Lady of Hay

  Matilda spent long hours at the window of their sleeping chamber gazing out across the marshes toward the Severn and the mountains of Wales beyond. Slowly the last leaves dropped from the woods, whipped off the leaden branches by cutting, easterly winds that blew gusts of bitter smoke back down the chimney into the rooms, filling them with choking wood ash. In spite of the fires they were cold, and though clothes and blankets were brought for them, Matilda seldom stopped shivering. She could not bear to allow the northern window shuttered, watching through the short hours of daylight for the sight of her husband’s horse.

  But he did not come.

  The feast of St. Agnes passed and no word came, from William or the king. Then as the first snowdrops were pushing their way up through the iron-hard ground a detachment of men arrived escorting two of the king’s household. They were lawyers.

  Matilda stood before them alone, wrapped in a mantle of beaver fur, watching their gray, bookish faces for any sign of human feeling or concern.

  One, Edward, held out her signed agreement. “Your husband, Lady de Braose, has failed to produce the said sum of money by the agreed date. Are you able to produce the money in his stead?” He looked up at her, mildly curious, uninterested.

  Matilda swallowed. “I have money hidden. It may be enough, I don’t know. I’m sure my husband is on his way. Can you not give him a little longer? I’m sure the king—”

  “The king, my lady, has had word that your husband is fled to France.” It was the other man speaking. He was seated at the side of the table, idly paring his nails with a knife. “There is no mistake, I’m afraid.” He too was watching her now.

  Matilda bit her lip. Now that it had happened she felt calm, almost relieved that the waiting was over.

  “Then I must raise the money myself. I hid it with the help of my steward at Hay. There was some gold, jewelry, and coin. We put it in coffers and carried it up to the mountains.”

  “This money.” Edward was tracing the writing of the document. “Would it amount to fifty thousand marks?”

  “As your husband has defaulted we would require the full amount at once, you see.” The younger didn’t bother to look up this time. He was still working on his thumbnail.

  “I was thinking in terms of the first installment,” Matilda groped for her words cautiously. “There would be ten at least, I should think. I could raise more if I were allowed to go to Wales to—”

  “Out of the question, I’m sorry.” Edward drew a parchment toward him on the desk. “Did you make no note of the value of the money you hid, Lady de Braose? Perhaps your steward could be found to bring it. If I may have his name we can send riders.”

  “There were about four thousand marks in coin, if you must know.” She shrugged. “Most of my jewelry was there. That must be worth a lot, and my husband’s rings and chains, and gold.” She glanced from one to the other, but both men were shaking their heads.

  “I’m sorry. It’s not enough.” Edward rose, licking his lips nervously. “I must tell you, my lady, that His Grace has ordered that the judgment of the realm be carried out against your husband. He is now an outlaw in this land. The king has also decreed that unless you were able to meet to the last penny the amount required within three days of St. Agnes’ feast, the day stipulated in the agreement you yourself signed of your own free will, you should suffer the full penalties for your husband’s default.”

  He paused as the other lawyer too rose to his feet and began to push the pile of parchments together into a heap. The gesture was somehow very final.

  “What penalties?” Matilda heard her voice as a whisper in the silence of the room.

  He shrugged. “I have letters for the constable. You and your son, William, are to be removed to the royal castle of Corfe. The other ladies and your grandchildren will remain here for the time being, I gather.”

  Matilda looked from one to the other. She could feel her panic rising. “When must we go?”

  “Today. As soon as an escort has been mounted.” The two men bowed together and made their way past her to the door. Then they had gone and for a moment she was alone, before the knight who had brought her from the tower was again at her side. “You’d best go and make your farewells, lady,” he murmured kindly. “The constable had an inkling of what the letters were going to say. The men are already summoned to escort you.”

  “Corfe,” she whispered bleakly. “He uses that as a prison.”

