by Alexa Aston
Elinor didn’t know any people and certainly had never despised anyone—other than her father.
Until now.
The priest appeared and began the mass, chanting in Latin that she could barely hear, much less understand. Elinor found herself growing sleepy despite her shivers. Finally, he quit speaking. Moving around, he fussed with objects on the altar and then raised something in his hands and began murmuring again in Latin.
“The priest offers the host,” Jasper whispered to her. “For all those who have confessed and been forgiven of their sins.”
She had no idea what that meant. Eager to move after being in one place for so long, she wanted to do what everyone else did when she saw them lining up and told Jasper so. He looked exasperated but nodded in agreement.
As Elinor joined the line and filed forward, she heard the whispers spreading and knew they were about her. When she reached the priest, his eyes widened. He offered her what looked like a small bit of bread, so she reached out and took it, popping it into her mouth since she was hungry again. The priest gaped at her, horror spreading across his face, as gasps echoed throughout the chapel. Not knowing what sin she had committed by eating what he offered her, Elinor turned away and hurried to her place in the back.
She couldn’t help but notice that Nigel Swan observed her as she passed, as did his wife. While her cousin looked slightly perplexed, Lady Rohesia didn’t bother to disguise her anger. Elinor ignored them both and walked to the rear of the chapel. Instead of returning to her seat, she made her way to the doors and pushed them open, welcoming the blast of cold that slammed into her.
Quickly, she exited the chapel, wanting to be away from the bold stares and murmuring. She had not wanted to come today and wished now that she hadn’t.
“Elinor. Wait!”
She paused so Jasper could catch up. As he hurried toward her, he began coughing again. The cough had lingered from last spring into the summer and through the fall. It worried her that it clung to him in winter and only seemed to grow deeper and harsher as time passed.
If she lost Jasper, Elinor didn’t know if she could survive.
He reached her and continued to cough, bending from the waist. She pounded him on the back as he spit out thick, dark mucus. That seemed to help. He stood up, his eyes watery.
“The baron. Your cousin. He wishes to speak with you. In the keep.” Jasper swallowed, trying to catch his breath.
Inside the keep?
It had been hard enough to come through the gates and enter the chapel. Elinor couldn’t imagine walking into what had been her former home. It was something she had longed to do for years after she left. She’d even begun to fantasize that the new baron might come to her at their cottage and apologize for the years she’d been ostracized. But now that speaking with him was a reality, she seemed frozen to the spot.
“He told me to bring you to the steward’s office,” Jasper revealed.
Elinor looked over his shoulder and saw people beginning to stream from the chapel. She did not want to speak to any of them.
“Then we shouldn’t tarry. Come, Jasper.” She took his arm and propelled him toward the keep.
As they drew closer, her heart began pounding fiercely, as if she were an animal being hunted by one of her raptors. Elinor raced up the stairs, practically dragging Jasper along. She stopped at the door.
Should she enter?
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw others making their way up the stone steps, curiosity written on their faces as they openly stared at her. That helped her decide. She pushed open the door but had no idea where to go.
“This way,” Jasper indicated, pointing to his left.
Elinor went the direction he indicated. Jasper led her to a small room lined with shelves. Huge volumes rested on them. They must be books. She had learned her letters and could spell a few words before her banishment but she doubted now that she would be able to read anything.
Closing the door to keep prying eyes away, they stood in silence for some minutes before the door swung open. In came Nigel Swan looking as regal as a king might.
“Greetings, Cousin.”
Elinor responded in kind, while Jasper bowed next to her. She wondered if she should do the same now that Nigel was the new Baron of Nelham, so she bent at the waist and lowered her head. Raising her eyes, she saw the bewildered look upon his face. Knowing she had done something wrong again, she thought she better apologize.
“I am sorry. I have offended you in some way.”
“You . . . I suppose . . . you do not know any better, Cousin,” he sputtered. “Come and sit.” Nigel indicated a chair in front of a large desk. He looked at Jasper. “You may wait outside.”
