Текст книги "Witch from the Sea"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Sometimes I would go to the ramparts of Nonna’s Tower and look through the battlements to the sea. There the great black rocks known as the Devil’s Teeth could sometimes be seen, but only when the tide was out. They were a group of cruel, sharp-pointed rocks. Teeth was an apt description, particularly if they were seen at some angles. Then their formation could be likened to a grinning mouth. At high tide they were not visible, lurking as they did just below the surface of the water. They were about half a mile out to sea and almost in a straight line with Castle Paling. Some people called them the Paling Rocks.

The great wall of the castle on the sea side rose up starkly straight, and looking down at the surf below, I thought what a well chosen spot it was for a fortification. It would have been almost impossible to attack from the sea and there was only the landward side to be protected.

I found the desire to stand up there and lean on the battlements and gaze down irresistible and dangerous. It seemed to me symbolic of my life here.

Once when I was up there I was seized from behind and Colum lifted me off the ground and held me high. He laughed in that way of his which I could have called satanic.

“What are you doing up here?” he demanded. “You were leaning over too far. What if you had fallen? You would have killed yourself and our son. By God, I’d never have forgiven you.”

“As I should have been past your vengeance why should I care?”

He put me down and kissed me hard on the mouth.

“I couldn’t do without you now, wife,” he said.

I put my hand up and touched his hair. “Why do you always call me wife? It sounds unromantic … it is as an innkeeper might call his spouse.”

“What else are you?”

“Linnet.”

“Bah!” he said. “A silly little bird.”

“Names change when you are fond of people. You might get to like it.”

“Never,” he said. “The day I call you Linnet you will know I have ceased to love you.”

I shivered and he noticed.

“Yes,” he said, “you should take care to keep me warm. You must always do your wifely duty. You must give me sons and sons.”

“Beauty is impaired by too much childbearing.”

“That may be. But the sons are a man’s compensation.”

“But if she no longer arouses his desire?”

“Then he turns elsewhere. A fact of nature,” he said curtly.

“I would not wish that to happen.”

“Then you must see that it does not.”

“And what if a wife is neglected? She might turn elsewhere. What of that?”

“If she were my wife that would be the time to beware.”

“What would you do to her if she were unfaithful?”

He lifted me up suddenly and set me on the parapet. He laughed and it did indeed sound like the laughter of devils. “I should take my revenge, you may be sure. Mayhap I’d give her to the rocks.”

He lifted me down and held me against him. “There, I alarm you and that is not good for our boy. Why should you speak of such things? Have I not given you proof that you are my choice?” He took my chin in his hands and jerked up my face. “And you, are you a wanton then that you talk to your husband in this way? What of Fennimore Landor, eh? Did you not once think of marrying that man?”

“It was mentioned,” I said.

“Did he ask you?”

“Yes, he did.”

“I am amazed that you did not accept such a model of virtue.”

“It was after …”

That amused him. “After I had taught you what it meant to bed with a real man, eh?”

“Remember I was not conscious.”

“Enough though to realize, eh?”

“I knew that I had been deflowered.”

“What a foolish expression! Deflowered! Rather have you been flowered. Have not I given you fertility? Our son will be the flower and the fruit. Deflowered! I did you great honour and much good as you will admit.”

“Yes,” I said, “I think I will admit it here, where none can hear but you and the choughs.”

Then he kissed me again and in his hands which caressed my body was that tenderness which was the more precious because it was so rare.

Then he held me against the stone wall and he talked about the castle, how it was his stronghold and how he had walked the ramparts when he was a boy, how he had dreamed of possessing it and had played wild games in the dungeons and on the winding spiral staircases.

“There are stories of my ancestors which we pass on from generation to generation,” he told me. There was in his eyes a yearning and I knew he was seeing our boy playing in the castle, learning to grow up like his father.

“We have been a wild lot,” he said. “What a family you have married into! In the reign of King Stephen my ancestor of that time was a robber baron. He used to waylay travellers and bring them to his castle. He was called the Fiend of Paling. In the Seaward Tower”—he pointed to it—“he used to take his victims there and he would demand a ransom of their family and if it were not paid the victim would be tortured. He would give a grand banquet and bring him out for the amusement of his cronies. At night it is said that the cries of long dead tortured men and women can be heard in the Seaward Tower.” He looked at me sharply and I could see he was thinking of the child I carried. “There is nothing to fear,” he went on quickly. “It was all long ago. Then Stephen died and Henry II was our King. He was for law and order and extorting money for his wars through taxes, so he suppressed the robber barons by means of meting out dire punishments and the Casvellyns had to find a new means of sustenance.”

