by Anne Herries
‘Then—what was the point of the arrests?’
‘It was the only way Father could intercede,’ Constance told her. ‘He wanted Sir Stefan to prove his point, but to make sure that Sir Gavin was not killed uselessly. The only one likely to suffer from this is Isobel herself.’
‘Why is that?’ Elona was puzzled.
‘An accusation of complicity in the murder of her husband does not have to be proven against her,’ Constance explained. ‘The knights can both prove their innocence—but she cannot. It is only her word against others and three people have come forward to accuse her.’
Elona’s face turned pale. ‘What will happen to her?’
‘If the King is merciful, she will be sent to a nunnery and stripped of her wealth. It has happened to others before her. Her punishment would be far greater if it could be proven that she had incited others to kill her husband—but the knight that struck the fatal blow died soon after of a putrid fever…and there were some who wondered at his death even then.’
Elona frowned as Constance lifted her brows. ‘What are you saying—that she might have caused him to die? Poison…’ She looked at the other girl in horror. ‘If that is true, her punishment is hardly severe enough.’ The likely punishment for such a crime would in a woman’s case often be that she would be burned as a witch.
‘As I said, nothing can be proven—and so his Majesty will show mercy. She will be sent to the nunnery before the day is out. The trial of the knights will take longer.’
A shiver ran through Elona. She believed that Isobel de Montaine was not a good woman, and it was possible that she had conspired to have her husband killed, yet her punishment would be the same if she were innocent. She had been accused and had no way of proving her innocence and therefore she would be punished.
Elona could not help feeling sorry for her despite knowing that she probably deserved whatever was meted out to her—but it did seem unfair that the knights would be given a fair hearing and would prove their innocence while Isobel could not.
‘Do not feel sorry for her,’ Constance said as she saw Elona’s look. ‘She was not a chaste woman; had her husband not been a soft fool, he would have sent her to the nuns long since. It is our duty to be chaste and guard our husbands’ honour, Elona. Isobel hath lain with many men and it is time that she was punished for her immodesty, if nothing else.’
Elona made no reply. A woman could not be immodest without the involvement of a man, and yet it was she who must bear the shame and the disgrace. Yet such was the world into which they were born, and the rules of conduct were clear. Some men even locked their wives into chastity belts before they went away, often to the crusades or foreign wars. Women were, after all, the possession of their fathers or husbands.
‘I cannot help feeling a little sorry for her,’ Elona said. ‘Though I know that she probably does not deserve it.’
She could not help either the feeling that she had in part caused the other woman’s downfall. Everyone had suspected Isobel de Montaine of plotting her husband’s death, but nothing had been done about it—until Elona had begged Constance’s father to help Stefan. It was a clever plan, for it had achieved what everyone wanted, punishing only the woman who had instigated the whole sorry business. Yet it was a severe punishment for a woman like Isobel.
‘When do you think Sir Stefan will be released?’
‘Perhaps not for a day or two,’ Constance said. ‘There must be an inquiry and judgement must be passed—but do not worry, Elona. My father will preside over the proceedings and he intends that the knights shall shake hands and go free once Isobel is safely out of the way.’
‘Yes, I see. We have much to thank your father for, Constance.’
‘My father admires Sir Stefan—and he likes you. Had your heart been free, I think he might have tried to win it for himself.’
‘Had my…?’ Elona gave her a wry look. ‘Are my feelings so plain to you?’
‘To me and my father, yes,’ the other girl replied with a smile. ‘Because we are both fond of you, Elona. But I doubt that anyone else realises the truth—unless it is Dickon.’
‘Yes, I am sure that Dickon knows,’ Elona said. A little shudder of relief went through her. ‘I have been so very worried.’
‘Well, you need worry no more. You are to come home with me, and Sir Stefan may come to look for you there. I want to make the most of your time with us. And it will not do for you to stay here and brood alone.’
Elona would have preferred to remain where she was, but she could not refuse Constance’s request after the kindness shown to her by her good friends. Without Sir Basil’s help, Stefan might have had to kill a man he would prefer to let live—and the least she could do was to go home with Constance as requested.
It was three days before the judicial court was convened and the judgement finally passed, three days that might have been months or years as far as Elona was concerned. She could neither rest nor sleep, for her mind was in a turmoil. Even though she knew that Stefan would eventually be released, she was still on thorns until it happened and she saw him again.
One thing that she had discovered, from the knights and ladies she met as she attended the King’s court with Constance, was that most believed Isobel had received her just deserts. The lady had been disliked by the other ladies and despised by many of the knights who believed her guilty of conspiring in her husband’s death. Proud and cruel, she had discarded too many lovers, made too many enemies, and there were none to speak out for her.
Elona could not but be glad that Isobel was no longer at court, though she could not quite rid herself of her own involvement in that lady’s fate. Undoubtedly, she had played a part in the drama.
However, there was nothing she could do but accept what had happened and wait in patience for Stefan to come to her. On the morning of the third day, Sir Basil told her to have her women prepare her things.