Jasper looked as if he wished to protest but clamped his lips together and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Nigel went behind the desk and seated himself in a large chair. He rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. As he studied her, Elinor grew uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“What do you want of me?” she blurted out. Again, by the look on his face, she realized she should have waited until he spoke to her. She kept making mistakes today and had no idea how to correct them.
“You have no concept of the rules of conduct, do you?” He paused. “How . . . how long . . . have you been gone from the keep?”
Before Elinor could answer, the door swung open. Lady Rohesia floated in, a picture of elegance in cream and burgundy. She slammed the door shut and confronted Elinor.
“Why are you dressed in such a despicable manner?” the noblewoman demanded. “You appear from the woods like some wild thing, wearing rags, looking like a filthy boy who’s never even washed. What did you do that was so terrible to make your father abandon you?”
Elinor shot to her feet. “I did nothing, my lady.” Her palms began to sweat and she chewed nervously on her bottom lip as the couple looked at each other and back to her.
“Our steward says the former baron banned you from the keep.” Lady Rohesia’s eyes roamed up and down Elinor, her lips curling in disgust. “Not only are you dressed as a boy but you look like a serf. No one would ever guess you were from the nobility.”
“I am a falconer,” Elinor said, proud of the work she did.
“A . . . falconer?” The noblewoman appeared baffled, so Elinor thought she would explain.
“Aye. I train the Swan family’s falcons from the time they are young. I teach them how to hunt in the woods. We—Jasper and I—use them in hunting to provide food for Whitley. Jasper and our raptors also accompany the men when they choose to hunt in the forest.” Elinor paused, casting her eyes downward. “I am not allowed to join in. Jasper was fearful my . . . the baron . . . might object to my presence.”
“So, you live away from Whitley. In a cottage?” her cousin asked. He gave her an encouraging smile before one look from his wife wiped it from his face.
“I do. I share a cottage with Jasper. Cleo and Horus, our falcons, also live there under our care.”
Lady Rohesia shook her head. “The entire matter baffles me. But then again, you won’t be involved in our lives.”
The small hope that Elinor had hidden deeply inside when Jasper told her she might actually be going home withered and died.
“I won’t?” she asked softly.
“Nay,” Lady Rohesia proclaimed with authority. “Why would I want some vile, unmannered creature who lives with birds to grace the great hall of Whitley, much less mingle with our children and guests? She would be nothing but an embarrassment and reflect poorly on us. We have a son and a daughter, Dumphey and Helewyse. I would never expose them to someone as odd and awkward as you.” She looked to her husband. “Nigel, darling, you agree with me, don’t you?” Her pointed look spoke louder than any words could. “Exposing Dumphey and Helewyse to this cousin of yours would be most unacceptable. Helewyse would never understand a female dressing and acting in such an uncouth manner and Dumphey is such a sensitive b
oy. He would feel sorry for this creature. You know he needs to mature. He doesn’t need a distraction such as this.”
The noblewoman lay a hand on her husband’s forearm, giving him a tender smile. “I know you have a kind heart, dearest, but even you must see what a mistake it would be to allow this ill-bred woman into our lives. Think of our children and what a horrible influence she would be on Dumphey and Helewyse.” She paused. “You do want what’s best for our family, don’t you, my love?”
Nigel squirmed uncomfortably behind the desk. “Do you enjoy falconry, Cousin?” he finally asked.
Elinor smiled. “I do. I enjoy being with my birds more than people.”
“See, Nigel?” Lady Rohesia said. “She would rather live in her cottage and help the estate in this way. There is no need for her to give up such valuable work and return to live at the keep. We have no need of her here. Ever.”
Lady Rohesia was cut from the same cloth as Elinor’s father had been. Elinor wouldn’t live under the same roof as this woman no matter how Cousin Nigel might try to entice her. Though this noblewoman did not even know her, she had already rejected Elinor.
