Phoebe's History

FIRST KILL

I had to marry at thirteen. It wasn't my idea at all, and in truth, I was looked upon as lucky. I had married well before the dreaded old maid age of fifteen, and my husband was rich and powerful. Considering the time, I had no choice in the matter. Either I married, or I took the veil. And despite my devotion to the Life Tree, I had no desire to wed myself to our god.

So I married Edward, and moved to his home in the country, a great sprawling mansion with a peasant town that feared him nearby. His subjects, as he preferred to think of them, were terrified of the laird, but they liked me. And once I, too, became afraid of my husband, I took refuge in aiding the wives and daughters of the village in their daily tasks. I learned all the things the peasants knew, things a good noblewomen should not soil her hands with, like cooking, sewing, weaving, child-rearing, and most importantly, medicine. I learned how to birth a baby, how to prevent conception, and simple remedies. And the village doctor, a young man, not more than 10 years older than myself, taught me anatomy.

Don't take that the wrong way. Our relationship was quite innocent. I knew that Goddard desired me, and he knew that I belonged to the laird. For a time, after I first came down the village, he avoided me, refusing to meet my eyes. Until the time I knocked on his door, a swelling welt on my right cheek, my wrist cradled in a sling. He opened the door, automatically looking down, for he is tall, like myself, and then he looked back up again, his coal black eyes meeting my own. He pulled the door wide then, stepping back. "By the Tree, m'Lady, what happened?"

My hands were shaking, and I gritted my teeth together, not because I feared to cry in front of anyone, but rather because I feared to let my anger loose. You see, there were no laws to protect a wife. At that time, a husband owned his wife as much as he owned his horse, and he could beat her if he wished. And Edward wished. So I didn't say a word, simply following him in, sitting down on the chair he offered, and waiting while he bound my wrist into a splint. In truth, I was not worried about the injury. I had broken limbs before, and they had always healed quickly and without incident. In my experience, any bone that is set properly will heal without a problem. And that is the real reason I had brought my broken wrist for Goddard to take care of, because I did not yet know how to set a bone. After that, he taught me.

It took some time before I was calm enough to explain, and I am certain that the relaxing effect of the medicine Goddard gave me did help my state of mind. And then, I had to be careful, still, not to say anything that could get back to Edward and result in further beatings. As I tried to figure out how to say it, Goddard let me know I didn't have to. "Was it the laird?"

I simply nodded, tired, my body aching. Then a wave of anger passed through me, fierce and sudden. "I hate him," my voice was soft, my throat raw from screaming earlier. "I need to learn so many things." I looked up at Goddard. "Will you teach me? Will you show me how to fix my injuries so the townsfolk need not know how he treats me?" He nodded at each thing I asked, until the last. "Will you teach me how to fight?" I asked it quietly, knowing how he would react. And I was right.

He shook his head. "M'lady, you cannot fight your husband."

"And if he kills me?"

"It is his right." Goddard placed a hand over mine. "But, m'lady, I doubt he will harm you, for he needs to you to bear his children."

Given a choice, I would never bear Edward's children. But he watched me carefully, and were there any change in my body, or in my fertility, I would know. And I wondered if perhaps the beatings would cease if he knew I were to give him an heir. It was only that thought that kept me in his bed with any show of willingness. If I were to become pregnant, perhaps then he would leave me alone. You might think I should have stooped to deceit, but I was innocent then, and lacked the courage to defy him, or worse yet, cuckold him. I could have found someone, but I simply didn't think of it at the time.

After that time, I became Goddard's shadow. I could only spend time with him by telling my husband that we were tending to the villagers, and my husband, in his belief that if I were respected, he would be as well, would let me go. And I did care for our folk. They knew me, and my small, talented hands as caring and healing. And I learned about everything I could dealing with medicine. By the time I was fifteen, I was easily as skilled a healer as Goddard had been when he came to our village from his school. I often attended the ill on my own, which meant we could help more people by being in two places at once.