  “No more than any other place. It’s a favorite residence of his sometimes. Don’t worry. You’ll be out of the way there. He’ll forget about you soon enough, and then your friends will be able to buy you out.” He put his hand for a moment on her arm, a small gesture of comfort, but she could not help a shiver of terror at his words. She looked at him bleakly for a moment, then, slowly, she followed him back to the chamber she had shared for so many long nights with Margaret and Mattie and bade them a tearful farewell. Then she hugged the two babies and, last of all, her beloved little John, who clung to her, crying.

  “We’ll see you again very soon, Mother, never fear.” Margaret took her hand for a moment and held it close. “Don’t worry. You have many friends and they will all be working on the king to release you. He won’t hold you to blame for long for Father’s faults. You’ll see.”

  Matilda forced herself to smile. “Yes, my darling, we’ll see,” she whispered slowly. “I’m sure it will all come out right in the end.” And she reached to kiss her daughter one last time.

  ***

  “Enough!” Sam moved across the room and stood before Jo, looking down at her, his face haggard. “It is too soon. John may intend to kill you, my lady, but I can still save you.” Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself with an effort. “This time I can. This time I shall follow you to Corfe. I shall atone.” He knelt before her and took her hand in his. “Dear God, I didn’t mean to make you suffer so. Only a little longer, Moll. Only a little longer. You have to go there. You have to go, but I shall follow you.” He was crying openly now, his face twisted with anguish. “My brother has much to answer for! But he will not be the one to save you. I will get there before him, Moll, I will save you.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss upon her fingers. Then slowly he stood up. “And now, to keep you safe till morning. You will stay here, my lady, not moving, until dawn breaks. Then and only then will you set out on your last journey to Corfe. I have one last debt to pay tonight.” He smiled suddenly, straightening his shoulders. “Then I shall follow you and tomorrow you will be mine.”

  Letting her hand fall, he went to the TV and turned up the sound. Then, slipping the cassette from the stereo into his pocket, he glanced around the room. Jo had not moved. Her eyes were once more on the TV but they did not register any movement. Her face was pale, and on the shredded cushion below her hand her fingers were still. He tiptoed out of the apartment, banged the door behind him, and ran down the stairs. In Gloucester Road he hailed a taxi.

  ***

  Judy put the two mugs down on the table and pushed the packet of sugar toward Tim. “You know, I never expected you to spend so long over this. I really am grateful.”

  He took two spoonfuls, scattering crystals over the table, and stirred them slowly into the black coffee as, far away below, the street door banged. Footsteps began climbing the flights of stairs toward the studio.

  “I’m sorry I can’t see the whole project through.” Tim smiled at her. “Perhaps, if I’m honest, I spent longer than necessary. I wasn’t looking forward to spending this evening on my own. Caroline is packing and washing her hair and convincing her mama she is not going to join a guru and never be seen again. I’m meeting her at the airport tomorrow afternoon.”

  Judy glanced at him. There was a touch of humorous sympathy in her eyes. “We could split a take-out dinner if you like—” She looked up in surprise at the sudden knocking on the studio door.

  Tim climbed to his feet. “You’re on,” he said. “Chinese or what?” He
pulled open the door and stepped back abruptly as Sam thrust his way past him into the room.

  Judy jumped to her feet at the sight of him.

  “Sam?” Her voice was frightened. “What are you doing here?”

  Sam had stopped dead as the door swung back against the wall. He looked swiftly from Judy to Tim and back, then he smiled. “So.” He took a deep breath. “You two?”

  “Get out, Sam.” Judy put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, but get out. Do you hear me? If you don’t, I’ll call the police again!” Her voice was unnaturally shrill. “You are not welcome in my studio.”

  “Come on, Sam.” Tim took a step toward him. “You heard what Judy said. Just leave quietly, there’s a good fellow.”

  Sam laughed. “There’s a good fellow,” he mimicked mockingly. “Oh, no, my friend, not this time. This time I think we have some scores to settle, some scores that go back a very long way.” As he stepped menacingly toward Tim, Judy turned and dived into the bedroom. She grabbed the phone, but Sam was immediately behind her and with a quick jerk he had torn the wire from the wall.

  “No more police, Judith, my dear,” he breathed. “I think we can manage very well without them this time.”

