CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Andressa thought she heard someone behind her, but when she would turn to look, there would be no one there.
It is my fear causing me to imagine things, she told herself. She had traveled in and out of Bishopsgate on numerous occasions and had never been followed, so there was no reason to believe she was being followed now. Besides… who would be following her?
A murderer? A robber?
It wasn’t as if she had anything of value for anyone. Surely they could see that she was in the garb of a pledge or postulate, meaning the only thing of value she had were, literally, the clothes on her back. And no one wanted those rages.
Foolishness, she scolded herself silently.
Pulling her woolens more tightly about her slender body, she continued onward, staying to the shadows, hugging walls before darting across an alley to the safety of the shadows on the other side. More than once, she found herself slipping in the mud long the edges of the avenues, which was really more horse dung than it was mud, built up from years and years of horses defecating on the streets.
But that was the norm of these streets and not something Andressa paid much attention to other than to try and keep her tattered shoes out of it. There was a hole in the sole of the left one and she could feel the dirt and dung squeezing into her shoe, dirtying the foot she’d so lovingly cleaned in the bath.
But no matter.
She had to get to Maxton.
Farringdon House was over by the western city walls, near Newgate, its towering structure overlooking the walls and giving those on the upper floors a clear view in all directions. It was like a beacon for all to see, four stories of gray stone in a city that was littered with wattle and daub homes, looming over the cityscape in all its glory. The manor was on a smaller lane, all to itself, and Andressa was coming to think of it as a safe place. She’d already been there once today; by the second time, she was growing familiar with it.
More and more, she was thinking on Maxton and his offer to take care of her, and after her most recent encounter with Sister Petronilla, she was thinking that perhaps it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing to accept Maxton’s offer. She couldn’t imagine he had meant marriage – for, who would want to marry a woman carrying another man’s child? – but perhaps he meant for her to take care of his house, or to somehow be of service to him.
That was all she was good for these days – hard work and laundry. Her years at St. Blitha had stripped her of the dignity she’d once had as a lovely young woman. Now, she was subject to the Mother Abbess’ wicked schemes.
God, she hated what her life had become.
She hated what she had become.
As Andressa slipped down an alley and on to a larger avenue that would take her to Farringdon House, she found her thoughts turning towards Maxton. Her heart swelled with joy at the thought of him, the only person since the death of her parents who had shown any concern for her and her welfare. But it was more than that… even if she’d been a normal woman, on any normal day, she would still think he was fine and brave and strong. He seemed to think he had sinned so terribly in the past that no woman would have him.
He was wrong.
She would.
Thoughts of the man were warm on her mind and a smile played on her lips as she neared the junction where the alley intersected with the main avenue. She was distracted, so much so that when a man suddenly appeared right at the corner of the two roads, she didn’t even look at him. She simply tried to go around him. But he blocked her path.
“Andressa, is it?” he said in a heavy Scots accent.
Andressa came to a halt, startled. She stared at him, eyes wide with shock. “What… who are you?”
The man was bushy and hairy, and smelled heavily of alcohol. “A friend,” he said as his eyes raked her body from head to toe. “Ye serve Seaxburga.”
Andressa was starting to feel the slightest bit of fear. At first, she thought he might be a comrade of Maxton’s since they were so close to Farringdon House, but it was clear in that statement that he was no friend of Maxton’s.
He knew the Mother Abbess.
“I do,” she said, taking a step back from him. “And since you know that, you also know that I am meant for the veil. Touch me and the Mother Abbess will punish you.”
A smile flickered on his lips. “I dunna intend tae touch ye,” he said. “I’ve no use for women, and especially lasses with no meat on their bones.”
“Then move aside.”
“Not until ye tell me where ye’re going.”
More fear clutched at her as it began to occur to her that she’d seen the man before, yesterday when he’d come to St. Blitha and demanded she identify the Mother Abbess. Aye, she remembered that snarling face well.
“I am on business for the abbey,” she said, trying to move around him. “Get out of my way.”
He reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “Tell me where ye’re going, lass. I’ll not ask again.”
She slapped his hand away, backing away from him so she was out of arm’s length. “And I’ll not tell you, so you may as well stop asking,” she said. “I told you I was on business for the abbey. Beyond that, it is none of your affair.”
She continued to back away and managed to trip, stumbling. He was on her in an instant, grabbing her by the arms and dragging her back over to the shadows of the building they happened to be standing by. As Andressa twisted, trying to force him to release her, he dug his fingers into her soft flesh.
“Ye’re going tae tell John’s men what ye know, aren’t ye?” he snarled. “’Tis ye who have told them of our Holy Father’s command to be rid of the Sassenach king, isn’t it? Admit it!”
Astonished, Andressa stopped fighting for a split second, staring at him in horror, before resuming her fighting with a vengeance. She knew exactly what he meant and terror flooded her veins.
Dear God… how did he know?
“Let go of me!” she beat on him. “Let me go or I shall scream!”
But the smelly Scotsman wouldn’t let her go. He had her by both arms now, trying to shake her so that she would stop fighting him.
“Someone has told the king’s men of our Holy Father’s plan,” he seethed. “Seaxburga told me tae follow ye when she saw ye leave the abbey tonight. She knows it’s yer guilt. Well? Confess yer sins, lass, and I’ll go easy. Resist me and I’ll kill ye where ye stand.”
In a panic, Andressa tried to pull away from him again and he stumbled, grunting when he took a bad step on his swollen ankle. Andressa seized on his bad ankle; could see that he was favoring the leg so she kicked out, striking him in the swollen shin. Howling, the man released her.
The chase was on.
Because of the mud and wet, the avenue was slippery, and given that Andressa’s shoes were in a horrible state, she immediately slipped as she tried to gain traction to out-run him. She went down to one knee, screaming when he reached out and grabbed her woolens. Throwing out a hand, she managed to strike him on the face, scratching his right cheek and immediately drawing blood.
The shock of the blow was enough to cause him to release her and she managed to get away from him, but not for long. His shoes were better, and he had longer strides, and he caught her after only a few steps.
Andressa began to scream her lungs out.
Infuriated, the Scotsman grabbed her by the throat, squeezing the breath from her. “I’ll kill ye,” he breathed, watching her cheeks darken in the moonlight, knowing her face was turning red. “Ye treacherous bitch, I’ll kill ye!”
Andressa was beginning to see stars. She couldn’t breathe and her face felt hot and swollen, like it was about to pop. Her knees began to weaken and she tried to lash out and fight back, but the world was growing darker by the second. Just as she began to sink to the muddy road, thinking that the Scotsman’s angry face would be the last thing she ever saw, a strange thing happened.
Suddenly, there were men all around them and someone was pulling her away from the Scotsman, who was swarmed by several men. She could hear the Scotsman cry out as someone told him that he should have killed him a long time ago. Then there were sounds of grunting and groaning, and sounds of blades being used. It sounded like metal slicing through a side of beef, a dull and deep sound.
And then, it was silent.
Andressa had no idea what had happened. Her heart was thumping and her head was swimming, and the next she realized, Maxton was standing in front of her. His hands reached out to steady her.
“Andressa?” he asked, sounding worried. “Are you well? Did he hurt you?”
She opened her mouth to answer but no sound would come forth. That blackness that had been threatening since the Scotsman had wrapped his hands around her throat finally claimed her and she pitched forward, right onto Maxton.
In the darkness, there was finally peace.