A Knight's Tale: Kenilworth

by Gabriella West

  I looked over at Simon, my heart tightening. One day, maybe just once, I would give myself to him, I decided. It was a gift I wanted to give him, but until then I would serve him in more mundane ways. Loyalty was easy, as easy as breathing. I did love him, but I did not feel he was mine. He would never be mine, I saw that now. Or anybody’s, wholly.

  But he had given me a taste. Oddly, I felt satisfied. It had been so long since I’d felt that; I’d got so used to the dull ache of unfulfilled desire being my natural state.

  I stood in the center of the chamber, my feet and chest bare, warming myself in the narrow shaft of sunlight that streamed in through the tall window.

  Chapter 10

  January 1263

  Thomas had left Kenilworth before Christmas. His father had come to fetch him for a few weeks in London, and it made me nervous, him being gone. He was supposed to return after Epiphany.

  My mother and Sir John had not attended the Christmas feast, which alarmed me too. I asked Sir Richard if they were well.

  “As far as I know,” he said, nodding. “I’ll enquire.”

  I thanked him.

  There was a steady fire going in Christiana’s little solar during the day. She and I were friends again, and with Thomas gone it made sense that I would keep her company.

  I had not said one word to her about Simon. Things had changed since Warwick. Although nothing more had happened between us, I felt comfortable with the way he treated me. He treated me with easy affection, like I was dear to him, though not in a way that would provoke any notice or contempt from others. Christiana had noticed, though. I saw subtle changes in her, too: she had become more womanly in appearance, yet unsure of herself, her eyes and expression often downcast. I occasionally glanced at her belly, trying to do so carefully. I didn’t want to hurt or anger her. Though she was not with child, that I could tell, I also sensed that Simon’s visits to her had ceased.

  Which made the solar safe for me to enter again. I sat down on a hard chair instead of the velvet couch.

  “You don’t like the couch, Will?” she enquired. She was perched on it stiffly. Her voice was tired and she glanced out the window every few minutes.

  “You miss Thomas?” I asked.

  “I do miss him. And I can’t help thinking: what if his family is arranging a marriage for him as we speak?”

  “Is that your sense of it?” I asked. “He’s said nothing.”

  “But why would he go for so long?” She twisted her hands together in a most uncharacteristic gesture for her.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I hope he’ll be back. I rather count on him.”

  She nodded, smiling ruefully. “I’ve come to, as well. He’s just so steady.”

  “Does he... visit you up here?” I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible.

  She paused for a long moment, then sighed. “He has. Yes. Lady Eleanor trusts me, you know.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, given what I’d seen. Finally I asked, “Does that mean you’re not lovers?”

  “You’re blunt, as always.” She blushed. “What I was trying to say was different. More like, Lady Eleanor trusts me to know what I’m doing with regard to men...” Her voice trailed off.

  “I wonder if any of us knows that,” I mused.

  “And you?” she asked. “It’s been more than two years since Stephen left. You must miss him this time of year.”

  Her words sent a sharp stab through me. There were days when I didn’t think about Stephen now. I had begun to accept his absence, which was an awful thing.

  “’Tis true, this time of year I do miss him most,” I confessed. Christmases were never pleasant, and certainly never seemed holy or peaceful. The memories of Stephen being snatched away in the cruel way that he had been were too strong.

  She looked at me from underneath her lashes. “Why did you stay away for so long, Will? It seemed like you were angry with me for nigh on a year.”

  “It’s hard to explain, Christiana,” I muttered.

  She sighed deeply, glancing at the door. It was securely shut and the whole castle was quiet, hunched in the cold.

  “I should take up some embroidery to occupy my time,” she said listlessly. There was a wicker basket in the corner, but she didn’t make a move towards it.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I said finally.

  She shrugged. “It did hurt me. But then I thought, maybe he’s angry at me for Thomas’s sake.”

  I bit my lip. “There’s some truth to that.”

