Even Elena found it impossible not to be caught up in the merriment of the women around her. She had been busy all morning hanging fruits from the trees and bushes where any might pluck them. Red cherries hung in bunches from the birch tree, apricots grew from rose bushes and dozens of rosy apples ripened on the willow tree in the very centre of the garden, as was only fitting in such a garden of delights.
Luce beamed at her as she passed her with an armful of newly aired clothes, blood-red for the devils and diaphanous white gowns made to resemble angels' raiment with tiny wings fashioned from real swans' feathers.
'You chosen what you're wearing tonight, Holly?'
Elena's stomach lurched. A cloud had passed over the sun.
'But I'm not. . . entertaining.'
Luce gave her the sort of half-puzzled, half-amused look that adults reserve for small children who've said something ridiculous.
'Course you are. Every woman and boy will be at the festivities, even the older women join in. You wait, tonight there'll be more men in here than weevils in a sack of grain. They come from miles around. A few girls get bedded, but mostly it's just flirting, dancing and getting drunk, like any regular saint's day.
'Ma reckons it brings in the new customers, specially the young lads too shy to come aknocking on the door. Lets them see there's nothing to be afeared of. They can pick a girl that takes their fancy, have a quick fumble and a few kisses. It whets their appetite, see, and that's not the only thing it wets, if you get my drift.' Luce giggled. 'They'll go home with only one thing on their minds — when can they come back and give it to her properly? She knows her business, does Ma.'
'But Ma said I was only to serve the special customers.'
'Everyone's special tonight, besides, like I say, you don't have to do anything except flirt. You can do that, can't you? And if one of them tries to go a bit too far and you don't fancy it, just give him a playful slap or tell him you're going to fetch some wine and then go and talk to someone else. Mind you, you want to be careful, that can make some of them keener than if you let them have their grope and get it over with.'
Seeing the anxious expression on Elena's face, she added, 'Look, just keep pouring the wine and cider down them; a few glasses of that and they'll not be able to get it up, much less find where to put it if they do. You ever watched a drunk try to get his finger in a latch-hole? Come on, choose your costume soon else the best ones will be gone.'
Luce swept off towards the sleeping quarters where, judging by the giggles inside, the girls were already waiting to claim their gowns.
Elena picked up a bunch of grapes and wandered over to the turf seat to find a place to hang them. It wouldn't be so bad, would it, if it was only what Luce had said? After all, at the feast days back in the village, that's what they'd all done, danced and flirted a little. Wasn't that where she'd first noticed how handsome Athan was, when she saw him with a group of lads at the feast, and observed how every time she'd glanced in his direction, he seemed to be looking at her?
Luce said they came from miles around. Suppose, just suppose Athan was to come here tonight. He might if Master Raffaele had told him where she was. It would be his chance to see her without risk of betraying her hiding place. Elena hugged herself in delight.
Then just as suddenly she was seized by fear as another thought struck her. If Athan knew where she was then he knew she was in a brothel. She had grown so used to living in this place, she had forgotten how it would appear to Athan and his mother, Joan, even to her own mother. Athan would think she was a common whore, that she'd given herself to other men. He'd be disgusted. What if he came and told her he despised her, and that he never wanted to see her again? She couldn't bear that. She couldn't let him find her here.
'Will he come tonight?' a small voice whispered beside her. Looking down, she saw Finch squatting behind the turf seat. For a moment she thought he meant Athan, then she saw the misery etched in his face.
The boy tugged at her skirts. 'The werecat? Holly, will he come back for me?'
It was on her lips to say no, to reassure and soothe the child, but she stopped herself. Once before she had told him everything would be all right, but it had been far from all right, and she knew Finch had been hurt much more by that false promise from her than by anything Hugh had done to him. The slashes on his arms were healing well, but the scars would remain as long as he lived.
She stroked the pale golden curls. 'I don't know, Finch, I don't know if he will come, but there will be lots of people here. Everyone will be together in the garden. You won't be alone.'
'He could still take me to a room,' Finch said in a dead voice.
Elena knew that was true. Whatever Ma's plans, if any man dangled enough money in front of her, he would be able to buy whatever he wanted, she was sure of that.
Finch stared anxiously about him to see if they could be overheard, then he wriggled closer, staring up at her with a look of fierce determination.
'I'm gonna run away today.'
Elena shook her head. 'You can't, Finch, you'd never get past Talbot.'
'I know a different way out. I found it. In the cellars, there's another tunnel. Leads to a gate. It's a way out of here. Talbot doesn't watch that one. He thinks no one knows about it, 'cause it's hidden. But. . . but I can't open it myself. I know how to, I've seen Talbot do it, but I can't do it by myself. You could help me though. We could do it together, then we could both run away. You want to leave here too, don't you?'
Elena crouched down and looked into the child's face. 'We can't, Finch, it's too dangerous. You don't understand, there are people looking for me. I can't leave here. Besides, where would we go? How would we live?'
'I'm strong, I can work. Look!' Finch clenched his small fist, lifting his thin little arm to try to make the muscles bulge. 'I can earn money for us both and we could sleep in a barn. You remember, Holly. We shall be safe, diddle diddle, deep in the hay.'
