Authors: Linda Sole
‘What of you?’
‘I must stay here to nurse him and do what I can,’ Ruth said. ‘If he dies you will be hunted as a witch and put to trial. If he lives perhaps William will let you go.’
‘Where shall I go?’
‘I cannot tell you – perhaps to the Sisters of Mercy,’ Ruth said. ‘You must go at once. Avoid the village and the fair, Beth. If you tarry you may be taken. My mother will raise the alarm and I cannot stop her.’ She stood up, then kissed Beth’s cheek. ‘I know what happened here was not your fault but no one else will believe you. You must leave this place and find a new life – and go quickly. Let no one stop you. The guards know I intended to visit the fair. Pull the hood of my cloak over your head and leave before anyone guesses what has happened here.’
‘Yes, I shall do as you say.’ Beth hesitated one moment more. ‘I have no god but I pray that yours will love and protect you – and bring you happiness.’
‘You will be in my prayers every night, Beth. Now go quickly for I must tend William or he will certainly die.’
‘If he recovers tell him I am sorry – and I do not hate him.’
Beth pulled the hood of Ruth’s cloak over her head and went out. She ran down the twisting stair to the great hall below. Servants and men-at-arms were going about their business and no one glanced at her. Leaving the hall by the side door, she walked through the inner bailey where the craftsmen were at work. She could hear the ring of steel as men practised swordplay and others worked at cleaning their armour. Her heart was racing and at any moment she expected to hear a shout and cries that she was to stop. Once it was known that the lord was badly injured she would be blamed. Anne Redfern would name her a witch and a murderess and start a hue and cry. Sir William’s men would search the woods and the surrounding area. They would hunt her down and when they had her they would show no mercy.
Ruth had warned her to avoid the village and the fair that was going on in the meadow. Beth knew that she must make for the woods. There she might visit the hut and recover a few things she had left just in case she had to leave the village in a hurry. She had always known it could happen – but she had not expected that she would be hunted for murder.
She would pay a brief visit to the hut but could not stay there. She must leave the area, perhaps leave England altogether. A thought came to her mind that she might try to find the Marches, wherever they might be. Ruth had told her they were the borders between England and Wales. Perhaps she should try to cross the border into Wales? She had come to believe that it might have been in Wales that Marthe found her when she was a child.
She had no idea in which direction Wales lay but that was for the future. For the moment she must leave the lord’s castle and his land.
No one stopped her as she left the castle through the side gate, which was used by villagers coming and going about their business. During the night it was locked and a heavy bar was placed over it to stop anyone entering but during the day it was freely available for visiting peddlers, villagers or pilgrims on their way to worship at a shrine. Sir William seldom closed his gates during the day, though at night they were heavily guarded against surprise attack.
Walking down the side of the hill where the herbs grew, which was out of sight of the village and the meadow, Beth resisted the urge to run and walked at a sensible pace until she reached the wood and knew she could no longer be seen. Suddenly, the danger of her situation swept over her and she began to run. Her heart was pounding as the fear coursed through her. She could not stop to take her leave of Mistress Grey. She could only hope that her friend would take the livestock and whatever else she needed from the cottage. Beth would have no more need of it now. She could never return to Sir William’s land.
She ran until she saw the hut, stopping then only because her side was hurting and she could scarce breathe. Panting, she leaned against the tree under which Marthe was buried, feeling the sting of tears. This and the village were all she knew. Where could she go? Her hand reached for the cross she still wore on a ribbon beneath her gown.
‘Mother,’ she whispered. ‘Mother…help me. I am so alone.’
‘Tears won’t get you anything.’
It was Marthe’s voice she heard. She could not hear the soft gentle voice she loved or see the face of the beautiful angel, but Marthe’s image was clear in her mind.
‘You’ll manage, as we all have to. Life is hard and we endure.’
How many times Marthe had said something similar when Beth had wept as a child, crying out for a kiss or a pair of gentle arms to hold her. Marthe had given her only a sullen glare and harsh words, forcing her to find a way of living in the cruel world that was all they knew. Beth realised that the woman had given her independence and taught her how to stand up for herself.
‘Yes, I shall manage,’ Beth said and lifted her head proudly. She walked towards the hut but as she did so, she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves and her heart caught. Had they come for her already? Where should she go? If she went into the hut she would be trapped. Better to face whoever it was out here.
