By Possession (17 page)

T
HE ROAD BECAME CROWDED
when they neared London. Travelers moved in both directions, forcing their retinue into a long line. Moira drove her cart at the rear and Addis rode far in the front. She had planned it that way.

The four-day journey had been a quiet hell presaging her future as the lord's whore. Addis had made his interest clear, and the knights and squires showed their respect for him by ignoring her. They helped her in a formal, guarded way, but no one spoke with her much. It struck her as the way men had treated Edith when Bernard was nearby, and reminded her of the very different way they often treated her when he was not.

Sometimes she would find one of the knights looking at her with an expression that indicated the respect for Addis did not truly extend to her. It is so because he wants it thus, those eyes would say, but you and I both know what you really are. A woman like you could as easily be mine this night as his, and when he tires of you it might yet be so.

Sir Richard demanded all of Addis's attention, but then in this troop of men she hardly expected him to bother much with her. They exchanged no more than a few words each day, and from early dawn until they made camp each evening nothing distracted her from thoughts that debated the alternatives awaiting her at the end of this journey.

If he had left her alone completely she might have felt calmer about what she had decided to do. But the second day she had woken to find him beside her in the cart where she slept, squeezed to her side under the blanket while he held her. Each night he came again to lie by her side. She had clung to him last night under the starless sky, wishing she could hold him forever but knowing in her heart that she could not. His world would never permit that, nor had he ever indicated that he even wished that it would.

It will be much worse later if I wait, she reminded herself firmly while she carefully drove her donkey amidst the other carts crowding her sides as the road widened.

The town walls could be seen now and she scanned their endless breadth with astonishment. London was huge. She had heard as much, but never expected anything like this. The town had outgrown its walls, and spread along her road in a collection of inns and houses of every size and description. Noises and smells increased with each step until all of her senses were assaulted by the density of people and activities. A massive, sculpted gate loomed at the end of the road.

Addis and Richard neared the gate and some guards emerged to meet them. The line of travelers began halting and bunching. A wagon pulled up alongside her and the old man driving it rolled his eyes at the jam developing. “Damn knights,” he muttered.

“What is happening?”

“Don't like armed retinues coming in, even small ones. City is on the outs with the king, and doesn't want too many of his men inside at once. Just bide your time, woman. They'll move 'em out of the way soon.”

The guards gestured Addis and Richard over to the wall of the fortifications. “Will they refuse them entry?” she asked as the crowd inched forward.

“Depends on who they be, don't it? Have to ask their questions first and such.”

More guards had arrived. A general confusion cramped the road. Moira looked at Addis being peppered with inquiries. Blinding yearning swept her. Emotions she had harbored for half a lifetime almost made her turn her donkey. She locked her gaze on him and branded her mind with the sight, losing herself in anguished regret.

The jolt of her cart jerked her alert again. Travelers surrounded her, separating her from the squires, and the line began edging toward the gate.

She forced her eyes away from him and faced the square hole of freedom. His knights and squires pulled aside to join Addis and Richard. She stayed in the line and let the crowd move her on, away from him and the alluring, disastrous passion he offered.

The shadow of the gate fell across her and she faced a guard, but his attention found the little altercation alongside the wall more interesting than her. His arm swung out and she passed through the wall.

The incredible confusion on the other side stunned her and she almost turned her cart around and headed back to Addis. So many people and lanes and shops and animals. Screaming children and squealing pigs and barking dogs kept darting into her path. Colorful signs swung over her head and buildings loomed and jutted above them, some three or four levels high. Carts and stalls jumbled with foods from gardens and hearths, with craft work and
leather, clogged the spots where the main road absorbed little side lanes.

She felt immediately lost and overwhelmed, and sighed with relief when she spied the tall spire rising above it all in the distance. In Salisbury the cathedral served as a general meetinghouse and marketplace, and she assumed it would be thus in London.