‘It will be one of the conditions of Sir Stefan’s pardon that he leave the court immediately and does not return for three months,’ he said. ‘Sir Gavin will be banished for a year. He is to be sent to Duke Richard’s court and may within a few weeks be on his way to the Holy Land to join the knights at a garrison there. It is the King’s judgement—to make sure that the two knights are not tempted to pursue their quarrel on another occasion.’
‘It seems hardly fair that Sir Stefan should be punished for a quarrel that was none of his making.’
‘I believe you will find that he does not consider it a punishment. He had intended to leave almost at once and I do not believe he wishes to return for a much longer time than his banishment entails. I think it is his intention to live at his manor in peace.’
‘Oh…’ Elona absorbed this in silence. It was clear that her time at court was at an end. She did not mind that so very much, but Stefan would deliver her to Banewulf and then…she might never see him again. What a fool she was to have given her heart to a man who had no use for it. ‘Thank you for telling me, sir. I must make sure that we are ready to leave.’
Elona took a tearful farewell of her friends, for they were to attend the court and she must wait here for Sir Stefan to come for her.
‘Perhaps we shall meet again one day?’
‘Perhaps,’ Constance said. ‘I think my father seeks a match for me with Sir Robin before Christmas. It may be that we shall go on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land after our wedding. There is talk of more fighting and Robin will want to be a part of that if it comes.’
‘Will you go with him?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Constance said. ‘I love him, and he loves me. I know that some knights leave their wives to guard their manor while they take up the Cross, but Robin would never expect that of me. If he goes, I shall go with him.’
‘Then I wish you a safe passage—and happiness,’ Elona replied. ‘But if you are married to the man you love, you cannot want for more.’
She wished that she might be as happy, but she could not see any hope f
or herself.
As the day wore on and Stefan did not come, her nervousness increased. Had something gone wrong? Had Stefan and Sir Gavin fought again?’
It was almost dusk when Elona finally received a message that she was to join Stefan’s retinue in the morning outside the city walls. He had sent three of his men to escort her, besides her squire.
There was no mention of his trial, nor yet the outcome. The message had been brief and to the point, giving her no insight to his feelings.
Elona sensed that he was angry—but surely not with her? What had she done to deserve such a curt message? Why had he not come himself to set her mind at rest? She had been on thorns all day, and now this! It brought her to the edge of tears, and yet she was angry too. How could he dismiss her so lightly? Did he not understand what she had suffered for his sake?
She had spent another restless night and was ready long before first light, feeling glad when they were at last on their way. Her nerves were stretched and her heart was beating too fast when they finally reached Stefan’s camp, which had been packed into carts and on stout ponies, and was ready to depart. She saw him mounted and surrounded by his knights, and she knew that he had noticed her join them, but he did not smile or raise his hand in salute. His only reaction to her arrival was to give the order to move off.
Elona’s heart sank. What chance had she now of reaching him? He was the cold stranger she had so disliked when he came to her father’s house. She knew that his stern features could relax into a smile, and that his smile could turn her insides to water, but now he had a barrier in place between them.
Did he blame her for what had happened? How could he? Yes, she had asked if the fight could be stopped, but she had not known what would happen. She had never dreamed that he would be arrested on a false charge.
Was he angry because Isobel had been punished? He was certainly angry about something! Yet he had seemed to despise the other woman…but something had happened to make him become this icy stranger once more.
Close to tears, Elona kept her distance. She would not beg for his love, despite the ache building inside her.
Stefan rode without looking in Elona’s direction, his mood one of bitter anger. He felt that his honour had been besmirched by the accusation that he had conspired with Isobel to cause her husband’s death. It was unjust and demeaning and it pricked him like a thorn in his side.
It mattered not that he had been released from custody, his name cleared of the suspicion. The taste of his brief stay in a small dark room that was only a little better than a dungeon was too recent, too bitter to be swallowed and forgotten. Sir Basil had seemed to think it a clever plan, almost a jest, and he had been hard put to it not to strike the fool. Especially when he had prated on about upsetting the Lady Elona!
How dared he take it upon himself to interfere? Stefan had needed no help from him or anyone else, and his pride was touched by the suggestion that the fight might have gone the other way. He had been in control the whole time and was on the point of offering mercy, which might or might not have been accepted… Sir Gavin was a fool, but he had fought well and it had been Stefan’s intention to spare him whether he willed it or no. He would have managed it somehow, even had he had to knock him unconscious to do it. As it happened, the other knight was barely conscious by the end of the fight and no one would have known whether he had refused mercy or not.
To be arrested when he had just fought and beaten a knight of Sir Gavin’s calibre—and Stefan admitted that it had been more difficult than he had imagined—was infuriating.
Such was his anger that he did not trust himself to speak to Elona. Their journey would take at least three days and his temper would have cooled long before then. It would be wiser to keep his distance for the moment.
There were things that needed to be said before they reached Banewulf, but for the time being they could wait.
Two days had passed and hardly a word had been spoken between them! Elona knew that she was almost as much to blame as Stefan for she had reacted to his angry silence with a proud haughtiness of her own, refusing him a smile when he had seemed to want to talk to her the previous evening. Now they were only a few hours’ journey from Banewulf and once again one of the wagons had broken down and was in need of repair.
