The Lady in the Tower

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  ‘Here,’ I said, falling on my knees beside Gregory and winding a bloodied cloth, from the pile the doctor had used, around his right arm.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked weakly.

  ‘You have a wounded arm, you fool,’ I muttered. ‘Gregory, listen. You scored no points in the first two runs. Stanton broke his lance on your body and then your arm. Then you unhorsed him in the final round. Do you understand?’ Gregory nodded. He was pale, and his brow glistened with sweat from the effort of sitting up. I doubted he could play the part.

  I was replacing my French hood when the tent flap opened and my father and three companions entered. Maria followed, and gave me a relieved glance as she saw that all appeared well.

  ‘By God, Hungerford, that was the best I’ve ever seen you ride!’ roared Sir Walter. ‘We thought Stanton had you for sure until that final run. Well done!’

  He grasped Gregory awkwardly by his left hand and pumped his arm up and down. Gregory gasped, and Sir Walter released him at once.

  ‘Has a surgeon been to you?’ he asked. ‘How bad is it?’ He indicated Gregory’s injuries with a sweep of his arm. I held my breath, praying that Gregory would not give anything away.

  ‘Not since the last bout, Uncle,’ said Gregory, with an effort. ‘My left side was struck afresh and troubles me somewhat.’

  ‘And your arm? I saw you took a nasty blow to that.’ Sir Walter pointed at my clumsily tied bandage on my cousin’s arm. Gregory blushed.

  ‘Oh, it’s less than nothing, sir,’ he responded truthfully.

  I let out an involuntary sigh of relief. It drew my father’s eye upon me at once.

  ‘What are you doing here, girl?’ he asked sharply. Maria intervened swiftly:

  ‘Poor Eleanor was so concerned for her cousin that she rushed to tend him at the first opportunity,’ she said.

  ‘Well, well,’ responded my father impatiently. ‘Very touching I’m sure. But it is hardly proper for you to be here. You’ll kindly remember who you are betrothed to, madam. Not that you are to go running to his tent either,’ he added hastily. ‘Maria, take her off, will you?’

  ‘Perhaps we should all leave Hungerford to the care of his squire,’ suggested Maria tactfully.

  ‘Yes, very well,’ agreed Sir Walter. He turned back to Gregory. ‘Well done. You’ve made it a Hungerford victory all round, damn me, so you have. I couldn’t be prouder if I’d won it myself. Get yourself dressed for the prize giving now, there’s a good lad. We can’t keep the king waiting.’ So saying, he strode out of the tent. We followed. As I ducked out of the tent, I looked back and gave my cousin a quick wink. The look he gave me in return was anything but friendly. Outside the tent, Maria quickly straightened my hood and adjusted my gown slightly.

  ‘That went well enough, did it not?’ she asked lightly. ‘I believe they suspected nothing.’

  I raised my eyes to hers.

  ‘Thank you, Maria,’ I said. ‘I don’t know why you chose to help us, but … ’

  ‘Hush, child,’ said Maria, giving me a quick hug. ‘Think nothing of it. If only you could bring yourself to trust me more, you would not be so surprised. I desire only to be your friend.’ She patted my cheek, and then tucked her arm in mine and guided me back towards the lists. I walked beside her feeling thoroughly confused. It seemed Maria was most truly kind after all. Perhaps I had wronged her all along. I had been blinded by her unfortunate manner and the affectations which hid her good heart. I reproached myself as we walked, but Maria interrupted me.

  ‘As for what you just did, child, I think the less you tell me the better. But was it truly you we all watched on Hungerford’s horse? I would never have guessed it.’

  ‘I learned jousting with my brother Walter, ma’am.’ I felt I owed her this confidence at least.

  ‘How … shocking,’ was her comment. ‘Please do take care that no one but me discovers your secret. You can trust me, of course. But others would take a very dim view of it, I fear.’

  ‘I shall not boast,’ I replied.

  ‘And how is your arm?’ Maria asked. ‘It must be very painful?’

  ‘I don’t mind the pain,’ I told her. ‘But it is still bleeding and I’m afraid that the blood might soak into my sleeve and show.’

