A Knight's Tale: Kenilworth

by Gabriella West

  Well, let them worry about it. I washed Stephen’s sores, very gently. The pus was diminishing now; his fever was almost gone. He moved around more on the bed. There was a chamber pot that he used, with my help. Then there was the day he actually moved off the bed and went to the window. His arm was heavy around my shoulders and I smelled the sweat on his hair, but that was a very happy moment.

  As the days passed, we talked more comfortably. His eyes were slits, but he watched me almost all the time, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. He looked a little more like his old self every day. But he was still very weak and I was determined that nobody should rush him.

  “Did Simon know you were coming here?” he asked. He lay on his back now, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Yes. He actually helped by sending Wilecok along. He wants us to go to Odiham.”

  “Oh.” I could see him thinking. “I wonder why.”

  “He thinks it’ll be more comfortable for you,” I ventured.

  “How sweet of him.”

  “Well, Kenilworth will be full of armed knights...”

  “Yes, I shouldn’t like that. But don’t you want to be there?”

  “It’s complicated, Stephen.”

  I heard nothing except his breathing, and my own.

  “I don’t think Simon wants to be around me for a bit. He sent me away.” I tried to keep my voice level, confident. “It’s over between us. I guess you saw.... what happened.”

  “Yes, I saw all of it. Warwick.” He paused, then turned his head and glanced at me. “I didn’t mind Warwick. I was actually happy for you then.”

  “But later?”

  He turned back to the ceiling. “Later was harder...” His voice had got distant, harsher. “I was surprised, I admit it. By what you felt, what you said to him. You gave yourself to him.”

  “Oh, Stephen, stop!” I came over and sat on the edge of his bed. “Please stop. I need to know if you can forgive me.”

  He smiled faintly. “Why should I tell you now? Perhaps I don’t know.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I glanced at his hand. Yes, the pustules were turning into scabs...

  “I don’t blame you for hating him,” I said quietly.

  He said nothing, sunk in his thoughts. There was a dullness about him as we talked about it that worried me.

  “Maybe your feelings for me have changed.”

  He still didn’t reply.

  “I want you to know... you’re out of danger now. A week’s passed. You’re going to get better, Stephen.”

  He turned his face towards me. I could see the blue glint of his eyes now. Yes, I could see it.

  “I am grateful to you, Will,” he said slowly. “But you have to know this. I feel dirty because of this illness. I nearly died. I thought I was going to die, actually. I lay here thinking that I wouldn’t see you again.”

  I put my hand on his hand. It was safe now.

  “I don’t feel like myself yet. I won’t, for many months. I don’t want to think about you and Simon, or you and me, just yet. It’s too much.”

  I patted his hand.

  “Please don’t think I’m a saint, though. I do hate him. Most of all, I hate that he’s given you back to me and I have to be grateful.”

  Again, I said nothing, swallowing as I listened.

  “And he’ll protect you. Always. And I have to be grateful. Because he’ll protect me too. Only because of you.”

  “Oh, Stephen. This is madness.”

  “No, sanity.” His voice was sharp.

  “You have the right to be angry at me. I’m not surprised. But all this anger at him...”

  “It hurts you, doesn’t it?” A sudden flush tinged his face. “Please, let me be angry at him, for God’s sake.”

  I slid off the bed and walked around the room restlessly, glancing at the vials without reading the labels written in a tiny, precise hand. Brother Anselm’s, no doubt.

  “I’m still mourning Brother Anselm,” he said in a faint voice. I turned towards him.

  “He was so kind to me, Will. A mentor, not a lover. You haven’t asked, but...”

  “It crossed my mind,” I admitted. It was hard to speak of this.

  “He was a good man. He believed in his vows.”

  “When did he die?” I asked.

  “Actually, he was one of the first to die. In May sometime? I’d like to see his grave before we leave.”

  “Of course.”

  The mood in the room was so somber. I went to the window and opened the shutters without thinking. The late afternoon light streamed in.