She would not go where she was unwanted. She resolved never to set foot inside the keep again. This time because it was her decision, no one else’s.
“I don’t know what your plans might have been for me, Cousin Nigel, but I would prefer to continue living as I have the past six and ten years. Away from Whitley. Caring for my raptors.”
He rose, sadness in his eyes. “Only if you insist, Cousin.”
Elinor lifted her chin a notch. “I do.”
“Then it is settled,” Lady Rohesia declared, relief evident as her body visibly relaxed.
Elinor nodded curtly to the pair. Taking measured steps, she left the room. Jasper stood outside, wringing his hands.
He looked at her expectantly. “Will you come back to live as you should?”
She swallowed. “Nay. I will remain with you.” Elinor quickly walked down the hallway and threw open the door to escape the oppressive keep, blinking back tears as she hurried along.
Only when she reached the bottom of the stone steps did she realized that, as her father had, neither her cousin nor his wife had called her by name.
It was as if Lady Elinor Swan had ceased to exist.
Chapter 4
A swish of hay woke Hal. His head pounded fiercely and his mouth was bone dry as he tried to remember where he was. A curved shape moving stealthily next to him reminded him of the tavern wench he’d bedded down with after drinking too much.
The one who now seemed to be robbing him of what little coin he had left.
His hand darted out, catching her wrist as she tried to slip his small coin purse inside her kirtle.
“You shouldn’t take what isn’t yours,” he chided softly, his tone warning her.
He twisted her wrist, his fingers brushing against the breast he’d caressed a short time ago, and yanked her arm toward him. Retrieving the leather purse with his other hand, he released her.
She leaned toward him, a sliver of light catching her face, which wore a sour look. Hal held up a hand to block her from leaning into him. His palm met her chest, now heaving in anger for having been caught in the act. Without warning, the woman slapped him and darted away, muttering under her breath.
His face stinging, Hal quickly slipped into his clothes again, secreting the purse beneath the rust-colored gypon his mother had sewn for him. The serving wench had been all too willing to flirt with him openly last night, even following him out to the barn where he had arranged to sleep. The owner took a pence from him in exchange and Hal and the unnamed woman had romped half the night in pleasure, the jug of wine she’d brought along quenching their thirsts between bouts. Still, he didn’t know where she went now or whom she might call. He wasn’t in any position to keep trouble at bay. Best he move along before he found himself in a difficult situation that might be hard to extricate himself from.
Dawn had already broken as he left the barn, wishing he could saddle one of the horses within it and ride the rest of the way to Kinwick. He had never walked so much in his life—and he still had a ways to go before he reached home. Ignoring his belly gurgling in hunger, he hurried down the road before anyone appeared, his arms swinging briskly to ward off the penetrating cold. After several minutes and seeing that no one followed him, he stopped to relieve himself and then returned to the road, alone in the still, damp morning.
As he walked, Hal realized what a charmed life he’d lived. He came from a loving family, with two brothers, three sisters, and parents who cherished them all. He’d fostered at the estate next to Kinwick with the Earl of Winterbourne, a family friend and trusted confidant of Geoffrey de Montfort. Lord Hardwin had taught Hal almost as much as his own father had about how to be a good knight and better man. His years as a page and then squire at Winterbourne had flown by until he underwent his Oath of Knighthood Ceremony and achieved knighthood.
On the battlefield, he’d proven his valor and accepted the request to enter the select few who made up the king’s royal guard. Though he despised the political nature of court, Hal enjoyed his time serving in the queen’s household. Women had flocked to him in droves. He treated each lady well without committing to any of them, charming the lot with his boyish appeal and lazy smile, which proved hard for any female to resist. He made it clear that he wasn’t interested in marriage and was a roamer at heart. Because of that, no woman ever pressed him for more, simply beseeching him to recite them more poetry—or if alone, begging him for more kisses.