“I have seen men going in and out of the Seaward Tower.”

“My servants,” he said. “They are fishermen, many of them. They catch our fish and I have a fancy for it. They serve me in many ways. Down there in the lower part of the Seaward Tower are our boats. You may see them venturing out now and then. Have you seen them?”

“No.”

“You will know our ways in due time. I will tell you of another ancestor of mine. He had a fair wife but he was very fond of women. It is a failing—or it may be a virtue—in the men of my family. They adore women. They need women.”

“Are you telling me this to put me on my guard?”

“One must always be on one’s guard to hold a possession which is precious. You should remember that.”

“Should we both remember it?”

“Aye, we will. I was telling you of my ancestor.”

“The one who needed women and was unfaithful to his wife. Is that an uncommon story?”

“Not in my family, nor in any for that matter, I’ll swear, but where this Casvellyn was different was that, being in love with his wife who was a very fair lady, yet he could fall in love with another who was equally fair. The second lady was a very moral woman and although she greatly desired this Casvellyn he knew he could not have her—save by rape—unless he married her. He was not a man for a quick seduction and that be that. Nay, he liked marriage. He liked the cosy comforts of it. But he wanted more than one wife. So what did he do?” He turned me round, so that we were looking at the turrets of those two towers which faced landward. “There you see our two towers, Ysella’s Tower and the Crows’ Tower.”

“I did not know they all had names.”

“Yes, Seaward you know, and Nonna’s. They face the sea and Ysella’s and Crows face the land. Seaward is so called for the obvious reason that it looks to the sea, and Crows because I imagine crows once nested there. Ysella and Nonna were the names of that long dead Casvellyn’s wives. For ten years Ysella lived in her tower and Nonna did not know she was there. He kept them apart. He would say farewell to Nonna and ride away. Then he would come back when it was dark and take the secret door to Ysella’s Tower and behave as though he had come home after a long journey. He would stay with her for a while and then ride away and return to Nonna.”

“I don’t believe it. It’s not possible. Two wives living in the same castle! Why did they not explore their home?”

“He forbade them to and wives in those days were obedient. He told Ysella that Nonna’s Tower was haunted and Nonna that Ysella’s was, and that if either of them ventured near the other, evil would befall the house. He said it was the result of a witch’s curse. He would never allow them to leave the castle unless he accompanied them.”

“It seems quite incredible.”

“It is the legend and when people used to say, as you do, that it is impossible, my father always replied that with the Casvellyns all things were possible.”

“That is blasphemy.”

“Maybe blasphemy can be truth.”

“And what happened? Did they discover each other?”

“Yes. One day Nonna was here on the ramparts and she saw a figure on the ramparts of Ysella’s Tower. Neither of them should have been where they were. It was part of the forbidden territory. Nonna called her servants but by the time they came Ysella had disappeared. This gave rise to the legend that there was a ghost at the tower (it was not called Ysella’s then of course, nor was this called Nonna’s). Nonna confessed that she had been on the ramparts and asked her husband to explore the tower for her, for she pointed out if they were a party they need not fear the ghost. He refused and something in the manner of his refusal made her more curious. It is never good to be too curious, particularly about a husband’s secrets. Nonna was determined to find out more about the ghost of Ysella’s Tower. One day she took her maid with her and explored. They entered the tower but they could not get beyond the barred door; they did not know that there was a secret way in close to the rocks. One day she followed her husband when he went away on one of his journeys and lying in hiding saw him enter Ysella’s Tower by a secret door. She followed him in and came face to face with Ysella. She understood what had happened and there was nothing for their husband to do but admit his guilt. That day Nonna died. She fell from the top of Ysella’s Tower. That was the first time she had entered it. My ancestor then brought Ysella out of her tower and proclaimed her to be his wife. They lived together until the end of their days, but it is said that Nonna haunts Ysella’s Tower from that day. There! That is the most colourful of our family legends, do you not think? It is a lesson too for disobedient wives who are too curious.”

“Was she over curious would you say?”

“If she had not ventured into Ysella’s Tower she would not have died.”

“So it was murder.”

“Who can say? I am merely telling you what I have heard.”

“What a wild family you come from.”

“Remember you belong to it now,” he retorted. “And take care.”

Overhead the choughs were circling. I caught a glimpse of red beaks as they flew near.

“I see,” I said, “that this legend is meant to be a warning to wives.”

“Why, yes. We Casvellyns have always found it wise to warn our wives.” His eyes had grown tender again. “It is chill up here,” he went on. “And you are lightly clad. Come. We will go down.”