  “What month is it?” he asked.

  “It’s June still. Mid-June.”

  I faced him. His face was clearing up. I could see the blue glint in his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Stephen. Sorry you had to go through all this. And see me, the way you did. I hope you saw some of the times I thought of you.”

  “Yes.” His voice was a whisper. “And I thought of you in the castle so many times and sent love out to you. Because those first years were very hard, I know. I could see it, how alone you were, and I felt terrible for you.”

  “At Christmas especially,” I murmured. I crossed to the travel bag, which I had left in the corner, and took out the pomander by its ribbon. “This doesn’t look like anything now, but Thomas brought me back oranges from London once. I made a pomander. Can you smell?”

  He brought it to his nose, inhaling. “I saw you make it. You looked over at my bed.”

  Suddenly tears were dripping down my face. “Please tell me I haven’t ruined everything.”

  He held the pomander tightly against him. “You haven’t...ruined everything,” he said slowly.

  ***

  That night I drank recklessly with Wilecok. We stood outside and breathed in the warm, fragrant evening air, looking towards the city of Oxford.

  “Feels strange to be here,” Wilecok said. “Outside the city, alone here. I s’pose I should go drink at a tavern some night. I’m happy enough, though, drinking through the friars’ cellar.”

  “I don’t have any desire to go into Oxford,” I said.

  “S’good you’re not driven by lust, the way I was at your age.”

  I laughed. “You don’t know me.”

  “You’re so good with him.” Wilecok shook his head.

  “He’s not a hard person to nurse, or be around. It’s easy.”

  “I couldn’t have done that either,” Wilecok mused. He sat down on the grass, which had grown considerably since we’d come.

  “So he’s out of the woods?”

  I nodded. “Thank Christ, yes.”

  Our quiet voices did not carry much. I didn’t want Stephen to hear us, but his window looked out onto the back field where the horses ran free. It was probably all right.

  I was looking up at the moon, rising huge and yellow. I had not really seen the moon at Kenilworth. The castle walls seemed to block it.

  “He’ll forgive you, you know,” Wilecok said comfortably.

  “Stephen?”

  “Aye. For what you done.”

  “Does everyone know?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Very few, I reckon. I only gleaned it from the way you talked about him on the way here, and the way he sent me off with you. Before that I thought you was pining for the young lad upstairs.”

  “I was pining for him. Look, the truth is I’m in love with both of them.”

  Wilecok smiled, taking a long swallow of ale. I could smell it even though he was sitting several feet away.

  “You shouldn’t be,” he pointed out.

  “I know that.” I looked at the moon again. “But I am.”

  “Want my advice?” Wilecok asked, putting down his tankard.

  “Sure.” I paused, waiting for him to go on.

  “I told you I didn’t like Simon—or you managed to get that out of me, which was clever.”

  I stayed silent, sensing a revelation looming.

 
“And the reason is...” Wilecok stopped. “Well, many reasons over the years, but this is the reason I don’t think you should trust him. He betrayed your friend.”

  “Betrayed?” I repeated.

  “Yes. He sent him away with the Dominican fellow, what was his name? Michael.”

  “Brother Michael.”

  “That’s right. I was there when Lady Eleanor and him, Simon, discussed it. At first she just said she was sending Brother Michael away at Christmas. Then Simon chipped in and suggested sending Stephen too. And she asked why. She didn’t like the idea, said that he’d grown up with them, it would be wrong to send him off. And besides, wasn’t he rather close to that squire of his, Will?

  “But Simon said that Brother Michael would be so angry to be sent off. Taking Stephen would mollify him. And besides, he was just distracting Will. Didn’t they seem unnaturally close? Well, they were, and eventually Earl Simon would find out. And moreover, Stephen was so bored here. He’d learn skills at the priory that would stand him in good stead in life. Otherwise, what would he do with himself? With Amaury here, they didn’t need an extra clerk. Amaury could do all that for a few years.”

