"I am, my lady," he said. "This is Eloise, Lord Chanderling's daughter. The king wishes an apartment for her."
"Apartments are in short supply at the moment with the tournament, but I will see what I can do. Come, my dear. I believe we have not seen you at court before."
"No," Eloise confirmed.
"You will have a wonderful time," the older woman smiled. "Quite unlike anything you've ever seen."
Eloise looked back at Hugo, unconvinced about the wonderful time she was just promised. Hugo waited at the door until Eloise gave him a nod, wishing she could go with him instead. Although some privacy would be welcomed after the horrid and emotionally taxing day she'd had.
Chapter 25:
* * *
Sinking her head into her hands, Eloise sat down on a bench in the cloistered garden where she retreated when she needed to be alone. A room had been found for her, but it was tiny and had no windows, and she tried hard not to think of it as a prison cell.
She had been introduced to Queen Phillipa by Lady Turrell in a hurried exchange as the whole court was preparing to move to Smithfield. Servants were packing and the ladies directing, and in all this, Eloise snuck away to the garden for some peace and quiet. She had, after all, nothing to pack.
The ladies of the court were more interested in Hugo than they were in her travels, although Lady Turrell thought her extraordinary—‘unnatural’ was probably the word she used in the company of her husband.
Eloise didn't go out of her way to make friends—she saw no purpose in it.
"There you are," she heard her father's voice, and Eloise stood sharply, seeking some way to escape. "I was told you at times retreat here."
She was surprised that her movements were noted, but this was court and intrigue was its life blood. "I prefer the quiet. What do you want?"
"Your travels have certainly not taught you manners."
"I suppose that depends on the company."
"Your words are still hateful."
"So are the sentiments behind them."
Her father stepped closer. He was a large man with dark velvet clothes, piped with white edges. He would have been an attractive man in his youth. Growing up, Eloise had adored him, seeing him as almost godly, although she hadn't seen him all that much.
Everyone at court would have heard that they were not reconciled—another thing to add to her unnaturalness in the eyes of these people.
"I would like to hear of your travels some time. I have worried for you."
"Why?"
"Because you are my daughter, my flesh and blood, and I didn't want you to suffer."
"Too late for that," she snorted. "Did you not think having my mother burnt at the stake would do that? What could you possibly have done to make up for that? My mother was not a witch, and you knew it."
"There was a time when I did think so—that she had bewitched me."
"Then you are a superstitious fool," Eloise said, turning away.
"There are things you don't know."
"I lived with her. I knew her better than you."
"You were a child. You did not see what was occurring."
"Nothing was occurring."
"Your mother was sending secrets to France, telling our enemies of the things she learnt. She traveled in privileged circles and she used the information she gathered to harm us."
"That's not true," Eloise said emphatically.
"It was true." His voice was serious, and Eloise suspected he believed it. It couldn't be true. Her mother was a wonderful woman. "It even came to light that it was her intent when she married me."
"You're lying," Eloise accused, feeling tears constrict her throat.
"I reacted blindly, without thinking when her activities were discovered, and I hurt you in the process. You'll never know how many times I had thought of how I could have done things differently. Instead, you were out in the world on your own, and you were so small. I didn't know what had happened to you—if you were suffering. I searched for years."
"You disowned me. You took my mother from me. You took everything from the house and said you didn't care what happened to me."
"It was anger and bitterness speaking. I've cared very much, and I would like us to be friends."
"No!" she said forcefully. "I don't believe you. My mother was perfect and you killed her. I want nothing to do with you."
"I did what I had to do."
"You burnt her as a witch!"
"What choice did I have? She had committed treason, creating severe diplomatic problems if it became known. It was better this way."
Eloise didn't want to hear this and closed her eyes in bitterness. It had all been to rid themselves of an inconvenience. "You could have just let her go."
"She committed treason. It is not something you slap on the wrist and forget."
"I don't want to hear anymore," she said, striding away. She'd had enough of this. Whatever his reasons, he had ripped her life apart and left her to fend for herself, acquired himself a new family before long. He might have regretted it afterward, but he'd still done it.
There was no peace or privacy to be found in the castle, so she marched through the courtyard and through the village; until she reached some wheat fields. She continued through the green stalks until she reached a copse of trees, where she finally sat down and cried.
Perhaps she was better off not knowing her father's perspective and preserving her mother's image in her mind. He'd said he had proof of her mother's activities, and to some extent, she felt like she had now lost both of her parents. If it was true, her mother had put herself and her daughter at risk through her activities, supporting her own countrymen in a war she was caught in.
Leaning back against a tree, she didn't think she could feel more miserable and lonely. She wished Hugo was there, but he wasn't and he wouldn't be. They were neither companions anymore, nor friends. They even had to stay apart to ensure no rumors started about their closeness from their travels, suggesting intimacy. But she missed him—even his stoic, disapproving opinions would have been a comfort. What she wanted was to wrap herself in his arms and forget everything, but it would never happen now. In all her years alone, this was the only time she'd truly felt it down to her bones.