  ‘You will let me bind it for you properly soon,’ said Maria, giving my good arm a squeeze. ‘It would be better not to see the surgeon. And now, we must attend the ceremony as if nothing had happened.’

  My cousin managed to dress himself and appear before the crowd to be awarded his prize, a gleaming golden statue. I thought he looked deeply embarrassed as he received it from the king, but I hoped everyone else believed him to be much moved. I heard people around me praise his modesty, and I smiled to myself.

  If I had hoped to see that Lord Stanton was a bad loser, I was disappointed. He too was on his feet again, though moving with less than his usual grace after his fall. I saw him shake my cousin by the hand and clap him on the shoulder. He praised Gregory’s skill and courage for all to hear. Gregory looked awkward and when Stanton offered to hand over his horse, Gregory tried to refuse.

  ‘No, really, Stanton,’ I heard him say, low. ‘Not Caesar. That horse means so much to you. I could not accept him.’

  ‘You won him fair and square, did you not?’ asked Stanton, embarrassing my cousin still further. I was standing near enough to hear the low-voiced negotiations that followed, which ended in Gregory accepting a horse that Stanton had won earlier in the tournament in place of his own. I felt very annoyed with Gregory for being such a gentleman. Maria overheard this exchange too, and whispered in my ear:

  ‘Did you ride for love of your cousin, Eleanor?’

  ‘No, certainly not,’ I snapped back.

  Despite Maria’s promise to bind my arm, she became engaged in conversation with the king. I managed to slip away. I went, not to my bedchamber, where she would quickly find me again, but to my old haunt above the hayloft. There I hoped to be safe from discovery for a while. I looked for Tom as I passed through the stables, but he was nowhere in sight.

  I lay on my back in the sweet-smelling hay and relived the joust for a while. The cheers and screams of the crowd, the deep satisfaction of victory. Once again I pictured Stanton, on his back on the grass, one foot still caught in his stirrup, and a delighted smile spread over my face. The pain that now throbbed and burned in my arm was a small price to have paid for such revenge. It was almost a pity he would never know it was me, not Gregory Hungerford, who had put him there. If he could have known, it might make him regret having taunted and persecuted me. It might even make him regret having plotted against my mother.

  This reminded me of my anxieties for my mother. It struck me for the first time how foolish, how thoughtless had been my conduct this afternoon. I could have been seriously injured. Then Mother would have been entirely at the mercy of our enemies. I shivered guiltily, and reminded myself that my injuries were trifling. I had been fortunate.

  As I lay thinking everything over, a new plan stole into my mind. I lay turning it over, fear churning my insides. Could I possibly free my mother this very night? The castle would be far busier than during the joust, of course. But on the other hand, there was to be more dancing. That, surely, would keep everyone occupied. If I could drug the chaplain’s evening wine instead of his morning wine, it could … perhaps … be done.

  My plan was almost ready when my thoughts were interrupted in the most unexpected way. I could hear someone coming up the ladder to the hayloft. I remained where I was, assuming it was merely a groom coming to fetch some hay. The grooms all knew I hid here, and they kept my secret.

  But the figure that emerged was not the roughly-clad figure of a stable hand. Elegantly dressed and apparently recovered from his close acquaintance with the turf of the tournament ground, Lord Stanton stepped off the top of the ladder into the hayloft. He saw me at once, smiled slightly, and came to sit on a pile of hay beside me. Quickly, I pushed myself up, winci
ng as I inadvertently rested my weight on my injured right arm. I nervously brushed wisps of hay from my hair and clothes with my uninjured hand.

  ‘Please do not,’ he said, lifting a hand. ‘You present a charmingly rural picture, I assure you. Ah … you are not awaiting a tryst with the blacksmith’s son, I trust?’

  I scowled at him without replying, straightening my gown so that my feet and ankles were covered.

  ‘Your friend Maria is searching for you,’ he informed me after a short silence.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘She obviously does not know you as well as she thinks she does, for she is searching in your bedchamber and in the kitchens.’

  ‘And how did you know where to find me?’ I asked suspiciously.

  ‘I saw you here the day I arrived, do you not remember?’ he asked.

