The Witch From The Sea Part 13

I lay still listening for the next clap of thunder, and I suppose because I did now find the days exhausting I was soon asleep.

When I awoke Colum was beside me. He was in a deep sleep. I rose noiselessly and was dressed before he awakened.

He rose yawning and I said to him, "What happened last night?"

Did I fancy it or was he suddenly alert? He said: "It was a fierce night."

"What thunder!" I said. "I woke and got out of bed. There was one clap which must have been right overhead."

"I was up," he said. "There was a s.h.i.+p in distress out there."

"How terrible ... on such a night!"

"I thought there might be something we could do."

"How good of you, Colum."

He smiled at me in that tender way which I always so much appreciated because it seemed unnatural to him.

"When you really know me you'll see I'm not such a bad fellow after all."

"I am already beginning to ask myself if this is the case."

It was a strange day that followed. The s.h.i.+p in distress had come to grief on the Devil's Teeth. All day long the boats were going out to see if there were any survivors. Colum told me there was none.

How delighted I was to greet my mother. I was watching for her from the turret of the Crows' Tower which gave a good view of the road. I felt a rush of emotion when I saw her st.u.r.dily seated on her horse with the grooms and two servants riding with her.

I was waiting at the portcullis to greet her. She swept me up in her arms and then had a good look at me.

"I see you are in good health and spirits," she said. "Nothing to worry about. And by the look of it it seems as though we shall not have to wait long."

She busied herself with preparations. She admired the cradle in which Colum himself had once lain. Generations of Casvellyns had used it. I wondered whether Nonna and Ysella had had any children and if so how they had managed to keep them hidden away. I must ask Colum some time. In any case, it was just a legend.

The weather seemed unbearably hot to me in my condition and it was a great joy to sit out of doors. There were not the gardens at Castle Paling that we had at Lyon Court, but we could sit in one of the gra.s.sy courtyards. My mother spread a rug for me and I would lie with my back against the wall and we would talk.

She was very pleased with my marriage. She had become convinced that it was right for me, in spite of its beginnings.

"Colum and Jake," she said, "are of a kind and that is the kind of man women like us need. It is good when one can look back and say this and that happened for the best."

"It seems so strange to me that a year ago I did not know Colum," I marvelled.

"Time in such matters is not important. I can see you are happy."

"Yet how much you wanted me to marry Fennimore Landor!"

"You would have had a peaceful life with him, but perhaps a dull one."

"When is he to marry?"

"In September."

"How strange that such a man should so quickly make up his mind."

"I gather from his mother that he has known this Mistress Lee for many years. They have been childhood friends. Of course he was fond of you; he wanted to marry you; and it was ideal too in view of the amalgamation. But when you married he renewed his friends.h.i.+p with Mistress Lee. Their families are pleased about it and it seems a suitable match."

"They hope to start trading next year," she told me. "It is amazing how long these matters take to arrange. Your father chafes against delay. You know what an impatient man he is. I am sure it is the thought of getting the better of the Spaniards that makes him so pleased with the venture."

"But the Spaniards are finished."

My mother looked slightly worried. "I am not so sure. Admiral Drake has taken out a fleet of men-o'-war and attacked towns in Spain and Portugal. Why should he do that if they were so defeated? Why should he feel it necessary to give them another blow? I heard before I left that over a thousand gentlemen accompanied him and that only just over three hundred returned. Then our men have seized sixty s.h.i.+ps in the Tagus which belonged to the Hanse towns there. It was found that these s.h.i.+ps contained stores to fit out a fleet to come against us."

"My father and Colum think that the Spaniard has been beaten for ever."

"I cannot believe such a powerful nation could be finished so completely. What I long to see, Linnet, is an end to war and conflict. That is why this peaceful trading project appeals to me so much. There is so much more that is interesting in life than fighting. I heard that a mill has been set up in a place in Kent called Dartford where they are making paper. Imagine that, Linnet! How much easier it will be for us to write to each other. I call that progress-not one side killing more than the other. And something else. I heard of a new plant the other day. It is called saffron-a kind of crocus. Its stigmas make cakes yellow and give them a most distinctive flavour."

