‘Ellis?’
The soft voice came from his room at the back of the little chamber, and Ellis glanced over his shoulder. He could just make out his sister’s form in the darkness of the room and, excusing himself, he left his patient to his drinking and went into her, closing the door behind him.
‘Sara, where in God’s name did you get to?’
Now that he was closer he could see that her happiness and confidence of the previous day was gone.
‘Don’t be angry, Brother,’ she begged, and the quiver in her voice told him that she was close to tears.
He sighed and poured himself an ale, eyeing her resentfully. She had always possessed this fragile quality. Ellis was small in stature, but had the strength of corded leather in his thin arms; his sister had the same build, but with none of his strength, either physical or mental.
‘Come, lass, it’s not that bad,’ he said gruffly.
‘I… I have been a fool, Ellis.’
‘No more than usual, I daresay. Well? Are you going to admit that you’ve been screwing around?’ he demanded bluntly.
That was when she began to sob, and she gradually told her story.
‘I slept with him, yes, but he swore he’d marry me, and that was why I went to bed with him, to cleave him to me. He made his promise, Ellis.’
Ellis thought of Wally’s expression after she had left him in the crowd the day before. ‘You can’t trust the words of men like him.’
‘I went to him as soon as I realised I was with child,’ she continued, not heeding his words. ‘I went to see him, and he took me in when he heard what I said, he took me in and gave me his oath there and then, making us man and wife, and then he sealed his vow by taking me to his bed again, and I stayed there with him until yesterday morning.’
‘I saw you with him,’ Ellis grated. His face was growing red with anger that a man might dare to molest his sister.
‘But when I spoke to him yesterday afternoon when he was with his friends, he laughed at me and said I was no more than a Winchester goose, a common slut. He denied our marriage, Ellis. He rejected me and laughed about me with his friends. I heard him. He denied me! Oh, my God, Ellis, what am I to do?’
‘I’ll see to him,’ her brother said tightly. ‘Leave him to me.’
‘Oh God, no, don’t do anything, it’ll only make things worse! I have to try to sort it out myself,’ she wailed. ‘God! What will I do? I thought I had a wealthy husband, someone who could protect me and the children…’
Ellis would have commented on the wealth of a man like Wally, but kindness made him mute when he saw her despair.
‘Instead I shall be known as a whore, and insulted in the street!’
It was some little while before Ellis could return to the miner, and when he heard the man shouting for him he rose with a sense of bone-weariness mingled with anger that this miner Hamelin should interrupt his grim contemplations.
He climbed to his feet and walked back out into the chamber, and there he produced his pliers with a cruel flourish, pleased to see the fear leap into the miner’s face. A man could brave a sword or dagger in a street, and yet grovel like a coward before the barber’s tools, he reflected.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, taking away the wineskin and walking around behind his patient. ‘This will hurt you much more than me.’
His sleep-maker struck the man’s head like the clap of doom, and Ellis stood gazing down at the slumped figure for some while before he could bestir himself to remove the offending tooth. He was still thinking about his sister’s words. Although he had hoped he was wrong, she had admitted that she was pregnant. She hadn’t said who the father was, but he knew. Oh yes, he knew!
‘The bleeding bastard,’ he said to himself, before gripping his pliers again and opening the snoring Hamelin’s mouth.
Hamelin reached the door of his house in Tavistock some short while after dark. It was quiet as he entered the alley, and he felt that was good. If there had been bad news, he would have been greeted by cries and wailing. Instead, as he walked in through the door, he could see that Emma was so far from being distressed that she had fallen asleep with Joel in her lap. The other children were curled on their palliasse, the dogs on their old rags next to them. Hearing the door, one small dog opened an eye and wagged his tail, before falling to scratching himself conscientiously. Fleas meant that much of his coat had already been pulled out by the roots, and he was bald in many places.
Hamelin smiled at the dog. All was well in his world. He had a sore head, and a bloody mouth, true, but his son was alive, his tooth had been pulled – thank God! – and he’d had an enormous stroke of luck today. Emma stirred, and Joel grunted in his sleep, and it was that which woke her. Startled, her face showed terror for a moment, but then relaxed, her hand going to her heart. That brief shock made Joel begin to sniffle and wail, a low moaning noise that grew, and Emma grabbed him up and rocked him, the little stool on which she sat squeaking and cracking under their weight.
It was some while before she could settle him again. She rested Joel in a small crib, and stood, stretching her back; When she turned to face him, her apron awry, her tunic stained and faded, Hamelin thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The warm firelight was kind to her, smoothing out the wrinkles and
