The Wise Woman (30 page)

“Anyway,” Morach said behind her hand, “it wasn’t me that used the magic dolls, was it, Alys?”

Alys shot Morach one furious glance and walked forward. “Lady Catherine,” she said. “May I present to you my kinswoman, Morach.”

Lady Catherine looked up from her sewing. “Ah, the cunning woman,” she said. “Morach of Bowes Moor. I thank you for coming.”

Morach nodded. “No thanks are due to me,” she said.

Lady Catherine smiled at the compliment.

“Because I didn’t choose to come,” Morach said baldly. “They rode up to my cottage and snatched me out of my garden. They said it was done on your orders. So am I free to go if I wish?”

Catherine was taken aback. “I don’t…” she started. “Well…But Morach, most women would be glad to come to the castle and live with my ladies and eat well, and sleep in a bed.”

Morach gleamed under the thatch of gray hair. “I’m not ‘most women,’ my lady,” she said with satisfaction. “I am not like most women at all. So I thank you to tell me: am I free to come and go as I please?”

Alys drew breath to interrupt, but then hesitated. Morach could take what chances she wished, she had clearly decided to haggle with Lady Catherine. Alys chose to avoid the conflict. She left Morach standing alone in the center of the room and went to sit beside Eliza and looked at her embroidery.

“Of course you are free,” Lady Catherine said. “But I require your help. I have no mother or family near to advise me. Everyone tells me you are the best cunning woman in all the country for childbirth and cursing. Is that true?”

“Not the cursing,” Morach said briskly. “That’s just slander and poison-talk. I do no curses or spells. But I am a healer and I can deliver a baby quicker than most.”

“Will you deliver mine?” Lady Catherine asked. “When he is born in October? Will you promise to deliver me a healthy son in October?”

Morach grinned. “If you conceived a healthy son in January, I can deliver him in October,” she said. “Otherwise…probably not.”

Lady Catherine leaned forward. “I’m certain I have conceived a son,” she said. “Can you tell? Can you assure me? Alys said it was a boy, can you see for sure? Can you tell if he’s healthy?”

Morach nodded but stayed where she was. “I can tell if it is a boy or girl,” she said. “And later on I can tell if it is lying right.”

Lady Catherine beckoned her closer.

“If I want to,” Morach said unhelpfully. “I can tell the sex of a child—if I want to.”

There was a ripple of subdued shock among the women. Ruth glanced over at Alys to see how fearful she was of her kinswoman’s temerity. Alys’s face was serene. She knew Morach always drove a hard bargain with a customer and Lady Catherine’s private score with Alys could not be worsened.

“Alys, tell your kinswoman to watch her tongue or I will have her thrown to the castle dogs,” Lady Catherine said, her voice sharp with warning.

Alys raised her head from Eliza’s embroidery and smiled at Lady Catherine without fear. “I cannot command her, my lady,” she said. “She will say and do as she pleases. If you dislike her you should send her home. There are many wise women in the country. Morach is nothing special.”

Morach cocked an eyebrow at the barb but said nothing.

Lady Catherine hunched her shoulders in irritation. “What do you want then?” she asked Morach. “What d’you want, to tell the sex of the child, to minister to me in the months of waiting, and deliver me a boy?”

“A shilling a month,” Morach said, ticking off her requirements on her fingers. “All the ale and food I want. And the right to go in and out of the castle without any hindrance or question, day and night.”

Lady Catherine chuckled reluctantly. “You’re an old huckster,” she said. “I hope you deliver babies as well as you bargain.”

Morach gave her a slow dark smile. “And a donkey, so I can get to my cottage and back when I need,” she added.

Lady Catherine nodded.

“Do we have an agreement?” Morach asked.

“Yes,” Lady Catherine said.

Morach stepped forward, spat in her hand and held it out to shake. Ruth, who was sitting at Catherine’s feet, shrank back as if from an infection, but to Alys’s surprise Lady Catherine leaned forward and took Morach’s hand in a firm grip.

“Funny old lady, your kinswoman,” Eliza said under her breath.

“She’s an old hag,” Alys said, stirred with a sudden unreasonable irritation. “I wish she had never come.”

“My lord was asking for you, Alys,” Lady Catherine said, scarcely troubling herself to glance over. “Lord Hugh is in his chamber. He has some clerk’s work for you.”

