Belladonna at Belstone by Michael Jecks Page A

rescued him from the boredom - and damp - of that existence, still the change had prevented Hugh from meeting women of his own level. Those with whom he came into contact at Lydford were mostly suspicious of someone from so far away, for Hugh’s accent set him apart from the servants of the busy stannary town, and when he returned with his master to their old town of Crediton, the women were prone to see him as a feeble-witted and awkward country fellow, someone of little account and useful only as the butt of jokes.
    It was now over two years since Hugh had been romantically involved with a woman. There were whores in the taverns near Lydford which lined the busy roads north and south, but that was very different. And now Simon was to be a father again, Hugh was aware of a kind of jealousy. He hated feeling that way about his master, but he couldn’t help it. Especially when Simon was so tediously proud.
    Hugh watched as the whore and her bawd rose, the man joining the other two by the fire, casting suspicious looks at the strangers as he retied his hose and the girl went out to the room at the back.
    Simon sat with a faraway smile on his face, paying scarcely any heed to those around him. Simon Puttock was a tall man with dark hair in which the grey was rapidly becoming prominent. Usually he tended to wear a serious expression, because his position as Bailiff for the Warden of the Stannaries meant that he was one of the most senior law officers on the moors, but today Simon was beaming, and the world was pleasing to his eye, for he was quite sure that his wife would give birth to a son.
    They had had a son before - Peterkin - but he had died young. Simon had been so proud to have an heir, and yet when Peterkin become fractious and petulant, crying all night, he had realised there was something seriously wrong. Peterkin had a fever. Soon the poor little lad had diarrhoea, and gradually his squalling faded. Before long it was a muted whimper, and then a pained breath, and the lad passed away quietly early one morning. It was terrible to admit it, but Simon had been almost glad when the end had come, because at least he wouldn’t have to confront his inability to do anything to help his boy.
    And now Margaret, his lovely Meg, had fallen pregnant again. It was wonderful to think that she would soon be growing, her belly expanding fruitfully, giving life to a new child after three years of trying to replace poor Peterkin. Grinning broadly, he slapped his servant on the shoulder. “Come on, Hugh, you’ve hardly touched your drink. Hurry up, or I’ll let you collect the reckoning as punishment.”
    Glowering morosely, Hugh took a long pull at his quart, but his stomach was not in it. “It’s all right for them as have the money.”
    “I pay you well enough, and it’s not as if you have other expenses,” Simon said happily, unaware how his words affected his man. He was sincerely fond of his servant, and would not have wished to hurt his feelings. “You’re not in the same position as Edgar, Baldwin’s man, are you? He’s going to be married soon and has to save every farthing he can.”
    “Aye, well he’s welcome,” Hugh retorted, but without his usual vigour.
    Simon didn’t notice his remark, but waved at the young prostitute as she returned to the room. She carried a jug, and refilled their ales from it. Hugh looked up at her just as she happened to glance at him, and she smiled.
    “What’s your name?” she asked.
    “Me?” Hugh asked, then, “Hugh.”
    “I’m Rose. Call me if you want me,” she said.
    Her face was plain and round. There was little about her which would usually have attracted Hugh, but today he thought her beautiful. She was perhaps twenty or twenty-one years old, not too tall, and wore her dark hair wantonly loose over her shoulders, but what Hugh noticed most about her was her eyes. They were steady and green, and he was just considering the coins in his pocket when there was a sudden