The Embers of Daylight, page 30
Kaylein closed her eyes, weary resignation washing over her. How long would it be until Sam's confession found its way out of that monastery to join the other rumours?
“I only got into that fight because I was drunk,” Sam said. “Some folk were talking about you, saying you'd slept with an old priest. It was awful talk, so I just felt I should put them right. They didn't much appreciate it.”
“It's alright. It can't be undone now.”
He grinned. “But you're the countess. You can scare them all into shutting up.”
“I'm not that sort of countess, and even if I were, I'm still not sure it would do any good. Let's not talk about that now. Tell me where you've been all this time.” Her voice cracked. “Isaac tells me Calia enjoys hearing stories about her papa's adventures. I'd like to have a few more to tell her.”
So Sam told her. The pace at which he'd lived his life made Kaylein feel like she'd been standing still for the past six years. He'd done so many things, visited so many places. Along with being a monk, he'd worked as a ferryman, a thatcher, joined a pilgrimage to the capital, stolen a set of jewelled scales from a guild hall, poached a herd of goats from an ill-tempered baron, and swum down a river for half a day to escape the hunting hounds sent after him. Perhaps it was the colourfulness of his existence that blunted his fear of the noose, for he'd already lived more of a life than most people twice his age. He'd always been bound for an end like this, one way or another. Whether it was the gallows or an alehouse brawl, Sam's recklessness would have caught up to him eventually. Kaylein felt foolish for ever having believed she could change him. Their romance had been just as foolish. Talking to him now, as a grown woman rather than a sheltered girl, she realised how utterly mismatched they were. He'd shown her something new, and she had latched on to it without any mindfulness of the consequences.
She wondered whether that had been for the better or worse. Perhaps she wouldn't have found companionship with Tabitha had it not been for Sam. Calia would never have been born, and she might have married Peter believing that the hollow marriage they shared was what all love was supposed to be like. She shuddered at the thought. One thing was certain: she would not have become the person she was without Sam. And that, perhaps, was a way of seeing beauty in God's great scheme, for nothing would be as it was if not for the things that had come before. When Sam died, he would return to God, and when his next life came he might be more like the man Kaylein wanted him to be. Or perhaps he would be a woman. That thought made her smile, so she shared it with him.
“Can a man's soul really become a woman's?” he asked with a laugh.
“Many priests would say it cannot, but some of the old scriptures beg to differ. I think God reshapes our souls into whatever form they need.”
“I might not mind being a woman. It'd be something different.”
“I don't think you'd mind, either. You were always happy to go wherever the wind took you.”
For the first time since they started talking, a note of worry entered Sam's voice. “Do you think I'll go to heaven?”
The sadness in Kaylein's chest threatened to well up in tears. She slipped her hand between the bars and groped until it found Sam's. “Wherever you go, I'm sure it will be a wonderful adventure.”
He squeezed her fingers tightly. “Will you do one thing for me?”
“Of course.”
“Don't come to the marketplace tomorrow. I wouldn't want you to see it.”
A sob finally rose in her throat. “But–”
“It's making you sad already. Please don't come.”
“Oh, Sam.” She rested her forehead against the bars as her tears began to fall. “You silly, silly Sam.”
She stayed with him for the rest of the day, her legs growing stiff as she sat on the hard stone floor. They spoke of their youth, of their time together, and of the days that had passed since. When night fell, Kaylein still couldn't bear to leave him. She wanted him to have someone nearby until the sheriff's men came to take him away at dawn. Only at his insistence did she finally pick herself up and say goodbye. She squeezed his hand tight, pulled it toward her, and kissed his cheek through the bars. Her throat had become so tight that her farewell came out as a whisper. Sam smiled, stepped back from the light, and disappeared into the gloom of his cell.
The jailer's wife had come with food and a fresh candle halfway through the afternoon, and Kaylein found her lingering on the other side of the door when she returned to the hall. Her stomach felt hollow with hunger, for she'd given all the food to Sam. Her legs tingled and there were tears on her cheeks. As if in a daze, she walked halfway to the door before turning to address the other woman.
“Were you listening to what we said?”
The jailer's wife stared sullenly into Kaylein's chest. Her silence attested to her guilt. She might not have caught every word, but doubtless she'd spent all afternoon with her ear pressed to the door. The prisoners in the other cell would have heard, too. They'd all know it was true. Kaylein had loved this lowborn man, broken her holy vows with him, and had a child out of wedlock while she was engaged to Peter. She didn't have the energy to fight the rumours anymore. The truth was inevitable. She might as well stand before the town and proclaim it openly. At least then she could own up to the past with her head held high.
Perhaps she would have done just that had it not been for the one person she still longed to protect from the truth. Calia didn't deserve to suffer for her mother's mistakes.
Kaylein returned to the castle in the dark, ignoring the questions that awaited her at the gates. Peter avoided her when she came upstairs. She went to Tabitha's room and dozed in her arms, unable to sleep. The sick feeling of anticipation in her stomach didn't go away until the next morning when she heard the baying crowd in the market square. Just as Sam had made her promise, she didn't go to watch. Tabitha comforted her, saying it was for the best.
