"Will you support me in this, ma'am?" He looked up sharply, his sea blue eyes both candid and determined.
Sarah rose from her stool. She came over to him and bent to take his face between her worn hands. She looked deep into his eyes and a strange shiver ran down Simon's spine. Her fingers moved over his face as they had done once before, gently tracing the scar, the etched lines of suffering, the crow's-feet, the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth.
He sat still, mesmerized by her touch, by her all-seeing gaze. "Do you have the sight?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel that you know so much about me."
Sarah smiled and shook her head. Slowly she released his face and then took his hands, running a finger over his palms, turning them over to play with his knuckles as if she was learning him in some way. Learning him almost like a lover, he thought with another shiver.
Then she released his hands and moved back to her stool, where she sat very still, looking at him with that same intensity. But he felt only warmth and strength flowing from her.
"Am I right about Ariel?" he asked into the silence. "I believe you know her almost as a mother. Am I right to insist that she comes back?" He steepled his fingers and regarded Sarah ruefully. "She has a touch of the wild about her, and I don't want to destroy it. I want her to trust me enough to know that I won't hurt her."
Sarah's face was again grave. To his deep disappointment he could read no answer in her eyes, and she gave nothing away in her quiet stillness.
"Since she's not here, then I'll come back later." Simon rose to his feet. It was only when he was standing that he realized that the ache in his thigh had faded and his leg was moving more easily. These leechwomen had powerful medicines.
Sarah remained seated, her haunted blue eyes bright as they watched him.
He replaced the bracelet on the table, not hiding his disappointment at her lack of reaction. "I can't read your silence, ma'am."
Suddenly she rose and walked over to a narrow ladder leading up into the loft. She gestured that he should go up. Puzzled but obedient, Simon climbed with difficulty up the rickety narrow rungs and hauled himself into the small loft area. Ariel's presence was in the air, so strong he could almost imagine she had left her spirit behind. Her nightgown was thrown over the end of the simple straw-filled pallet where she slept. Her hairbrushes were on a wooden chest, and a pair of shoes had been cast carelessly into a corner.
His heart seemed to jump in his breast and his blood was pounding in his head. On the pillow stood the bone horse, glowing in the light from the round unshuttered window. He limped the two steps necessary to reach the pallet and picked up the horse.
A smile curved his mouth as a deep and glorious certainty slowly infused his blood. He was a blind, stupid fool. He had understood himself no better than he had understood Ariel. Gently he placed the carving back on the pillow.
He negotiated his way back down the ladder. Sarah was waiting for him, standing immobile by the table.
She smiled.
"You knew what I didn't know myself," he said wonderingly. "It never occurred to me that I could love another woman other than Helene… let alone a Ravenspeare. And I don't suppose it ever occurred to Ariel that she too could love against all the forces of history and reason."
Sarah's smile didn't waver. She came toward him and, taking his hands, kissed his cheek. He pressed his lips to her soft, parchmendike cheek and inhaled her scent and was filled with an immeasurable sense of comfort.
"I'll return later, ma'am."
Sarah picked up the bracelet as the door closed behind him. The bracelet had been the only thing she'd had time to give her baby when she'd sent him away to his uncle. The lords of Ravenspeare, their knives pressed to her belly, had given her time to make provision for her son before they'd taken her away, and she remembered now how pathetically grateful she'd been for that consideration. As grateful as a victim to his torturer for some unhoped-for leniency. She'd arranged for the child to be taken to Geoffrey, and she'd enclosed the bracelet… in pitiful payment, in gratitude… for what she begged him to do for Owen's son.
And somehow the bracelet had passed from Geoffrey's hands to Ravenspeare hands-following some other dark strand of blood and passion flowing between the two families.
Many years ago, Sarah would have wept for the memories that now consumed her, but her tears were long since dried The well had dried up when she'd understood how pointless tears were, how useless in the face of reality-a blind daughter to care for and a life to live and make good for both of them. She had had only one driving condition for the new life. Her son must never be touched by his mother's violation. He must never know in his mother this broken, dreadfufly damaged woman. Therefore his mother must disappear so completely that not even Geoffrey could find her. And she had succeeded.
The sound of voices outside brought an end to her reverie. She turned her attention to the pot of soup simmering on the trivet as Ariel bounced energetically through the door, Jenny following rather more slowly.
"Edgar says all the wedding guests have gone home, Sarah. Ranulf apparently told them that the celebrations were at an end and sent them packing! Isn't that unbelievable, even for my brother?" She hung her cloak on the peg by the door and began to lay out soup bowls as she spoke.
"But your husband and his friends are still there," Jenny put in.
"Yes." Ariel set a dish of salt on the table. "So Edgar says. And Simon told him to be ready to move the stud to Hawkesmoor the day after tomorrow." She sat down on a stool, propping her elbows on the table. And soon after that, the Hawkesmoor would be ready to leave himself.
She picked up her bracelet from the table and clasped it around her wrist, wondering idly why she'd forgotten to put it on that morning. But then, she was so miserable and preoccupied, it was amazing she remembered her own head.
Presumably, as soon as Simon was ready to leave Ravenspeare, he would come for her and cart her off to Hawkesmoor willy-nilly. An exasperated husband dealing with a recalcitrant wife.
Presumably, once the preparations were made for moving the stud to Hawkesmoor, that was what he would do. It would not be a simple transport, so it would take a day or two to put in train. She supposed she should be grateful that he was still willing to allow her to keep her horses-to pursue her hobby under his eye. But she wasn't. She knew what she wanted, and she knew she was crying for the moon.
She became aware of Sarah's eyes on her and flushed, knowing that the older woman would have read her thoughts.
She couldn't continue to cower in Sarah's cottage. It was cowardly and futile. And she couldn't bear him to come and drag her away. "I'd better go back to the castle," she said heavily. "Nothing's going to change; I don't know why I ever thought it might. I have no choices anymore."
Sarah smiled more to herself than to Ariel and ladled barley soup into the waiting bowls.
The three lords of Ravenspeare were gathered in the Great Hall when Simon returned to the castle.
"Ah, Hawkesmoor, well timed indeed. We're having a little party this evening. I do trust you and your friends will join us." Ranulf reached over the table to fill a crystal glass with wine, which he held out to the new arrival. "Try this. I'd value your opinion."
Simon took a sip and nodded. "A fine rioja." He sat down on the long bench. "It's very quiet in here these days."
"Sadly so," Roland said. "I must say I miss the festivities. But Ranulf has put together a little entertainment for us all tonight. You will attend, won't you?" He raised an eyebrow.