A Knight's Tale: Kenilworth

by Gabriella West

  The two men smiled, winking at each other. “Might take a while for that to happen, though,” Wilecok said kindly. “Considering the frenship you two have.” He drained his tankard quickly.

  “The friendship?” I repeated, amused.

  “Not sure what to call it,” Wilecok admitted. “Odd thing to be talking about in a friars’ garden. Or not.” He belched.

  “Ah, they’re all sodomites here,” Gobithest said bluntly.

  “No, they’re not. I saw very little of that here. I saw more at the castle.” Stephen’s tone was tough and piercing. I saw him glare at Gobithest.

  “You just were unfortunate to run across the worst there, lad,” Wilecok put in.

  “Don’t talk about it!” Stephen snapped, bristling at my side. “I can’t believe you have the nerve. You didn’t do anything either.”

  “Look at me,” Wilecok slurred. “I’m some old fool on a horse who takes messages for a living. Would anyone have cared what I said? More like I’d have been tossed out on my ear.”

  There was a brooding silence. I continued sipping, desperate to catch some of the sweetness the drink offered. And I felt it, inside, a kind of flowering and loosening up.

  “I know why you’re drunk all the time,” I said to Wilecok. “It makes everything better.”

  “That it does,” he answered. “Aye, lad, that it does,” Gobithest echoed.

  Stephen leaned against me still. As the men turned to shamble away, seemingly a little shame-faced, I felt his lips brush against my cheek.

  We lay back on the blankets. They had left the pitcher with us. They were in the distance now, linking arms, going back to the refectory.

  “Do you think they were ever lovers?” I asked dreamily, looking at the sky.

  Stephen smiled. “Only you would care, Will.”

  “It seems important. But yes, only to me, I suppose.”

  “I imagine they probably pleasured each other at certain times.” His face was more relaxed too. His hood had fallen back, revealing his bright hair.

  “Sharing a bed at an inn, that kind of thing,” I muttered.

  “You seem to like them because of it. I still don’t.”

  “I find them very human.” I lifted my tankard. “And kind. They left us alone. They probably think we’re going to make love out here.”

  “They’re wrong about that.” Stephen swallowed, looking at me soberly. “I don’t know if you can wait, Will.”

  “I can wait,” I answered after a moment. “Not till France, though?”

  “Oh no, not till France,” he assured me. His smile was tipsy, his eyes a bit brighter. He hefted the tankard. “I’m not used to this.”

  “It’s probably good for you. Though I’m not the healer.”

  “Yes, you are,” he whispered.

  I smiled but looked away, as I did not want to feel overly tempted by him. Not yet.

  “We should leave here before Lammas,” I said in a practical tone.

  “I never want to leave,” Stephen murmured. “Not that I love it. I don’t. But I feel utterly safe here.”

  “Except you nearly died.” I was definitely drunk now. My ears had started ringing and my voice sounded far away.

  He was silent, deep in thought. “You’re right,” he said finally.

  He closed his eyes in slumber, hand still on his open tankard. I set it safely beside him on the grass. I closed my eyes too, lulled by the buzzing of the bees.

  ***

  Gobithest left one morning toward the end of the month for Kenilworth to bring back another horse. I thought of him riding along, one hand on the reins of a riderless horse. I assumed that he also wanted to bring news to Lady Eleanor that we would be returning with Stephen after all. I wondered if Simon would be with her to hear the news, and what he would think.

  Once Gobithest was gone, Wilecok seemed more subdued again, a kindlier presence. When we told him the following day that we were going to see the graves of the monks who had died, he asked to come along.

  The monks had lived on the current property for over thirty years and so of course there was a graveyard. It was located close by the back of the church, with roses and bramble bushes amid the stones, and a yew tree giving shade. A cluster of simple wooden crosses marked the new graves.

  “They didn’t have time to carve stones. I wonder if they ever will,” Stephen said. He was staring at the cross crudely carved with Brother Anselm’s name.

  “A pity. He was a handsome man,” Wilecok mused, nodding at Stephen.

  “More than that. A good friend.” Stephen’s voice was hoarse with tears.