Even though she didn't have to watch the hangman's rope tighten, she still heard the roar of the crowd through her window. The voices rose sharply in a crescendo of excitement, then gradually settled back down.
When the hubbub faded, she knew Sam was dead.
Chapter 21
It took another week for Kaylein's thoughts to coalesce after the hanging. She began to accept that a grave realisation had been creeping up on her, not just because of the gossip about town, but because of her relationship with Tabitha and the completion of her book. Her farewell to Sam had forced her to see things from a new perspective. The grief cut through her worries like a swift wind through smoke, sharpening and clarifying the world around her.
Something needed to change. At first, she didn't know what, for she still felt trapped by the gathering momentum of the rumours on one side and the importance of protecting Calia on the other. If the truth came out, Duke Larmond would surely want Kaylein and Peter to take Calia as their heir, ripping her away from her family and forcing her into the life of a noblewoman. Even if he didn't, someone else would press the same thing upon her sooner or later. Just as Kaylein had been used to help legitimise Peter's claim to the county, so too would other ambitious nobles seek to use Calia to similar ends.
Kaylein sought guidance through prayer, in conversation with Tabitha, and eventually from Mother Jane and Bishop Virgil. To her shame, she couldn't bring herself to confess the whole truth to the bishop, but she did hint that she was in turmoil, trapped between the perpetuation of a lie and the admission of a dangerous truth.
It was then that she realised what she had to do. The last time she'd spoken to the bishop, she'd asked him to find a new prioress for the sisters of Kinedwyn. He'd said he had no one to spare, not unless she could find someone herself.
Therein lay Kaylein's best hope of protecting Calia. As long as the girl was the daughter of a countess, she would always be in danger. If the truth was destined to come out, there was only one thing Kaylein could do to keep her daughter safe. She could be the countess no longer. It was an idea she'd never seriously entertained before, but things had been different back then. When she'd first married Peter, she'd had the weight of her oath hanging over her. There had still been a risk of the kingdom devolving into war again, and she'd wanted the time and resources to pen her book.
But her book was complete. The means of its production were largely out of her hands. The kingdom was at peace, and she'd come to learn that Peter had little interest in taking her advice on how to run the county. There were many good reasons for her to seek an escape and few for her to stay. Yet still, it was a grave undertaking. One did not seek to dissolve their marriage to a count lightly.
With great trepidation, she confessed her idea to Tabitha. When it met with her approval, she steeled herself to confront her husband. She would be taking an enormous risk. If Peter couldn't be swayed, she would resent him forever. But for Calia's sake, she had to try.
She waited until Peter retired to the solar, then dismissed Tabitha and told her to keep anyone else from coming upstairs. She ate supper with her husband, waiting until he finished his first goblet of wine before engaging him in conversation.
As always, she had trouble knowing where to start. She wasn't naturally silver-tongued, nor did she have the easy understanding of how to manoeuvre a conversation to her advantage. But she was weary of deceptions and half-truths. She wanted an end to it all. Plainness and honesty were virtues Kaylein had always striven for, yet circumstance had often denied them. She had to be honest now. She would throw herself upon Peter's mercy and pray that the goodness of his spirit would shine through.
“I wish to rejoin the church.”
Peter looked up from the remnants of his meal with a raised eyebrow. “How do you mean?”
“I mean that I wish to become a nun again.”
He gave her a half-smile, as though he thought she was making a joke. “Well, you are my wife, so that may be difficult.”
“I mean it. The vows of a nun take precedence over vows of marriage. If you approved my decision, the church would welcome me back.”
“What is this about, Kaylein? What's been vexing you lately? I spoke to the sheriff on your behalf–since which he has been deliberately avoiding me, by the way–and now you want me to send you away to a convent. Why?”
“If I tell you, will you try your best not to be furious?”
He pursed his lips and swirled the dregs of wine in his goblet. “I can certainly try.”
“These rumours that have been gathering in recent weeks–”
“You aren't fretting over that nonsense still?”
“It's not nonsense.” She swallowed the uncomfortable lump in her throat. “The things they say are true. I did have a daughter before we married. That man I asked the sheriff to spare was her father.”
Peter's face reddened with incredulity. “Is that why you went to see him?”
Kaylein nodded. “I loved him once. I couldn't let him spend his last day alone. I fear the jailer's wife and some of the other prisoners overheard us talking.”
Peter slammed the table with his palm so suddenly that Kaylein flinched. “How could you be so stupid?! You make a fool of me, and then you go and confess it in public! Do you not appreciate what I did for you by intervening with the sheriff? By God, I knew this marriage was a mistake from the moment my father suggested it.”
“All the more reason to bring it to an amicable end!” Kaylein said, struggling to hold her nerve in the face of her husband's anger.
“Don't be foolish. My father would never allow it.”
“Your father is miles away in the mountains! By the time word reaches him, there'll be nothing he can do. He's not my keeper. You are.”
Peter glowered at her. “It was your hand in marriage that secured my claim to Tannersfield.”
“A claim that you needed six years ago, but not now. The lords accept you as their liege. There is no more danger of war breaking out.”
“You will humiliate me.”
