Anne of the Fens (11 page)

Who had saved John from the Sheriff's men? And had bound his wounds and saved his life? The Earl's Steward's daughter. Me. The one who now had to make her way back to the castle alone, without food or help of any kind. I thought of how my family saw me as frail and sickly, and how neither John nor the beggar man nor the Sheriff's men saw me that way at all.

The thought brought a smile to my face. I would get back to the castle alone, I would.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

I
HEADED IN
the direction the beggar man had pointed. It was slow going, as the ground was so marshy. I was up to my ankles in dirty water. With each step the mud held onto my shoes, and I had to pull them out, tensing my toes to keep the shoes on my feet. I shivered in the cool morning. Mosquitoes swarmed over me, and I covered my head with my apron. I kept looking around for the road, and finally — it seemed forever — there it was. I thanked the Lord and set out to the left, pleased that I would soon be home.

It must have been about six o'clock in the morning when I reached the road. It was too far from the castle to hear the church bell, so I judged by the light. It had reached full light, June being that time of year when there were only a few hours of real night. It was not far to the castle, but it was dangerous. Robbers were common and there were other dangers to a woman walking alone. I hoped I would not meet anyone.

I hurried along as fast as I could, which helped warm me and stopped the shivering. The morning sun began to dry my dress and shoes. The insects buzzed along behind me, but if I walked fast I had a little peace from them. I would not say it was pleasant, but it was better than being in the marsh.

I kept looking into the distance, ready to step off the path and hide in the reeds if anyone came. Closer and closer I came to the castle, my heart lighter and lighter. Finally, I was only a quarter mile or so from the village that surrounded the castle, and I relaxed. From here, I could run into the village if anyone accosted me. Of course there were still the Sheriff's men to watch for. Perhaps they would have left, but I had to plan for the possibility that they were still watching for John and me.

I thought about how I could enter the village unseen. There was only one path in. The village had been constructed to be surrounded by open space, so that any intruder would stand out. If I stayed on the road I would be visible for a long way. I decided to work my way around through the marshes, so I could hide in them if I needed to. The closest house to the fens, in the village, was Davey the baker's, and I would head for that.

I could smell the fires of the villagers and, faintly, the bread cooking at the bakery. Saliva filled my mouth. I was so hungry. I planned to go just around the next corner, still out of sight of the village, and then step into the fens. As I rounded the corner, I saw the red shirt of a Sheriff's man.

Had he seen me? I shrank back behind a tree and stood motionless. He let out a shout and began to run in my direction, along the road.

I turned and ran back around the bend and into the fens, plunging through the reeds, again up to my ankles in muck. My shoes were gone in an instant. I was perhaps a hundred feet from the road. Soon the Sheriff's men would come around the corner and see me, if I were standing, so I lay down. The reeds would hide me, and if the men tried to blunder through them, they would still be unlikely to find me. As long as they did not have the dogs...

I could hear the men, now, calling to each other. There were three or four distinct voices, but no barking.

“I'll run back along the road. If she went back, I can catch up with her quickly — I know I can run faster than a wench. You stay here and go through the fens. She probably went to ground.”

A groan. I could hear slogging sounds as boots were sucked by mud. Some voices were louder, some grew more distant.

“We must punish her before we take her back, for making us get so foul.”

There was a laugh.

Every exposed part of my face and arms was covered with mosquitoes, and I could do nothing to slap at them for fear of making noise. I lay on my belly, one arm over my head and the other under it, to keep my face clear. I was slowly sinking deeper. I reminded myself that there was no quicksand at this part of the fens, but as I felt myself sink, I panicked, and almost began struggling to get out — the worst thing to do. Trust God, I thought, and I let my body go as it chose. My dress was so heavy, now, with water and mud, that it seemed like a person in the swamp was pulling me down. I told myself that at least no blue showed from my dress to catch their attention. Soon I was holding onto reeds to keep myself from going under.

