While Christ and his Angels Slept. Part 12
Everywhere I see plenty and untroubled order, while our village has nothing but want and fear. How can this be?
We are in a world full of wonders, a different world, the world of my childhood. But how can I trust that what I see here will not darken into deadly chaos in a moment?
Lord, why do I want to run and hide from what is good?
NO...I must have faith, I have to believe it is God's plan.
I have obligation to the Jongleurs, I must hold to that. And they are more able singers than I supposed, I must show myself worthy.
Pleasure I distantly remember, invades me, heats my blood, makes my skin prickle, and doubt leaves me.
The thrill of music is pure joy.
Perhaps Tom is right, this is Heaven?
###
Resting his back against the wide oak staves of the bath, Robert unwrapped his precious block of Aleppo soap. Bought in Antioch, it had been a gift for his faithful, loving wife Marcillia. Of course she had been none of those things during his exile. But having survived the long journey home, and the two years he had spent as Bishop Henry's envoy, the precious soap was not wasted. Rob found he enjoyed the luxury of bathing with it, how it bore away the everyday stink of horse and sweat, leaving him cleaner than mere water and sand could scour, was strangely pleasing.
Taking his ease, Rob considered the skirmish at the abbey; it had been foolish. Nevertheless on occasion he let his conscience get the better of him, a failing he tried to correct. But now he must think on the vagaries of the king. Bishop Henry's advice had been to appeal to Stephen's notions of family. Though a man of strong passions, he was also a devoted husband and father. The Bishop had counselled that, to see a penitent return from the Holy Land cleansed of his sin, only to find his family lost to him, would strike the Kings heart.
Rob trusted his master's judgement, others may see the Bishop as more an arrogant intriguer than man of God, but he had seen the feats of negotiation, the subtle art of statesmanship the man employed. Henry of Blois was a good man, given less to pride and avarice than many of his ecclesiastical brethren.
Dipping his head under the water, Rob scrubbed the soap into his grimy, bedraggled hair.
No, Marcillia would remain his wife, but never in his home and certainly not in his bed. He was putting her from him, the law would permit no other marriage. They were tied till one of them died, but there were more than enough nunneries for her to end her days in. The debauched Abbess and her base establishment would suit Marcillia well; she would no doubt find herself very comfortable amid her fellow whores.
Which thought brought him back to the peasant woman. He had been steadfast in refusing to acknowledge she had a name, to admit it would afford her more importance than she warranted. But still her form sidled quietly into his head. Thoughts meandering, he considered how soft her skin might be, would it be improved after using his soap? Sliding the green tablet down his chest, he wondered how it would feel to guide it over her full breasts.
He didn't want to study his reason for buying the dress, letting your cock rule your head was a thing young men and old lechers did, he was not so young, nor so old as to let that happen again.
Unmindful, his right hand slipped down, coming to rest over that hardening, defiant organ between his legs. For a moment he stilled, denying himself release.
"Christ's mouldering bones!" he snatched his hand up and plunged himself beneath the water again, only resurface with equal vigour. He controlled his wants and needs, not some pathetic slattern.
Banishing her from his mind he continued his ablutions with assiduous care.
Piers shaved his master, melting the beard from untidy thatch, to closely neat and fashionable. Then trimmed unkempt hair, and though not the custom, combed it smoothly back.
Wearing his fine blue bliaut, Rob quitted the makeshift bath house. Boots cleaned and free of scuffs, sword belt oiled, dagger polished. Sir Robert looked every inch a courtier, at least to provincial eyes. There was no wonder that many a female gaze followed him. Tall and well built, handsome and self-possessed, he cut a compelling figure among the portly gentry and their unimpressive sons.
Rob washed his hands in the bowl offered by a young squire; bowed politely to the Earl and his family, and joined Brother William at the board. The two men ate in silence. Piers served them as he was taught; he would eat later, in the kitchens with the rest of their little band.
But regardless of the bountiful food and wine, Robert was not at ease, the costly damask of his coat still had the stiffness of infrequent wear. He found himself continually pulling at the chafe of the collar. To add to his disquiet, the goodwife to his left had made her interest known with sly smiles and significant winks.
Good God, were all women the same?
###
In the uncertain privacy of the player's waggon, Haddie washed as best she could. Cleaning away the last evidence of La Pierre's leavings, her plan to kill the viperous brute had been foolish, but his death would be hers. Though first she must look to Tom's future. Patience and careful thought would give her what she needed.
But still the mocking ghost of the lordling whispered in her ear. 'What right did a mere peasant have to revenge?'
