Witch from the Sea

“To provide a few children yes, but she needs a little respite.”

“Not my wife,” he said, and he lifted me in his arms and looked at me with love.

I was happy. Gloomy thoughts had gone. I visualized a future—Colum and I grown older, more sedate, and our children playing about us.

As soon as I knew I was to have another child my desire to discover receded. I was happy. I wanted to go on in my contentment. There were times when he went away for several days at a stretch. I used to wonder where. He was not very communicative about his affairs; and one thing I had discovered was that he hated to be questioned. When I had asked he had answered me vaguely but I had seen the danger signals in his eyes. I had seen his sudden anger flare up against some servant and I had always been afraid of arousing it. At one time I wondered whether he visited a mistress. I did not think this was so because when he went away he took a retinue of servants with him.

Again I learned a little through Je

Colum had told me that he would be leaving early the next morning. He was going on some business and would be gone before I was up.

I remembered then that Je

When I awoke the next morning I sent for Je

She blushed in that ma

“Orders,” she said. “I was not to go to Seaward last night.”

“There should be such orders every night, Je

“Yes, Mistress,” she answered. “’Tis always so,” she volunteered, “the night before he do go on his journey. He be busy preparing, like, late into the night and sets off with the dawn.”

“Does he tell you where he is going?”

“He never will say, Mistress. Shuts up tight when I ask. He’s a mild man but he gets angry if I as much as mention it. ‘Keep thy mouth shut, woman,’ he says, ‘or that’ll be the end ’twixt you and me.’ Yet he be a mild man in all other matters.”

It certainly was strange. I wondered why there had to be this secrecy. Colum was not a man to make an effort to keep anything quiet. His implication was that if people did not like what he did, he cared not a jot. Yet he was quiet about this business of his.

When he returned from a journey he was invariably in good spirits and glad to be back with me. It was June and the warm sunshine filled the castle. It was three months since my child had been conceived and I had recovered from the first uncomfortable stages of pregnancy and had not yet reached the cumbersome one. I felt well and energetic and Colum and I rode out together. We should be away for the night, he told me, as he had some business to transact.

I was delighted because I thought at last he was taking me into his confidence. I was actually going with him on a business venture; I was making the most of my riding too, because I knew that very soon I should be forbidden to ride.

This is the loveliest of all months, or perhaps it seemed so to me because I was so happy. The sky was cobalt blue with only the faintest hint of wispy white cloud. The choughs and the seagulls swooped and rose above the water and as we rode away from the sea into the lanes I was enchanted by the countryside. The white chervil on the banks reminded me of lace and the grass was spattered with blue forget-me-nots and red ragged robin.

The sun was warm and I was happy. I felt well and strong, and glad as I was to be riding with Colum I knew I should be just as delighted to go back and see my son. He was in good hands. The care of children was one thing Je

Colum sang as we rode along—it was the old hunting song which was such a favourite with him.

I did not recognize the road until we were almost at the i

Colum leaped from his horse and lifted me down. Grooms ran to take our horses.

“The Oak Room, host,” cried Colum.

“At your service, my master,” replied the host.

And we were mounting the stairs and there was the room which I remembered so well—the big four-poster bed in which I had slept with my mother, the lattice window from which I had looked down and seen Colum standing before me.

The host was saying, “There is venison, my master, cooked as you like it. And natlin and taddage pies as will tempt your palate. And if my lord so wishes, metheglin to wash it down.”

“Lay it on,” cried Colum. “For we have ridden far and are hungry.”

The host bowed and shuffled out and left us standing there looking at each other.

Colum came to me and laid his hands on my shoulders. “I always promised myself that you and I should sleep in that bed.”

“You are a man who ca

“What man worth his salt is not?”

“But most men realize that there are some things in life which must be denied them.”

“Not this man,” he retorted.

I laughed. “You pla

He shrugged his shoulders. “I had business to transact so I thought, why should I not do it at The Traveller’s Rest? I will take my wife with me and we will share the Oak Room, for it will bring home to her the fact that she has a husband who will have his way sooner or later.”

“I can never understand why a man who is acknowledged as the king of his castle should have to go to such lengths continually to stress the fact that he is.”

“Because he is not sure that one person fully realizes it, and to tell you the truth, it is that person he is most anxious should.”

I laid my head against his chest and put my arms about him.

“I am content with life as I have found it, Colum. You are a strong man. I should be the last to deny it, but whatever I was made to accept I should always have my own views … you appreciate that.”

“I would not want a foolish simpering creature … like …”

I was glad he stopped, but I knew of course that he was referring to Melanie.

To change the subject I said: “You say you have come here to do business. Do tell me, Colum, I am most eager to know.”

I saw a shadow pass over his face. He went to the window and looked out; then he turned his head and said to me: “What do you know of my business?”

“Nothing much at the moment but I should like to learn.”

“There is nothing to learn,” he said. “I have some merchandise I wish to show to a merchant. We are meeting at this i

“So it was because it is business, not because of that night?”

“Shall we say a little of each.”

“What merchandise have you to dispose of, Colum? Where does it come from?”

He did not answer that question.

He said: “Ere long two of my men will arrive with pack-horses. They will bring the merchandise.”

“What merchandise is this?” I persisted.

“It varies.”

He drew me to the bed and removed my cloak.

“Colum, there is much I wish to know. When I come to think of it there is so little I do know. You are my husband. There is nothing I want so much as to share my life with you and if I do so I must know …”

“Know what?” he said, loosening my hair from the net which held it. “What should you, a good and obedient wife, wish to know but that you please me?”