And then I found out I was pregnant. In truth, I didn't realize it. I was only a few weeks late, and this was not unusual for someone so active as myself. But I was helping birth a baby, when the sight of the birthing blood made me weak, and I pushed past the eldest daughter, out into the fresh air. I knelt beside the small house, heaves wracking my body until nothing was left in my stomach. Then I leaned against the cool wood, the bark still on it rough against my cheek. I think I might have slept, since Goddard said it was hours later he came out to tell me that our patient had finally had a son.

I was still feeling queasy, and when Goddard helped me to my feet, blood still on his hands staining my sleeves, my stomach rolled. I turned away from him, turning back to the side of the house. He held my forehead until I was through, then straightened me up, cleaning my face with his sleeve. He looked carefully at me, observing my eyes, the sweat on my forehead, touching my skin.

"You do not appear ill, m'lady," he said slowly.

I hate to be caught in a moment of weakness, and refused to meet his eyes. "Were it not for the blood, I should be fine."

He still looked concerned. "There was no more blood than normal, m'lady, and you have birthed many a child with my help, and even alone."

I shrugged. "This time I was ill. Next time I will not be."

He walked me towards the horses and we rode to his home in silence. I was ready to leave him there and return home to clean myself, when he asked me to stay a moment. "A cup of tea, m'lady, to settle your stomach."

The tea smelled heavenly, and I felt better once I had finished. I had to admit, he always knew exactly what remedy I needed, and I am stronger for the friendship we had. 'Tis a pity, that in the end, he proved himself to be no better than the rest. But at the time, he was my friend. Then he put forth his idea. "When was your last monthly, m'lady?"

"Near two months, why?" He didn't answer, and it dawned on me why he asked. "Goddard, no, it is not unusual for me to be a week or two late."

"It is a consideration, m'lady."

After another few weeks, I had to admit he had a point. I managed to hide my condition from Edward until I reached the quickening. Why hide? I was not certain how he would react, and as it turned out, I was correct. I had managed to avoid his bed for some weeks now, while my stomach burgeoned and I bloomed into pregnancy. But this evening I had forgotten to lock the door adjoining our chambers and he came in as I stood nude, my nightdress over my shoulders as I readied myself for bed. The material dropped around me as I turned, and saw him, his mouth slightly open, staring at me.

"You are with child?" His voice was deadly calm. I nodded, not trusting my voice to say anything. He considered me a moment, then asked, "How?"

I turned away, a protective hand over my stomach. "The usual manner, m'lord. When a man beds his wife he expects to beget a child."

"Impossible!" His voice sounded impossibly loud in my small room, as he advanced on me, rage evident in his expression. "I have had two wives die without giving me an heir, and one was proven fertile by birthing a child to a previous husband, though that child died before her third birthday. I have long suspected that I cannot father a child. With whom have you cuckolded me?"

His breath wafted over me, stinking of alcohol. He had been drinking before he came to see me, girding his desires with false courage. I shrank back reflexively from his lies and his anger, though I tried to stand my ground. I had had the chance, and I had thought of it, as I have said before. I am certain Goddard could have been willing, if approached correctly, and I was attracted to him in turn. But I swear by the Tree that I never was unfaithful to my husband, except perhaps in thought.

And I swore my fealty to him aloud, over and over again as he came closer to me, until my legs were trapped between his, my body falling back to my bed. I saw his hand rising out of the corner of my eye, and then felt only pain when it struck with a blinding flash.

His face showed no rationality as he struck me, blows bruising my face and neck, scratching my shoulders and down my chest. Then he struck the softness of my distended belly. With a horrified cry, I cradled my unborn child, protecting him from his father. I did little good, for the pain caused me to curl up, unable to respond, and his blows grew harder and harder, until a pain that felt as if I were tearing in two came through me, ricocheting from my stomach all through my body. I began to scream, loud enough to wake the dead, and as I lay there, almost unaware of my surroundings, the blows stopped falling. I think I may have heard him leave the room before I passed out.

