CHAPTER 4
At last they reached Nottingham where Emma had understood Master Archer had his home. Rowena had briefly spoken to her of the town, yet Emma now saw, she had not imparted any truth about her former life to her. The home where Master Archer led her was on the outskirts of the town in a place where other yeomen had come to make their quarters, and which must be close to the archery butts. It was a new dwelling made of dark timber, which seemed to belong to a prosperous man, and Emma understood Rowena had lied to her when she’d said her living circumstances had been dire and impoverished. Master Archer did not seem rich, yet he was no pauper, but rather a well-to-do man for his station.
She stood behind him rather shyly as an elderly woman opened the door of the home.
“At last!” the woman cried in anguish, casting Master Archer a look of sheer relief.
When her eyes fell upon Emma, her lips pursed in full displeasure.
“Oh, you’ve brought this one back, I see,” she muttered, tossing Emma a look of sheer disdain.
Master Archer said nothing, just stepping inside, and Emma had no choice but to follow him, knowing she felt too weary from the road to try to make her escape here and now. She reasoned she would spend the night under this man’s roof and would attempt to make her escape on the morrow. She had thought upon it hard and had resolved to let him keep her coin. She still could sell her rings in order to start a new life for herself. It was only fair that Master Archer should be compensated for the wicked way in which his wife had deceived him. But it was not until she stepped inside that Emma came to understand just how truly wicked Rowena had been.
At present, Master Archer had picked up a small child and was holding him tight against his chest. The child who seemed to be about two and a half remained with his cheek buried in the man’s shoulder for a while. When he finally raised his head, Emma was able to perceive he had brown hair and a look about the shape of his face which firmly proclaimed him Master Archer’s son. Yet the child’s eyes were not brown but blue, and a mirror of Emma’s own.
“Mum!” he suddenly cried, disentangling himself from his father and striding to where she was.
Emma’s heart started to thump fiercely when he took her hand in his small one and smiled at her.
“Mum,” he repeated, and Emma truly began to fear her heart would break.
The child was about the same age as the son she would have had today and whom she’d lost right on the day he was born. And Emma did the only thing she could think of doing. She let the child hug her, just as he wanted, revelling in the warmth of his little body against her chest and thinking that, whenever she’d pictured her child in her mind, wishing he’d lived, she’d thought he’d have blue eyes just like this.
When at last the child let go of her, Emma looked up to see Master Archer gaze upon them with his piercing eyes.
“He remembers you,” he said in a terse, hard voice and then simply strode away from them.
Emma stared after him for a while, but soon the child tugged at her sleeve and she could not help but smile warmly, already feeling utterly besotted with him.
“Horsey. See my horsey,” he told her proudly, pointing his fingers at a couple of wooden toys Emma assumed his father must have fashioned for him.
Emma let herself be led by the hand and sat herself beside him as the child began to proudly show her his belongings. The elderly woman harrumphed.
“He’s missed his mother,” she said begrudgingly. “Although some people are not truly deserving of the blessings God has seen fit to bestow upon them. Children are God’s gift,” she added in a sharp voice.
“Aye, they are,” Emma found herself acquiescing, unable to tear her eyes away from the beautiful blue-eyed boy by her side.
Arthen pouredhimself a cup of ale in the kitchen and drank thirstily, grateful his journey was now at an end. He’d done it. He’d brought his errant wife back home just as he’d vowed, shielding her from the dire consequences of her foolish deeds. And now, he understood only too well he would not be able to keep Rowena a prisoner if she wished to run away from him again. And he already expected Rowena would prove just as reckless and as fickle as before, in spite of his efforts to keep her safe by his side.
As if in echo of his own thoughts, his aunt, who’d just stepped inside the kitchen, called to him in a bitter voice, “And now what? Do you think to turn a harlot miraculously into a good woman?”
Arthen frowned at the word. However, he had to confess he shared his aunt’s resentment. Rowena had not only stolen. She’d lain with others. And, like so many times before, he started wondering if she hadn’t done so even before she’d run from home. After all, they’d not lain together much in the past year of their marriage, bitter as they’d become towards one another.
“I do not know,” he said with a shrug, not looking at his aunt.
He should be grateful of her help. She and his uncle had aided him with coin when Rowena had taken everything she could find, and it was due to them that he’d been able to hang on to his business and pay the inn back the money his wife had stolen. His aunt had helped care for his son now that Hild, Rowena’s mother, had taken the veil in order to atone for her daughter’s sins. He closed his eyes tiredly, knowing Rowena had not even inquired of her own mother just as she hadn’t asked about her son.
“What do you expect will happen next?” his aunt asked with a pointed look.
“She may do just as she did before—cheat and lie—with no regard for others,” Arthen said, returning the look levelly.
“I reckon,” his aunt muttered with a shake of her head.
“Or…”
Arthen mused upon the way Rowena now seemed simply changed to him. Wiser perchance from the harsh lessons life had taught her while she’d been away. And he thought upon the warm look in her eyes when she’d perceived her child. He did not recall her ever having glanced upon Robin like that before.
“Perchance, she may think hard upon what she’s done and repent and strive to change,” he found himself saying unwittingly.