London - Edward Rutherfurd [173]
As for Bull’s family, his mother appeared to be a kindly, pious old woman, but was obviously not in the habit of talking much. The boy, David, who stared at her so shyly, seemed a much better prospect. She could see at once that he was a brave, frank fellow who must be lonely. When she gently said she was sorry he had lost his mother and hoped he would let her try to take her place, she saw his eyes moisten, and she was touched.
The surprise was Brother Michael. How amazing that the blunt merchant should have such a relation. She looked into Michael’s kindly, intelligent eyes and liked him at once. Time had wrought a fineness in his face. She discerned his purity. Having always admired religious men and found herself attracted to them, she went up to him and begged him to come and visit her very soon, causing the monk to blush.
But she still had to sleep with the merchant, and here Sampson Bull was clever. He knew very well Ida’s feelings for him and her repugnance for the marriage, but was not discouraged. He saw it as a challenge. When, therefore, they were alone in the bedchamber and it was the hour when she must submit to him, he took his time. This first night, Ida, conscious of her new station and that the boy was in a chamber nearby, let the merchant do what he must in silence. The second night, bathed in a sweat, she bit her lip. The third, despite herself, she cried out with pleasure. Later, asleep, she was not aware that the merchant, looking down at her pale body with a certain grim amusement, murmured gently: “Now, my lady, you’ve really been disparaged.”
On the morning of 3 September 1189, King Richard I of England was crowned in Westminster Abbey. The coronation had one unusual feature. The gallant crusading king, having suddenly developed a fear that the sacred rites might somehow be polluted or endangered by witchcraft, had the day before ordered that the coronation was to take place in an atmosphere of particular purity.
“No Jews or women are to be admitted to the service.”
Brother Michael hesitated. He told himself it was because of the boy. Why had he promised to raise the matter of the crusade? He knew it was futile, and it would only make his brother furious.
Relations between the brothers had improved in recent years. If Sampson was still irreverent, he seemed to have reconciled himself to his brother’s life. A little before she died, his mother had summoned Michael and placed a considerable sum in his hands. “I want you to use it, on behalf of the family, but for religious purposes,” she had told him. “It grieves me that your brother Sampson is still a lost soul, but you of course I can trust. Keep it until you know what to do, and I’m sure God will guide you.” For some years he had remained the guardian of this money, and it gave him pleasure to think that when he was sure what to do, he would be able to make use of it. Michael had half expected his brother to protest, but when the alderman had heard, he had only laughed. When Bull’s wife had died a year ago, and Brother Michael had visited almost every day to keep his and David’s spirits up, Bull had one day given him an apologetic look and remarked: “I must say, Brother, you’ve behaved uncommonly well.” No, he really did not want to have an argument now.
But there was something else.
It was nearly twenty years since his brother’s crude challenge, yet the words still came back to