Lifting her head, she looked and saw the man dismounting. He tied his horse’s reins to a branch and then came towards her. In that instant Beth knew him and her heart began to race wildly. He was the Knight of the Raven – the man she had lain with by the pool: Katharine’s father.
‘I have found you,’ he said. ‘I went to the hut earlier but there was nothing there so I searched for the pool but you were not there either. Where have you been?’
‘Why do you wish to know?’ Beth’s fear had receded but her heart still thudded in her breast. She needed a moment before her breathing returned to normal.
‘I came to look for you. I wanted to see if you were still as beautiful, as I thought you that night.’
‘Am I?’ Beth looked up at him.
‘More beautiful than I remembered.’ He walked towards her. ‘Come with me, my lady of the woods. I am bound for London and then for France. Come with me and be my mistress.’
‘You would not want me if you knew what people say of me…’
‘What do they say – that you are a witch? I have heard that before from Sir William but I did not believe it then and I do not believe it now.’
Beth hesitated. If she told him that she might have killed Sir William what would he do? Would he hand her over to those who would hang her?
‘I might be worse. I might have done things you would think evil. There are people searching for me now who think so – and they would hang me if they found me.’
His eyes darkened as he looked at her. ‘If you were guilty of some crime you would not tell me these things. I sense you are in some trouble, Beth – did you not tell me your name was Beth?’
‘Yes, that is my name. Yet perhaps you should know what I have done.’
‘You may tell me the worst later,’ he said. ‘I do not think you evil but I will hear your story. Give me your word that you will come with me and I will take you away from the fools who would hurt you.’
‘Yes, I shall come,’ she said. For a moment her heart cried out that she must search for her child, but her head told her that she dared not make inquiries for Katharine. If she did she would be taken as a witch. Everyone knew that the lord had made a search for her child and soon they would know that she had killed him.
‘
Forgive me
’ she whispered in her heart. ‘
Forgive me, my darling child. I promise that I shall find you one day. I pray that someone has you safe and will keep you safe – and one day I shall return to look for you.
’
In her heart Beth knew that her daughter might already be dead. If the woman that took her had abandoned her she would have died where she lay on the roadside, but if she had cared for her she was safe.
One day Beth would find her. Perhaps if she told her knight that the child was his he would have a search made for her. Suddenly, the weight lifted from her shoulders. His name was Raoul and he was Katharine’s father. Surely when he knew the truth he would send men to search for her.
He might succeed where she would almost certainly fail. It was her only chance. She must go with the Knight of the Raven and be his mistress.
Forty Nine
‘I would see Sir William,’ Lord Tomas said as he dismounted from his horse in the courtyard and a man who was clearly Sir William’s steward came towards him. ‘I sent a servant ahead with a message that I would be here yesterday, but my squire was foully robbed and murdered and we stopped to bury him. We searched for those responsible but could find no trace of them; they had disappeared as if they had never been.’
‘Forgive me, my lord,’ the steward said and bowed. ‘I am sorry for your misfortune and the murder of your squire, but Sir William cannot see you today. He lies ill upon his bed and we fear that he may die of his wounds.’
‘I am sorry to hear that.’ Tomas frowned. ‘What ails your master?’
‘He was attacked by the witch,’ a woman’s spiteful voice said, making Tomas turn to look at her sharply. She was a thin woman with a pale face, her mouth twisted with malice. ‘The witch deceived and bewitched him into thinking the child she bore was his and when he discovered her lies she tried to murder him.’
‘Mistress Redfern, have a care what you say,’ the steward said uncomfortably. ‘We do not know what happened. If you defame Mistress Beth’s character Sir William may be angry. We must wait to hear what he has to say when he recovers his senses.’
‘If he recovers them,’ Anne Redfern said, her mouth hard with spite. ‘If he dies I shall see that the witch is taken and punished for her crimes. If she was not responsible why did she run away?’
‘I cannot answer you, lady, but I know that my lord intended to wed her and I shall not speak ill of her until I know the truth.’
Her eyes flashed with temper. ‘If Sir William dies I shall be mistress here. You would do well not to forget it.’
‘I do not mean to insult you, lady, but my master is the lord here.’
Anne Redfern glared at him but made no further reply.
‘Would you and your men care to rest and eat with us, sir?’ the steward asked as Mistress Redfern turned away. ‘Will you come into the castle and take some refreshment?’
‘I am not sure I should intrude at such a time,’ Tomas said. ‘I was told of a young woman who lived in Sir William’s woods and I would find her if ‘tis possible. I am searching for my daughter, who was stolen from us when she was but a child, and I believe she might be living near by.’