  “Oh.” She looked defeated. “I don’t know how you knew. Well, you don’t have to worry. It’s only Thomas now.”

  “But you’re not happy.”

  We were silent as the rain pattered against her window.

  “No, not particularly,” she said with a sigh. “And you seem happier than you were. Do you think... is there a pattern there?”

  “I wanted to confide in you once,” I said in a rush. She glanced up. “Does it help to know this?”

  She nodded vigorously, her cheeks reddening.

  “Yes, anything you can tell me. I don’t mind.”

  “It seems childish now. I wanted to tell you that Simon, well... caressed me. Touched my face when we were alone. And I felt guilty. It seemed like—I don’t know. I needed to tell someone.”

  “When was this?” she asked.

  “Not last June, but the previous one.”

  “Ah.” Her cheeks had got pinker, but there was some life returning to her eyes. “I understand.”

  “Was that when you...”

  She glanced at me, then nodded. “It started later that summer. And it didn’t last for very long, really.”

  “It’s over now?”

  She nodded. “Yes, last June, when he came back from the tournament at Warwick, he told me he’d lost interest.”

  I was silent. Finally I said, “Were you in love with him?”

  She looked down at her hands. “I still am.” Her voice was very small. “Thomas doesn’t know. He can’t ever know, Will.”

  “I’ll never tell him,” I told her.

  “And you?” She looked at me searchingly.

  I didn’t know what to say. I looked at the fire as if it had an answer for me, and I suppose it did, burning away steadily.

  “He thinks I’m too young,” I blurted out.

  “But you would...”

  “I desire him, yes.”

  She nodded, a faint smile on her lips. “How hard it is to resist him. But I don’t think any passion he feels lasts for very long.”

  “Have you seen him have many lovers?” I dared to ask.

  She looked thoughtful. “You know, I’ve been here a very long time. I was twelve when I came to Kenilworth. I’ll be nineteen this year. Simon was not yet sixteen when I first met him. And what a beautiful lad he was!”

  I smiled, imagining it.

  “At first I didn’t think he had lovers,” she continued. “But in those years, he was closer to men than women. He had a close male friend. I must admit, Will, that I saw them in bed together once.”

  “It didn’t disgust you?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No. It would have disgusted his father, I’m sure, or his brother Henry. But, no. That boy disappeared one day; I don’t know where he went. Then I saw him flirt with older women...the wives of knights, that kind of thing. I think he’s had all kind of experiences. Whores, to be honest with you. Men, women... But...”

  She stopped, as if something had pained her.

  “I did see him once,” she said, “when you were with Stephen in the courtyard, that day that the Montforts came home.”

  “I remember it well,” I said, thinking of how I had only had eyes for Stephen then, how I had whispered in his ear.

  “He looked over at you while you were standing together. I don’t know, it made me uneasy the way he watched you. Because, truthfully, I was already falling in love with him at that point.” Her voice shoo
k.

  “I think he was jealous,” she added.

  “Of me and Stephen?” I was incredulous.

  “Yes, that day. I felt it strongly, Will.”

  “What are you saying, Christiana?”

  She paused for a long time. “I don’t know. I’ve tried to fit the pieces together, but all I can say is, if he has restrained himself with you, it really is for love. He didn’t restrain himself with me, and I never felt he loved me. He saw to my pleasure and to his own, but it wasn’t love.”

  I couldn’t tell her about Warwick. I saw so clearly now that he had put her aside for me, even though I strongly believed that he would not touch me again, at least not while I was his squire.

  “I think...he doesn’t want the public shame of it,” I mused.

  She nodded. “He takes risks, though, doesn’t he?”

  We both smiled.

  “Have you kissed him, Will?” she asked.

  This was difficult. “I don’t want to lie to you, Christiana,” I mumbled.

  She shook her head. “I never knew you were so lustful! I don’t blame you, though.”

  “You’ve had a lot more of him than I’ve had.”

  She glanced at me knowingly. “How did you know about me and him? Please don’t tell me you saw us together.”