He smiled up at her with the unshakeable confidence of a child, his eyes bright with excitement for the very first time she had known him.
She felt her own heart leap upwards. Why not? Why couldn't they just go? She didn't have to wait for Master Raffaele, why should she? He'd made it very plain that he had more important matters to attend to than her. Who knew when he'd come back, if he ever did? He probably had no intention of taking her away from this place. He had not protected her from Raoul. He'd allowed Ma to put her to work as a whore. Maybe, maybe Ma had even paid Raffaele for her. He certainly wasn't going to protect her from Hugh. Stay out of his way—those were the only words of comfort he'd offered. Only she could save herself now.
No one would recognize her with her dyed hair, besides which they'd probably long forgotten about the runaway serf. No one would be looking for a woman travelling with a boy. There were other towns, other cities. They could go anywhere.
Elena seized the boy's hands. 'Finch, are you sure about this? Are you sure the gate really leads to the outside, not just to another cellar?'
Finch's eyes were sparkling. 'I saw it. I looked out through the bars and saw a great river right outside. I could ... I could nearly touch it.'
His eager little grin only made him look smaller and more vulnerable. Could she really look after them both? She had worked ever since she could toddle, but she'd never in her life had to seek work. As a villein, she had merely done what others told her to do. She wasn't even sure how to go about finding a master or mistress. What if they started asking questions, demanding the parchment to prove that she was a free woman?
Did the boy understand what he might be facing out there? Winter would soon be here and if they couldn't find shelter they'd starve or freeze to death in some stinking alley like the other beggars. But at least if they ran, Finch would have a chance. She knew only too well what it was like to spend your days waiting in fear and dread. If Finch had been her son, she wouldn't hesitate.
Elena looked down at the boy. 'If we do run away, we won't be abl
e to stay in Norwich. They'll come looking for us. Do you understand that? We'll have to walk, maybe a very long way, for days, weeks even.'
She realized that she had no idea what might lie beyond Norwich, nor even in which direction she should go. Not back to Gastmere, that was certain, even her dyed hair would not disguise her there. Gastmere lay down-river of Norwich, so they must walk upstream. But what lay upstream, another town, a marsh, a lake? She didn't know
Elena bit her lip. We might not be able to find food for days. And we'll be hungry and cold, but we'll have to keep moving no matter how tired we are or how many blisters we have on our feet. Are you sure you can do that?'
The light in Finch's eyes had not dimmed for an instant. 'I can, I can! I promise. Afore my uncle gave me to Talbot, I was hungry all the time and cold too, for I slept with the dogs. But I never cried. I promise I won't ever cry, even if I'm starving. Please, Holly, please let's go now, afore the werecat comes,' he begged, tugging on her hand.
'No, we can't go yet. Talbot or Ma might look for us, or go to the cellars to feed the animals. We'll have to wait until this evening, until everyone is busy, then we won't be missed. And we'll have all night to walk in the dark with less chance of anyone seeing us.'
'But what if the werecat comes afore we get away?'
'Ma won't let anyone in here until it's dark, not tonight.' Seeing the child's face crumple, she said quickly, You get whatever clothes and food you can, tie them in a bundle and hide them near the cellar door. But be careful no one sees you. Then tonight, once the feast has started, I'll meet you.. .' she stared around the garden trying to find a suitable place, 'over there.' She pointed to a large bush closest to the courtyard wall. 'Keep moving around, but keep watching that bush. I'll go there when I think it's safe. I'll nod to you. When you see my signal you creep along to the boys' chamber and make sure it's empty. If it is, go and hide in there till I come. Can you do that?'
Finch nodded eagerly and in a fit of joy suddenly hugged her, so fiercely that Elena thought he would never let her go.
The moon rose bright and fat, clad only in a few wisps of cloud. The evening star pierced the indigo sky, but few gazed upwards to see it as one by one the lanterns were lit in the brothel garden, misting the trees with soft yellow pools of light. The naked wooden angel now pissed wine that sprayed out in a graceful arc from between her spread legs whenever someone pressed her lusciously rounded breast. The older women bustled out from the kitchens, piling the tables with platters of food, but there were none of your dainty dishes and pewter goblets at this feast.
Flagons of mead, wine, ale and cider graced the little tables, surrounded by all manner of curious little vessels a man might wish to drink from: a polished goat's horn, a leather cup fashioned as a woman's shoe, or a breast-shaped pot from which he could suck his chosen libation through a hole in the rosy nipple.
There were other plump round breasts formed from curd tarts with cherry nipples, which nuzzled alongside goose-filled pastries shaped like men's cocks which squirted thick rich gravy into the mouths of the biters. Custards were moulded into buttocks, with rosehip jelly syrups dribbling between their fat cheeks. Breads were baked into curvaceous torsos. Brawn became shapely legs and arms, whilst rosewater pudding was moulded into sweet red lips. Pike in galentyne was formed into a female belly, with strands of green samphire dripping with melted butter artistically arranged as her pubic hair. In short, every part of the human anatomy that a man could desire was fashioned in sweet or savoury, salt or sour to whet his appetite.
