The Gallows Curse (26 page)

    One
of the boatmen pulled on a rope, and somewhere from deep inside the building a
bell tolled. Almost at once, as if he had been waiting behind it, a small panel
behind a grill opened and a man peered out, holding up a lantern to illuminate
his visitors.

    The
boatman moved closer to the grill. 'The Bullock said to bring this package to
Mother Margot.'

    'Did
he now? Then we'd best take a look at it, hadn't we?'

    After
much fumbling, the door swung open and the boatman pushed her inside.

    'Meet
me in the Adam and Eve tonight, we'll reckon up then,' the gateman said. The
two boatmen nodded tersely and, with a rapid glance up and down the street,
retreated back into the shadows.

    Placing
a hand on her shoulder, the gateman guided Elena into a long, narrow room. A
fire burned brightly in a pit in the middle, the smoke meandering to the
blackened roof beams far above. Around the top of the walls were carved
grotesques, masks of green men and other leering faces, like those Elena had
seen on the church in Gastmere. At the far end of the hall was a long table set
on either side with benches. The table was laden with flagons, leather beakers
and half- eaten platters of cold meats, roast fowls, pies, bread and slabs of
yellow cheese. It appeared that a great company had sat down to dine here, but
had been served with more food than they could possibly eat. Another wave of
hunger and nausea rose up in Elena at the sight of the meats. She swallowed
hard, and tried to focus on something.

    The
gateman was looking her up and down with a great deal of curiosity. He was a
stocky man, with thick, bowed legs that gave him a rolling gait. His nose had
been badly broken and had mended crooked, and the thickened ears which bulged
out from under his grizzled hair bore witness to their owner having engaged in
numerous fist fights. But he had the cockiness of stance which suggested he
usually came out of a fight victorious, whether by fair means or foul.

    'I
wonder . . . tell me, lass, did you work at the manor with Master Raffaele?'

    'For
a little ... as a maid.'

    An
oddly satisfied grin flickered across the gateman's crocked face. 'So you're
the girl he was so keen to protect. You certainly have a knack for getting
yourself into trouble, lass.'

    He
nodded to himself. Then he glanced towards the far end of the hall as if
someone had attracted his attention, though Elena could see nothing except the
carved grotesques.

    'You
wait here,' he ordered.

    The
gateman disappeared through a narrow doorway on the opposite side of the room.
Elena heard the creak of stairs, then silence. Finally the stairs creaked again
and the gateman was standing in the doorway beckoning to her.

    'Best
follow me, lass, Mother Margot doesn't like to be kept waiting'

    Elena
shuffled towards him, clutching her scrip tightly against her stomach, as if it
would afford her some kind of protection. Although she had never seen a nunnery
in her life, as soon as they had entered the building she had recognized that
this was no convent. But some part of her still tried to cling desperately to
the notion that it was, for if it was not a convent, what was it?

    The
gateman led the way up the stairs, holding the lantern down by his side so that
Elena could see the steps. The stairs ended at a stout door. He knocked before
reaching down for Elena's arm and pulling her into the room.

    This
upper room was smaller than the one below, with a casement overlooking whatever
was behind the house, though the shutters were firmly closed. A large bed with
thick hangings around it occupied one corner and much of the remaining space
was taken up by a table covered with a pile of ledgers and quills and the
remains of a supper — a good one too, judging by the wine dregs and goose
bones. A huge carved chair stood behind the table, but it was set too deep in
the shadows for Elena to make out more than a shape and something that
glittered green. Only a single wax candle illuminated the room, so that at
first Elena thought it unoccupied.

    A
fresh little bub to see you, Ma.'

    Ah,
the Bullock's girl.' The voice seemed to be coming from behind a thick woollen
cloth screening off the corner of the chamber. 'So, what brings you here, my
darling?'

    Thoroughly
disconcerted at being addressed by someone she couldn't see, Elena stammered,
'Master. . . Master Raffaele said you'd take me and I'd be safe here ... I'll
work hard, Mother, I'll do anything'

    'I'm
glad to hear it. Very glad, but why should you need to be kept safe? Why should
you not be safe where you were? Tell me the truth, my darling. I can always
tell when someone is lying and I don't like liars, do I, Talbot?'

    The
gateman jerked his head in a vague gesture of agreement.

    Elena
stared at her feet, desperately hoping she was about to do the right thing, but
Raffaele said Mother Margot was a friend of his and he'd not have sent her here
if he thought the woman would turn her away.

    'I
had a baby, a boy. I was afraid for him so I gave him away, but they said . . .
they said I'd killed him. But I didn't. . . I swear. You have to believe me,'
she added desperately.

    'I
don't have to believe anyone, my darling, and I seldom do. So it's here or the
gallows, is that it? That should sharpen your appetite for work. Now, let's see
what Master Raffe has sent us.'

    The
cloth billowed as someone stepped from behind it.

    Now
Elena was naive, but she was not stupid. She was no longer expecting the figure
which emerged to be dressed in a nun's habit, but nothing in her life thus far
had prepared her for what she now saw.

    The
woman was a dwarf, no more than three feet high, with a massive head, so that
it looked as if the head of a giant had been placed on the body of an infant.
She was dressed in a long, loose scarlet robe, which though stained and a
little threadbare, must once have been as costly as any gown of Lady Anne's.
Heavy gold bracelets squeezed around the bulging muscles of Ma's arms. Her
oiled black hair was coiled up like a snake on top of her head and fastened
with long gold pins topped with jewels that glowed blood-red in the
candlelight. Ma's yellow-green eyes, bulging like a frog's, ran an appraising
glance up and down the length of Elena.

