Origins

Hugh returned to Agatha and Constance’s cottage the next day with the meat, as promised.

“Morning. So how is my damsel in distress and her ankle?” he asked when Constance opened the door.

She smiled. “It’s still painful, but better than yesterday. Thank you.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked.

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“So that you can put the meat on the table for me. I would struggle to manage otherwise.” She blushed.

“Oh… of course… Is your mother at home?”

“No, she’s gone out to visit a neighbour who’s having a difficult pregnancy. She’s prepared a tonic to ease the unborn child. I think the baby will be a knight; it’s so active all the time and seems to practise jousting even before he’s born.”

He smiled. He was glad that Constance was on her own. Not that he was concerned if Agatha had been there - she didn’t scare him and he really didn’t believe the nonsense Guy had spouted about spells and curses, but he relaxed.

“But how do you know it’s a boy, it might be a girl?” he asked as he carried the meat inside.

“No, it’s a boy. Mum knows these things.”

She took one load of chops and placed them on the table. She reached to take the tied bundle of bacon from him, and their fingers touched. Hugh felt a frisson of excitement at her touch, like a spark had jumped from her hand and he saw her flinch, like it had burned her. He looked down. Her head was hung low, as if she was studying her feet, but he could see her ears and the graceful nape of her bare neck where her braided hair had tumbled to the side. They reddened with embarrassment.

He realised he’d been holding his breath. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the smoky smell of the cottage and the sweet scent of her.

“Right,” he croaked. “Um…” He licked his lips to wet them. “Where do you want the rest…?”

“Oh, can you put it on the table please…” she whispered.

He turned, went out to retrieve the pig’s head from the bag slung from his saddle, and re-entered the cottage to find her in the same position.

She jumped when he walked close. She swung around and away from him and hobbled over to tend to the stove.

He smiled and put the pig’s head down.

“Welcome home, pig,” he said.

“Alice…” she said, still with her back to him.

“Sorry?”

“Alice. That was her name. That’s why I don’t like going to the butcher. I get too attached.”

“Ah. I see. So that’s why you faked that twisted ankle and made me do it,” he chided.

“Oh no! I didn’t. I promise!” She whirled around to face him, looking shocked, and saw him smirking at her.

“You beast,” she said, but smiled, “I really believed you’d thought that for a moment then…”

“You’ll learn to not take me too seriously. Most of my friends know that…” he stopped and felt his cheeks getting hot.

She studied him with those bright emerald green eyes, her head tilted to the side. “Is that what we are, then? Friends?” she asked quietly.

“Well, I would hope so… why, don’t you?” he breathed in shallow gasps as he waited for her answer.

She turned away and started fussing with the kettle.

“Well?” he asked.

She stood stock still for a moment, then exhaled heavily and turned to look at him.

“Hugh, I… Well, that is…” she glanced around the room as if looking for inspiration. Then looked at him again. “I’m not sure what you expect from me, but it can only be friends…” he went to interrupt, but she held up her hand. “Look, I know about you and your reputation, and I am not interested in being another conquest…” he opened his mouth to object.

“Wait,” she said. “I haven’t finished.”

He clamped his mouth shut.

“I am not a fool, either, and know the rules. But I don’t know what you expect from me. I know my expectations are limited because of your position and I may be getting ahead of myself, but I want you to know that ‘friends’ is all we can be. I can’t expect anything else, and you can’t offer it… so please don’t insult my intelligence,” she mumbled.

Hugh stared at her, surprised by her reaction and her honesty. He thought about what she’d said and realised she was right. He’d thought he wanted friendship, but did he want more…? It wouldn’t be fair to her if he did. She was right; he couldn’t offer her anything else. But he hadn’t been sure what his intentions were and what he wanted.

She differed from the other women he’d met. His sisters and their friends had airs and graces and were standoffish, haughty and distant because, with their dowries and their pick of the crop of eligible young knights and landed gentry, they could afford not to try too hard. After all, their futures would be determined for them.

The wenches in the tavern were just after a good time, or at least that’s how they appeared. But he knew they relied on what they earned, so the more willing they seemed, the better and more money they made. And he didn’t really know any other women, apart from servants.

This was different. How he felt about her was unique. He couldn’t work it out, but already the thought of not seeing or spending time with her seemed unimaginable to him. Perhaps she has bewitched me somehow, he thought. Maybe Guy is right? But he looked at her and shook his head to dispel the thought.

“I see…” he paused. “But what if that was all I wanted too - a friend? I must admit I don’t have a female friend - my sisters obviously, but that’s not the same, and I thought… well, I think we could be friends. Maybe I could help you and your mother out around the place. I can be helpful, honest. I mean, look, I’m even an errand boy when required.” He waved his hand at Alice’s head, sitting proudly on the table. Constance smiled at him.