He put his arm through mine as we descended and although I was still thinking of the story of the two wives I felt happy and at ease.

My mother visited me at Castle Paling. I was so happy to see her, to show the castle, to take her round and tell her the story of the towers.

“You’re happy then, Linnet,” she said, as though surprised.

“Life has become so … full,” I said.

She nodded. “So it was all for the best,” she mused. She was very relieved.

She asked me a great deal of questions about my health and it seemed that what I had to tell satisfied her.

It was the end of April and what an April that was with the hedges full of wild flowers and the intermittent rain and sunshine. I would listen for the cry of the birds—the ring-ouzel, the sand-martin and of course the cuckoo. There were many questions to be asked about what was happening at Lyon Court. Edwina’s child was due in June and she was all impatience. Carlos was anxious because they had waited so long. Jacko was courting a girl in Plymouth and it seemed that ere long there would be another wedding. Damask wanted to know why I didn’t come home. And my father was eager to know whether there was any sign that the child I was carrying was a boy.

I laughed, recalling them all. They seemed far away from me now and I was ashamed that I had missed them so little.

My mother mentioned that the Landors had visited Lyon Court again. Business plans were going ahead. Very soon they would be sending out their ships. My father was very busy and that involved everyone else. There was a great deal of activity and it was decided that Plymouth should be their headquarters, as was to be expected.

There was something else she had to tell me. Fennimore had ridden over to hear from her the story of my marriage. She said he had seemed quite bewildered. So must he have been for, according to what we had allowed people to believe, when he had asked me to marry him I had already been married to Colum.

He had not shown any anger, said my mother, just amazement. “I had to tell him the truth,” she went on. “I knew I could trust him. I could not have him believe you to be perfidious. He was very, very sad. He said you should have told him. He would have understood. I begged of him to forget what had happened if he could. I told him that I had spoken to him in the utmost confidence and that what was done was done. He saw the point of it. You were married now. Oh, Linnet, he would have understood. He would have married you. Perhaps we should have told him.”

“It is better as it is,” I insisted.

“You are happy. You would not have it otherwise.”

She smiled at me, understanding perfectly I knew.

She went on: “Soon after I heard he was to be betrothed to a girl he had known all his life. Her family are neighbours of the Landors. It will be a most suitable union.”

“He quickly consoled himself,” was my comment.

“We should be glad of that,” replied my mother.

I said: “He would face up to the situation calmly, accepting the fact that he and I were not for each other.”

I thought how different he was from Colum and I was glad that everything had turned out as it had. In these short months my emotions had been revolutionized. I could imagine no man my husband but Colum Casvellyn.

My mother, being aware of this, was delighted. I was pleased too to notice that Colum had an admiration for her. She would always be a very attractive woman, not so much because of her features and figure which were still quite good, but because of that spirit in her, that vitality which I was sure had attracted my father in the first place and still did.

My mother told Colum that she and my father thought it would be an excellent plan if they took me to Lyon Court a little later so that she herself could care for me at the end of my pregnancy.

“You cannot imagine that I will relinquish my wife, even to her parents,” cried Colum. “No, Madam, my son is to be born in Castle Paling. That is where he shall first see the light of the day in the walls of that castle which will one day be his.”

“I want her to have the best care.”

“Think you that I cannot give her that?” They faced each other squarely, my mother ready to do battle with him as she had so often with my father, and he amused, liking her for it.

They compromised and it was arranged that in August, that month when my baby was due, my mother should come to Castle Paling. It was the only way, for she was determined to be with me when my child was born and Colum was equally determined that the birth should take place in Castle Paling.

It was mid-May when my mother went home promising to return at the beginning of August. Colum and I rode some of the way back with her, and when she had left us Colum told me that I should not be allowed to ride much longer; he was not risking my losing the child. I was happy enough to be so cherished.

The weeks began to pass very quickly. I was preparing for my child and my mother sent Jennet over to be with me. I might wish to keep Jennet, she said; she was an excellent nurse and had a way with children.

I had always been fond of Jennet. I found her a great comfort and it was rather pleasant to have a reminder of my old home in Castle Paling.

Jennet was delighted to come, although she missed seeing her son Jacko, but of course now that he was a man he did not need to be tied to his mother’s apron-strings and for several years he had been away at sea for long stretches of time and she was used to being without him. “As long as he be well and happy, that’s all I ask,” she said. “The Captain will see to him for the Captain looks after his own.” She was proud because he was courting a girl in Plymouth who, she whispered to me, was a very fine lady.