The street widened in front of the cathedral. The square was full of vendors and people of every degree doing trade or just passing time. She jumped down and led the donkey into the milieu. She skirted the edges, looking for a friendly face.

A fat woman selling baskets eyed her cart and frowned. “Not near me, you don't.”

Moira examined the woman's simple but neatly woven wares. “Nay, I have not come to trade today.”

The woman's curiosity got the better of her. She huffed around her own cart and peered into Moira's. “Fancy weaves. This one is interesting. Not exactly round, is it, but deliberately not.” She lifted it out and turned it upside down. “How do you get the colors? The red and purple?”

“Berries. I make a tub of juice and water and soak the reeds.”

“Ach! Well, no berries growing in London, that's for sure, or for miles around except on the king's hunting grounds probably. What there is gets picked and eaten. You'll be wanting a pretty sum for these. Have better luck over in Westminster where the court ladies walk about. They come here too sometimes, and there's merchants' wives who would pay your price, but these be ladies' baskets if you ask me.”

Moira stored away the advice. Their common trade had formed a bridge and the woman seemed kind enough. “Can you tell me of an inn where I might find a chamber.”

“There be inns aplenty in London, and across the bridge in Southwark. Depends on the kind you want. Some's for ladies and some's for pilgrims and some's in between.”

“A clean place, where I can have my own chamber. Run by honest folk.”

“Well, if you have the coin there is a small one run by Master Edmund's wife. He is a tanner, and the place smells a bit since his trade is there, but then all of the city smells, don't it? She is a God-fearing woman and runs a clean place. Usually gentry types stay there when they are in town, but you talk and walk like one so maybe they'll take you.”

Moira asked for directions to Master Edmund's place. “You take care,” the woman warned in parting. “Pretty thing like you in this city better watch your step. There's lots of wolves in this town glad to take a bite of country chicken.”

Within an hour Moira had settled herself into the small, plain room leased to her by Goodwife Elsbeth. Her cart and its belongings were stored in a stable in back. Edmund had assured her they would be safe since the city quickly hanged any thieves, so few took up the vocation.

Sitting on her straw mattress, she collected her thoughts. She doubted that Addis would look for her, and if he did he would never find her in such a large town. It would not be necessary for her to hide, but perhaps for a day or two she should avoid the main streets and marketplaces just in case.

She tried not to picture his face when he realized she had run away. How would he react? With the anger he had promised? With surprise? With indifference? Perhaps the last. Barrowburgh would occupy him now, and in this city he should have no trouble finding a woman willing to share a knight's bed.

The city din breezed through her window and she pictured him all the same. Not angry or indifferent, but looking down at her, his eyes alight with warmth, turning his head to kiss her. An aching hollow emptied her. It had been a delicious dream, sharing his friendship, tasting that passion, touching that spirit. Had it been thus for him too? If so, would he understand that she rejected heaven in order to avoid hell? She doubted it. Men never understood the cost of these things to women, because no one ever asked them to pay the same price.

The emptiness filled with a wash of loneliness and fear. Her good sense had never made her this miserable before.

Elsbeth called up, inviting her to share some ale, and she went down to the kitchen, grateful for the distraction.

“You plan to live here then?” Elsbeth asked while she poured out the ale.

“Aye.”

“You brought more coin than I saw, I hope. 'Tis a hard town for them's that's aliens, not citizens in the law, and doubly hard on a woman alone. No shop for you. If you mean to sell those baskets, it will be on the street.”

“I have some more coin. Not much, but enough, I hope.” The leather sack and ruby were stowed in her sewing basket in her cart. Safer there where Edmund could see who entered the stable than in her chamber. “This inn of yours is very attractive. What does such property cost in this town?”

Elsbeth settled on a stool. “You think to buy property? Your husband must have been good at his trade.”

“James was a wool merchant in Salisbury.”