  I was silent.

  “Oh,” she said, nodding. “That’s why you stopped coming here.”

  To my surprise she didn’t seem upset. It seemed to give her some courage.

  “I don’t regret it...” she said. “It’s just, by the time he stopped things, I was mad about him. Just lovesick. I wept for months after. Poor Thomas. I finally slept with him last year, hoping that it would make Simon jealous. And I care for him. I do. But it’s not the same!”

  “No. It couldn’t be.”

  “It helps to talk to you,” she said. “It pains me, yes, knowing that he cares about you—” She paused for a moment.

  “He slept with a married woman in Warwick, Christiana,” I said. “He doesn’t care that much.”

  We were silent as the fire crackled. The chamber was warm. Christiana got up and went to her wheel.

  “I’ve neglected this work lately,” she said. “That was wrong.”

  She began to move the wheel, her face turned away from me. I wondered what she was thinking.

  “Stephen is the one I’m meant for,” I said awkwardly. “Simon actually told me that. He said Stephen could give me a truer love.”

  She glanced at me, her eyes shrewd.

  “Given what I know of Stephen, I think he adored you. And loves you still.”

  “Thomas loves you,” I said suddenly, thinking of the scarlet ribbon he’d bought at the tournament. “He will want to marry you, Christiana. I’m sure of it. Wait till he becomes a knight.”

  “I’m older than him, though, isn’t that shameful?”

  “Not at all,” I said with assurance. “Next year he’ll probably be knighted. And you’ll only be twenty.”

  “I feel old now, Will...”

  I got up and went over to her, putting my arms around her, and she rested her head against my shoulder. We stood like that for quite a long time. The thick cloth of her wool gown was pleasantly soft. I tried not to think of the things I had seen in this chamber. They had evaporated, as if they had never been.

  “If something ever happened to Thomas,” she asked in a very small, plaintive voice, “would you marry me?”

  I held her curvy body against mine. It felt warm, comfortable, but no more. Brother-sister, perhaps? I wouldn’t know, I thought.

  “Yes,” I said, because I wanted her to be at peace, and she did indeed seem to relax in my arms at that, as if it had weighed on her mind.

  “After all, we’ve desired the same man,” she joked, but still under her breath, as if she was afraid to speak the words too loudly.

  “It must mean something,” I agreed pleasantly. I did not think anything was going to happen to Thomas. I released her and moved back to sit—on the couch this time, which she noted with a smile.

  “You think it odd that I worry about Thomas, Will? It’s just that Stephen said something once.”

  She was moving the wheel, her face away from me. I felt a chill go through me.

  “He did?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. He said Thomas might die in battle.” Her voice was muffled.

  “Ages and ages hence,” I conjectured.

  “No, when he is quite young. I couldn’t believe it, because what sort of battle could there be in the next few years? England is at peace now. It wouldn’t be with the French... And there’s no Crusade, that’s all over with.”

  “Yes, we’re lucky to live in a peaceful time.” The words sounded hollow and mechanical as I said them. “Stephen never said anything about it to me!” I blurted this out in a rush. “I think he would have, Christiana. Wouldn’t he?”

  She said nothing, her hand spinning, the large wheel creaking as she did so.

  After a while she spoke again. “Anyway, I don’t mind that you saw me and Simon up here. I mean, it’s awful that you did, and I’m sorry. It explains so much.”

  I just grunted, looking at the fire.

  “I suppose I was astonished that a woman could feel that much pleasure,” I said finally.

  “It amazed me too,” Christiana murmured. That was all she said. Left unspoken was the idea that she would never feel that much pleasure again.

  “Did you resist him for a while? Was it a struggle?”

  She gave a deep sigh. “I didn’t resist him at all. I was completely shameless, to be honest with you. The first few times, you know, I just sucked him off.”

  I flushed, staring at the fire, thinking of that night. Me on my knees.

