at the moment I am minded to keep
him alive rather than let him die in the gutter.”

“Very well.” Edmund swung himself onto his horse in one
easy, disdainful movement.

Alais paused in her own movement towards Full Moon. How
was she going to get herself and an angry, injured knight onto her horse? “You
mount and I will follow you,” whispered Hugh in her ear. She followed his
instruction and soon they were both astride Full Moon under her cloak, although
Hugh had taken so long and was so clumsy about it that she began to wonder
whether he was well enough for this journey. Hugh’s wet cloak was spread on the
flanks of the horse, although Alais doubted it would dry before they came to
Liss. They followed Edmund along the road. It was a bright day and the light of
the sun reflected by the frozen snow pained Alais’ eyes before they had gone
very far.

“It was for your sake…” she began.

“It matters not. You are not his to touch.”

“Nor yours,” she retorted, despite herself.

Hugh held her against his body with his right hand and
guided Full Moon with his left. Alais dared not be reminded of their first
journey to Liss. Then Hugh had been well and in control, now he was weak and
his pain gave voice to things that Alais would rather not hear.

“You will tell me, my lord,” she asked, “when you feel
that you cannot control the horse?”

“That day will not come,” said Hugh, pulling her tight
against him. She compared the feel of his body against her with how it had felt
on their previous journey. Then it had been firm and hard. He had held himself
straight on his horse and had held her for the pleasure of holding her. Now,
she suspected, he was holding her to prevent himself from falling off.

“You are not fully recovered.” Alais was still angry
that they had left before she was convinced that Hugh was ready for the
journey. He had persuaded her that he was capable of staying astride a horse
for a full day’s journey, but she doubted they would make it to midday.

“I am recovered enough.” The fingers of the hand that
held her against him opened, inviting their former familiarity. Alais
hesitated, then threaded her fingers through his. She squeezed his fingers
tightly.

Alais considered whether she should ask her next
question, but decided that she had no choice. “Are you sure that you can
protect me?”