It was not long before she had made friends with one of the serving-men. She talked about him a great deal. His name was Tobias and the manner in which she spoke of him would have led one to believe that she had never known another man.

“He be in Seaward,” she told me, so I knew that he was one of those men I had seen going in and out of that tower and about whose occupation I had wondered.

One June day I needed Jennet to do some sewing for me which I wanted quickly, and as I couldn’t find her I went in search of her. I guessed that she was in or near the Seaward Tower so I made my way there. It was a strange thing, but although I had been in the castle for four months or so there was a great deal of it I had not seen. I knew the Crows’ Tower and Nonna’s very well indeed as we lived in them. As Seaward was occupied by the servants I had not ventured into it, and I often wondered about Ysella’s. Once I had wandered across the courtyards and come to the iron-studded door in the thick wall. I had tried it. It was locked. I made up my mind that some time I would ask Colum to show me every part of the castle.

On this occasion I made my way towards Seaward. I crossed the inner ward and as I came towards the entrance of the tower I could hear a clamour and the sound of much laughter. I pushed open the iron-studded door which was similar to that barred one which led to Ysella’s. Immediately facing me were steps leading down. I went down them cautiously for I was now beginning to feel less nimble. As I descended I could feel the strong fresh air on my cheeks and the unmistakable sound and smell of the sea.

I came down into what seemed like a stable yard. I was amazed at the number of horses and there were some donkeys too. I realized that the voices I had heard had not come from here. It was a strange place. On one side of the courtyard was a door and opening it, I was on a path which wound upwards to the coast road. On the shore several small boats were moored to stakes.

The tide was low and I could see the sharp points of the Devil’s Teeth protruding from the water.

I decided Jennet was not there so I retraced my steps and climbed the stairs. I was now in the small hall-like entrance on the tower side of the iron-studded door. I noticed then another door I had missed, and I realized that it was from behind this that the voices came.

I pushed it open and walked in. There was a large chamber with a big table in the centre of it. Seated round it were several men and a few women. Jennet was among them. These were the people I had seen from the Crows’ Tower—the fishermen of whom Colum had spoken.

I heard Jennet’s shrill: “Why, ’tis the mistress.”

They shuffled to their feet and looked uncomfortable.

I said: “I came to look for you, Jennet.”

“Why yes, mistress,” she said, blushing a little.

“I do not wish to disturb your meal,” I said.

One of the men who appeared to be a leader of them mumbled something.

I said: “Come, Jennet.”

She came at once.

I did not know why but I felt uneasy. These were my husband’s retainers and I was the châtelaine of the castle. Why should I feel that there was something strange about them, that they were not ordinary servants? They were respectful enough and yet in a way they seemed a little shocked to find me here. Why? Wasn’t the castle my home?

The man who sat at the head of the table came over to me and said: “You should be careful, mistress, of the stairs here. They can be dangerous, like. ’Tis easy to trip.”

I said: “I went down them. I had no idea there were so many horses and that there was a path up to the road.”

“Aye,” he said. “But the master would not wish you to use they stairs.”

“I’ll be careful,” I said.

I had a feeling that I had met this man before. There was something familiar about his movements.

I was very conscious of so many eyes upon me. Why should I feel so uncomfortable? Why should the fact that I had disturbed my husband’s servants at a meal—in which my own maid was sharing—make me feel so uneasy, and that I was in the presence of something rather strange?

It’s my condition, I told myself. Everything that seemed a little strange could be put down to that.

Jennet and I came out into the courtyard.

I said: “You have soon become friendly with your fellow-servants, Jennet.”

She giggled in that girlish way of hers. “Why yes, Mistress Linnet, I was always one to make friends quick, like.”

“And your friend … ?”

She blushed. “He be a very fine man, Mistress. He did take a fancy to me from the first. All that time ago …”

“All what time ago? You have not been here so long.”

She clapped her hands to her lips. A silly habit of hers when she had said something impetuously; she had always done it, I remembered from my childhood.

“Well, Mistress, he did see me long ago … when I were out with you and the mistress.”

“I know,” I said, “it was when we were returning from Trystan Priory.”

She looked so embarrassed that I knew I was right. So she was aware that the plot had been made in this house and that the band of robbers who had beset us on the road were Colum’s men.

I felt angry that she should be aware of this; then I shrugged my shoulders.

“It’s all right,” I said. “I know what happened. My husband … confessed.”

Jennet was greatly relieved. “My dear life, what a man he be. There be only one other to rival him and that be the Captain.” Then she appeared to be contrite. I supposed she was thinking of her present lover whom her optimistic nature would always tell her was the best she had ever had.