The voices came nearer and nearer, until I could see the boots of a man about twenty feet away. I took a breath and lowered my head, pushing it under the foul water. I held my breath as long as I could, and when it felt like I would burst, raised my head slowly. The boots were no longer visible. I wiped my face against my arm, to get enough mud off so I could breathe.

The voices sounded further away, and soon I could no longer hear them. What should I do now? What if they had left someone to watch for me? But it might be my only chance to evade them. It would be safer to wait till night, but could I stay here that long? I heard the church bell ring nine as I lay there, uncertain.

My view of the world now was the mud, and the lower part of four or five reeds sticking into it. I watched as three new mosquitoes landed upon the reeds. Then I felt something bumping against me in the ooze. Eels, probably. I made up my mind. I could not stay there all day.

It took me a long time to pull myself out of the sucking mud. I looked around and did not see anyone. I surveyed myself. I had no shoes, and I was black from head to foot. Slime dripped from my hair. My dress was so heavy I could hardly move, and when I did put one foot in front of the other, the movement caused mud to fall. I shook myself like a dog, shutting my eyes and feeling clods fly in all directions. I dipped my hands in the dirty water and tried to wipe my face. That was all I had time for.

I made a prayer and started out. I could not chance the road, in case someone was watching. I might still be seen in the fen, but I could escape more easily. Slogging through the reeds was slow and painful, especially since my shoes were gone. I held back a moan with almost every step, as the harsh plants cut my feet. I tried to avoid them but it was almost impossible. When there were open places, I sank to my ankles, sometimes to the middle of my calves, and had to pull my leg out. The reeds got under my skirts, as well, and cut my legs. It was easier to walk if I lifted my petticoats, and I resigned myself to more cuts.

It was not far to the castle, but I was moving so slowly. I could see the road from where I was, and I kept a constant watch on it for the Sheriff's men. At any moment one of them could appear.

And then I did see a figure approaching on the road. I could feel my palms grow sweaty as I fell to my knees into the reeds. Then I saw. It was Simon.

I almost shrieked with joy. Simon! I caught myself in time. I hurried toward the road, not noting anymore how badly I cut my feet. I waved wildly, and as I got nearer he saw me. He stopped, looking at the black apparition. I tried to wipe the mud off my face, pointed and gestured who knows what, and finally I saw him give a start of recognition.

He began to run toward me till he hit the marsh. He put his finger to his lips, and I knew he wanted to shout as well. The mud hindered us both, but the moment came when he caught me in his arms.

I began to sob uncontrollably. I was safe.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

O
F COURSE
I was not safe. Now we both had to evade the Sheriff's men. But I was no longer alone. He picked me up, carrying me in his arms as he stumbled through the grasses. He, too, was avoiding the road.

He kept murmuring, “Oh little one, how good it is to see you. I have been searching and searching for you, and now you are here.”

I told him all that had happened, and he just held me tighter and murmured more.

He told me that the Sheriff's men had discovered the secret room. John had put Cook's clothes on over his pants but he had left some other clothes of his own in the room. And they had found some extra petticoats I had shed. Then one of the Sheriff's men remembered how a girl and the cook had walked past them, and he called the alarm.

I was so relieved that Simon had not been arrested. Father had argued that it was hearsay to arrest a man without any proof of what he had written. The Sheriff's man had not read the statement, and most of the townsfolk gathered around the market notice board did not read well enough to be good witnesses.

S
IMON TOOK ME
into the castle village, just as I would have gone myself, toward Davey the baker's. There was no one around and he hustled me inside. Davey's dark head and broad shoulders were bent in front of the oven as he took out a loaf on the long wooden paddle. He looked up, his eyes puzzled. Not a customer, but two muddy folk, one of them unrecognizable. He was not too astonished to put the loaf down carefully on the counter. Then he came out from behind and spoke to Simon.

“What on God's earth?”

“It is too long to explain, but the Sheriff's men are looking for Anne.”