  I did remember, but I had not been aware that he saw me clearly enough to recognize me.

  ‘No,’ I lied. ‘But I’m honoured that you do, sir.’

  ‘Liar,’ he responded appreciatively, and I could not help a small smile. ‘You are annoyed to be discovered in your secret hiding place, and by me of all people.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ I noticed that Stanton held himself straighter than usual and seemed to have a little difficulty breathing. I wondered whether he was merely bruised, or whether he had broken a rib or two in his fall.

  ‘Are you not concerned about my possible injuries?’ Stanton asked. ‘I heard you were most concerned about my opponent’s.’

  I frowned. ‘You look remarkably well, my lord. I see no cause for concern. But tell me: how did the lists look from the ground. Muddy?’

  To my surprise, Stanton laughed. ‘It was a most unfamiliar perspective,’ he conceded. ‘I am used to win.’

  ‘So you told me,’ I agreed affably. I took enormous pleasure in his defeat and my own role in it. I was enjoying this exchange and I fear my delight showed.

  ‘I therefore owe you your letter,’ Stanton continued without rancour. He held out my precious note. I gave a gasp of surprise and reached out for it with my left hand. I could see my seal was still intact. He had not read the note, nor had he shown the contents to Sir Walter. I took the note and crumpled it tightly in my hand. I might still be trapped at Farleigh, but at least my plans were not uncovered.

  ‘And so, your gallant cousin has deprived me of my kiss!’ commented Stanton. His tone was still light, but I blushed and could not meet his eyes. ‘Unless of course you choose to bestow it willingly on a defeated knight?’ he asked hopefully. That surprised a small laugh from me. I shook my head, but also wondered what it might be like to kiss him. I stole a look at his face. He was certainly handsome. Would he put his arms around me if he kissed me? I shivered slightly, and I wasn’t quite sure why. Stanton was looking at me closely, his expression hard to read.

  ‘Ah well, I thought not,’ he said at last. ‘But you will shake hands at least?’ His eyes didn’t waver from my face. I hesitated. I could not decently refuse, and yet my right arm was so very painful now. I gritted my teeth and held out my hand to him, somewhat stiffly, hoping he would not shake it too vigorously. He did not shake it at all. Instead, taking it firmly in one hand, he used his free hand to push my sleeve back in one deft movement, revealing the bloodstained handkerchief still bound tightly over the injury.

  I cried out, partly with the pain, and partly in shock and fear.

  ‘An accident, Mistress Eleanor?’ asked Stanton, sardonically. ‘What did you do? Fall up this ladder?’

  ‘I … no, one of the horses bit me.’

  Stanton untied the knot, ignoring my attempt to pull away, and peeled the handkerchief from my arm. ‘You have cut yourself. This needs cleaning,’ he said, examining the wound. Still he held my arm, his fingers cool against the heat around the injury. I was fully aware of the potential seriousness of the situation. But surely he could not guess? It was too wildly improbable that he should imagine I had jousted against him.

  Stanton took out a clean handkerchief of his own and bound it around my arm. I sat still, feeling awkward to have him tending me like this, when I had deceived him so badly. I could feel my heart thumping painfully in my chest as I waited to hear what he might say next. At last he released me and sat back on his heels in the straw. His look was sombre.

  ‘So I was right,’ he said quietly. ‘I can scarcely credit it, even with the evidence of my own eyes.’

  ‘My lord?’ I faltered, unsure of his meaning, but fearing the worst.

  ‘You took your cousin’s place in the joust. You knocked me from my horse,’ he stated calmly, but there was a slight wonder in his voice. ‘How did you dare? You might have been killed!’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean … ’ I began, but Stanton waved my words away impatiently.

  ‘Don’t deny it. I know it for a fact, incredible though it may seem.’

  ‘Maria told you?’ I asked in a small voice.

  ‘Maria? Good God, no. Was she part of this?’ exclaimed Stanton in surprise.

  ‘No, but she found out and shielded us, after … ’ My voice trailed off. I didn’t know what to say, and was afraid of saying too much. Stanton was still gazing at me.