She had to leave, get back to where she was happy and surrounded with people who understood and respected her. After the tournament, she would ask King Edward to release her. There was little chance she would fit into this court and even if she understood her father's motivations better, she was not of mind to forgive him. He was too tied to her mother's death for her to want to rekindle the relationship. Besides, she didn't want to live the life of a noblewoman, married off as part of her father’s and the king's machinations, to secure power and privilege to his supporters and the Chanderling family.
She was relegated to travel by coach to London at the end of a procession from the royal household, with a number of lesser, unmarried ladies. Eloise was by far the oldest and seen as an old maid by the others, while they chattered about how handsome the knights were and who they favored to win. Their hair was decorated with flowers and they wore the most luxurious gowns Eloise had ever seen. She had nothing but the plain blue gown she'd come in, but she was not in the mood to display herself in silver and gold, nor colorful flowers.
Eloise had never seen a tournament before, but the excitement ran through everyone—except her. Being left behind was not an option, and she was also a bit curious about Hugo and the life he led.
The people of London lined the streets to watch the spectacle as knights rode in their colors on strong war horses, bearing their standards. Armor gleamed and clothing was bright and new, vastly so compared to the drab Londoners.
Dirty children ran along with the procession as they continued on to Smithfield and the tournament grounds. Large tents had been erected and wooden spectator boxes surrounded the grassy competition ground where powerful horses chewed the lush excess.
Eloise was sho
wn to a large tent with several cots that she was supposed to share with the other unmarried women.
The grounds around the tournament field were busy with sellers and troubadours. Knights had their horses fed and groomed while they all found their own tents, and squires carried armor and weapons. The spirit was jubilant, while royal guards cleared away many of the scruffy London children exploring the madness that had descended on their town.
Smoke and smells floated across the grounds from roasting boars and fowl for the king's banquet that evening. From what she understood, there would be one every night.
There were all manner of things to purchase, but Eloise had no money, making her completely dependent on what the court provided. Over her dead body would she ask her father for money—she'd rather starve. If she was in dire need, she would ask Hugo, assured he would assist her if necessary.
She searched for his tent, but didn't find him. Unless he came out of one, she couldn't spot him as she couldn't very well march into the tents looking for him. That would make her more notorious than she already was.
Several torches lit the banquet area, chasing the darkness of night away from the open sky above them. Large tables had been set up and the royal banners displayed around the cloth walls.
Fighting knights held court, surrounded by admirers and supporters, eyeing each other. A murmur of talk filled the entire space, while the king and queen sat at the head table, watching the entertainment of jugglers and dancers.
Eloise had claimed a spot along the edge where Lady Turrell sat with other ladies-in-waiting. Most of the young women she had traveled with were roaming around the knights, adoring and receiving sweet words. She noted when Hugo arrived with his squire in tow. He spoke to one of the other knights whom he apparently had friendly regard with. They laughed and the other clapped Hugo on the back. He probably knew all the knights here, at least the English ones.
She watched his eyes roaming and finding her, lifting his cup to acknowledge her. Eloise felt a flush spread through her, cursing herself for remotely looking like one of the simpering girls in full adoration of the knights.
"Are you enjoying the evening?" Lady Turrell asked, drawing her attention away from Hugo.
"It is most entertaining," Eloise answered, stretching the truth to be accommodating.
"I remember the tournaments of my youth. They were so exciting and the knights impossibly handsome. I married one eventually, although I do not remember him from the tournaments I attended. We have a number of foreign princes here as well, as well as Prince Edward."
Eloise hadn't seen the prince yet, but followed Lady Turrell's gaze to a handsome man in fine clothes, who stood assured with his arms across his chest. A dark blond beard covered his face and he had the shrewd eyes of his father.
"Many believe he will win," Lady Turrell continued. "His fearlessness in battle is legendary and he's won before. Is he not handsome?"
"Very," Eloise conceded with a smile, acknowledging her childhood dream of marrying a handsome prince. It wasn't until she'd left her father's house that she realized it had never been an attainable dream as princes married royal daughters, not noble ones. Still, Prince Edward was the most eligible bachelor in the land, although he had numerous mistresses, bastard children, too.
Turning her eyes back to Hugo, she found him taking something from one of the young ladies, who smiled adoringly at him. It was all rather revolting, Eloise decided, wishing she could leave. But the banquet carried on for hours. At one point, harsh words were spoken between two knights, and there was a great deal of huffing and offense.
Wine flowed and Eloise had her fill before deciding it was now acceptable for her to retire. Excusing herself, she left, walking into the darker area of the tournament grounds, lit by sparser torches.
"How are you?" she heard Hugo's voice behind her. Her heart jumped into her throat. Perhaps she felt a bit intimidated by the obvious adoration he received. Again it was another side of him that hadn't been part of the man she knew.
"I'm fine. Still waiting, obviously."
"You haven't managed to get the king to release you yet, then?"
"He is too distracted with this," she said, swinging her arm around. "He has hopes I will reconcile with my father."