As much as Hal enjoyed the company of women and appreciated them for who they were, he also proved popular with his fellow knights and other men at court. A natural leader, he liked nothing more than to swap tales or toss dice in their company. More importantly, his lightheartedness vanished whenever he took the field. As a knight, he lived to train and engage his fellow soldiers in combat exercises. He displayed a cool head no matter what danger occurred and could strategize and defeat an opponent with his quick mind as much as his sword arm.
But everything had changed a week ago at Radcot Bridge when Henry Bolingbroke stripped him of his pride as much as his armor and horse. Although Hal remained a knight of the realm, he had disappointed himself and his king when he’d been forced to yield to the brash, young Lord Appellant. As he now trudged home to Kinwick, uncertainty filled his future. Everything in life had come easily to him and had always gone his way.
Till now.
Bitterness threatened to swallow him up but Hal fought it, afraid he might give in to it. He would return home and seek his parents’ advice. They would know what to do. Countless people across England, from the old king upon high to those who tilled the land at Kinwick, asked for guidance from Lord Geoffrey and Lady Merryn de Montfort. He could trust in their word. They would take the broken man he had become overnight and set him back on a course straight and true.
As he journeyed along the road, he kept alert as a light snow began to fall. Trouble filled the highways and byways throughout England. Cousin Raynor had met his future wife, Beatrice, when he helped rescue her from highwaymen who attacked. Even his brother-in-law, Kit Emory, one of the most capable knights Hal knew, had been accosted by a band of roaming cutthroats when alone on the road. Robbed, beaten, and left for dead, Kit was alive today thanks to the healing hands of Hal’s sister, Alys, who’d become Kit’s wife and mother to their three children.
So Hal knew to keep watch as he traveled, for trouble could spring up when travelers least expected it. Though he no longer possessed his sword, at least he was armed with a baselard. The dagger might be small but it could prove deadly if needed. Not that he had much to fight over if a thief tried to rob him. The coin purse he wore under his clothing had not held much to begin with. Since Hal had traveled with the king’s army as one of his elite guardsmen, his need of food was provided to him. He required nothing else.
On the road on his own, however
, no one cared who he had been. They only saw him as he was now—a man without a mount, with only the clothes on his back and a dwindling set of coins. To save on expenses, Hal had slept in the woods several nights and traded a coin or two to sleep in a stable other times when the cold proved unbearable. He couldn’t afford to stay at an inn. He stopped at a few along the way and purchased a hot meal when his belly groaned from hunger pangs but the rest of the time he’d bought a simple loaf of bread in a village he passed and made due with it. Even then, he knew he would run out of money before he arrived home.
Would he sink to stealing food in order to survive? It went against every part of his knightly code of honor.
He looked to the heavens, as if God would have an answer for him. All he saw were gray clouds being pushed along by the brisk winter wind that blew at his back. At least he wasn’t walking into the north wind as he wound in a southerly route toward Kinwick, though he wished desperately that he had a cloak to wrap about him to ward off winter’s chill.
A pair of birds racing across the sky caught his attention. Hal saw they were falcons, the fastest birds known to man. The two began a series of dives and spins, much like the acrobats he’d witnessed entertaining at court, except this pair had taken their antics to the air. Up, down, across they went, in precise spirals and steep dives. Hal stopped to watch the show they put on, a sense of wonder overwhelming him as he watched them in flight. They looked almost like lovers who danced for one another, attracting each other’s attention in order to come together.
He determined that this must be their mating process. These birds performed a courtship ritual as they showed off for one another. He’d never seen anything like it before and wondered if his younger sister, Nan, had ever witnessed it. She was always tramping through the woods, talking to and observing animals even as she hunted some of them. Hal smiled, fondly remembering how he had been the one to teach her how to use a bow and arrow. Before long, the student surpassed the teacher. Though a female, Nan was more talented than any bowman from Cheshire. She had taught many a soldier under her father how to use them. Her skill amazed visitors to Kinwick, who constantly challenged her to contests—and inevitably lost.