“Wool merchant or no, I doubt he left you enough to buy a house like this. One hundred and fifty pounds this one cost. My man saved long for it, close to twenty years.”

Moira thought the ruby was worth that much. She had always intended to use that jewel to help Brian establish
himself. The plan had been a simple one. He would train to be a knight with Raymond, and she would provide the funds for his horse and armor when he earned his spurs. Now she would use the ruby to establish herself instead, and property made the most sense. A man would understand the value of an inn that earned income more readily than the vague worth of a small red stone.

“Now a craftsman's house in a north or east ward, maybe you could get one of those for fifty. We are near the Cheap and the river, which makes a difference. And if you want to lodge pilgrims, your best choice is to go across river to Southwark. That's where the pilgrims stop on their way to Canterbury.”

“I knew a woman who came here a few years ago. She spoke of working in a pilgrim's tavern owned by her cousin. Would that also be across river?”

“Aye. The city discourages the pilgrims coming in. Too many of them. They mostly stay in Southwark.”

She had intended to look for Alice after she settled herself, but if finding her might prove easy perhaps she would do that first. In the rare event Addis should find her it would be good to have Alice's testimony about Ber-nard's freedom. And although she and Alice had not been close friends, it would be reassuring to have a familiar person to turn to in this busy, strange town.

“You come looking for a husband?” Elsbeth asked bluntly. “If so, there's plenty of men looking for a wife. With enough coin or property, you could even get one with the city's freedom, a citizen. The going dowry is one hundred pounds with them, but you have a craft of your own and are pretty enough, so for you maybe it would be less.”

“I am not looking for a husband.” Her response surprised her. Of course she was. Quite specifically. Confiding as much would ensure a steady stream of eligible men
to this house. The notion of facing that right now, the very insinuation of what marriage meant with that unknown man, vaguely repulsed her. She had always assumed that she could tolerate bedding her next husband just as she had tolerated James, but now … She would find Alice and then a property and make some more baskets. Later she would place herself on the marriage market. By then maybe Addis would be dead to her again.

She returned to her room, feeling tired but also reassured. Things should work out fine. She had managed in Salisbury, hadn't she? Not nearly so big, but a town was a town. She laid down to rest, sorting her plans for tomorrow. Images of Addis at the gate entered her head, and she wondered if he had even gained admittance to the city.

Southwark was no London. It possessed a transient, unstable mood, as if no one on the streets had been born there or planned to stay long. Haggard pilgrims swarmed amidst footloose squires and apprentices looking for strong drink. It did not take Moira long to guess the profession of the many women who strolled the lanes and sat at windows of certain houses.

Elsbeth had explained that Southwark was not part of London but a separate town, and one with loose laws and a bad reputation. She had advised Moira not to go at all and to guard her purse if she did. Thinking it could not be that bad, Moira had come anyway but brought only a few pence with her.

She had thought that she would find Alice in a snap. After all, how many taverns could she need to visit? Dozens, it turned out. She popped out of one late in the evening, thinking that she should have begun this search earlier in the day. She had waited until late afternoon in the hope that crossing paths with Addis or one of his men would be
less likely then. But it had taken longer to reach Southwark than she expected, in part because she kept pausing to examine houses that might serve as likely inns. Now she hesitated in the street and noted dusk's arrival. She would have to come back tomorrow.

She walked back to the stone bridge and made the long crossing. Guards were closing the city gate just as she slipped through.

She retraced her way back to her inn, lost in her thoughts, following her route without much real awareness of anything more than the darkness and the silence. And so, when she turned a corner and stepped right into a pool of dazzling brightness, she gasped in surprise.

Three men carrying torches stood chatting by the side of the street. They heard her and turned.

“Well, now, what do we have here?” one of them said.

She tried to walk past but they blocked her path.

“Coming from a job then?”

“You be a long way from Cock Lane, girl,” another said.

She glanced from face to face in confusion. They peered at her in the torchlight, looking very stern and official.