want a private word with this good dame here.' He smiled at Agatha, but the expression was far from pleasant.
'Of course,' she said faintly, then rallied herself. 'If you'll come this way to my solar. Julitta, take your mother to your room and let her lie down awhile. You had best take over her duties for tonight.'
Wulfstan followed Dame Agatha into her sanctum, but not without casting a look of malice over his shoulder at mother and daughter.
'Mama, who was he?' Julitta asked with a shudder of revulsion as she helped Ailith to their chamber and sat her down on the bed.
Ailith spat blood into her kerchief. Mercifully the cough had eased. 'Wulfstan the Goldsmith. He courted me once and tried to force me into marriage. Your father intervened by offering me a position at Ulverton. Wulfstan was humiliated and he is not the kind to forgive and forget. He will joy in exacting vengeance.' Ailith bowed her head. 'Jesu, I am so tired, and my head is spinning. I do not know what to do.'
Julitta was frightened. Her mother was usually so uncomplaining and resourceful, a rock to which she could cling when life threatened to engulf her. To see her like this made Julitta realise that she must either learn to swim on her own, or one day drown. She struck out in anger, as she had struck out as a small, spoiled child when learning against her will to make bread.
'I hate it here!' she cried. 'Why did you ever leave my father? At least he would have taken care of us!'
Her mother's face was waxen. 'I left your father because I did not respect him any more. He had dragged me through the mire once too often.'
'And we are not being dragged through the mire now? Jesu God, Mama, you had an entire keep at your command, and you gave it up for a bathhouse?'
Ailith sighed. 'Oh Julitta, Julitta,' she said wearily. 'If only it were that simple. Many is the time I have thought about swallowing my pride and returning to him, but it would be too late, I know, the bitterness is carved too deep. Do you remember that time I took you across the river to that big house with the wharf at the back?'
'Of course I do,' said Julitta without hesitation. 'We went to visit the de Remys but they weren't there. You bought me some green hair ribbons from a market stall on the way home.'
'You really remember it so well?'
'I thought I was going to see Ben again, I wouldn't stop crying.'
Julitta looked sidelong at her mother. 'Yes,' she said softly. 'I do remember it well.' The bitter disappointment, the anger. 'Why didn't we visit another time?'
'Because I should never have gone in the first place,' Ailith said wearily. 'It was after Sigrid moved away to Southampton. I felt so alone, that I was tempted to try and make contact. When the de Remys were absent, it seemed to be a sign from God that I should leave well alone.' She began to cough again, and the kerchief in her hand grew red. 'It doesn't seem so important now. Perhaps I was wrong.'
'Mama!' Alarmed, Julitta crouched at her mother's side, feeling as helpless as a straw in a gale.
The paroxysm eased. Her face grey, Ailith wiped bloody foam from her lips. 'Tomorrow,' she whispered. 'Tomorrow, you will go to the nuns at St Aethelburga's, and they will send for your father.'
'But I…'
'Do not argue with me, child, I haven't the strength. I should have done this long since.'
Disobeying the hoarse command, Julitta began to protest in earnest, but Dame Agatha barged into the room like a ship in full sail, and rendered her silent. The woman puffed to a halt at the bedside and folded her arms, hitching her pendulous breasts up beneath her chin, always a sign that she was prepared to do battle.
'I have had words with Master Wulfstan,' she announced to mother and daughter, her eye fixing on Ailith in particular. 'He says that he is willing to overlook what happened earlier, if you are willing also.'
'Then Wulfstan is the only leopard who has ever changed his spots.' Ailith dabbed the kerchief at her mouth.
Agatha frowned. 'I don't say as I like him, but he's rich and he has influence. I cannot afford to turn a customer like him away from my door.'
'You once told me that this was a respectable establishment,' Ailith croaked.
'So it is!' Agatha's cheeks fattened with indignation. 'There's no thievery or evil doings. This place is clean and well ordered —just as respectable as any of the homes my clients come from. I set my standards high!'
'But not high enough to deny Wulfstan the Goldsmith.'
'You make too much fuss,' Agatha sniffed. 'You've been glad enough of a roof over your head and a place to hide these last eight years, have you not? Don't preach standards at me, my girl!'
Ailith bowed her head and said nothing. Agatha's bosom surged again, and she rounded on Julitta. 'I had to send one of the other girls out to the cookshop in your stead. There's a tub needs filling downstairs, and the couch making up. Best be sharp about it. There's other customers arriving soon.'
'But my mother…' Julitta gestured at Ailith. 'I cannot leave her like this!'
'She will be all right. You can check on her between tasks, and I'll look in myself,' Agatha said not unkindly, but with a determined glint in her eye. 'Go on, girl, the sooner gone, the sooner back!' She flapped her hands in a shooing motion.
Julitta did not want to go, but she had little choice. With a final, worried glance at her mother, she went reluctantly from the room and down to the bathhouse.
For the next quarter candle notch, she heaved the pails back and forth, back and forth until the tub in the end cubicle was filled to two-thirds of its depth and the steam rose from its surface as thickly as river mist. Her wayward hair developed a wilder curl, and her face glowed with effort. She scattered fragrant herbs in the tub and made up the couch. Her mind watched her body at work, focusing upon the red hands, the damp, wild curtains of her hair as she leaned forward, the stoop of her spine. The cruelty was knowing that there was more to existence than this. She was bursting with life and all the vital force was being wasted in bearing pails of water and watching fat merchants grope smug whores… in watching her mother die by inches before her very eyes. Julitta thumped the bolsters and shook the coverlet vigorously in the same way that she had once attacked the bread in the kitchens at Ulverton.
That memory mauled her now, springing from its forgotten corner to sink its claws into the present. She could clearly recall the gritty feel of the flour on her small palms, the smell of yeast, the sunlight patterning the kitchen shed floor; her mother's voice gently chiding, and her own tantrum in response. The princess never knew what she owned until she was made a beggar.
There were tears in her eyes as she picked up the empty bath pails and prepared to leave the room. Wulfstan the Goldsmith was blocking the doorway. She gasped in surprise, and her stomach clenched with fear as he drew the curtain across, blocking the safe view of the passage and main room beyond.
'Put the pails down,' he said gently. 'You won't be needing them for some little while.'
His bulk was firmly planted between Julitta and escape. Her eyes flickered, seeking a way out, and finding none. Retaining the pail in her left hand, she relinquished the one in her right and drew her eating knife. She held it close in to her body, tilted at a wicked angle. Even at fourteen, her uncertain life had taught her the skills of survival.
The merchant smiled indulgently but his grey eyes were cold as he unpinned his cloak and wrapped it around his arm. 'Put that toy away,' he said in the same mild, comfortable voice. 'It would be a pity to hurt you.'
His tone raised the hairs at Julitta's nape. She could see in his eyes that despite his words, he intended to hurt her very much.
Wulfstan took a step forwards. 'I kissed your mother once, but I'll wager that your lips are the sweeter. No-one else has tasted them, eh?'
Julitta shifted her stance, trying to keep the bathtub between herself and Wulfstan. There was a new coarseness to his breathing and his complexion was darkly flushed. She had heard men speak of being 'hot for a woman' and now she knew what they meant, could almost see the heat shimmer of Wulfstan's lust. Her legs were suddenly weak and her heart banged against her ribs like a prisoner hammering to escape.
'Please, Jesu, please let me go!' she cried.
Wulfstan cocked his head on one side. 'I tell you what,' he said, moistening his lips, 'I'm a fair man. Some might hold my softness against me, but I'm prepared to give you a sporting chance. If you can win past me and