"Have you tried it?"

"I have not seen it yet. It has only just been brought to England. But I intend to at the first opportunity."

And so we walked and pa.s.sed our days most happily, for she had brought with her not only the clothes she had made for my baby and new recipes for my tasting, but that sense of comfort which only she could give me.

She brought back memories of my father and young Damask who had so wanted to come with her, and had made a doll for the baby. My father had insisted that messengers be sent as soon as my baby was born with word that I had a fine healthy boy. Edwina, who now had her own little boy and wanted everyone to know of her contentment, sent affectionate messages. It was like seeing them all.

I was very happy during those last days and even the apprehension which must come to a woman who is about to have her first child was stilled by my mother's presence.

It was not a difficult labour and to my intense delight I gave birth to a healthy boy.

I had never seen Colum so overjoyed. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the baby from my mother and marched round the bedchamber with him. Then he came and stared down at me. I thought I had never been so proud and happy in my life.

I had reached the summit of happiness. I had my beautiful son whom we named Connell and he delighted me in all ways. I marvelled that this perfect creature was my own son and I rejoiced in him doubly when I saw Colum's pride.

If he had been out, as soon as he returned to the castle he would go to the child's nursery and satisfy himself that all was well. He would pick up the boy and lift him high in the air. Jennet and I would say that it was no way to treat such a young baby but Connell did not seem to mind. If he were crying-and he had a l.u.s.ty pair of lungs and a strong temper-he would stop when his father lifted him up even when he was very young. As he grew a little older it was clear that he was fascinated by his father.

I was delighted. I loved to see the joy Colum found in his son.

And I had given him to him. I sometimes marvelled that this boy of ours should have been conceived in such a manner. I think Colum did too. But there was nothing that could have made him happier than the possession of this son.

My mother stayed with me for a month after the child's birth and then she thought she should return to Lyon Court. She had young Damask to look after. Next time she came, she said, she might bring her, although she thought she was a little young to make the journey. My father had set out on the first of his trading voyages and would be home, she believed, by Christmas. We must all spend Christmas together. It was unthinkable that we, living so near, should not. I must persuade Colum to come to Lyon Court but perhaps because of the baby they should come to us.

We said goodbye. It was September and a touch of autumn already in the air. The mornings were misty and the sea calm but grey. I thought that at Lyon Court they would soon be gathering the apples and pears and I remembered how we had done it the previous year and stored the fruit in the apple room.

I watched her ride away for as long as I could see her. She did not look round. I fancied there were tears in her eyes. But she had confessed herself well pleased with the way in which everything had turned out. I think she was comparing me with herself and perhaps on consideration she could say her marriage had been a happy one.

I wished that we were just a little nearer. If Castle Paling had been as near Lyon Court as Trewynd Grange was how happy I would be! The fifteen miles or so which separated us just made frequent visits not so easy to achieve.

The christening of Connell was a great event. There was a big christening cake and Colum had asked a great many guests from the surrounding country. People whom I had never met before came to the Castle and there was feasting and revelry for two days and nights.

I was living in a dream of happiness and it seemed as if Colum was too. The beauty of the ceremony in the castle's Norman chapel touched me deeply. My son wore the christening robes which had been worn by several generations of Casvellyns and I wondered whether the husband of Ysella and Nonna had worn them.

Colum had chosen the G.o.dparents-friends of long standing, he said. Sir Roderick Raymont was one-a man I did not take to-and another was Lady Alice Warham, a handsome woman who came to the castle with a meek husband several years older than herself.

Lady Alice carried my son to the font; and the ceremony was performed beneath that vaulted roof with its Norman archway and its ma.s.sive supporting pillars of stone.

Connell was good and uttered no protest but I felt a great desire to s.n.a.t.c.h him from the arms of the woman who held him. I did not know why this fierce jealousy came over me and I knew I would be glad when all the visitors had departed.

When the ceremony was over and the cake had been cut and the baby had been admired by all, I took him to his nursery and gloated over him and I felt I was the most blessed of women, to have married in such an unusual manner and to have found a husband who excited me more than any other person ever had, and to have my union with him crowned by this blessing of a child.