Alys rose to her feet and curtsied. She glanced over toward Morach. The old woman was the only idle one in the room. All of them, even Lady Catherine, had needlework or a distaff in their hands. She winked at Alys and hitched a footstool a little nearer the blazing fire.

“Your kinswoman will do well with us,” Lady Catherine said. “I have some plain sewing which you can do, Morach.”

Morach smiled at her. “I don’t sew, my lady,” she said pleasantly.

There was another ripple of subdued shock among the women but Lady Catherine looked amused. “Will you sit idle, with empty hands then? While all of us work?” she asked.

Morach nodded. “I am here to watch over you and the child,” she said grandly. “I need to be able to see—with my healer’s vision. If you want some fool”—she smiled impartially at the busy women—“some fool to net you a cap, there are many of them. There is only one of me.”

Catherine laughed. Alys did not even smile. She curtsied to Catherine and went from the room. Only when she was in the round tower climbing the little turret staircase to Lord Hugh’s bedchamber did she realize that her jaw had been set with irritation and it ached.

Lord Hugh was seated at a table, a thin, densely written piece of paper unfurled before him.

“Alys!” he said as she came in. “I need you to read this. It’s written small. I cannot see it.”

“From London?” Alys asked.

The old lord nodded. “The bird brought it to me,” he said. “My homing pigeons. Clever little birds, through all this bad weather. It must be urgent for my man to send them out into snow. What does it say?”

The letter was from one of Lord Hugh’s informants at court. It was unsigned, with a code of numbers to represent the king, the queen, Cromwell, and the other lords. Lord Hugh had his own methods for making sure that his sovereign sprang no surprises on his loyal vassals.

Alys read it through and then glanced up at Lord Hugh. “Grave news,” she said.

Hugh nodded. “Tell me.”

“He says the queen was taken to her bed. She was with child, a boy child, and he is lost.”

“Oho,” Lord Hugh said softly. “That’s bad for her.”

Alys scanned the paper. “Sir Edward Seymour is to become a member of the privy chamber.” She glanced at Lord Hugh. He was nodding, looking at the fire.

“The queen blames the miscarriage on a shock from His Majesty’s fall,” Alys read. “But there is one who says that he heard the king say that God will not give him male children with the queen.”

“That’s it then,” Lord Hugh said with finality.

Alys looked up at him questioningly. “That’s it for the queen,” he said, speaking low. “It will be another divorce I suppose. Or naming her as a concubine and returning to Rome. He’s a widower now that Catherine is dead.”

“He could return to the pope?” Alys asked incredulously.

“Maybe,” Lord Hugh said softly. “Queen Anne is on the order of her going, that is for certain. Miscarriage, blame…” He broke off.

“He could restore the priests to their power?” Alys asked.

Lord Hugh glanced at Alys and laughed shortly. “Aye,” he said. “There might be a safe nunnery for you yet, Alys. What d’you think of that?”

Alys shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know what to think. It’s so sudden!”

Lord Hugh gave his short laugh. “Aye,” he said. “You have to skip very fast to keep pace with the king’s conscience. This marriage is now against the will of heaven too, it seems. And Seymour’s star is rising.”

He nodded toward a leather pouch of letters. “These came by messenger,” he said. “Scan them and see if there is anything I should know.”

Alys broke the seal on the first. It was written plainly in English and dated in January.

“From your cousin, Charles,” she said. “He says there are to be new laws against beggary.”

Lord Hugh nodded. “Skip that bit,” he said. “You can tell me later.”

“It is the coldest winter ever known,” Alys read. “The Thames is frozen and the barges cannot be used. The watermen are suffering much hardship, starving for lack of work. Some of them have their boats stuck fast in the ice and the boats are being crushed. There is talk of a winter fair.”

Lord Hugh waved a hand. “Read me that later,” he said. “Anything which affects the north? Any new taxes?”

Alys shook her head. “He speaks of the king’s accident, a fall while jousting.”

“I knew of it already. Anything else?”

“He suggests that you write pressing your claim for the monastery lands which abut your manors,” Alys said. She could feel her lips framing each word precisely as she thought of the wide fertile fields either side of the river. Mother Hildebrande used to like to walk in the meadows before haymaking, smelling the heady scent of the flowers growing wild and thick among the grass. On a summer evening their perfume stole across the river to the gardens, to the chambers, even to the chapel, like a sweet, natural incense. Now these lands were spoil—up for offer.