  “Simon was the one who got him sent away,” I repeated.

  “Aye. You can imagine how guilty he must have felt when he heard that Stephen was at death’s door! Even Simon carries guilt, you know.”

  I stood up, swore, and blundered into the wall of the house. It felt satisfying to hurt myself.

  “How fucking stupid I’ve been!” I muttered. That was what Simon had been alluding to in the study.

  “No, you’re not stupid, lad.” Wilecok sounded sad. “He’s just a master at the lies, just like his grandfather was. Just devious, you know. Can’t help it, probably.”

  “He was jealous, wasn’t he.” I tried to keep my voice down, but anger made it harsh.

  “Expect he was. With Stephen there, come on, you’d never have slept with him.”

  “No.” It seemed so simple now. “Still, he could have taken advantage earlier.”

  Wilecok chuckled. “He probably waited till you were big and handsome. He doesn’t like young boys, I’ll give him that.”

  “Is it just that?” I stared at Wilecok, who looked uncomfortable. “He actually said he loved me.”

  The man shrugged. “Love’s a funny word. He might believe that he does, but there’s so many other things on his mind. And if he really had, wouldn’t he have let you be?”

  “I don’t know.” Angry tears filled my eyes. “All that time I spent alone! And if Stephen had died, and I found out—I’d have never spoken to him again.”

  “He surely didn’t expect the illness,” Wilecok said. “I think he thought you and Master Stephen would reunite one day and all would be well. You’d never know the truth.”

  “But Stephen must know.” I turned and looked at Wilecok. “When he was sent away, it was a surprise to him, but he saw, he saw what would happen a few days before it did. Don’t you think he knew Simon was involved?”

  Wilecok shrugged. “Could be. Hates him, doesn’t he?”

  “He does hate him.” I glanced at the moon, blackness filling me. “And now I do too. He’s harmed Stephen. Harmed me! He ruined what we could have had.”

  Wilecok lay on his back now, staring at the sky. “You can have it again.”

  “Maybe,” I said. I sat down on the grass, cross-legged. “I don’t want to go up yet.”

  “Are you sorry I told you?” Wilecok muttered. “Just felt someone should.”

  “Simon almost did, the night before we left. I think he wanted to.”

  “Don’t forgive him too quick.”

  “Oh, I won’t.”

  A bird called out as it flew overhead. “Wild geese,” said Wilecok. He poured the remainder of the flagon down his throat and belched. “Solved your problem there, lad, didn’t I. The loving two people thing. You can still fuck him if you need to, but save the love for your lad upstairs.”

  I clenched my fists. “No, there won’t be any more fucking.” Not that there’d been much, I thought. Though each time was seared on my memory, especially the first. And the last, Simon hadn’t bent me over the desk the way he could have. I would have let him, of course. Foolish me.

  “He can be cruel,” Wilecok said, relentlessly belaboring the point. “He knows it. He knows it’s in his blood. He sees you’re not like that. Nor is Stephen, from what I can tell. Been cruelly treated, that one, and Simon didn’t lift a finger. All the boys knew, it just wasn’t important.”

  “Do you mean... the Brother Michael thing?” I asked in a small voice.

  “Brother Michael, aye. I heard you ask Simon about it in the stables years ago. God, you sounded so young that day. You thought he’d want to help, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t fully describe it, though.” My voice had become listless. “I couldn’t. It was too embarrassing.”

  “For you. They don’t think it’s embarrassing at all. Just a fact of life that Stephen was fodder for the priest, or friar, or whatever he is.”

  “I don’t think they all knew,” I said, trying to be reasonable.

  “Maybe not Lady Eleanor and Earl Simon. The boys, though, they weren’t fools. It’s just that nobody protected young Stephen. I was worried that Simon would take an interest in him, but I needn’t have. He’s too girly for Simon’s tastes.”

  “He doesn’t seem girly now,” I mused.

  “He’s getting better, that’s the main thing.”