‘A young woman who lived in Sir William’s woods?’ The steward hesitated, then, ‘Perhaps you should speak with Mistress Ruth. Her mother speaks ill of Beth but I have heard good of her and I think Ruth might tell you more.’
‘You mean it was she that Mistress Redfern spoke of as a witch? My daughter would be in her nineteenth year and has a small child.’ Tomas gave a muttered oath as the steward’s expression confirmed it. ‘Why has she been condemned as a witch? What crime has she committed?’
‘The priest preached against witchcraft and raised the village against her, though I have heard that all she did was to try to help people with simple cures,’ Master Steward said. ‘Sir William rescued her when they put her to the test and brought her here. She was a sweet gentle lady and in much distress because her child was lost.’
‘Her child lost – how?’
‘Come into the hall, my lord. I shall call Mistress Ruth for she will tell you more. I believe they were good friends. I do not know what happened to Sir William. He was found with a wound to his head in Mistress Beth’s chamber and she had gone. Mistress Redfern cried murder and ordered the men to look for her, but though they searched the wood they could not find her.’
‘We shall rest here for a few hours,’ Tomas said. ‘I have searched for the girl for such a long time. I thought that I was close to finding her. If I must go home and tell my wife that I have failed it will break her heart. I would hear what Mistress Ruth hath to say, and then I shall search for the lady I seek. If she has run away because she fears that she will be accused of murder, she may be hiding. It will not easy but I am determined to find and protect her if I can.’
‘Mistress Ruth will help you for…ah, here she is now…’ Master Steward looked anxiously at the young woman who approached. ‘What news, mistress? Is the master recovered?’
‘He is much better, though still has some pain. I have given him a tisane and I think it will ease him,’ Ruth said. ‘He has given orders that Beth is not to be harmed. She is to be searched for until she be found – but if any man harms her he will be punished. What happened here was my cousin’s fault and an accident. No blame attaches to Beth.’
‘It is as I told your lady mother,’ Master Steward said and nodded. ‘I shall pass my lord’s commands to the men and they will go out to search for her again – and we shall let it be known that he is not at death’s door. Perhaps then the lady will know it is safe to return.’
‘I do not believe she will return,’ Ruth said. ‘She was in such distress over her lost daughter. I think she may try to search for her on her own.’
‘Forgive me, lady. May I take a little of your time?’ Tomas said removing his heavy leather gauntlets and throwing back his hood of mail. ‘Master Steward tells me that you knew Beth well. It was she that I came to find for I was told that she lived in Sir William’s woods?’
Ruth turned to look at him, her gaze narrowed and wary. ‘Who told you about Beth?’
‘It was Sister Isolde of the Sisters of Mercy. She told me that a woman who calls herself Beth was living in the woods here when she gave birth to her child – would she be the lady you speak of, mistress?’
‘Yes, Beth lived in a hut in my cousin’s woods until she moved into the village, quite recently. She might have been there still had she not been taken for a witch.’
‘Would you tell me what happened? Why was she treated so ill?
‘The priest was a sly malicious man and, when she attended the church hoping to have her babe christened, he turned the people against her, naming her a witch. They put her to the test and almost drowned her. Before she was ducked, a woman took her child and ran off. Beth was in great distress over her daughter’s loss, because of what she believes happened to her as a child..’ Ruth looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Will you tell me who you are, sir – and why you wish to find her?’
‘I am Lord Tomas Ryston, and I hope – I believe that Beth may be my daughter. Her name was Elspeth and she was stolen from us nearly fifteen years ago. We searched for her and offered rewards but no one came forward with news of her until a few weeks ago when I was given fresh hope. Recently, I was shown a gold chain she wore about her neck the day she was snatched and told of a green silk gown…’ He moved towards her eagerly as he saw the startled look on her face. ‘You know something of this? Please tell me! It would mean much to me to find Beth – and her child.’
Ruth hesitated, then, ‘Beth told me a little of what she thought she remembered of her past. She said that she dreamed that she had lived in a castle and that there was a lady with a lovely smile she thought might be her mother. She said she thought she had been stolen by evil men, who raped a woman in a clearing. She thinks that she wandered into the woods, because she was dazed and frightened by what she saw. She believes that a woman called Marthe found her. The woman claimed she was Beth’s mother and brought her up to live in the woods on my cousin’s estate. People named her a witch, though some say she helped them when she could. Nearly two years ago Marthe was put to the test and hung.’