When I awoke, I was lying in a pool of blood, my skirts just starting to dry, heavy with my own fluids. My thighs were sticky, and I felt sore. I tried to sit up and every muscle in my torso screamed in pain. I fell back, one hand falling automatically to feel my child. I expected at least a kick, in answer for the pain.

I felt nothing. Fear drove me more than pain, and I sat up, hurriedly inspecting myself. There was not so much blood as I had thought, but enough to realize what had happened. I could not feel my child, and I was unwilling to see the remains I knew I would find. Instead, I moved, almost in a daze, to my closet, and pulled out a clean gown. I washed my body off from the basin, the water swirling red from my sponge, and then dressed quietly. Carefully sidestepping the area in the center of my floor, I moved towards my door, pausing to hear my husband's snoring from his room.

I passed Janet, our chambermaid, on my way downstairs. My face was composed, showing no emotion, as I calmly instructed, "There has been an accident in my room. My husband brought home a dog, thinking I would enjoy the company of a pet. However, it attacked me, and it was necessary to kill it. The body has been removed, but the floor needs to be washed, and my clothes were ruined. Please see to the cleaning."

Janet looked properly horrified. "M'lady, are you all right? And the laird?"

I smiled, knowing she could not penetrate my mask. "The laird sleeps, and I am fine. Now do as I said."

I was barely fifteen, but I had the servants at my beck and call. Without another question Janet went for a mop and pail, and I saw her heading upstairs with cool water to clean my floor. By the time I returned, every reminder would be gone. Good. I had all the memory I needed inside my own mind. I did not need outside reminders. Nor did I wish Edward to know. Not until I had the pleasure of telling him myself.

I made my way to the stables, selected a horse, and rode quickly to the village. It was still early in the evening, and no one would remark my presence at Goddard's residence. He often summoned me for birthings in the village, if it were before dark. So this would be nothing unusual. I tied my horse outside, and drawing my hood up over my face to hide the bruises I could already feel, I knocked on his door.

"M'lady?" I remembered that first time I had come here, to have my broken arm set. This time, however, I did not wait for an invitation. All hesitancy was gone, and I moved with a fluid motion inside, sitting down, and only then removing my hood.

"M'lady!" His voice changed, and his expression was horrified. "By the Tree, what has happened to you?"

I refused to allow any emotion to cross my face. "Edward. He learned that I was pregnant and did not believe the child to be his own."

There was a fleeting trace of guilt in Goddard, enough to know that what I had suspected was true. He had never held with my hiding my condition from my husband. He knew enough of my life to believe that it would be for the best if my husband were to know I were pregnant. I suspect that no matter how hard I had begged, and I had truly begged, Goddard not to tell Edward the truth, he had decided it would be for my benefit if he did. And he had. I read it there, in his face, in that brief moment, before he carefully masked it with concern.

"He beat you?" Goddard moved closer to me, his physician's hands checking for broken bones, torn skin. I merely nodded, not flinching as he picked up a bottle and dabbed a foul smelling liquid across a deep scrape in my cheek. "And the child."

"Dead."

The one word fell flat into the room, and Goddard stepped away from me. I met his eyes with my own, not giving any ground. "M'lady?"

"I am quite well, thank you." When he continued to stare at me, I motioned him forward, taking the cloth from his hand and dabbing the ointment against scratches on my forearm that I could see. "It is past, and no longer matters. I am alive myself."

"You cannot go back." His voice was urgent, his hands on my cheeks, turning me to face him. My eyes were impassive while his pleaded with mine. "Next time he might kill you."

For years Goddard had known that Edward beat me. This time, he only felt the guilt of his betrayal and wished to atone for it. I smiled, knowing that the best punishment for Goddard was to have him always remember this, even after I had gone. He would never lose the guilt he felt. "No."

Goddard stepped back again in surprise. I was beginning to realize how simple he was. How easy to manipulate. Again he seemed confused, and I merely stood, pulling the cloak over my head again. I turned back to him, my eyes barely visible beneath the dark folds of a black woolen cloak trimmed in red. "I will remember you, Goddard, as I am certain you will remember me." I could feel his eyes on me as I walked to the door, and I paused there, for effect, then turned. "Do you possess a sword?"

