The Blacksmith's Wife

The music came to an end. Joanna attempted to catch Sir Roger’s eye, but to her dismay Sir Bartholomew presented another young lady who curtsied demurely and they returned to the dance immediately. Joanna’s mouth twisted downwards and she gave a small sigh of disappointment.

Henry was watching her closely, an odd mix of pity and scorn on his face. Joanna dropped her head, the expression in his eyes searing her heart.

‘What did you expect to happen?’ he asked archly. ‘This evening is to honour the knights. You aren’t the only woman to have her heart turned by the glamour of the pageant, or intending to catch a husband.’

‘My head hasn’t been turned by glamour!’ Joanna snapped. ‘That isn’t why I love him.’

Henry smirked disbelievingly. ‘Do you mean you would marry my brother if he was penniless and not a knight?’

Joanna gazed at Sir Roger, trying to imagine him as anything other than himself but could not picture him without his armour or velvet robes.

As she watched Roger laughed enthusiastically at something his partner whispered. He led her off the floor in the opposite direction with the vitality he displayed at the tilt. Joanna’s eyes began to burn. No other man of her acquaintance, few as they were, made her heart turn over with a single glance.

‘I would love him whatever he was,’ she insisted.

‘You hesitated though,’ Henry said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Now, are you content to wait all night for Roger to notice you or will you dance with me?’

Joanna tossed her head. ‘I’d rather stand here alone than dance with you. You’ve mocked me and been nothing but rude to me since you joined me. I know why too. I think you’re jealous because you are not a knight yourself.’

She made to turn away but caught the expression on Henry’s face and paused. His eyes were blazing and his jaw thrust forward angrily. When he spoke next his voice was clipped.

‘As it happens you’re wrong. I made my peace with my fate long ago.’

He began to walk away. Shame flooded Joanna. He was a bastard. Of course he could never hope to be a knight.

‘Master Danby,’ she called. ‘Wait!’

He paused. Suspicion flickered across his face though it softened as he returned to her, never letting his eyes slip from hers. Her heart beat oddly in her throat.

‘Call me Hal,’ he said shortly.

‘I didn’t mean to offend you,’ Joanna said, twisting her hands in embarrassment. ‘It must be hard knowing you cannot be what your brother is.’

‘I have no desire to be what he is,’ Hal replied so curtly Joanna stepped back in alarm. His eyes hardened as he waved his hand across the room, shadows flickering across his face as he obliterated the candlelight. ‘What sensible man would want this gaudy pageantry?’

Now it was Joanna’s turn to feel sceptical. ‘How could anyone not wish to be a part of such excitement?’

‘Quite easily. When it’s over what is left of the opulence beyond empty lists? I prefer things that last.’

Joanna considered his words. When the fairs and tournaments were gone York felt empty and she spent her time dreaming of their return.

‘Why are you here if you hold it in such contempt?’ she asked.

Hal’s jaw tightened. ‘I would much rather not be. I have my own reasons for being in York, which will be poorly served by standing with you. If you are determined to wait until my brother notices you I shall leave you to your solitude. Good evening.’

He bowed briefly and strode past her, skirting around the edge of the room towards the entrance hall. Impulsively Joanna turned after Hal to follow after him but at that point the music ceased. She glanced to the dancers and saw Sir Roger dancing with yet another woman. As he bowed to his partner he turned and saw Joanna. She beamed at him, her heart beginning to race.

Sir Roger sauntered to where she stood. He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘I had given up hope of you coming,’ he said.

Joanna’s stomach fluttered with satisfaction. Of course he had not seen her or he would have come sooner. He held out an arm and she slipped hers into it. She moved towards the centre of the room but Sir Roger tightened his grip and tugged her in the opposite direction.

‘I’ve been dancing long enough,’ he muttered.

Sighing with regret, Joanna allowed him to lead her outside. She shivered, wishing she had brought her cloak. ‘It’s cold,’ she protested.

Sir Roger pulled her around the side of the building and backed her against the wall. ‘I can warm you up.’ He grinned and kissed her. For a while all thoughts were obliterated, but as Sir Roger’s hand once more began to stray towards her breasts a knot of anxiety formed in her stomach.

‘We should go back inside. This isn’t seemly.’

Sir Roger rolled his eyes. ‘We are hardly alone.’ True enough there were others who had taken the opportunities afforded to them by the shadowy corners and archways of the Common Hall. ‘I have been away for months. You would not deny us this chance to get reacquainted?’

‘No...only...when will you speak to my uncle?’ Joanna asked shyly. ‘He spoke of other husbands, of men he knows would want me.’

Sir Roger’s jaw tightened. ‘And you would prefer one of these other men, is that what you are trying to tell me?’

Joanna reached hastily for his hands. ‘No, I love only you, I swear!’

Sir Roger’s mouth turned down petulantly. ‘Good. I hate the thought of you belonging to someone else. You say you love me but how can I believe you when your kisses are so cold and chaste? You may as well be my aunt or sister! Give me some token of your affection so I can believe you,’ he breathed.

Joanna smiled and began to unwind the scarf from her neck but Sir Roger caught her wrist. ‘Not that sort of token,’ he said. ‘Save that for the lists.’

‘Then what?’ Joanna asked.

‘I don’t believe it was my conversation you craved when you came to my tent. Show me how much I mean to you. That you want to be my wife.’

He tugged her closer until his mouth covered hers, tongue forcing her lips apart. His hips ground against hers, one leg pushing between her thighs. She felt his hand slip from her hair and begin to travel across her body. His teeth grazed her lips and Joanna winced. She tried not to cry out as Sir Roger’s fingers groped and dug into the soft flesh of her breast. Without warning he pinched her nipple hard.

Waves of unpleasant heat spread through her torso. She was dimly aware of what took place between a man and woman, but feeling these sensations bordering on pain the low cries that issued in the night from her aunt’s bedchamber began to make sense.

Were women supposed to like this show of male affection? Perhaps in time she would learn to, but at that moment Joanna would have given up all prospects of marriage to make it stop. She closed her eyes, reminding herself that this was the price for getting what she craved. A life of excitement with the man who made her heart pound. Not a bleak existence in a damp Welsh village with old Thomas Gruffydd. No longer an unwanted inconvenience in Simon’s household. Sir Roger would be satisfied soon and it would not happen again until after they were married.

The sound of someone whistling floated around the corner, a familiar tune that had been playing while she had talked with Hal. Sir Roger’s hand dropped from Joanna’s breast. He smiled down at her, his eyes still hungry. She returned his smile faintly, glad that she had pleased him.

The whistling stopped. For the second time that day Hal interrupted them but now Joanna found herself glad to see him. He sauntered across to where they stood, his eyes flickering knowingly from Sir Roger to Joanna.

‘I had barely crossed the room to find you and you were gone, Roger. I thought you might be out here.’

Had he followed them deliberately? His face was grim. Joanna looked away shamefaced. Clearly his opinion of her virtue, or lack of, had been confirmed afresh.

‘Joanna, go back inside. I’ll find you later,’ Sir Roger commanded. She nodded obediently and left, turning back briefly at the corner to glance at the two brothers. They mirrored each other, arms folded, legs apart and identical expressions of anger on their faces. Sir Roger’s was easy to understand but why Hal should have seemed so furious was a mystery.

* * *

‘Who is she?’ Hal asked curiously.

Joanna was different from the women Roger usually favoured, preferring them slender with chestnut hair and flashing eyes, not small and shapely with the air of a startled cat when surprised.

Roger gave the satisfied grin that never failed to set Hal’s teeth on edge. ‘You were talking to her while I danced. Did you discover nothing yourself?’