The guests lingered for a few days and it was during their stay that I made a discovery.

The great hall, which was rarely used when there were no visitors, was now the centre of our entertainments. All through the day there came from the kitchens the smell of roasting meats and many of the inhabitants of Seaward were pressed into service. "You see," said Colum to me, "there are occasions when we need these servants."

I asked him if he entertained frequently, since we had not done so during the first months of our marriage.

"I did not wish it then," he said. "I wanted to have you all to myself. Moreover I thought it might be bad for the child."

"Will these people think it strange that there was no celebrations of our wedding?"

"It has always been my way to let people think what they will," he answered, "as long, that is, as it does not offend me."

Then he talked of the boy and how he was much more advanced than other boys, how he believed that he would grow up into a fine Casvellyn and he could scarce wait to see it.

"As he grows older," I said, "forget not that you will also do so."

"And you, wife," he reminded me.

Then he laughed and held me against him and I was very happy knowing him to be content with our marriage.

I think that was the last time I was entirely contented, for it was that night that I learned something which had not occurred to me before.

It was Lady Alice who began it, and I wondered after whether she did it purposely. I asked myself whether she sensed my complete abandonment to pleasure and, being envious of it, sought to destroy it.

We were at table. The venison was particularly delicious, I was thinking, done to a turn. The rich golden pastry of the pies was appetising and the company was merry. Colum, at the top of the table, flushed and excited, basked in the pride he felt for his son.

I was thinking to myself: May he always be as happy as he is now and may I, when Lady Alice said: "You have made your husband a very proud man."

"It is a wonderful thing to have a child."

"And so shortly married. You are indeed fortunate."

Her eyes were enormous-great dark eyes, not quite as dark as Colum's. I did not recognize the malice in them then.

"Colum, I know, is beside himself with joy. I am not surprised. When you remember the past disappointments ..."

"Disappointments?" I said.

"Why yes, when he hoped and hoped ... and it never happened. And then the second time he is fortunate immediately. It is not a year, is it, since your marriage and already that beautiful boy. One could almost say it was a happy release ... although so tragic at the time."

"You are referring to ..." I began hesitantly.

"The first marriage. So tragic. But it has all turned out for the best, hasn't it?"

I felt a s.h.i.+ver down my spine. His first marriage! He had not mentioned a marriage to me. What had happened? Where was his wife? She must be dead. Otherwise how could I be his wife? And why was it so tragic?

It seemed as though a chill had crept into the hall. I could see Lady Alice watching me intently. There was a glint of amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes. She would realize of course that Colum had told me nothing of his previous marriage.

It was in the early hours of the morning before we retired. Together we looked into the nursery next to our own bedchamber, to a.s.sure ourselves that Connell was safe.

When we were in bed and the curtains drawn I said to Colum: "I learned tonight that you had been married before."

"Did you not know it?"

"Why should I? You didn't tell me."

"Did you think a man would get to my age and not take a wife ere that?"

"It seemed strange that it was never mentioned."

"The point never arose."

"That seems strange to me."

He drew me towards him. "Enough of others."

But I could not rest. I said: "Colum, I felt so foolish. That woman mentioning it and I not to know."

"Alice is a sly creature. She was jealous of you."

"Why? She has a husband. Has she no children?"

He laughed loudly. "A husband. That poor stick! Much good he is to her. He is incapable of begetting children."

"I'm sorry then."

"Don't waste pity on Alice. She is not at heart displeased. She has free range to select her bedfellows and he is complacent enough. As for children, I doubt she wants them. She would find them a nuisance and they might spoil her figure."

"You know her ... well?"

"Oh, very well."

"You mean of course ..."

"Exactly."

There was a change in his manner. No tenderness now but a certain brusque impatience-the first since the last weeks before Connell's birth. I sensed that he was irritated by my reference to his previous marriage.

"So she and you ..."

"Oh come, wife. What is wrong with you? I've known many women. Did you think Castle Paling was some sort of monastery and I a monk?"