  “You must think I’m an incredible fool.” I glanced over at Wilecok. I didn’t feel drunk at all now, just coldly sober.

  “Not really.” Wilecok shrugged. “You live and you learn, that’s my motto. You were Simon’s squire. A sitting duck.”

  “But tell me...” I paused. “He made it sound like I was special to him. Was that a lie?”

  Wilecok stood up, stretching. “Know what I think? Of all the people he’s been with, you were the most dear to him. You could look at it that way.”

  I stood up too. “You don’t really know that,” I said uncertainly.

  “Heard his brother Henry talking to him about you once.” Wilecok’s voice was slurred and sleepy. “Before they left for the battle, actually. Not long ago. Henry asked how he’d feel if you were killed. Simon paused and said something like, ‘I wouldn’t be able to bear it.’ I’d never heard him talk that way before. Then he said, ‘It won’t happen, though.’ And Henry asked, ‘If I were killed?’ And Simon answered, ‘The same thing. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.’ They embraced. I stopped watching then.”

  “Oh,” I said foolishly. I waited for Wilecok to go on. He didn’t. It was so dark now I couldn’t see his face.

  “He loves his brother. Sometimes the thing we love most is taken away from us, though.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to say.” The conversation was beginning to scare me. “I must go in.”

  “Aye, go along,” Wilecok said amiably. “I’m going to go look at the horses.”

  He blended into the darkness. I stood there, staring at nothing, trying to shake off the last image. I convinced myself that Wilecok had imagined it. He might have imagined the earlier conversation too, but I doubted it.

  Anyway, I could check with Stephen when he felt well enough to talk about it.

  I heard Wilecok in the distance, talking drunkenly to the horses.

  What to do? Should Stephen and I go to Odiham? Or was this the time to break with the Montforts?

  I would ask Stephen. But I wasn’t sure what he would say, and I wasn’t sure if what he told me would be based on his visions of the future. He seemed to be guided by them, and I couldn’t blame him.

  My instincts were off, too. My hand went to my dagger and I rested it on the hilt. I thought about thrusting it into Simon’s chest.

  I wouldn’t be able to bear it, he’d said. It won’t happen, though.

  Didn’t he deserve mercy? He could have had Stephen killed. That was what a truly w
icked man would have done. His grandfather, for example. He had told me once, idly, that King John had ordered his wife’s lover killed and hung over her bed as a punishment. It was the most disgusting thing that I had ever heard. I wondered whether his father or mother had told him that. What a way to warp a child’s brain.

  The darkness was all-enveloping. I felt more than saw my way back up the steps to Stephen’s room. Luckily, there was a lantern hanging in the hall and I used it to climb the stairs.

  He wasn’t asleep when I got in. I could sense it as I shed my clothes in the darkness.

  “Will?” His voice was stronger now, but sleepy.

  “Yes, Stephen.” I went to stand close to him.

  “You all right?”

  “Yes. Sorry, I was outside drinking with Wilecok. How do you feel?”

  “So much better, really. Itchy. I think the scabs are coming off.”

  “I’ll look at them in the morning.”

  “Thanks, darling Will,” he muttered.

  The room was whirling about me as I collapsed onto the cot.

  “It will probably be all right now. Sorry I was so grim earlier,” he said in the dark room.

  “You were fine. We should get some sleep. But, Stephen...”

  “Yes?”

  I took a deep breath. “Did you know that Simon was the one who sent you away?”

  “Wilecok told you?” he responded.

  “He did.” My voice sounded strangled.

  “Well, yes,” he said reluctantly. “When I realized it was going to happen, I saw the conversation between Eleanor and her son. With Wilecok there, listening.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “That’s what I thought. I didn’t tell you. I just couldn’t, I knew that you trusted him and you would be more miserable if you knew it was him.”

  “You never saw what he intended, with me?”

  “I saw that too,” he admitted. “You see, Will, how it’s a curse rather than a gift? Yes, I knew you would go to bed with Simon. I knew it before I left the castle.”