  Wilecok wandered to the back of the cluster of crosses as if searching for something.

  “Brother Michael,” he said quietly. He plucked the marker out of the ground, seemingly effortlessly, and flung it over the stone wall.

  “What was the point in that?” I asked him, shocked.

  “They’ll never do a stone for him now. I’ll burn the cross later,” Wilecok said, grinning. “Isn’t that what you’d want, lad?” He was looking at Stephen.

  Stephen, very pale, glanced at me as if gauging my disapproval. “Yes,” he said to Wilecok. “That is what I want.”

  The older man nodded. “Then that is what you shall have.”

  My mind was full of objections. Surely someone would remember that Brother Michael had been among the dead? But perhaps not. Perhaps no one would be fond enough of him to remember him.

  “Thank you,” Stephen said to Wilecok. “I was wrong about you.”

  “I was wrong,” Wilecok said. “I should have told someone. Sir Henry, mayhap. He might have scared the friar. Scared him off you.” He glanced at the dead friars’ graves and crossed himself. “Hard to admit, lad, but you’re not the only one who’s been through that ordeal. Any boy who’s small will have a hard time fighting for himself, or who lacks a father, as I did.”

  “What happened to your father, Wilecok?” I asked.

  “Killed by one o’ King John’s mercenaries afore I was born, I was told. My mum became a whore. Had to,” the man admitted. “She wanted me to have a proper job, but she couldn’t stop me falling into bad company. One thing led to another for a bit, but I finally found my feet working for Lady Eleanor after her first husband died. Back and forth she went, to this manor or that. The King visited often.” His voice took on a dreamy tone. “Lovely young woman she was, charming, pretty. The king was very fond of his young sister. Seemed smitten, almost. Sent gifts of venison every year for her table. Oh, it was always a good time, like the sun shone on us then.”

  “Must have been a shock when she married,” I said.

  “Aye, given her vow of chastity. But to tell the truth, I always thought that might have been a little bit for show.” Wilecok winked. “I never saw another man visit, besides the King, mind you,” he added. “And Earl Simon must have been an exciting lover. I only met him after they married, they married so quick. Then Sir Henry was on the way soon enough—but arrived a full nine months after they married. What they did in marrying in secret was scandalous enough, though. It angered the Archbishop and the Duke of Cornwall. Earl Simon had to go to Rome to plead forgiveness in front of the Pope!”

  He seemed in great spirits, recalling the hi-jinks of yesteryear. Stephen smiled at me as I glanced at him.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” he whispered, putting his arm around me. “I had to see this place once. I’ll never visit again.”

  “Perhaps when we’re old men, we can come back and see his tombstone,” I said.

  “Perhaps.” His tone was curt. “I don’t see us coming back here.”

  It was overcast as we walked slowly back to the house. Gobithest trotted up the drive, rather expertly holding the reins of a second horse in his hand.

  “It’s a palfrey,” he called. “We had to choose a gentle one that wouldn’t bolt or tug.”

  I half expected Lucy, but of course it wasn’t her; this horse looked amiable enough and had b
een saddled already.

  “Go on and try her,” Gobithest said to Stephen. “Are you strong enough yet?”

  He nodded, mounting quietly and without fuss.

  “Very good,” said Wilecok. “What do you reckon we get a start early on the morrow, unless it pours rain? Will you go with us to Odiham, Gobithest?”

  “Surely, my friend. In fact, I was told at Kenilworth that Lady Eleanor is there already. Only Sir Simon was there when I got to the castle. Sir Henry is at Wallingford with the royal prisoners.”

  “He seemed glad to hear the news of Master Stephen’s recovery?” Wilecok enquired smoothly.

  Gobithest pursed his lips. “Took it well enough. I know my lady will be glad.”

  “Christmas at Odiham for all of us, then,” Wilecok said in a hearty tone, his arm slung around my shoulders.

  I wondered where Tom was these days. It seemed that our companionship had ended, after so many years of almost being tethered to each other. I missed him sometimes. Yet I wondered how he would react to Stephen being back in my life.

  “Young Christiana stays at Odiham too, of course,” Wilecok added.