‘I shall see that my men have their orders and then we will ride on with a small party ahead of the others,’ Stefan told Elona.
‘As you wish,’ she replied coldly, for if he could retreat behind a barrier of silence so could she. ‘I dare say you wish to be rid of me as soon as possible.’
‘Do not be ridiculous!’ Stefan said with a sigh of exasperation. Why was she looking at him so accusingly? He was torn between a desire to shake her and another, stronger, to take her into his arms and devour her with hungry kisses—and that he had promised himself he would not do. He had vowed to deliver her safely to Banewulf and that he would do if it killed him! ‘I shall not be long, and then we shall talk before we ride.’ Her only reply was a shrug of her shoulders, which made him want to shake her. ‘Do not wander into the woods. They are dense and I have no time to set up a search party for you if you get lost!’
He walked off, obviously past patience with her, and for Elona that was the last straw. She would not be treated like a child, nor would she be told what she could or could not do. She would show him that she was not a foolish child and could find her way in any woods!
She walked away from the clearing where they had stopped to make repairs and take some refreshment, following what was clearly a path used by woodsmen and villagers.
It was cooler beneath the trees and pleasant, the sun filtering through the canopy and playing on the fern-covered path before her. In the trees she caught sight of a squirrel, his red tufted ears alert as if he listened for sounds, his eyes bright. Suddenly he started to leap through the trees, such daring feats of skill and balance that Elona laughed in delight and ran to follow and keep him in her sights.
Oh, the woods had a magical feel, the sound of birdsong all around her and the scent of the wildflowers that flourished in any patch of open ground where the sunlight filtered through. She had a feeling of well being, of happiness, as if she had been released from a shadow that had hung over her these past days, and realised how foolish she had been to sulk because Stefan was angry.
Now she began to see that she was as much to blame for the coldness between them. Why should he not be angry? He had been accused of a heinous crime and, though acquitted, it must have stung his pride. She knew that, for he was a true knight and would feel that any slur was a stain upon his honour. She ought to have realised how he felt and waited patiently for him to recover his spirits. Sulking would gain her nothing. She would talk to him, tell him that she had come to care for him, hear what he would say to her.
Turning, Elona began to retrace her steps towards the camp, and then stopped as she realised she had strayed from the well-trodden path as she ran after the squirrel. She turned in a circle, looking for her way and felt pleased as she saw it. She had not strayed so very far after all. She could hear the sound of voices…men’s voices close by…and horses. She would soon be back with Stefan… But she could see the men now. They stood directly ahead of her, between her and the path she must follow—and they were not Stefan’s men!
No! It could not be. She had strayed only a short distance from the camp. These men could not have known she was here—but they had and there was something about them that made her suddenly afraid.
An icy trickle ran down Elona’s spine. Those men looked uncomfortably like…but, no, it could not be! Yet she knew from the colours of black and purple of the livery they wore that they were Baron Danewold’s men.
Chapter Six
Elona was frightened as she realised that she had fallen into a trap. She had forgotten about Danewold! Her pleasure at being at court and then the shock of Sir Gavin’s challenge and Stefan’s arrest, her feelings for him—all these had combined to drive an
y thought of the Baron’s pursuit from her mind. Besides, she had thought she was safe here in England and so close to Banewulf.
Was it possible that Danewold’s men had been shadowing them all this time, waiting their opportunity? They must have been! Had Stefan guessed that the Baron’s men would continue to shadow them? Of course he had. All at once she understood why she had been warned so many times not to stray into woods or too far from her friends. What a heedless, vain, foolish woman she was to ignore those warnings!
Elona looked behind her. Should she try to flee that way and risk becoming lost? It was surely better than allowing herself to be caught tamely by the Baron’s men. Yet if she could just dodge past them and reach help… Even as she hesitated, a horseman came riding out of the trees from behind her.
His purpose was clear. Elona gave a little yelp of fear, turned and ran in the direction she had been walking when she followed the squirrel, hoping to avoid her pursuers by plunging deeper into the wood. But the horseman was almost upon her and flung himself down from his horse, pursuing her into the part of the wood where the trees grew more densely.
She ran as fast as she could, her breath coming in tortured gasps as the fear swept over her, but he was faster. He was so close that she could hear the rasp of his breathing, and then he was upon her, bringing her down to the ground, subduing her as she fought against him, pummelling at him with her fists, kicking and biting. But it was all in vain. He was so much stronger and she knew she could not escape him try as she might.
‘You’re a little hellcat,’ the soldier muttered furiously as her nails raked his face, drawing blood. ‘Think yourself lucky that my master wants you in one piece or I would teach you a lesson you’d not forget in a hurry.’
Elona opened her mouth to scream, but his large, none-too-clean hand was clamped over it, cutting off the sound. She bit him and he swore, drew back his hand and hit her across the face. The force of the blow made her head snap back and the blackness descended over her as he carried her over his shoulder and back towards his horse.