“I enjoy your company,” he continued, “and I think it would be nice to spend time together. It may be unusual for someone in my position, but I think it will help me too. After all, if I spend time with you, I will be better able to understand women. So what do you say to that? Nothing else, no strings attached, just friends?”

As she studied him, he tried to look serious. He was suddenly desperate for her to agree. He really didn’t think he could cope if she said no, and he tried to convey that in the look he gave her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and a tiny crease appeared between her reddish eyebrows. He had an almost irresistible urge to reach out and smooth it away with his thumb, but he just smiled at her.

“OK,” she whispered. Then more loudly. “All right. No strings. No expectations. Just friends,” she said.

“On my honour, and by yours,” he added, and held out his hand to shake.

She took it and he noticed how fine her fingers were despite the callouses, and he felt a tingle of energy tickle his palm again as they shook.

“Well, I’m glad we’ve got that out of the way,” he said. “And now that I have delivered my parcel, I must get back. I have jousting practice this morning.”

“Of course. I’ll sort this out for when mother comes home,” Constance nodded at the piles of meat.

“Right. I’ll see you again soon then?” he asked.

“Yes, and when you next come, I’ll have a list of manly things for you to do. I’m sure mother will be very glad of the help,” she said seriously, but with a glint in her eye.

He smiled and bowed his head, then turned and left her, closing the door softly behind him.

After Hugh had left, Constance found it impossible to settle to anything.

She sat down and tried to work out her feelings about what had happened.

She had definitely felt something between them, but it was no good. She knew he was out of bounds and beyond her station. Why did he have to be Hugh MALET! Why not Hugh Borge, the butcher’s son? Or Hugh Gilland, the blacksmith’s boy?

She clenched her teeth together and clasped her hands, then relaxed, trying to release her frustration.

She glanced at the pig and shook her head. “What am I going to do?” but Alice just stared back at her with dead eyes. The pig either doesn’t know or just isn’t saying, she thought and laughed at herself.

“But seriously, what am I doing? He can’t want to see me… as a friend? What is he thinking?”

The door opened. Constance looked around expectantly, hoping he’d come back.

“Oh,” she said, disappointed to see her mother.

“Well, nice to see you too,” Agatha admonished. “sorry to disappoint you. And who were you talking to? Have you got a man hidden in here?” she laughed.

Constance blushed. She hadn’t told her mother anything about her encounter with Hugh and how she’d twisted her ankle or got home yesterday.

“Oh, I see the Malet boy brought the meat,” Agatha said and began checking everything was as expected. “You’d better get the big pot going for all of this…” she said and turned to Constance. “Well, what are you doing sitting there?”

Constance frowned. “How did you know…?”

“What? That you bumped into Hugh Malet, twisted your ankle, rode back on a fine chestnut horse and then sent him on an errand to collect our meat for you…?” She raised her eyebrows.

Constance nodded.

“You and he, my dear, are the only thing that anyone is talking about. I’m expecting a line of young girls from the town to be forming outside our door as we speak. They’ll all come looking to purchase some potion they claim I gave you to enchant him with. My reputation has gone as high as the stars, thanks to you and your liaison with Monsieur Malet.” She laughed.

Constance sighed. She should have realised. They’d walked through the town, there’d been the gossips at the tavern, the butcher obviously knew now, and so who was she kidding to think her mother wouldn’t find out? She would obviously know about something as conspicuous as mine and Hugh’s journey. After all, she seems to know everyone’s secrets, even the most intimate, judging by what she’s told me over the years, so I shouldn’t really be surprised.

Agatha stood watching her, her head to one side. When Constance focused on her, she just smiled and patted her arm.

“Now fill the big pot from the well and put it on, ready for the head…”

Constance hobbled around as if in a trance. She took the pot out from the pantry, went to the well, and pulled up a bucket of water. All the time, she was thinking about her mother’s reaction. When she re-entered the cottage, she filled the pot with water, placed it over the fire, then turned to her mother.

“So, aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked.

Agatha looked up from shaving Alice’s head with a sharp blade.

Constance stared at her.

“Well Constance, you’re a good girl. I’ve brought you up to have a sensible head on your shoulders and to use your intelligence. I will not insult you by saying the obvious, because you already know it. Just that I love you and I want you to be happy. But I warn you now and you can pass this onto him when you see him again. If he does anything, and I mean anything, to hurt you, I will curse him and his family to the ends of Christendom and he and his ancestors will rue the day that he was born.”

Constance was sure it was just a coincidence, but the sunny morning darkened as Agatha spoke. The fire in the stove seemed to burn less brightly, and she felt a cold sensation creep up her spine. Constance hugged her arms around herself to ward off the chill.