shadow cutting across that line of color.”
“It’s only a catalogue, Tim. You’re turning it into a work of art-”
“If you’d wanted anything less you’d have asked your boyfriend to bring his Brownie,” he retorted.
Judy colored. “My boyfriend?”
“Is Pete Leveson not the latest contender for the title?”
Judy stuck her hands in the seat pockets of her jeans. “I don’t know.” She sounded suddenly lost. “I like him a lot.”
“Enough anyway to dish the dirt on your ex-lovers into his lap.”
“Why not?” she flared suddenly. “Nick hasn’t been exactly nice to me. I hope he rots in hell!”
Tim laughed wryly. “I think he’s been doing that, Judy,” he said.
The king rode out of Bristol three days later, leaving his prisoners behind in the custody of the royal constable. They were allowed the use of several rooms in the tower and their babies and the nurses were lodged on the floor above them, but nothing hid the fact that there were guards at the doors of the lower rooms and two men on duty always at the door out into the ward.
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.