  Judy went white. “You’re crazy, Sam,” she shouted. “Crazy!”

  Behind Sam, Tim had appeared in the doorway, and for a moment none of them moved. Then Sam threw down the end of the wire. “It was you I came to see, Judith. I seem to remember we had an unfinished piece of business to settle. Each time I leave Joanna I have this urge to come here, it seems. To visit another whore. All women are whores. Even my mother, or she would never have had another child. A whore to my father!” He took a deep breath, controlling himself with an effort. “You should be flattered that I share my brother’s taste in beautiful women. As you do, of course.” He turned to Tim. “I’m almost glad you are here, so I can deal with you once and for all. My wife’s eldest daughter, remember…?” His eyes were suddenly blazing with emotion.

  Judy backed away from them as Tim eyed him warily. “Forget it, Sam,” Tim said coldly. “Forget it. It’s all in your imagination.”

  “Is it?” Sam took another step toward him. “Joanna doesn’t think so.” He laughed.

  “If you’ve been near Jo again—” Tim suddenly squared his shoulders. Though of much lighter build than Sam, he topped him by several inches. “If you’ve touched her, I’ll kill you, so help me God!”

  “Of course I’ve touched her.” Sam sneered. “Did you think I would leave her alone? She admitted everything, you know. How she had cheated me. How she slept with you. I beat her for it, did she tell you? And if I beat her, what more should I do to the lousy bastard who seduced her!” He was only feet from Tim now.

  Tim backed away hastily. “Sam, for God’s sake, calm down. Let’s talk about this.”

  “Not this time. I sat back and let it happen long ago. I pretended I didn’t know. I watched people snigger and laugh behind their hands and call me cuckold. I could do nothing about her fornication with the king, but you—you are a different matter. I was never entirely sure. She was too clever for me in the past, but now things are different. Now I am in control. And now I know the truth.” He picked up the brass candlestick from the low chest near him and held it up menacingly. “You are going to pay for what you did, de Clare!”

  “No!” Judy screamed as he lifted his arm.

  Tim, his face white, dodged back toward the bedroom doorway. As he did so his foot caught on the Persian rug that covered the polished boards. He staggered for a moment, then he slid sideways, crashing against the edge of the door.

  Sam laughed. “Now I have you, de Clare! On your knees like your paramour!” He raised the candlestick high above his head as Judy launched herself at him, catching his arm. As they wrestled for a moment Tim slipped slowly onto his hands and knees, then on down to the floor. There was an ugly bleeding gash from the door latch on his temple.

  Abruptly Sam let his arm fall. He stood staring down at Tim.

  “Tim?” Judy threw herself down on her knees beside him. “Tim, are you all right?” She raised a white face toward Sam. “He’s unconscious.”

  For a moment Sam did not move, then almost reluctantly he squatted down beside Tim and felt below his ear for his pulse. Judy held her breath. She felt very sick.

  “He’s okay,” Sam said at last. His voice was calm again. “But you’d better call an ambulance in case.” He stood up. “I’m sorry. I lost my temper.”

  Judy backed away from him. “You lousy shit!” Her eyes were blazing. “Get out of here, Sam! Get out, or I swear I’ll see you go to prison for the rest of your life. You should be in a straitjacket!”

  She ran to the bed and grabbed the phone, then with a sob she flung it down. “I’ll have to go and call from the apartment downstairs. Shall I put a pillow under his head?”

  “No, don’t touch him.” Sam was still standing looking down at Tim’s inert body. After a moment he pulled a blanket off the bed and tucked it around him, then he looked at Judy. “You’d better phone quickly,” he said.

  ***

  Music echoed out of the open windows in Berkeley Street as the party warmed up. Jane was sitting on Jim Greerson’s lap when the phone rang and for a while neither bothered about it. Then finally Jane leaned forward and picked up the receiver.

  “Nick?” she called. “Anyone here seen the boss man? There’s a guy here on the end of the line says it’s an emergency.”

  Nick materialized at last, a glass of champagne in his hand. He was grinning. “A phone call at this hour? It’s probably a complaint.” He pulled himself onto the desk. “Hello?”