“That is Anne?” He stared at me and then his face changed. “Hell's bells.”

“Can you hold her here till nightfall? I will come back for her then and sneak her into the castle.”

Davey did not speak.

“If she is discovered, it will go hard on the Earl and everyone at the castle.”

I was glad to have Simon with me, to persuade Davey.

“Of course I want no trouble for the family,” Davey said slowly, “but I must think of myself as well.”

“If she is found, I will say I ordered you at the Steward's command.”

Davey nodded.

Simon said, “Take care of her, Davey,” and to me, “I shall see you at nightfall. Have no fear.”

He swallowed hard. He walked out and I felt alone again. Even with Davey there, I could not help but be afraid.

Davey gestured for me to come into the back of the store where his living quarters were. They were plain: a bed, two stools, and a small table. I could see that someone had tried to make it cheerful. A piece of pretty striped wool hung on the wall, as well as an old picture of Queen Elizabeth that many common people still had. The back of the bread oven stuck into the room, which must have been wonderful in winter and dreadful in the heat of summer. For me, still wet and chilled, it felt lovely. I realized I had been shivering ever since I got out of the fen.

Davey sat me on a stool. “What shall I do with you?”

“Oh, something to eat — please, please.”

In spite of the fear and the shivering and the mud, what I wanted most was a piece of the loaf Davey had taken from the oven. He went into the shop and came back with half the loaf and a lump of butter. As I spread the butter on the bread, it melted into the holes and crevices. It tasted better than anything I had ever eaten, though there was a bit of grit in it from the dirt on my hands. I ate every crumb, and the glass of milk he brought, as well.

Next, Davey brought me a bowl of water and a cloth. I laughed, as I did not know where to begin. Then he laughed as well. Then I laughed because I was laughing and it had been so long since I had laughed. And then Davey laughed harder, because laughter spreads like oil on water.

“Have you any other clothes?” I asked, when we had stopped. I needed to change out of my clothes and put on clean dry ones.

He looked hard at me.

“You know Joan died of the pox only three months ago. I have not been able to give her things away, and in fact I do not want to. It gives me some comfort to see them hanging on the hook as they always did. I could let you wear them, I suppose.”

I was aware, then, that he was a young man, and I a young woman. I think he felt uncomfortable about that too, for he said, “It is not seemly for you to be in my house alone. It is less seemly for you to undress in my house.”

“What is seemly does not matter to me. Thank you for your care, and I will see my father thanks you also.”

I had come a long way. Two days before I would not have said these words, but I had spent the night alone with a young man in a boat, and what I thought seemly had changed a great deal.

He brought me his wife's old clothes, carefully laying each garment on the bed as though it had belonged to a queen. There was an old shift, a skirt of faded blue linen to wear over it, and a bonnet of the same fabric, even more faded. Joan had been pretty, with blond curls and lovely skin, and I wondered how pretty she might have been had she worn Arbella's clothes. We had all grieved when the pox had taken Joan as well as several others in the village. Those it left alive had been marked with horrid pock marks on the face. Marianne had been the exception. She had been sick, but not badly, and her face had healed miraculously.

Davey retreated to the front room. I washed my face as well as I could in the basin. The water was black by then, but I bent my head and dipped my hair in. When I drew it up my hair still felt stiff and dirty. I wanted a bath, but it was a beginning. Then I took off my clothes. Though I had dripped so much mud, it had caked, and my dress stood by itself when I put it on the floor.

I lifted up the dry shift Davey had left for me. It was gray and worn, with the edges around the neck all fringed and the seam on the side beginning to unravel. I slipped it on and felt warmer immediately. The skirt was so thin, from use and washings, that I could see the light through it.

I had the strange sensation of becoming another person, like I had as a child dressed up in my mother's clothes. This time I was a village wife who worked hard each day pulling loaves from the fiery oven, red in the face. A woman who had only bread to eat, never had children, and died before her time.