  ‘So why did you do it?’ he asked again. ‘Such a risk!’

  ‘You thought you could force my hand with that hateful wager,’ I replied angrily. ‘I was not going to submit tamely to such a thing.’

  Stanton looked taken aback. I swallowed and continued more quietly. ‘In any case, I am not inexperienced in the joust, sir,’ I told him stiffly.

  ‘That much was obvious. I should rather suppose you were trained from the cradle,’ Stanton retorted.

  ‘Not quite. I was eleven when the castellan began to teach me alongside my brother.’

  ‘And were you afraid today?’ he asked, his voice suddenly softer. The question surprised me so much, I blinked at him.

  ‘Afraid? Only a little. I was absolutely determined to get the better of you,’ I replied honestly.

  ‘Have I angered you so much, Eleanor?’

  ‘I should think that must have been your intention, my lord. I can imagine no other reason for such ungentlemanly behaviour.’

  Stanton did not defend himself, nor did he apologize. Instead, he gave a short bark of laughter. ‘That was your reason for this outrageous masquerade? Very well, I believe you. No doubt it was your idea. I can hardly believe your cousin dreamed it up.’

  ‘No, of course not. He was most unwilling … Sir, if Maria did not tell you, how did you know?’

  ‘Several things. The way your cousin’s mount was fretting for a start. You were clearly not the rider he was used to. That aroused my suspicions. Somebody had taken your cousin’s place. But your style was unknown to me. I could not think who you might be.’

  I bit my lip, and he smiled faintly. ‘I’m really not quite as stupid as you seem to think me, Eleanor. I noticed you were missing from the stands during the final, and I was surprised. I knew, you see, that you had a vested interest in the outcome of that particular bout.’

  He was teasing me again, and I glowered at him. The humorous gleam was back in his eyes.

  ‘I was not going to let you win by withdrawal,’ I said fiercely. ‘If the rules did not forbid women, I could have ridden against you openly.’

  ‘That would have been interesting.’ He smiled briefly, and then grew serious once more. ‘I cannot condone the deception you practised. I am most unhappy to have been apparently beaten by your pitiful cousin.’

  ‘He is not pitiful,’ I exclaimed indignantly.

  ‘Pitiful,’ repeated Stanton firmly. ‘But I find myself in awe of both your considerable courage, and your skill with a lance.’

  I did not know where to look. Stanton sounded, for once, quite sincere.

  ‘Thank you, I suppose,’ I said at last. Then I added: ‘If it had not been for that hateful wager, I never should have done it.’

  ‘That would almost have been a pity.’ Stanton took my left han
d in his, and kissed it. I shuffled uncomfortably.

  ‘Can I escort you to Mistress Maria?’ he asked, dispelling my embarrassment.

  Stanton descended the ladder first and then insisted on my jumping down so he could catch me, despite my protests that I could manage perfectly well. In the end, I agreed. He caught me, his hands on my waist, and held me a moment before setting me on my feet. I grimaced a little, my side still sore from the first blow of the lance.

  ‘You are hurt?’ asked Stanton, looking concerned. He was still holding me. I hurriedly disengaged myself.

  ‘Only a little bruised. I have often been hurt in training. This is nothing.’

  ‘I reproach myself for injuring you,’ Stanton told me.

  It sounded most unlike him. I lifted my brows incredulously, but he met my eyes, his own sincere. Then he turned to the door.

  Before we walked out into the yard, I paused, stopping him with a hand on his arm.

  ‘You are not going to tell Sir Walter, are you?’ I asked, looking anxiously up at him. ‘That I took Gregory’s place, I mean.’

  The look he gave me in response was enigmatic. I was puzzled and then it struck me.

  ‘Of course. You cannot tell, can you?’ I crowed gleefully. ‘For then everyone will know you were beaten by a mere girl, which would be even more humiliating than being beaten by my cousin! That’s a double defeat for you, my lord!’

  Stanton bowed stiffly. ‘Touché, Eleanor. Your round, I think.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘Good evening, Betsey,’ I greeted the cook, as I entered the kitchen an hour later. ‘Is this Mother’s supper tray?’