Hornbeam said: ‘What is your decision?’
One of them said: ‘She is committed for trial at the assizes.’
There was a shout of protest from the crowd.
Sal looked at Jarge. ‘Keep still and calm, now.’
Jarge just said quietly: ‘Damn their eyes.’
18
SAL LAY IN BEDwith Jarge’s arms around her and her head on his shoulder. Her breasts were squashed against his chest, which rose and fell with panting. Apart from their breathing there was no noise in the house: Kit and Sue were sleeping soundly upstairs. Outside in the street, some distance away, two drunk men were arguing, but otherwise the town was quiet. Sal’s neck was damp with perspiration, and the sheets felt rough on her bare legs.
She was happy. She had missed this, almost without realizing it: the comfort of intimacy with a man, the sheer delight of making love. After Harry was killed she had lost interest in romance. However, in time, imperceptibly, she had become more and more fond of big, strong, passionate, impetuous Jarge, and now she was glad to be in his arms. Since the day of the riot, and their sudden folly in the barn behind the Slaughterhouse, she had slept with him every night. Her only regret was that she had not done this sooner.
As her breathing slowed and the euphoria faded, she thought about poor Joanie, lying in Kingsbridge Jail. Joanie had a blanket, and Sal took food to her every day, but the building was cold and the beds were hard. It made Sal angry. The men profiting from high prices should be the ones committed to the assizes.
There was no telling what might happen in a trial, but the hearing at petty sessions had gone badly, and that was a dismal omen. Surely, Sal thought, they would not hang her? But they might. There was a new atmosphere since the stoning of the king’s carriage and the foodriots: the British ruling elite were in unforgiving mood. In Kingsbridge, shopkeepers gave no credit, landlords evicted late-paying tenants, and justices handed down harsh sentences. Hornbeam and Riddick were cruel men anyway, but right now they had the support of many of their fellow businessmen. As Spade kept saying, the masters were scared.
Sal was also worried about money. Joanie was not earning, nor was Sue, but both still had to be fed. Sal had rented the attic to a widow, but she paid only four pence a week as it was a single room with no fireplace.
Sal sighed, and Jarge heard her. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking,’ he said. He could be sensitive occasionally.
‘That we don’t have enough money.’
She felt his shrug. ‘Nothing new, then,’ he said.
She asked him the same question. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘That we should get married.’
That surprised her, though on reflection it should not have. They were living together as husband and wife, and taking care of his niece as well as her son; they acted like a family.
Jarge said: ‘Us labouring people aren’t strict about such things, but before too long our friends and neighbours will expect you and me to make things regular.’
It was true. Word got around, and at some point the vicar would appear on the doorstep to point out that they needed God’s blessing on their togetherness. But did she want that? She was happy, for now, but was she confident enough to tell the world that she belonged to Jarge?
He said: ‘And besides...’ Then he hesitated, shifted his position uneasily, and scratched his thigh, signs she knew to mean that a man was trying to express unfamiliar emotion.
She encouraged him. ‘Besides what?’
‘I’d like to marry you because I love you.’ Embarrassed, he added: ‘There, that’s it, I’ve said it now.’
This did not surprise her, though it moved her. However, she had not thought much about her future with Jarge. He could be kind, and he was loyal to his friends and family, but he had a violent streak that gave her pause. Violence was common in strong men who were trodden down by the world and baffled by its injustice, she had observed. And the law gave women little protection.
She said: ‘I love you too, Jarge.’
‘Well, that’s agreed, then!’
‘Not quite.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Jarge, my Harry never hurt me.’
‘So...?’
‘Some men, many men, feel that marriage means they can chastise a woman. With their fists.’