The bucket was not sufficient for its job, yet Haddie scrubbed with renewed will. By the time she reached her feet the water was a murky brown soup. The stream would have been preferable; the flow of cool clear water would have cleansed the foul taint from her body. But that would wait, tonight she would indulge herself. Dressing and binding up her hair, Haddie climbed down from the waggon. She glanced about her, and sure no one looked, spat three times in the dirt. It warded off the devils host, or so Sister Gertrude said.
###
"Your hair will need to be down, like a maid, another subtlety the men like." Edith tugged Haddie's carefully arranged kerchief off.
Around them the players talked, joked, jostled, showed each other dance steps. Haddie looked from their dainty shoes, to her bare feet and sighed. Edith laughed and told her the gapers rarely looked at feet when there was so much else to distract them!
Soon she found herself laughing, joining in the practice dancing. When a cup of wine was passed around she sipped, to stay the addling of her wits that was coming fast upon her.
"Come now my song birds, we are needed!" Jacques clapped his hands, calling them all to silence. He was a small man; thin as a wraith, but with a voice as deep as a river. "Now, my own ones, I'm wanting the best as usual. The absence of Elin be a cryin' shame, but that bairn of hers will be born before the morn, an' naught 'll stop it." Elegantly he motioned to Haddie. "Take my hand, my lady."
She looked at the others for direction, and Edith thrust her forward.
"And the lovely Hadwise will agreeably fill the void." He kissed her knuckles, and abruptly swung her out into the great hall. "Off you go me sweet dulcet darlin's, earn your dinners..."
###
The noise in the hall had dulled to a low rumble in deference to Earl Turold. His 'honoured father' speech had praised his new son-in-law, the boy's illustrious family, his daughter's virtue, and the weather. No mention of King Stephen, Empress, or even Bishop Henry. Turold was a sensible man, he may well deal quietly in politics, openly showing undue partiality with one of the warring factions, well there lay a game for fools. A man might as well stake his life on a bout of pitch and toss.
"And now we have entertainment!" The earl clapped his hands and waved toward the band of pretty singers. "Songs of virtuous ladies and noble knights, and then..." he bowed with a gracious flourish. "I'm sure the dancing will start!"
Rob groaned, the smiling goodwife had, most unladylike, groped his arse. Even his most surly looks could not seem to dissuade her; she would expect him to dance the Carole with her. He was no dancer, and no more a pursuer of women than the goodwife was an alluring temptress.
At his back Piers covered his grin, Sir Robert looked decidedly uncomfortable.
Brother William, unaware of the exchange, had his mind involved in assembling a plan to secure a home for Haddie and Tom. The Jongleurs had expressed an interest, and that would not do at all. He decided to talk again to the laundress.
Haddie twirled as they had practiced, turning full about, allowing skirts to billow attractively, offering glimpses of shapely calves. Lustrous curls bounced and flew about exposed shoulders.
Lightheaded and stirred by the music she looked about for the knight, but in the confusion of faces before her, he was hidden.
The pace of the song was slower than she remembered, but the guests hushed as the small group of women swirled and curled in time to the infectious stir of lute and pipes. Edith began the refrain; Haddie followed three beats after, then the next singer, and the next. Till all raised their voices to the glory of heavenly love, and the partiality of poor sinners to the Earthly kind.
The audience loved it, roaring at the hint of sinful deeds; all dressed as devotional acts, clapping furiously at the double intent.
Haddie could not help the agitation her body felt; perhaps the few sips of wine had been more potent than she believed? As she moved with dance and song, years of empty misery fell from her.
This was why she endured; the joy passed all she could describe.
###
People flowed about the castle ward, guests, soldiers, servants, and pedlars, all untouched by the world of rebellion, betrayal, and bad blood.
Tobin's gait was casual, as if he had every right to be there. A self serving man, working for those who paid the best. To be fair, for their money they got a tolerable measure of his loyalty, more importantly, they bought his sword, which he employed with fervour.
Presently he was in the service of Sir Andreas le Pierre, who in turn served the Count of Casals. The way of it was that every man served another, whether that allegiance was bought by coin or owed by fealty, it mattered not. But if a poor man used his loaf, he too could become a rich one.
It was Tobin's intent to become very rich.
Sir Andreas, his present employer, was a disinherited knight whose fortunes rose and fell with the overlord he had allied himself to. The claim that he was restoring his family destiny was an illusion, the man was nought more than a reaver. Pillage and its spoils were all his aim, and his men took his lead.
And hence Tobin, after some careful tracking, was here, following the Bishop's man, and thus the bishop's gold. 'T was simple; too simple it seemed to him.
Watching the capering gypsies his mind wandered to more commonplace matters, such as his missed night of indulgence at the abbey. The quivering arses and swinging, silken hair had set his cock to twitching.
Aye, there was diversion here, and a little indulgence was no bad thing.