    'Well,
we know she'll not pass as a virgin, not now that she's been stretched by the
baby. How old are you, girl?'

    Elena
was gaping at Mother Margot in such shock that for a moment she couldn't grasp
the question, never mind remember the answer. Finally she managed to whisper,
'Sixteen.'

    Mother
Margot glanced up at Talbot hovering in the doorway. 'She looks much younger,
that'll please some, those that like them looking innocent at the start of the
night anyway.'

    Talbot
eyed Elena shrewdly, as if he was appraising the quality of a horse. 'Bit on
the scrawny side if you ask me, Ma, most want a bit of flesh they can grab on
to, still there're some that like them boyish-looking. You want me to get her
started?'

    Ma
Margot shuffled forward and walked around Elena, then reached up a hand and
without warning pinched her swollen breast. Elena gave a sharp cry of pain as
milk soaked the front of her kirtle.

    'No,
not yet. For now she can earn her keep as a maid, till we hear from Raffe. He
may have something special in mind for her.' She looked up at Elena. 'I'll give
you something to dry up that milk. Our customers don't want reminding there are
consequences to their sin. They like to think the good

    Lord
created breasts for their pleasure. If they wanted milk they'd sleep with a
cow, or their own mothers. Isn't that right, Talbot?'

    He
snorted. 'I reckon some of them do just that.'

    Elena's
face was burning. She had been trying to pretend, trying to cut her mind off
from the truth, but even little innocents like her can't keep thought out once
it has wormed its way in. Master Raffaele, the one person she had trusted, had
sent her to this place ... this ... she couldn't even think of the word for it,
but there was no mistaking what they did here. How could he have betrayed her
like this? How could she have been so stupid as ever to believe he would
protect her? She should have known from his anger the night she had been
dismissed from the manor, and again by the violence he had threatened when he
sent her down into the pit, that he hated her. He believed that she had killed
her son. This was his way of punishing her, but why? Why this? Why hadn't he
simply left her to hang?

    She
turned and ran to the door, but Talbot stood barring the way.

    'Let
me go! You can't keep me here!'

    Her
only thought, for she had nothing that resembled a plan, was to run from this
place as fast as she could. She tried to push past Talbot, but though he made
no attempt to restrain her, he would not move from the doorway. Ma Margot
caught her by the wrist, twisting it at the same time, so that before Elena
could do anything to resist, she found herself being forced to her knees. Ma
pushed Elena's arm up behind her, hard enough to leave her in no doubt that
this tiny woman was capable of snapping a bone as easily as a twig if she chose
to.

    'And
just where do you think you are going to run to?' Ma said, ignoring Elena's
whimpers of pain. 'Do you think I didn't know that Osborn was searching for
you, long before you set foot through the door? I know when a beggar farts in
this town, before they've even smelt it themselves. You're wanted for murder
and furthermore you're a runaway villein. By tomorrow, criers will on the
streets of every town and village within miles, offering a reward to anyone who
brings you in dead or alive. And I can tell Osborn means business, for most men
would sell their own children for the size of the purse he's offering. If that
weren't inducement enough, he's threatened dire punishment to any caught
sheltering you.

    'You
just be grateful, my darling, that I'm willing to take that risk for you,
'cause I tell you now, no other soul in this town or any other would take you
in, not if Osborn's determined to find you.'

    With
her mouth still bitter from the draught of herbs Ma Margot had given her to
dry
her milk, Elena descended the narrow staircase again, and this time Talbot led
her through a door to the left, which opened directly on to a courtyard. Elena
shivered in the cold night air. The courtyard and the garden at the far end
were both enclosed by the solid walls of buildings. Half a dozen doors led from
the courtyard into what appeared to be chambers beyond. Instead of blazing
torches, lanterns swung in the breeze. They were not bright enough to
illuminate anyone's features, but cast just enough light through the horn
panels for a man to pick his away across the yard without falling down the well
or colliding with the several stout benches that were scattered about. To one
side was a bigger door set into the wall which appeared to lead out of the
courtyard to the world beyond.

    Seeing
Elena's gaze fasten on it, Talbot nodded his head.

    'Behind
there's the stables. Some of our gentlemen arrive on horseback, but it's no use
thinking you can get out that way. Kept bolted on the other side. There's only
one way in or out for you girls and that's the way you came in, through the
guest hall. But you'd best not try slipping out that way unless Ma gives you
leave. You never know when she's watching you, and if she catches any of her
girls doing something she don't like, believe me, they soon wish she hadn't.'

    The
gatekeeper led Elena past several of the chambers. Light shone out through the
shutters and from inside came the sounds of laughter, grunts and squeals. Elena
shuddered.

    Talbot
grinned. 'Noisy bastards, ain't they? Always puts me in mind of pigs when you
throw them a mess of swill.'

    He
stopped outside the last door in the far corner of the courtyard. 'This is
where you all sleep. No customers to be brought in here, you understand?'

    He
pushed her inside.

    It
was hard to see much by the dim light of the lantern. Raised wooden platforms
ran along either side of the room, on which were a number of straw pallets at
all kinds of angles to each other, and between them Elena could see small boxes
and rolled bundles, evidently their owners' meagre possessions. More clothes
were heaped on top of the mattresses.

    At
the same instant as she pitied the women for the little they owned, it struck
her for the first time that she now owned nothing except the damp, stinking
rags she stood up in and her scrip. She pressed the leather to her, but she
knew it was empty save for the wizened mandrake, and what use was that to her
now?