  “But I knew I wanted more,” she added. “To be fair to him, I think he tried to hold back. And he was very discreet as well. I don’t think anyone knows. Maybe his older brother does.

  “You notice things,” she went on. “I like that about you, Will. I’m not surprised you caught this. I’m even glad, in a strange way. I’ve hated keeping this secret. Feeling like a slut.”

  There was that word again.

  “Nobody could ever call you that, Christiana,” I said.

  “But only because I fool them! Oh, it did feel good, Will, bedding him, but I’m not sure it’s worth this terrible dead feeling. Having to see him every day, hear Lady Eleanor talk about him. She talks about Simon a lot. He reminds her of her side of the family, she says. Her brother Richard has been married three times, loves the ladies. Her brother the King is married to a beautiful dark-haired woman...also called Eleanor, mind you.”

  “Eleanor of Provence,” I said, musing.

  “That’s right. The Queen visited when I was very young, around the time little Eleanor was born, or was it Richard? Anyway, she was quite sweet to Lady Eleanor around that time. Though they don’t seem close anymore.”

  We had gone far afield from Simon, and I was glad. Talking about his family was always revealing.

  “Don’t worry about Thomas,” I said, stretching my legs. “He’s tough. He’s a good fighter.”

  We had watched the melee together at the tournament. Simon had never asked about it, but it was a strange memory, the two groups of armed men running at each other, roaring, the squires all watching open-mouthed, the mud and dust and sound of weapons clashing and the groans and screams—because there had been wounded men left to flail on the grass. All those battle-axes crashing down on helmets. I expected to see a man die in front of me. It didn’t happen, but I had seen blood flowing, and the madness in men’s eyes as they slashed and thrust at each other.

  Looking over down the field, I had spotted Simon watching too, standing with his brother. Of course, they’d been waiting for their purses to be handed out. At least they hadn’t joined the melee. They’d obeyed their mother, but thinking about it now, staring at the fire as Christiana spun, I realized that Simon’s lust, and perhaps my own, had been st
irred by that horrible scene.

  Thomas had turned to me afterwards and told me it was just marvelous. That he couldn’t wait to get out there and fight like that! But even he had been a little pale.

  He was like a brother to me, I thought with a pang. I couldn’t lose him. If I ever saw Stephen again, I could ask for more details. Perhaps we could save him...

  I hadn’t yet learned that it would be impossible to save anybody.

  Turning again to Christiana standing at the wheel, I thought of Stephen’s long-ago prediction about seeing me with a woman. I could ask him about that too.

  When we met again.

  Chapter 11

  Thomas and Sir Richard de Havering arrived back together on a chill mid-January day. Since I was down in the armory, I heard the horses’ hoofs clopping on the cobbles and hurried out to meet him.

  Thomas looked taller as he slid down wearily from his muddy horse, his hair shorn; and his fashionable London cloak and new leather boots made him look older, different from the plainly dressed young squire I was used to seeing every day.

  His eyes lit up, seeing me. We embraced briefly, while Sir Richard looked down on us, still in the saddle, his face set in its usual frowning expression.

  “Go warm up at the hearth, Thomas,” he said to my friend. “William, a word with you.”

  I nodded.

  “You asked me about your stepfather and mother, so I rode over to see them a week or two ago.”

  He paused, as if pondering how to put it.

  “I’m afraid Sir John expressed some uneasiness about coming here at Christmas. To put it plainly, lad...” Here he paused again and I kept my face still, thinking about Simon—could Sir John have somehow caught wind of it?

  “Am I in disgrace?” I blurted out, after the silence had drawn on too long.

  He cocked his head. “You? No, William, it’s a matter of a different sort. I would rather not discuss it at all, in fact, but it must be spoken of. In truth, we’re at a time when loyalties are being put to the test. Earl Simon and the King have had their differences, and he has asked each of his tenants to pledge their loyalty to him in his quarrel with the King. But Sir John has made it plain that his loyalty lies with the King, should it ever come to that...”