  On the other end of the line the voice of Judy’s downstairs neighbor launched into an excited and apologetic monologue. For a moment Nick listened, puzzled, then abruptly he stood up. “An accident, you said? Who’s hurt?”

  “I don’t know,” the unknown voice at the other end was out of breath. “A very nice gentleman, very tall. He hit his head. Miss Curzon went with him. They took him to St. Stephen’s…”

  ***

  Judy was sitting alone in the dimly lit hospital waiting area. Her eyes were red with crying.

  “What happened?” Nick put his arms around her and held her close.

  She shook her head and sniffed. “They think he’s cracked his skull. They’ve taken him up to the operating room.”

  “Who?” He pushed her away from him so he could see her face. “Who is hurt, Judy?”

  “Tim. It’s Tim Heacham!”

  “Tim?” Nick stood quite still for a moment. “But for God’s sake, what happened?”

  “He came over to take some photos of my paintings and your brother arrived. He threatened Tim, and…” She began to sob again.

  “Sam hit him?” Nick sat down abruptly next to her.

  “No.” She sniffed hard and groped in the pocket of her jeans for a soggy tissue. “No, he tried to and Tim dodged. He slipped on my stupid rug. Oh, Nick! Supposing he dies!”

  “What were they fighting about?”

  “Sam called him de Clare. I think they were fighting about Jo. He talked about his daughter.”

  Nick’s lips tightened imperceptibly. “My brother really is insane,” he said at last. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. “God, what a mess! Where is he? Did he come to the hospital?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know where he went.”

  They both looked up as a young fair-haired woman in a white coat appeared. She carried a clipboard.

  She sat down beside them with a tired smile. “I understand you came in with Mr. Heacham?”

  Judy nodded. “How is he?”

  The young woman shrugged. “He’s still in the operating room. We’ll know more later. I wondered if you could give me details of his next of kin?”

  Judy clutched at Nick’s hand. “He’s dying?”

  “No, no. It’s normal procedure. We
have to try to contact his family.”

  They looked at each other. “I know nothing about his family,” Nick said slowly. “I’m sorry. We’re just friends of his.”

  “I see.” She slipped her pen back into the pocket of her coat. “You don’t know his wife?”

  “He has no wife,” Judy said softly.

  The young woman frowned. “He was conscious for a few minutes upstairs before he went into surgery. He was talking about his daughter. Matilda, was it? Perhaps if we could find her?”

  Nick stood up. His face was very tense. “He has no daughter either,” he said.

  As the woman disappeared through the swinging doors Nick turned on Judy. “Aren’t you going to rush to the phone and call Leveson? I should imagine this will make a juicy headline!”

  Judy colored. “Of course I’m not.” She sat slumped in her chair. “How long do you think the operation will take?”

  Nick shrugged. “I suppose I should call Bet Gunning. She knows Tim best. She must know where his family is.” He glanced at his watch.

  “Jo might know,” Judy said softly. “I wonder if Sam’s gone back there? He said he had come from her apartment. Nick?”

  Nick had stood up. His face was white. “Are you sure?” Already he was striding toward the door. “You stay here, Judy.” It was all he said, then he was gone.

  Judy subsided onto the chair and began to sob again. It was midnight.

  ***

  “Jo? Jo, can you hear me?” Nick crouched beside her and took her hand in his. It was ice-cold. She was staring unblinkingly at the blank TV screen. Automatically Nick reached to switch it off, then he passed his hand up and down in front of Jo’s eyes. Her eyelids did not move. He felt cautiously for her pulse. It was there, very slow and unsteady.

  “Jo? Jo, love, listen to me! You must listen. Please.” He chafed her hands vigorously in turn. “Jo, I need you. For God’s sake, my love.” He took a deep breath. “Jo, I am going to count backward from ten. When I reach one, you will awaken, do you hear me?” His voice was shaking badly. Gently he pushed her back against the cushions. He touched her forehead. Her skin was strangely cold. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.” He caught her wrists. “Wake up, now. Wake up!”