‘God be praised! It is her…my child.’ Tomas cried and his lips moved in silent prayer for a moment. He seemed overcome with emotion, unable to gather his thoughts, then, ‘Forgive me, lady. Your news overwhelms me for I have waited so long to discover what happened to my daughter that day. I have heard of the witch before. Tell me about the green dress, if you please.’
‘Beth told me that her child was wearing it when she was snatched. The gown was hers as a child, kept for her with the cross and chain by Marthe, despite its worth. Beth had altered the gown to fit her babe. It was her intention was to have the child christened at the church – but the priest called her a witch and the people turned against her.’
‘What had she done to deserve such cruel treatment?’
‘Nothing that I have heard of,’ Ruth replied, a note of bitterness in her voice. ‘She had some knowledge of herbs, but used much the same as Mother and I use to treat common ailments, comfrey and lavender and marigold to name but a few. If my cousin had not offered us his protection, we too might have had to earn our living and perhaps the people we helped would have turned against us too. Women are oft persecuted for using witchcraft when all they do is try to help the sick. They allow the nuns to work amongst the sick under the direction of the monks, who have studied at medical school, but a woman may not practice medicine. We are supposed to know naught of the four humours or the balance of the body, but it is often we women who nurse the sick and ease their pain. For that we receive scant praise. Any woman who dares to think she knows more than the monks and priests is accused of witchcraft. Men blame us for Eve’s sin when she tempted Adam with the forbidden fruit. It is unfair and malicious, but it happens.’
Ruth trembled with indignation, for the subject was close to her heart. After a moment she calmed and smiled ruefully. ‘Forgive me. I have said more than I ought – but I speak only as I find.’
‘Yes, I fear this is true,’ Tomas agreed. ‘Too many innocent women have been condemned as a witch and either died being put to the test or were hung and some were burned so that their spirit could not re-enter their bodies. It is a cruel and unjust law that allows such things and I am shamed that men permit it to continue to this day.’
‘My cousin will have none of it on his land. He banished the priest who attacked Beth and the villagers turned against him, because he had inflicted harsh punishments on them. They threw stones and beat him, driving him from the village. They killed another man, who had been the first to condemn Beth. Some tried to defend her and she had friends there, yet I do not think she will return to the village.’
‘Have you any idea where she might go?’
Ruth was silent as she considered, then, ‘She might go to the convent of the Sisters of Mercy. I told her that they were good people and sometimes took women in dire distress into their number.’
‘Yes, I know of them,’ Tomas said. ‘It was, as I told you, Sister Isolde who helped Beth when she gave birth. Beth gave her the chain, which I now have and know to have been Elspeth’s when she was a child. Sister Isolde works amongst the sick and poor and she’d heard from travellers that Lord Tomas Ryston searched for a missing child. She sent me a message with a pilgrim but he was taken ill and it was some months before I received her letter.’ He smote his forehead with his fist. ‘Had I come sooner I might have found her in the woods and saved her from this ordeal. To come so close and then to lose her…’
‘Do not despair, sir,’ Ruth said and moved towards him, her hand outstretched in sympathy. ‘Beth has little money and cannot travel far on foot. You should return to the convent and ask if they have seen her. Mayhap along the way you will hear tell of a young woman who seeks for her child. I am certain it is what Beth will do. She is alone and has no one to help her.’
‘I understand why she ran away,’ Tomas said and sighed. ‘She feared that she would be taken and hung for Sir William’s murder. I think she may be hiding in dread of her fate should she be taken.’
‘I thought at first that he might die,’ Ruth said. ‘I gave Beth my cloak and basket and a few pence and told her to go. She was my friend but I knew that my mother would see her hung if Sir William died. Mother hates her because she hoped William would wed me.’
‘Your cousin is recovering?’
‘It was but a small wound after all but it bled a great deal and he was unconscious for some hours. God be praised, he will live and soon be himself again.’
‘I think he may owe his speedy recovery to you, lady,’ Tomas said and smiled. ‘You will tell Sir William why I came and ask him to let me know if he should hear anything of my child. The chain Isolde gave me and the story you have told me has convinced me. I am certain now that the woman who calls herself Beth is my daughter Elspeth. I must continue my search for her – and for her child.’ He turned to leave. ‘I must go. Beth is somewhere close at hand and I must find her before it is too late.’