###
When Rob saw Haddie his first reaction was to stare, then look about him angrily, wary that other men saw what he did. The dress was a grievous error; the simple colour made her stand out from the gaudy costumes of the other women. It clung to her breasts and hips, caught between her thighs as she moved. Her mass of dark hair swung, brazenly free. Holy Christ, she may as well be inviting men in!
The amorous matron at his side saw his attention caught by the performers. Pouting, she shifted the veil that covered her bosom till it covered little, but revealed much.
At last Haddie saw him, he looked...different. His customary sour expression was there, but head and shoulders above those about him, he was handsome, dressed like a prince. In that moment the devil took her; she smiled, blew sultry kisses to him.
Rob snarled. He had saved her from starvation on the road, rescued her from God knows what in the Abbey, brought her to safety, clothed her even. In return the strumpet interfered with his commission, mocked and disobeyed him, and now flaunted herself shamelessly! Abruptly he turned from the sight of her...back to the ardent attention of the Mercers widow. In a thoughtless second he offered up his cup to the coyly smiling woman, she took it and sipped with genteel care, fluttered her lashes and returned it. Rob knew his part in this discreet sport, but instead of just sipping, quaffed the contents down in one swallow, the inference clear.
The widow tittered, dabbed at her lips, and wiggled closer. A robust, good looking man like this was a rarity, she would have him, be marriage involved or not.
Haddie saw the exchange and winced. Of course he could have any woman he wanted, why would he waste his time on someone like her?
As the song ended Edith caught her about the waist and whispered in her ear, "Lily Flower, sung at faster time, follow my lead, do as I do."
Now they danced in pairs, dipping and circling each other. This song was darting, playful. Haddie bounced upon her toes and regretted her lack of shoes; the stone flags of the great hall were unforgiving.
###
Rob swiftly lamented his manful display, the widow stroked his thigh, offered him the choicest morsels from her trencher. His avowal of polite indifference benefited him not one wit. The lady was relentless, in no time she had her hand in his breeches, apparently believing the sturdy salute she found there was for her. Rob retreated into his cups, resolving to blot out women in general.
Brother William eventually noticed.
"I see you are admired Sir Robert; I trust you will vouchsafe your wedded state to the lady?" The friar said in a quiet aside, he had watched the players at their folly and was torn by beauty of the music, and vulgarity of songs. He had begun to doubt the wisdom of his intervention on behalf of Hadwise. She may be more educated than he had thought, but she was still a naïve young woman, susceptible to the low morals and lack of chastity he knew to be the player's common state. Now the knight seemed to be arranging a dalliance of his own.
How he feared for the souls of his fellow travellers.
"If you would free me from her company brother, I would be eternally grateful." Rob whispered drearily to the disapproving cleric, then turned and smiled in thanks for the large slice of beef the widow had attentively laid before him.
Brother William compressed his lips to contain his smile. This he could do, he motioned to Piers. "Your master needs to extricate himself, come to him directly, tell him he is needed in the stables. And do not allow the goodwife next to him hinder his leaving." It was a minor deception; he would ask God's forgiveness in his prayers at Lauds.
Swaying a little as he walked from the board, Rob unfastened his jerkin, pulling loose the ties, breathing easier.
He had not been tempted by the amorous widow. True, he had been long without the touch and company of a woman, but not a man for soft words and fawning gestures, the role of paramour was not his. When he wanted a woman he took a whore, when the business was successfully concluded, he paid and left. It was simple, required little thought or effort, and thus suited him.
To add to which he did not even desire the damn widow. But his head was not so befuddled that he did not know where his feet had led him. Stepping through the bustling kitchens out into the courtyard, 'she' was there.
The spirited music from the festivities could be plainly heard. The dancing had begun; the singers now filled their bellies. Tom held a pasty in one hand as he and Haddie laughed and whirled in a merry dance. The idle among the servants congregated with Brother Jocelyn, the singers, even Blount, clapping the romping pair. Rob leaned against the door frame, watching and cursing his rebellious parts.
With no warning the good natured air curdled, a leering man-at-arms boldly seized Haddie, attempting to kiss and manhandle her. Before Rob could push himself forward, Blount and the giant friar had pulled the protesting ruffian aside.
A furious Haddie slapped the man hard, throwing insults at him even as he was hauled past Sir Robert. She made to followed them, only for Rob to block her way.
Holding her back he growled low, "Leave them, Blount will set him a'right."
Haddie glared at him, fought to ease her breath as she met his heated gaze. With compelling certainty she knew how this irritation must be cooled, passions despairing; she reached up and pulled him into a kiss.
A kiss so crazed he caught the back of her head, held her to him as he served her greedy mouth.
Still pulsing from the fierce embrace, Haddie wrenched free...and ran.
Rob gritted his teeth, and leant back against the wall.
Hell's teeth, he wanted her.
###
What have I done?