  Then Tom would probably join her there, at least for Christmas.

  Stephen dismounted, handing the reins to Gobithest. He patted the horse in a perfunctory manner and headed into the house.

  “Leave him be a bit,” Wilecok said to me. “He was upset seeing the graves.”

  I wondered if Simon’s name had shaken him a bit, Simon’s reaction to his recovery.

  He’d survived. I was proud of him, and proud of us.

  I raced up the stairs to tell him so, ignoring Wilecok.

  To my horror, he was weeping quietly on the bed, something I had never seen. “What is it?” I asked urgently, climbing onto the pallet, ignoring how it creaked beneath our weight.

  He rested in my arms. “I don’t know... Leaving, after all this time. Going back.”

  “Nobody will harm you, Stephen.”

  “I know,” he said after a while. “The rational part of me knows it.”

  That was all he said. I held him, listening to his heart thump. We had been slowly falling back into familiarities.

  “Will,” he murmured.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t want a chamber with you at Odiham. I think we should do it differently this time.”

  “Oh,” I said, dashed.

  “If I’m so near you, it will be so easy to slip back into bed... before I’m ready.”

  I wondered what ready meant to him. I didn’t ask. Perhaps it involved a confidence in his physical appearance that he didn’t feel now.

  “You don’t feel ready either, do you? Be honest.”

  I shook my head.

  “Yes, that’s honest,” he murmured.

  “It doesn’t mean I won’t be,” I whispered.

  There was a little doubt at the back of my mind, though. I wondered if we could feel real passion for each other. And if it wasn’t that way, it would be hard to sustain, I knew.

  “Love will find a way, I think,” Stephen said. Tears still streaked his face, but he slipped his hand under my tunic to stroke my chest. Expert fingers found and pinched my nipple.

  I drew in a breath. Just like that, I was hard. I stifled a groan.

  “Dinner, masters!” Wilecok called from the hallway below. “You’ll want to taste this pie while it’s hot!”

  He sounded so sure of himself that I burst out laughing. So did Stephen, who pulled away from me gracefully, sitting on the edge of the bed and putting on his shoes.

  “Take your time,” I told him, waiting for my racing heart to slow down.

  His back was to me, but I could sense him smiling. “Yes, that’s my motto going forward. Something I learned here, I suppose.”

  In the end we were a merry bunch that day at the refectory, eating Wilecok’s steak and kidney pie.

  “Should have been a cook, Wilecok,” Gobithest said, chewing with relish. “Why weren’t you?”

  “Always wanted to keep moving, I suppose. No fun being trapped in a hot kitchen.”

  The sun, finally out, shone hazily through the high windows onto us.

  “Did you know the barons met here at Blackfriars in 1258,” Gobithest said to no one in particular. “This is where the reform parliament was held back then, the one that first reined in the powers of the King. With our Earl Simon, of course, as the ringleader, God bless him.”

  “Were they gathered in the big church, I wonder,” Wilecok put in lazily. “We haven’t bothered to look in there, have we, masters?”

  Stephen smiled at me. “Let’s not. An abandoned church is a lonely thing.”

  The sunlight on his face was merciful, blurring his scars and making him look beautiful again to me.

  “Church of food and drink is good enough for me!” Gobithest said, raising his tankard to Wilecok and slurping.

  “Thank you, Wilecok,” I echoed. “Imagine if we hadn’t had a good cook here.”

  “Ye’ve been spoiled, lads,” Wilecok said. “But then, you both deserve it.”

  I glanced at Stephen. He, too, was smiling fondly at Wilecok. He looked transformed, actually, as if in touching me and sensing my pleasure, he’d started to regain his old self again, become the boy I’d loved once.

  Or perhaps the crying bout had been good for him.

  I took a bite. Now would begin the hard task of reining myself in, waiting for him.

  Chapter 18

  We made a slow, arduous, two-day journey to the castle at Odiham in early August of 1264. The palfrey went lame and so Stephen had to ride pillion with me in the end. Gobithest plodded along with the palfrey and Wilecok rode ahead, as if anxious to scout for trouble.