She said: “He do say, Mistress, that on the road there he fancied me. He would have run off with me, he says, if orders hadn’t been different.”

“It is over now, Jennet,” I said, “and best forgotten.”

Best forgotten! I thought. What a foolish thing to say. How could something be forgotten which had changed one’s whole life, which had brought me my husband and the child I now carried.

“Jennet,” I said rather primly, “I suppose you will always be the same.”

“I suppose so,” she said with happy resignation.

I told Colum that I had been to Seaward Tower and met some of his servants who lived there.

“They are good men,” he said.

“And women.”

“They have their wives and women. That is necessary, you understand.”

“I understand. My Jennet has joined them.”

He burst out laughing. “It does not surprise me.”

“She has quickly found a lover there.”

“Jennet would find a lover anywhere. Who is the man?”

“I know none of them by name. But I thought I recognized the leader of your robber band.”

He laughed again.

“So they know of how I was tricked. I am not sure that I like that.”

“They are discreet. They are not like ordinary servants.”

“No, they do not seem so. I gather that they do special work for you.”

His bushy brows shot up. “What do you mean by that?”

“Such as abducting females on the road.”

“Such work they do admirably, you will admit.”

“They will be laughing at how I was duped.”

“They would not dare. They are good servants and wish me well. They are delighted to have had a hand in bringing me my present happiness.”

I was reconciled.

He put his arms about me gently and drew me to him. “You should not wander about the castle without me or someone with you. There are so many dangerous places … Those spiral staircases … you could so easily trip and fall. The cobbled courtyards, the unevenness of the stones and all the steep paths. You must not wander off alone. I forbid you to.”

“So must the husband of Nonna have talked to her! I am not allowed to ride. What may I do?”

“You may obey your husband. I place no restriction on that.”

“You are … despotic.”

“I am the ruler of my home.”

“The king of your castle.”

“Why should I not be? When the child is born you will have him to occupy you and then we will ride together out into the country. We will visit your parents. Perhaps we will call on the Landors. I heard that your would-be-husband has quickly become reconciled. He is to be married shortly. Of course she is a wealthy young lady. But he has taken his disappointment well, has he not?”

“I feel little interest in his affairs.”

“Why should you when you have a husband and a child of your own?”

“I am content,” I said, “deeply content.”

July had come, hot and sultry. I often climbed to the ramparts although I knew that Colum would have been displeased if he knew. Sometimes I took Jennet with me. I noticed how often her eyes strayed to the Seaward Tower.

She told me something of life in that tower, of the man who was her lover and who had taken her out in his boat on one occasion. They had fished and brought home their catch and it had been cooked and eaten at the table in the Seaward Tower.

“There are plenty of boats there and all those horses,” she said. It was an exciting place, the Seaward Tower. She had helped to clean the lanterns there. Never had she seen so many.

I was beginning to feel uncomfortable now. It could only be about six weeks from my confinement. I was so longing for my child to be born that the days seemed as though they would never pass. One day I wandered down through the inner ward and came at length to Ysella’s Tower. I looked at the iron-studded door and up at those grim, grey walls. Was the story true? It was impossible. How could a man keep someone’s identity secret for ten years? Surely she would have been seen? There would be a door on the other side of the tower similar to the one I had discovered in Seaward; there might be a little path there. Had that long-ago Casvellyn been as forceful as his descendants? I was sure he had. He would have forbidden Ysella and Nonna to leave their towers unescorted and perhaps he had good reason for this in view of what Colum had told me about the robbers on the road. I pictured Ysella up there waiting for the man she believed to be her husband and Nonna waiting for the same man who was hers.

It was a wild and fantastic story—the sort which attached themselves to old places like this.

I tried the iron-studded door. It would not move. Had I really expected it to?

I began to feel exhausted and fearing for the child retraced my steps back to the Crows’ Tower.

August came—the long-awaited month. A messenger had arrived from Lyon Court with the news that my mother would be setting out in a few days’ time.

One night I awoke startled and found that I was alone. The curtains drawn about the bed made it pitch black. It had been a stifling hot day and I had been quite exhausted by the weather and my condition.

I could hear something so I drew aside the curtain. I realized at once that it was the heavy rain. I got out of bed and went to the window. I could hear the rain pelting down on the stones and a wind was howling. A flash of lightning lit up the sky briefly. I saw the towers against the angry sky; then came the great crack of thunder which sounded as though it was overhead.

I went back to my bed. I could not sleep. I wondered where Colum was on such a night and whether the roads would be sodden when my mother set out from Lyon Court.

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 ship 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 ship 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 sturdily 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 grassy 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.”