Sir Walter’s violence could terrify her, but it was thrilling as well. Most of the time he was a courteous, pleasing husband. He lived to satisfy her, with frequent assertions of his love for her, his utter and undying delight in her. His lovemaking was rough, but she found that satisfying, more so than she would some polite, insipid youth who might roll on to her and roll off with a calm murmur of gratitude. She wouldn’t want that. She wanted a man with fire in his belly and loins.
Sometimes though, it was hard, when his jealously came to the fore. And he detested to be kept waiting.
‘My Lady, you are alone?’
‘I am going to meet my husband.’
Squire William was feeling good after the wine. Following on top of the ale, it hit his empty stomach like a flame, filling him with the sense that he was all-powerful and irresistible. Alice would soon change her mind about marrying him once she saw him in his knightly finery, he thought optimistically. As for Edith Puttock, he’d be able to rattle her as soon as he got her alone. Her languishing expression when he was knocked from his horse told him that. She’d also let him bull her just to tweak the nose of her father. The Bailiff would be very angry indeed when he heard. His fury would be overwhelming, William thought contentedly. Edith might need protestations of undying love to get her to lift her skirts for him, but if it was necessary, William could promise marriage. If she made problems later, it would be his word against hers. And who would believe a sulky girl’s claims against the word of a knight?
As the night grew more chill his friends had moved into the buttery itself; he had left them there while he came out here to empty his bladder against the hall’s wall. It was while he was adjusting his hose that the woman had approached. It was only the second time he’d seen her but, as before, the sight of her fired his blood. She was beautiful, he thought, drunkenly certain that she couldn’t refuse him.
‘You must give me a kiss, Lady, before I let you pass.’
‘Sir, you are pestering me.’
‘I only want a kiss, Lady. No one would ever know.’
‘Leave me,’ she snarled. ‘I don’t have time to play with children.’
‘Me – a child?’ William gasped. He’d teach the cow a lesson. His arms grabbed her before she could run or cry out. Ignoring the guards who meandered along the battlements, William pulled her towards him and sought her lips.
‘Leave me!’ she gasped.
‘Child, am I? Have a feel of this!’ he demanded, taking her hand and pulling it towards his hose. ‘I’ve got a better prick than your husband, I’ll wager!’
His arm was around her waist, his other hand slipping down to her buttocks, then up to her waist and breast. There was nothing she could do to prevent him. He held her too firmly.
‘Get off me, you drunken bastard!’ she managed.
‘Not until you kiss me,’ William leered.
Hugh appeared in the doorway and quickly crossed to them. ‘Lady, are you all right?’
It was enough to break William’s concentration. Helen pulled away, then snapped her knee up to his groin, feeling the softness as her knee connected. His breath left his body in a short gasp and his hands were off her. She walked past him, head high, and gave Hugh a coin. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.
‘No, Lady,’ Hugh said, glowering at the wheezing figure of William. ‘Thank you. That sight was payment enough.’
Glancing back haughtily at the moaning William, she sniffed and entered the hall.
She didn’t recognise Andrew in the doorway. She just pushed past him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The feast was intended to celebrate the magnificence of the tournament’s opening and give people a taste for the events to come, but Alice sat there, waiting for it to begin, her appetite nonexistent. The choicest meats would taste of nothing; mere ashes would have been as good. The wine was like vinegar, the smoke stung her eyes, and the raucous enjoyment of the other men in the place was all but intolerable. She felt sick with worry about her man, terrified that he might die, appalled to have seen his near-fatal fall from the horse.
Odo had ensured that Alice’s maid and two gentlewomen had attended to her after her collapse. All Alice could remember was waking and hoping it had all been a nightmare. She prayed that the vision of Geoffrey being hurled from his horse by the evil lance in William’s hand was but a dream, a hideous scene sent by a Mare to terrify her.
But as soon as she awoke, Alice found herself staring into the compassionate eyes of a female attendant – and realised that it had been no dream. Her husband was lying at death’s door, and she could do nothing to help. Rising, she learned that Geoffrey had been taken to a chamber near the castle’s hall and she hurried there, ignoring the servants who tried to bar her way and prevent her from entering. ‘He is my husband!’ she declared, with tears in her eyes.
The physician and priest could give her no positive response. ‘If he is to heal, it is in God’s hands,’ the priest said, trying to soothe her, but in his eyes she could see the terrible truth. Geoffrey wouldn’t live; she was sure of it.
Now, at the feast, her mind was trying to come to grips with this new terror. Without Geoffrey, she was entirely alone. Her sole support and protection was dying and there was nothing she could do. She had sat at his side, gripping his hand, directing his face to the altar and crucifix and begging him to pray for his safety while she too pleaded with God, but there was no response. The hand remained quiescent in hers, the breathing so shallow and quiet that several times already she thought he had died.
What could she do? If he died, she was entirely at the mercy of Sir John. Marriage to William. The very thought brought a sob to her throat and a feeling of nausea, and now she was expected to join in a feast!
It was while she was considering this that she saw William himself swaggering towards her.
He was drunk – that was obvious. His face was flushed, his manner truculent. Christ, how she detested the haughty youth! He saw her and gave a hawkish grin. ‘Ready to marry at last?’
‘I am already married.’
‘Ah, but you’ll soon be a widow,’ he said dismissively, and belched. ‘At least I can offer you security. So long as you’re good for breeding, that’s the main thing.’
She felt her face blanch. ‘You think I would wed you? I should rather die.’
‘You’ll have little choice, my Lady,’ he sneered.
‘I am married already. I am the wife of Geoffrey.’
‘If you want to remain known as the wife of the Coward of Boroughbridge, fine. You may not like me much, my Lady, but at least I’m no deserter.’
‘You dare to slander a man because he’s unwell?’ she spat. ‘That is cowardice of the worst sort. You are contemptible.’
‘Perhaps,’ he agreed easily. ‘But I’m also alive, vigorous and soon to be wealthy when I have married you.’
‘I will never marry you!’ she screamed, standing.
The room fell silent, and William realised too late that everyone was listening to their conversation. He gave a nervous smile to the watching men and women and tried to walk away before Alice could embarrass him further.
‘I will never marry you,’ she repeated, then fell sobbing back on her bench. The men at either side pulled away a little, unwilling to become involved in the woman’s problem. That could only lead to trouble with their own wives, were they to challenge Alice’s tormenter.
She had no one. No one. Except…