He nodded. "Yes, m'lady."

I held out my hand. "I need to borrow it." He hesitated, and I broadened my slight smile into a wider one, tucking his obedience into the palms of my hands. "I will return it, late tonight, when I leave my husband."

He left the room, then returned with a dull blade, obviously not well kept. Certainly not in the league of those my husband owned. But I did not want to use one of my husband's blades. This one would serve the purpose, as well as carry a certain irony with it.

I bid Goddard farewell, and made my way back to the castle. I slipped inside, and the lack of sound told me the servants likely slept already. In my room the floor gleamed in the moonlight, Janet having done her job well. I set the sword on my bed, then took a bag and carefully packed two day gowns made of heavy, durable material. On my feet I wore boots, and my gown was black and red, or serviceable style, one of the ones I wore while working in the village. I pulled my hair back and set out a cap, so I could tuck the silver strands into the dark folds of material. And then, of course, my cloak.

Then it was time. The door between our rooms was still unlocked, and I slipped it open quietly, entering my husband's chamber. He lay there, on his back, his trousers still hanging about his knees, as if he had not quite managed to take them all the way off before falling prey to slumber. I undressed him slowly, his large body hard to move, but easy to control in his sleep. And once he lay nude before me, I woke him up with a sword point at his throat.

He awoke with a start, and looked surprised to see me there. I didn't give him time to realize I was no ghost. "Did you think you could kill me and never pay?"

He shook his head, and I saw fear in his eyes. I smiled. He had killed our child, and left me for dead. I pitied his wives, and would never allow him the chance to kill another woman. "This blade," I flicked it across his neck, drawing a fine line of blood, "belongs to my friend in the village. The doctor."

I saw a knowing look in his eyes, and before he could say anything, I embedded the tiny tip in his throat. "Silence! I know you believe he buried his blade inside of me to create that child. And I also know you are wrong. Tonight you did not just kill a wife. You killed your son."

He paled, and tried to squirm backwards, but I moved with him, planting a knee on his bed, close between his legs. "Do not move, either. Do you see this blade?"

His eyes were nearly crossed trying to look at it, but he said nothing.

"Do you see this blade?" I repeated, my voice dangerously calm. When he still said nothing, I flicked the blade back and forth, the point still inside his throat, and this time he nodded fearfully. I smiled. "Good. I will embed this blade inside you as you believe Goddard embedded his in me." As his eyes widened more, I added, "I find that fitting."

I drew the sword away briefly for the strike, and he tried to get away. He scrambled up, his white skin pale in the moonlight, eyes wide and fearful, his muscles limp with terror. He backed up against the wall, then realized he was cornered, nowhere to go.

I smiled one more time, hesitating not because I feared to kill him, but because I wanted him to know the fear I had felt upon losing our child. Then I raised my sword and slit him from throat to crotch.

He didn't have time to scream, losing consciousness almost immediately. I considered leaving him to bleed to death, as he had left me, but instead killed him quickly, as he had killed the child. A single slice to the throat and it was over. He wasn't even man enough to have stayed conscious for his death.

The sword was bloodied and covered in gore. I wiped it carefully upon the linens, then went back into my own room to collect my belongings. From the stable I took Jasmine, my favorite mare, as well as Devil, a strong stallion. I did not flee from the castle, instead leaving it calmly, knowing his body would not be discovered for hours yet, since dark had fallen only a few hours before. On my way through, I left Goddard's sword on his doorstep, but did not say goodbye. I hoped he would remember me as I had been in his living room, bruised, battered, and having fought off death from his treachery. His nightmares would always haunt him in my memory.

I cannot say I have never looked back since leaving the village. Every time I meet a man who is cruel like Edward, hurting others for his own pleasure, using women without regard for them as people, I remember him. And I have killed many a man for that reason. For that, I have Edward to thank.

Chapter Two, Jordan

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