Last time? Emma knew Rowena had run away from home, and that she’d robbed the innkeeper’s husband. Was that why Arthen was wary to leave coin in the house? It must be. He thought her a thief, but Emma needed to let him see she would not steal from anyone ever.
“I’m changed. And I will need coin if I am to see to this house. To go to the market and to take care of other expenses. Surely, you see it cannot be avoided.”
“How much did you take from Maggie?” he asked, dismissing her words, his voice just as harsh as before.
“Half a penny. No more. For bread and for dried lavender…”
“Lavender?”
“Aye, lavender! To take away some of the unpleasant candle scent.”
His mouth thinned as he reached for a clean undertunic. Emma strived hard to look away from him and ignore the heat which clung to her whenever she glanced upon his body.
“Unpleasant? Tallow candles not good enough for milady, are they?”
“I didn’t say–”
“You didn’t say, yet I recall full well that even before you ran away, stealing all the coin I had painstakingly saved for household expenses, that we could never afford beeswax candles as it was. Because the coin we had always vanished like water. On frippery and baubles whenever you went to the market, with no thought to our child or to our life together. Or do you not recall?”
Emma lowered her gaze in sheer shame. She’d glanced upon the few things Rowena had left behind and they were fine indeed, far finer than what yeomen’s wives usually wore. As she raised her eyes, she perceived Master Archer’s tunic was worn and mended, just like everything else he had. The cloth and cut were fine, yet they were by no means new or fancy. And, just as Robin’s own shifts, quite well mended by Aunt Royse’s diligent hand. She’d meant to speak to Arthen of it, but had not dared, because she recalled only too well he’d gotten hold of her purse. She was aware he hadn’t spent a coin of the money, thinking to save it if the rightful owner came back. Yet nevertheless he had coin at this time, didn’t he? And he was making a living out of his archery school business. As long as she proved herself a prudent woman, they would have a comfortable living and could afford to buy new garments when needed. And she fully meant to use the ruby rings she’d brought with her to ensure that.
“I’m changed, and will no longer overspend!” she vowed, understanding, as many times before, how ill her own sister Rowena had behaved.
“Or so you say now,” he countered with a scowl.
Emma heaved a deep sigh, resolving this had to end once and for all. She was not Rowena. And she was done paying for the ill deeds Rowena had done.
“Here,” she said resolutely, going to the place where she’d stashed the two precious rings she’d carried with her. “I want you to take this.”
Only far too late did she understand her rashness. By the darkly thunderous, incredulous glance Arthen cast upon her, she realized he thought she had stolen the rings, just as Rowena had stolen before.
Arthen foughthard to quench the searing, blinding fury which descended upon him, and he recoiled from his wife, afraid he’d lose the grip on himself. He thought of giving her the mother of all thrashings with his belt right here and now. Yet would the punishment serve aught? Rowena had proclaimed she was changed, and he’d almost made himself believe it, yet now she was just bragging of her thievery.
“I did not steal this!” she told him now in impassioned tones, and her face looked so sincere and so pained that he fervently wanted to believe her.
For several weeks now he’d fervently wanted to believe her. He’d seen too well that, despite the occasional mischief she made in wanting to show herself noble and beyond common chores, she had been trying to behave like a gracious wife. Truth be told, he hardly ever recalled Rowena being so gracious or concerned with his own wishes before she’d run away. During the first year of their marriage, they had spent little time together, as he had been away serving the lord he’d been under at the time. They’d not seen much of one another, and perhaps that was why he’d not been able to perceive how little Rowena truly cared for him. At the time he’d believed her in love with him, just as he’d believed himself in love with her. Itwas the impending birth of the child which had prompted him to seek a different way to make a living, because he’d grown up motherless, with a father who was mostly away from home. From a young age, Arthen had known the pain of a child who misses a beloved parent. And he had thought Rowena would be pleased with his decision of spending more of his time at home with his family, yet she had been vexed with him for freeing himself from a high lord’s service. And she had urged him to seek the favour of the Sheriff of Nottingham instead. Their fortunes would rise if he did so, she’d advised.
Arthen had weighed this decision and found it did not suit him or the free, unencumbered life he wished for himself and for his family. He’d tried to make his wife see that he meant for them to make a safe, peaceful livelihood, and he'd pointed out to her that there was a strange coldness he glanced upon whenever he looked into the sheriff’s eyes. Noble lords were cold and thought they owned those in their service. And Arthen did not want a high lord to ever own his or his family's life, not even for gold and silver aplenty. Yet Rowena had not wanted to listen to what Arthen had to say. She had already resolved he was foolish and cowardly, and he'd gotten weary of trying to reason with a woman who took to spurning everything he did. From there, their marriage had become strained and angry, and the birth of their child had not made it any brighter than it was.
Arthen came back to himself, realizing, in relief, that he had gotten a faint hold of his temper. He gazed upon the woman in front of him who was casting him an ardent, pleading glance.
“I swear upon what’s most sacred and holy I did not steal this. You must believe me. There are words I need to speak.”
He shook his head, feeling weary, and trying hard to push away the surge of strange lust which stirred within him. Why did he lust for her so much? And why was he now barely able to restrain himself? In the last year of their marriage, he’d beenquite able to keep his lust at bay, having come to fully resent his wife. Why was it that now he just could not resent her, even if the proof of her treachery lay before his very eyes?
“Fine. You did not steal this. How did you earn it then? By lying with another who made you a gift of these baubles? Is this how you came by them?” he called out in full tiredness.
“Nay. Listen to me. I…”
He could not help himself. He simply snatched the rich rings from the palm of her hand and flung them to the floor where they fell with a loud clink.
“I do not care for them! Never did! Yet it’s all you ever cared for, isn’t it? Well, now you have them. Keep them! Keep it all and have it all. All the coin in this world! I do not care. I never cared. Yet it is all you care for, isn’t it? Coin. Filthy coin!” he flung in a high voice, feeling all the bitterness of his marriage return.
They’d always argued over coin. Because Rowena wanted to live beyond their means and thought him foolish and weak for choosing a simple life, free of a lord’s favour. Because fancy garments and riches had always been what she craved most in this world. He didn’t want to believe she was suddenly so different than she’d been. Perhaps now she was only content with the precious rings she’d gotten through treachery and deceit.
“I do not care for coin. I’d toss it all away just to be free,” she suddenly told him in an impassioned voice, now staring at the fallen jewellery.
Her voice sounded so earnest, that for a moment Arthen thought she was stating the full truth, not lying to him, like the deceitful, treacherous woman she’d always been. Yet soon he understood he had heard enough. Because he feared what he would do to her if he spent even one moment longer here, he hurriedly pulled his garments on and rushed out of the kitchen, and then out into the darkened night. He walked, not knowingwhere he was going, and stopped only to rest his weary feet and sit himself on the ground.