“He says, ‘You and Hugo are well praised for the goods you have sent south and for your loyal zeal. Now is the time to prompt the king to reward your labor. He is also open to money bids for the land, beneficial leases, or land exchanges. They are saying that a lease of three lives will pay for itself over and over.’”

The old lord nodded. “Twenty-one-year leases,” he said softly. He shook his head. “It would see me out, but what of Hugo? Anything else?”

Alys turned the page. “Prices of corn, coal, and beef,” she said. “Prices of furs and wine.”

“Anything else about the north?” Lord Hugh asked.

“No,” Alys replied. “But the laws about vagrants will affect your lands.”

They were silent for a moment, the old lord looking deep into the fire as if he would see his way clear through the changes which were coming.

“This other letter,” he said abruptly. “Translate it for me. It’s from the bishop’s clerk and he writes in Latin. Read me it in English.”

Alys took the paper and drew up her stool to the table. It was a letter from the bishop’s clerk outlining the acceptable causes and reasons for an annulment of the marriage between Lady Catherine and Lord Hugo. Alys felt the sudden heat come into her face. She looked up at the old lord. He was looking at her quizzically.

“I can send the old shrew away,” he said. “Barren old shrew. Send her away and free Hugo.” A wide smile as bright as his son’s cracked his grave face. “I’ve done it!” he said. “I’ve freed Hugo. Now he’ll have a plump new wife with a fat new dowry and I shall live long enough to see my heir!”

Alys’s face was sour. “You don’t know then?”

“Know what?” he asked, his face darkening. “Out with it, girl, you’re my source for women’s tattle. You should come to me with whatever news you have the moment you get it.”

“She’s with child,” Alys said. “I suppose that changes everything.”

For a moment he hardly heard her, then his face lit up with joy. “With child!” His fist banged down on the forgotten, redundant letter. “With child at last!” He threw back his head and laughed. Alys watched him, her mouth pressed tight.

“With child at last!” he said again. Then he checked himself. “Is she sure? Have you looked at her? This is no ruse, is it, Alys? Does she think to save her skin for another few months with pretenses?”

Alys shook her head. “She’s pregnant. I checked her. And she sent for my kinswoman, Morach, who is to stay with us until the birth. They’ve just struck their deal.”

“Boy or girl?” the old man asked eagerly. “Tell me, Alys. What d’you think? Boy or girl?”

“I think it’s a boy,” Alys said unwillingly.

“Has she told Hugo?” the old lord demanded. “Curse the lad! Where is he?”

“She told him,” Alys said. “He’s out hunting venison for you, my lord. I don’t know if he’s back yet.”

“He went out without telling me?” the old lord asked, his face suddenly darkening. “He gets the shrew in pup and then he goes out without telling me?”

Alys said nothing, her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes down.

“Hah!” Lord Hugh said. “Not best pleased, was he?”

Alys said nothing.

“She told him this morning and he went straight out?” Lord Hugh checked.

Alys nodded.

“In a rage I suppose,” the old lord said ruminatively. “He was counting on an annulment. He’ll know that’s not possible now.”

The fire crackled. The old lord sat silent in thought.

“Family comes first,” he said finally. “Duty comes first. He can take his pleasures elsewhere—as he always has done. But now that his wife is with child, she is his wife forever. This child is well—d’you think?”

“These are early days,” Alys said. Her lips were cold and the words came out carefully. “Queen Anne herself can tell you that many a baby is lost before birth. But as far as I can tell, the child is well.”

“And a boy?” the old man pressed her.

Alys nodded.

“That is well!” he said. “Very well. Queen Anne or no! This is the nearest to an heir that we have ever come. Tell Catherine to wear something pretty tonight, I will drink her health before them all. She can come to my room as soon as she is dressed. I will take a glass with her.”

Alys nodded. “And me, my lord?” she asked. “These other letters?”

Lord Hugh waved her away. “You can go,” he said. “I have no need of you now.”

Alys rose from her chair, curtsied, and went to the door.

“Wait!” he said abruptly.

Alys paused.

“Thrust those papers from the bishop in the fire,” he said. “We don’t want to risk Catherine seeing them. She would be distressed. We cannot risk her distress. Burn them, Alys, there will be no annulment now!”