As soon as a good crowd of men were gathered, the crowning glory of the feast was borne in to a loud rattle of drums from the musicians who at once struck up a lively tune. Not for these gentlemen a cooked duck artfully disguised as a living peacock. No, a man could see exactly what meats he was being offered here. A giant penis had been created by stuffing larks inside a boned chicken, the chicken in a goose, the goose in a heron. At one end, on either side of the long thick sausage of meat, two sheep's stomachs had been packed with mutton, beef and pork until they were as round and taut as the rising moon. And, in honour of the Archangel Michael whose feast it was, two goose wings were attached on either side as if the whole creation was in flight.
The four women who bore in the flying genitals on a great wooden board swooped and swerved in a mocking dance, wafting the tip past the girls with cries of 'You think you can stretch to this one, Annie?' 'Now this'll give you something to get your teeth into, girl.' The men roared their appreciation.
All over the garden, men and youths were lounging in twos or threes. Girls were sprawled across their laps, feeding them meats and pastries from their own fair fingers, dripping with juice or sauces, which the men sucked at like infants at their mother's knee. A few men and women were dancing to the bawdy songs of the musicians, while others joined in the choruses, bellowing like bulls near cows in heat, with much enthusiasm but precious little melody.
A few couples had already retreated behind the gauze hangings, clearly wanting privacy for their passions. But the customers, unlike the brothel girls, were oblivious to the fact that the artfully placed lanterns threw every twist and turn of their antics as giant shadows on to the walls, much to the amusement and delight of those watching the play.
Elena tried to keep to the corners of the garden as much as possible, and whenever a man did try to catch hold of her, she slipped away on the pretext, as Luce had advised, of fetching him a drink or some food, but never returning. She gazed anxiously round for Finch. She saw the other boys who were plainly enjoying the feast, stuffing themselves with food or sitting on men's knees, letting themselves be fondled while sipping wine from the men's own goblets. But of Finch there was no sign.
She was so preoccupied with searching for him that she didn't notice Luce heading purposefully in her direction until it was too late. Luce was leading a young man by the hand who could have been scarcely more than thirteen or fourteen summers. To Elena, a woman at sixteen, he was a mere boy.
'Here we are then,' Luce said in a motherly tone, thrusting the blushing youth at Elena. 'This is Holly, she'll take care of you.'
Seeing that Elena was about to make some excuse, Luce leaned forward and hissed, 'You best take this one. Ma's watching you and if you don't take him, she's liable to fix you up with someone herself. Besides, this one'll do no more than stare, poor lamb. He's not a clue what it's for, except to piss with, and I doubt he's even learned to do that straight yet.'
The lamb in question must have heard her, for he blushed even more furiously and chewed his knuckle. Elena glanced across the garden. On a high gilded chair placed against one wall Ma was following the proceedings with the intensity of a hunting hawk. With a flick of her jewelled fingers, she motioned girls towards the shy, the elderly or the ugly who were gazing at the more fortunate men and their giggling lovers with hungry expressions.
Ma's black hair gleamed with a dozen gold pins, each inlaid with emerald-green glass that glinted in the candlelight so that it seemed as if a dozen eyes blinked out of the dark nest. She wore a long, viper-green cloak trimmed with sable which, though greasy and a little worn, still looked lustrous in the flattering light of the lantern. It must once have been made for a lady of normal height and Ma had arranged it around herself so that it covered her legs and fell to the floor. Thus enthroned, anyone who did not know her would think her the height of any other woman.
Ma's head was turned towards Elena. At this distance she could not be sure Ma was watching her, but she could take no chances. Elena forced a smile and asked the young lad if it was his first time here.
He nodded, staring at her chest, though Elena couldn't decide if that was lust or that he was merely too shy to look her in the face.
'My brother brought me. Said it was high rime I ... my brother's had hundreds of girls,' he finished lamely. He gave a jerk of his head over to where three gangling young men were all but hidden under the buxom girls who sat on their laps, nuzzling their fa
ces.
'I'm sure he hasn't had as many as he boasts,' Elena said. She led the youth to a pallet placed under one of the trees that she had earlier decorated with fruit and plucked a few grapes from the bunch. Sitting beside him, she tried to feed him the grapes one at a time as she'd seen the other women do, but whereas other men would have lain back and made a sensuous game of it, the lad hunched forward, allowing her to stuff the grapes into his mouth, with no more pleasure than a fretful infant allowing a mother to spoon gruel into him.
'You . . . you can touch me, if you want,' Elena said reluctantly, but knowing she must do something.
She gazed around, searching the garden for Finch. Where was he? They must go soon. They needed as many hours of darkness as they could get to put distance between them and Norwich. What if they couldn't find a way out of the town? She knew some towns had gates. They hadn't passed through a gate when they'd entered, but that was because they'd come by boat. Could you simply march out of the city? She realized she had no clear idea of where they were in Norwich, only a hazy recollection of walking through a maze of streets to get here. Finch said the tunnel in the cellar came out near a river. If they followed the river, it must lead —