Someone had put a Death Cap or Destroying Angel into my soup. Someone had put Ergot into my ale. A long time ago someone had sent me to Mary Lee’s cottage. Someone wanted me dead.
If I was going to save my life I must find out who was my would-be murderer.
I laughed at myself and said: You know.
But I wouldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe … not then. It was not until later.
How strange it is that one does not see something which concerns one deeply and would be obvious to many. And then suddenly one discovers something which can be linked with other things and the truth is revealed.
I was looking from my window and I saw the three of them by the pond. Romilly, Jake and Penn.
Penn had a model of a ship and he was sailing it on the pond. Jake knelt down beside him and guided the ship. I could see he was pointing out something to Penn.
Romilly stood there, arms folded, the sunlight gleaming on her luxuriant hair; there was something about her which told me. She was complacent, satisfied. And I knew.
Romilly and Jake! He had brought her to this house as a young girl—was she twelve or thirteen? She had not cared when the tutor had been found in Jennet’s bed, for he was nothing to her. She had been ready to marry him, though. Yes, because she knew that she was to bear a child.
Jake had said: “We must care for her. Her father was one of the best men I ever sailed with.”
He did not add: “And she is my mistress.”
But of course it was so.
When Jake came into our bedroom I said to him, “Penn is your son.”
He did not attempt to deny it.
“So under my own roof…”
“It is my roof,” he replied shortly.
“She is your mistress.”
“She bore me a son.”
“You have lied to me.”
“I did not. You did not ask. You presumed it was the tutor’s. There seemed no reason to upset you with the truth.”
“You brought that girl into the house to be your mistress.”
“That’s a lie. I brought her here because she needed a home.”
“The good Samaritan.”
“God’s Death! Cat, I couldn’t leave an old seaman’s daughter of that age to fend for herself.”
“So you brought her here to bear your bastard. I wonder what her father would say to that?”
“He’d be delighted. He was a sensible man.”
“As I should be, I suppose?”
“No, I wouldn’t expect that of you.”
“You are a considerate husband.”
“Oh, come, Cat, what’s done is done.”
“And the girl is still here. Is there another on the way?”
“Stop this. The girl had a child. It was mine. There, you know. What’s to it? I was home from sea. You were having a daughter. There’s little time I have ashore.”
“You have to make up for your celibacy at sea of course, because raping dignified girls and sending them mad does not count. You have much to answer for, Jake Pennlyon.”
“As much as most men, I’ll swear. Oh, stop it, Cat. I took the girl. There’s no harm done. She has a fine boy who is a joy to her.”
“And a joy to you.”
“Why not? I get no sons from you. You can get a son with a Spaniard and for me … daughters … nothing but daughters.”
“Oh, I do hate you, I do!”
“You have said that often enough, God knows.”
“I had thought that we might come to some good life. I had pictured us … our grandchildren in our garden … and you contented…”
“I’m not ill content. I’ve got three fine boys that I know of. And I wouldn’t want to part with one of them. Understand that, Cat. Not one of them. I’m proud to own them. Proud, I say.”
“Proud of the manner in which they were begotten, I doubt not. One from rape of an innocent child, the other one a lustful serving girl and another on this sly creeping … insect who crawls into my house … who is a poor little orphan who lies about the tutor and all the time is laughing because she has your child.”
“Oh, come, Cat, it’s long ago.”
“Long ago, is it? Is she not still your mistress? I see it all now. The ribbons she puts in her hair; the manner in which she pushes the boy under your feet. What plans has she, this sly little crawling thing? What does she hope for, to take my place?”
He was alert I fancied. “How could that be! Don’t talk nonsense, Cat.”
“Is it nonsense?” I asked slowly. “How do I know what is happening in the house? I am deceived all the time. My daughters are nothing to you. But you have ever made much of your bastards.”
“They are my sons.”
“Mayhap this woman … this Romilly could give you more sons. She has given you one. I am beginning to understand. I see so much.”
“You see what you want to see. You are an arrogant woman. You led me a dance as no other woman has. You belonged to a Spaniard before you did to me. You gave him a son and what have I had?”
“Was it my fault? Everything that has happened has been due to you. You raped Isabella, Felipe’s bride. It was on you that he sought to revenge himself. What have I ever been but a counter in your games … your wicked cruel games? Jake Pennlyon, I wish to God I had never seen you. It was an ill day for me when I met you on the Hoe.”
“You mean that?”
“With all my heart,” I cried. “You blackmailed me because of what you saw in the leper’s squint.”
“You were playing a game with me. Did you think I didn’t know that. You wanted me as I wanted you.”
“So that I pretended to have the sweat to escape you?”
“By God, I’ll never forgive you for that.”
“What does it matter, eh, now that you have Romilly? She gave you a son. She can give you sons … sons … sons … for as many breeding years as are left to her.”
“She could,” he said.
“They would only be your bastards unless…”
“Who cares for that?” he said. “I have three fine boys and I’m proud of them.”
I wanted him then to seize me, to shake me roughly as he had done so many times before. I wanted him to tell me that it was nonsense. Penn was his son. He had gone to her when I was ill and he was sick with disappointment because I had not given him a son. I wanted him to tell me that it was all over and done with. That he had been unfaithful as I knew he must have been a hundred times … a thousand times during his long voyages from home.
But this was different. He went away and left me and I did not see him again that night.
It’s true then, I told myself. He wants to be rid of me. He wants to marry Romilly, who can give him sons … legitimate sons.
I knew instinctively that my life was threatened and there seemed no doubt by whom. My husband wanted to marry another woman and the reason he wished to marry her was that she could give him sons. This sly creature who had wormed her way into my household with her pliable ways was threatening me.
It was not that she meant more to him than hundreds of other women had. But she had proved that she could give him sons … and men like Jake wanted sons. It was an obsession with them. We had the example of a recent King who had rid himself of several wives—and the great theme of his life had been “Give me sons.”
It was the cry of arrogant men. They must continue the family line. Daughters were no use to them.
Boys adored Jake and he was interested in them; girls meant nothing to him until they reached an age when they could arouse his sexual desires. Jake was a fierce man, undisciplined, a man who had always known what he wanted and gone out to take it.
That was what was happening now.
I was no longer desirable to him because I could not hold out any hope that I would give him sons. He wanted me out of the way.
I thought then of Isabella. I remember the calm intensity of Felipe. He had wanted me; he had wanted to legitimize our son. Isabella had stood in the way of Felipe’s marriage to me as I now stood in the way of Jake’s to Romilly.