I caught a low, indistinguishable murmur, then Margaret's voice sounding firm and dear. 'No. I've already told you, I don't want you here. I made my message plain after my father died. You waste your time and mine. Please go.'
The caller, however, was not so easily put off. Further mutterings followed until his unwilling listener lost her patience. 'No! And again, no! You and your kind have no place in this house any longer. Remove your foot or I shall send my girl for the Watch.' Margaret glanced over her shoulder, 'Lillis!'
But there was no need for Lillis to risk the night streets, as her mother had probably guessed. The threat of authority was sufficient to frighten her unwelcome visitor and make him withdraw in a hurry. There was something which sounded like a curse, the lantern bobbed and dipped and then the light disappeared. Margaret Walker shut and barred the door for the second time that evening, and returned to her seat by the fire. I expected her to be upset, but when she spoke, she sounded more angry than perturbed.
'I think they've realized I'm in earnest and won't bother us again. At least, let's hope so. If they do, then they'll have to understand…'
But what the mysterious 'they' would be made aware of, I was not at that point destined to know. The lettuce powder had done its work and I heard no more. I fell asleep as abruptly as a candle-flame is doused by the snuffers.
I have said that I had three moments of clarity during those early days of my illness, and of the two I have recounted, I was perfectly certain. They remained fixed in my memory long after I was up and about and taking my first cautious steps about the room. Of the third, however, I retained doubts for some time, until Lillis herself unblushingly assured me that it was true; that I had not dreamt it, that she had indeed crept naked into my bed to warm me when I was in the throes of one of the terrible shivering fits which seized me during the onset of the fever.
'You were so cold,' she said, propping her elbow on the table and cupping her chin in one hand. She regarded me unblinkingly across the narrow board, her gaze wide and limpid as though what she was admitting to was the most natural thing in the world. And so I might have thought it in this strange elfin creature, half woman, half child, except for a gleam of prurience lurking at the back of the eyes; those enormous dark eyes which seemed at times to be the whole of her face.
I could feel the hot colour mounting my cheeks, and was thankful that I had not yet found the energy to shave.
A week's growth of strong, springy, blond hair was sufficient to mask my blushes.
My companion went on a little breathlessly. 'I only asked if you remembered because you haven't mentioned what happened, and I wasn't sure if you did. Remember, I mean. And if you did, you might blurt it out in front of Mother, and she… well, she might not understand.' This I could believe. I cleared my throat and answered as steadily as I was able, 'Yes, I do recall… That is, I thought what happened, happened. But I wasn't sure if I had dreamt it or not.'
Lillis gave her small, secretive smile and flicked me an upwards glance from beneath her long lashes. 'Oh no, you didn't dream it. It was that first night after we brought you home. You were on the mattress on the floor and Mother and I were in bed. She was fast asleep and so were you, but then in the early hours of the morning you grew restless, moaning and tossing. Then you began to shiver violently. Your teeth were chattering and you couldn't seem to get warm. I slid out of bed to put another piece of turf on the fire, but then… well… I thought it a better idea to get under the blankets with you and wrap you in my arms.' The smile deepened and the eyes became like a cat's: two gleaming slits. 'And it soothed you. After a while, you stopped shaking and fell asleep.
So I stayed with you until the first crack of light showed through the shutters, when I crept back to bed. And not a moment too soon. Mother was stirring within minutes, but she suspected nothing, and there's no need that she should ever know.' "
'I certainly shan't tell her,' I assured Lillis fervently.
She gave a little crow of laughter. 'You're embarrassed! A great lad like you who's probably had a score of girls! I wonder why.'
I would have been hard put to it myself to explain why the thought of her naked body curled close to mine, even though I knew nothing of it, made me so uncomfortable. She was right; there had been women in plenty these past two years since, an innocent escaping from the religious life, I had laid my first girl on the banks of the River Stour, in far-off Kent. Was it because I already suspected that she had marked me down as her own? The huntress and her quarry.
It was late afternoon, some fortnight after I had entered Bristol through the Pithay Gate, and for the fourth or fifth day running I had been allowed to get up, wash and dress myself and take a few tentative steps up and down the room. Tomorrow I would definitely be rid of my beard, and as soon as possible after that I must start looking for other lodgings where I could stay until I was fit enough to take to the road once more with my pack. I had insisted on sleeping on the floor again at nights, thus enabling the women to return to their bed, but the confined space was becoming an embarrassment, as well as making me feel hemmed in.
Margaret Walker, who had finished spinning for the day, had taken her yam to the weaving sheds, and would be back presently with her two willow panniers dangling from their shoulder-yoke and packed with new wool. Outside, the weather continued icy-cold and wet, the relentless spears of rain soaking the cobbles, making the stones treacherous to walk on and causing the pack-animals to slither miserably beneath their loads. So much I had been able to observe from the open doorway before Lillis had scolded me back to the warmth of the fire. And it was when I had settled myself on a stool at one end of the table, my feet extended towards the blaze on the hearth, that she had come to sit opposite me and asked if I remembered her getting in beside me that first night.
Now, our conversation had petered out, and we sat in silence, Lillis continuing to watch me, more than ever like a cat with a mouse, while I resolutely avoided her gaze, staring into the burning heart of the fire. And it was thus that Margaret Walker found us when she at last returned, a gust of bitter wind almost lifting her off her feet as she came through the doorway, in spite of the heavy baskets hanging at her sides.
'You're both very quiet,' she said, lowering her burdens to the floor and unhooking them from the wooden yoke.
She shook the drops of water from her cloak and put back her hood, exclaiming sharply as she did so, 'Lillis! Why haven't you begun to get the meal? You haven't even put the water on to boil, let alone prepared the vegetables for the pot.'
Lillis grimaced but, to her credit, she never took exception however harsh her mother's tone, and sometimes Margaret's admonitions were unmerited. She rose good-humouredly to her feet, reached down the iron pot from its place on the shelf beside the door, and filled it from the water barrel in one comer. When I would have helped her carry it to the fire, Margaret told me shortly to sit down.
'You're not fit to lift things yet, and besides, we have to manage by ourselves when you're not here. We're both willing and able.'
I had to admit that Lillis, for all her apparent fragility, had great strength in her stick-like arms, and made no more ado about hooking the full pot on to the crossbar of the cooking crane than she might have done about lifting a jar of flowers. I retired once more to my stool, where I sat watching the two women chop up the herbs and root vegetables which provided the staple ingredients of the afternoon meal. For dinner, we had had some salted mutton with our broth, but a lump of bacon fat was considered sufficient to give whatever flavour was needed to our supper stew. And, ladled over a slice of wheat and rye bread, it would suffice to curb my swiftly reviving appetite.