"Have you spoken to him?"
"We spoke. It was not pleasant. He said his peace, I guess." Hugo's blond hair shone in the scant light, but his eyes were harder to make out. The light showed the edge of his jaw and the broadness of his shoulder.
"And will you reconcile?"
"There is nothing to reconcile. Too much water has flown under that bridge. Even if I understand his motives better, I haven't been anyone's daughter for a long time. I'm not sure I could go back even if I wanted to." She crossed her feet and looked down at the ground. "This society still holds bad memories for me."
"We are your people."
Eloise snorted at the ridiculous notion. "I'm not sure that's true anymore. I will rest and you should return to your … festivities." She was going to say ‘adoring audience’, but it would sound sour and she didn't want to impede on his enjoyment. The silence stretched awkwardly. There was really nothing else to say. Their dealings were concluded, and this was just a clearing up of the aftermath, like old parted friends hearing of each other's lives—well, hers mostly. "Are you fighting tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Don't get hurt, Sir Beauford." With a tight smile, she went to turn.
He bowed slightly as Eloise turned away, walking to her shared tent, refusing to look back in case something overcame her in the darkness. The call of it was still there, the desire to have his hands on her body, to feel the sweetness of his kiss.
She would be altogether better off not knowing these things. They burned in her consciousness when she let her thoughts wander. It was the only sweet thoughts in her mind at the moment, but there was too much risk there. She didn't want to end up craving him, not now when she was leaving.
The air was fresh and the sounds of some couple's lovemaking was heard in the dark as she entered her tent and lay down on one of the cots. Clenching her fist, part of her really wished it was her in the darkness, exploring the driving passion and finding sweet release in illicit lovemaking. Her body burned with unspent desire as she forced her eyes closed and her mind to the future—one without the urgent need that only he seemed to inspire.
Chapter 26:
* * *
Hugo was led into the tournament ground by Lady Catherine Allthorne, and from all he knew, she suited her married name well, but she was beautiful and hence chosen to participate in the tournament opening. They followed a herald carrying his family banner.
He was supposed to fight for her honor and she made a show of handing him a ribbon, which he bent down from his horse to receive. A ritual of spectacle surrounded the tournament, but the spectators adored it. Ritual aside, the tournament was deadly serious. Reputations were made, as was the regard of the royals, which was important for the future well-being of his family name. It wasn't just his own reputation he was protecting, but his father's as well, and his father before him. They had all garnered respect in this arena. If not win, he had to conduct himself with bravery, strength and honor.
His horse was anxious, sensing the tension, and Hugo's arms creaked when he placed his helm on, biting down the suffocating feeling of being encased in steel and unable to see. The armor and padding underneath limited his movement, but Bertholomew had oiled the armor well, making it easier to manage.
Poleaxe at his side, he rode around the arena, around the other horses and knights participating in the melee, who all moved restlessly. He knew many of the fighters here, knew their strengths and weaknesses—knowing he was a strong contender. In the past, he'd had a propensity to leave his left flank open, which had cost him a few times.
A horn sounded and he turned his horse to the royal box and bowed. The king rose. "Are you ready?" the king asked and Hugo raised his axe, then turned his horse bac
k and bowed to the other contestants. "Commence!" the king shouted.
Hugo charged to the nearest contestant, knowing it was best to take out the weak and the new first, narrow the field down. With a massive swing, he got young Baron Riesier in the back, almost knocking the young man off his horse, but he clambered back up and Hugo smiled, admiring the young man's perseverance. No doubt the youth would find himself in France before long.
Drawing the reins sharply, he positioned his horse to engage with Gherhelm, who was charging down on him. He hadn't engaged with Gherhelm for a few years, and shielded a blow from the man's sword, returning with a swing of his axe that Gherhelm just avoided. The man decided there was easier prey to be had and moved on. Hugo searched around to see where the next blow was coming from and decided to engage with Rosen, whom he'd never liked.
A massive swing of his axe got the man in his arm and he groaned with pain. That would have hurt, might even have broken bone, but it was the purpose of this event, eliminating the field. Rosen rode off, seeking a moment to recover, and Hugo was engaged by a foreign knight he didn't know. The man swung a sword, which Hugo blocked with his shielded arm, taking the heavy blow. The man had strength, landing another blow on Hugo's upper arm, the clanging sound of the stroke filling his ears.
An upward swing of the poleaxe got the man in the head and he gracefully slid off his horse. Only an unconscious man fell so gracefully, but Hugo didn't have time to think of it as another blow got him from behind and his whole world swam before him, making him automatically grip his horse's saddle with his thighs. He had to move, get away to turn and face his opponent properly.
Another blow landed across his back, seeking to unhorse him, but he hung on, experienced enough to know how to take blows. Swinging his axe blindly, he got the man in his leg. It had been a risk as he could have struck the horse, which was frowned upon as a tactic. Bringing his horse around, he faced his opponent, a knight he knew and had bitterly fought before, and defeated last time.
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