  The mood in the countryside was tense. A somber piece of news that Gobithest had let drop on his return from Kenilworth was that a large army of mercenaries was massing in France for an invasion of England, spearheaded by Queen Eleanor, who was anxious to rescue her husband and son and restore the monarchy to its full power. Apparently, a handful of men had been picked from every village in England during the month of July, on Earl Simon’s orders, and they, along with the knights who always went into battle at times of crisis, were massing near Dover Castle in Kent to defend the realm. (In the end, the fact that the Queen ran out of money to pay her troops would prevent this invasion, but we did not know that then.)

  So much had happened right after the battle of Lewes that I barely remembered being at Odiham. Its thick, chunky walls and compact size was comforting. The wild greenery growing in profusion all around tipped us off that we were in a different landscape to the farm fields of Kenilworth.

  Stephen’s head rested on my shoulder. His energy was still sapped after his illness, and he wasn’t ashamed to be seen as weak, which I liked. I felt I was the only one who knew how strong he really was, physically and mentally.

  Once we had arrived and relinquished our horses, we stood exhausted, looking around. The place seemed almost deserted, the unexpected rain a soft patter.

  Christiana came tripping across the courtyard in a muslin gown, holding up her skirts to avoid the mud.

  “Stephen!” she exclaimed. It did me good to see them embrace. Yet I saw her glance with quickly disguised shock at the marks on his face.

  “Thank you for praying for us,” Stephen said. She blushed and smiled.

  Wilecok and Gobithest had melted away, so Christiana led us into a hall that was nothing like the Great Hall at Kenilworth, but contained a fire burning in the hearth.

  We sat and accepted gratefully the warm wine that a servant brought us.

  “Is Tom here?” I asked.

  “He’s not. He’s with Sir Henry at Wallingford, helping guard the prisoners. He will be back, though, at Christmas-time.” She twisted a faded ribbon that I recognized as the one from the fair. “But the Montforts will all be meeting at Kenilworth for Christmas. I asked Lady Eleanor if I could stay here. And have Tom join me. We’ve been apa
rt for many months now, it seems. I haven’t seen Henry for ages, and Simon has been moving around, establishing himself at Portchester—he’ll be going to Pevensey Castle next, in Surrey, to besiege it. Do you know that castle?”

  Both Stephen and I shook our heads.

  “It’s massive, partly built by the Romans... next to the sea. A very difficult castle to attack successfully.” Her eyes seemed anxious as she glanced at me.

  “His father asked him to do it,” she added, when neither Stephen nor I commented. “To lay siege to the castle, I mean.”

  “I suppose he’s good at that,” I said vaguely. “Using siege weapons and things...” I trailed off. “Wouldn’t Tom rather be helping him than hanging around the royal prisoners?”

  There was a silence. “It is a bit nerve-wracking for Tom,” Christiana murmured. “He never expected hostages to be taken after Lewes, particularly the King’s son and brother! And Henry of Almain. Personally, I think Earl Simon went a little far in doing that.”

  “There must be some logic to it,” I said thoughtfully.

  “The King has always called him a traitor. This seems to prove it.”

  “Is Amaury here?” Stephen asked suddenly.

  “No, surprisingly! Amaury was offered the rectorship at St. Wendron. I believe it’s in Cornwall.” She smiled. “It’s the first important position he’s had in the Church. He seemed happy as he took his leave.”

  Stephen nodded. He was still a little wary and uneasy, but I expected he would soon shake it.

  “So, Will, are you here to be a hearth knight?” Christiana’s gentle eyes were probing.

  “I am from now on, I suspect.” I took a swallow of wine. “I won’t be joining Simon.” I felt Stephen relax at my side, but continued to hold Christiana’s gaze. “In a way the siege sounds fun, like the kind of thing I would have loved at fifteen. But it also sounds like a huge waste of time.”

  “Simon appears to think it so,” Christiana murmured.

  We exchanged a rueful smile. “Is he being punished?” I asked in a low voice.

  “It could be. I know not for what, but he was not in the best of tempers the last I saw him. He doesn’t like being separated from his brother, for one thing.”