“Any more than I am humiliating you now?” Kaylein pleaded. “Nothing we can do short of what I suggest will bring an end to this gossip. Yes, people may whisper for a time, but once I'm gone it will be behind you. Perhaps you'll find yourself a more suitable wife, one who can win the affection of your subjects again.”
Peter shook his head. He still looked angry, but Kaylein knew his indignation would soon shift toward thoughtfulness. A good lord could not afford to let his emotions make him indecisive.
“If what you say is true then there's only one way to put it behind us. I must confront my shame and make it public. We will find this child of yours, take her into our household, and I will make her my responsibility.” He pressed a finger to his lips in contemplation. “What if we were to claim she was mine? She would have been born out of wedlock. That would be a fine excuse as to why we kept her a secret. With these lies threatening to scandalise us, we can say we've been given no choice but to confront the truth and humble ourselves before God.”
“No!”
“Yes.” Peter's anger had deserted him. He looked positively enthusiastic now. “Then I will have an heir and my father will finally be satisfied. You and I need not even share that bed any longer. You can spend your days raising the child and people will think me a rogue rather than a cuckold.”
Kaylein wrung the front of her dress, her voice wavering with anguish. “I told you this so that my daughter would never have to endure what you suggest. I won't let her be used for our convenience.”
Peter scoffed at her. “You'd deny her a life of comfort and inheritance? Where is she now? Living with nuns? Being raised by farmers?”
Kaylein remained deliberately silent.
“You must tell me, Kaylein.”
“I shan't. She is happy and she is loved and I will never let you take that from her.”
Peter let out a heated sigh. “If these rumours are true then I'll find out sooner or later. Someone must know where she is.”
“I'm begging you, Peter, don't do this. Let me rejoin the church. I will never forgive you if you deny me.”
“Why are women always like this? Can't you see that my solution is best?”
“Best only for you. I know you don't love me, but don't force an innocent child to live the same life I've been shackled to.”
Peter shook his head. “You're impossible. Go to bed and settle yourself down, then we can discuss this again once you've thought about it properly.”
“I have thought about it all week,” Kaylein said, struggling to suppress her frustration. Peter thought she was being a silly woman, and she couldn't afford to justify his prejudice by letting her emotions control her. Her plan was backfiring. Instead of saving Calia, she might have doomed her.
But there was one more source of leverage she held over her husband, one she'd prayed he wouldn't force her to use.
“Don't make this any more of a disagreement than it already is.”
Peter caught the implication in her tone and grew defensive. “What do you mean by that?”
“If you do this, you'll make me miserable. I don't want to have to do the same to you.”
“You'd threaten me?”
“You give me no choice.” She gave him an imploring look. She didn't want to resort to threats. It went against everything she believed in. But for Calia's sake, she would shoulder one more sin. “If you try to find my daughter, I will tell everyone what I've seen you and Brother Richard doing.”
Peter grew deathly silent. The look he gave Kaylein was more chilling than any angry outburst. The fact that they knew such secrets about each other was one thing, but speaking of them openly was another.
“You'd dare threaten me with that,” he said slowly, “when I know you sleep in Tabitha's bed?”
Kaylein's voice shook as she spoke. “In that respect, we are both sinners. But if you take my daughter from her home, I will have nothing left to lose by confessing the truth.”
It was a bluff. If she lost Tabitha, it would destroy her, but Peter didn't know that. As far as he was concerned, she was just a passing fling.
Fear crept into Peter's eyes. In her heart, Kaylein didn't know whether she would have the nerve to follow through on her threat. But whether she believed it or not, Peter did. Her impassioned words had convinced him. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he ran an unsteady hand over his chin.
“I could not permit that.”
Kaylein realised that her hands were shaking too, and she clutched her dress harder. “Would you lock me in one of these rooms? Torture me so that I kept your secret?” Genuine fear took hold of her as she voiced the thought. Would he go so far? She'd never had reason to believe her husband was a wicked man, but she'd never seen him backed into a corner, either. She knew he had it in him to kill men in battle. He'd fought a war that ravaged the countryside and destroyed innocent lives for the benefit of his family name. Would he turn that cruelty upon her if it meant preserving his dignity?
Peter's eyes fell to the table. His posture slackened, and with it the fight went out of him.
“Of course not. How could you think me so vile?”
Kaylein leaned forward, her voice softening. “I do not. But don't you see how wicked these things can make us? Do you not recall what became of my family in the name of another nobleman's ambition? I beg you, Peter, don't force another young girl to lose everything she loves so that our lives may be made a little easier.”
A long moment of silence passed in which Peter raked a hand through his hair and poured himself another cup of wine. The neck of the jug chipped as it rattled against the rim of his goblet.
“What, then?” he said at last. “I let you become a nun? They'd still talk behind your back, countess or no.”
“I would go away from here. Back to Kinedwyn. Bishop Virgil will organise it.”
“And meanwhile I stay behind to deal with the scandal.”
“It wouldn't have to be scandalous. You know my heart has always belonged to the church.”
Peter's eyes flitted in the direction of Tabitha's room and his surly look returned for a moment. “With the church, or with her?”
