Part 27 (1/2)
”And if I say no?”
”Then I shall leave the castle. I shall go to my father's house. I shall tell him what happened to the Landor Lion and its captain.”
”Inform against the husband you have sworn to obey! Break your vows to me!”
”I shall have no hesitation in doing so.”
He caught me by the arm. ”Do you think I'd let you?”
”I would make the attempt.”
”By G.o.d,” he said, ”I believe you would. You defy me; you give me no more children and yet I have a softness for you. You shall have your way in this, wife. He shall be taken to the chapel and he shall be buried beside his sister. There shall be no name on his gravestone and do not let me hear the name of his s.h.i.+p pa.s.s your lips again. It must be thought that he perished far from here. You see how I indulge you?”
I did not answer him. I dropped to my knees and looked into Fennimore's dead face.
Colum went away and shortly afterwards four of the men came to the sh.o.r.e.
They carried Fennimore's body to the chapel.
The next day he was buried beside his sister in the burial grounds of the Casvellyns close to Ysella's Tower.
It was the end of an era, I could never forget it. I was haunted by the memory of Fennimore's dead face. I wondered what would happen when my mother visited us. I could no longer keep secrets from her. I was rather glad we did not meet for I was sure she would realize the change in me.
The storm had taken place at the beginning of October. Colum had strangely enough tried to woo me back to some semblance of affection. I could not respond. The sight of Fennimore dead on the sh.o.r.e had killed something in me for ever.
It was Hallowe'en again, the night when witches rode on their broomsticks to their covens where they wors.h.i.+pped the Devil in the form of the Horned Goat.
The day was misty and so typical of October in our part of the world-warmish and everything one touched was damp.
Because it was Hallowe'en the servants were talking. I wondered if any of them remembered Maria. It was seven years to the day since she had gone and Senara was nearly eight years old. It was a long time to remember.
But Jennet must have talked to the children of witches, for when I went to the nursery Senara was asking questions and Tamsyn was answering them and she could only be repeating what she had heard through Jennet.
”They go to covens,” Tamsyn was saying.
”What are covens?” asked Senara.
”That's where they meet. They fly there on broomsticks and there is their master, the Devil. Sometimes he's a big black cat and sometimes he's a goat. He's ever so big ... bigger than anybody has ever been, and they dance.”
”I want to go,” said Senara.
Connell said: ”If you go you're a witch. Then we'll catch you and tie you to your familiar and throw you in the sea.”
”What familiar?”
”It's a cat perhaps.”
”Could it be a dog?”
”Yes, a dog,” cried Connell, ”anything. Sometimes it's a mouse or a rat or a beetle ... or a horse. It's anything.”
”It could be Nonna,” said Senara. Nonna was her own special puppy whom she had named after the Tower. Her eyes were round. ”Perhaps Nonna's my familiar.”
”You can't have one,” said Tamsyn protectively. ”If you did they'd say you were a witch.”
”And we'd take you out and hang you on a gibbet,” cried Connell with relish-his father's son.
”He wouldn't,” said Tamsyn protectively. ”I wouldn't let him.”
”I'd hang him instead,” said Senara.
”I'd like to see you try.”
Connell had Senara by the hair. She kicked him. It was time for me to intervene. In fact I did not know why I had allowed the conversation to go on so long.
”That's enough,” I said. ”You are all talking nonsense. n.o.body is going to be hanged by anybody and there are no witches here.”
”Jennet said ...” began Tamsyn.
”And I say we do not listen to stories of uneducated servants. Let them have their witches if they will. We are not to be deluded.”
Then I made them take out their books and we read from Sir Thomas More's Utopia, which was far removed from the distasteful subject of witchcraft.
That night Maria came back.
Colum and I were supping together in the winter parlour. It was a rather silent meal as our meals had become. He made no effort to converse. Sometimes he would eat and leave me at the table.
I think that even he accepted the fact that after the death of Fennimore there was an insurmountable barrier between us. I could sense a tension mounting; I wondered whether he could or whether he cared. He did not always share the bedchamber; he had been away from home for several nights, presumably arranging for the disposal of the cargo salvaged from the Landor Lion, but on those occasions when he came to me, I sensed it was to let me know that he would still claim his rights. It was like staking a claim, an a.s.surance of a right of way, I thought cynically. I hated those encounters yet I still found excitement in them and there was a sense of disappointment when he was not with me.
This was the state of affairs on that night.
She must have walked straight into the castle for she came and stood in the room.
For the moment I thought I was seeing the ghost again. Then she spoke.
”I have come back,” she said.
Colum stared at her-as I did.
”Come back,” cried Colum. ”Good G.o.d. Maria!”
”Yes,” she said. ”I come back. I live here again.”
”But ...” began Colum.
I stood up. I could feel myself trembling. ”Where have you been?” I demanded. ”Why have you come back?”
”It is nothing to you where I been,” she said, in her halting English. ”It matters not. I am back.”
”You think you can just walk in ...” said Colum.