by K. M. Grant
Ellie’s face was mutinous, for women, as Sir Thomas made very clear, were not included. She stabbed her needle viciously into the silk of Gavin’s surcoat, then cursed as she pricked her finger, and red droplets formed fuzzy patterns in the daffodil yellow. But William, although apparently only half-listening, thrilled to his father’s words. The cross meant that the pope had given his blessing to fight God’s war, and that if they died, which William was sure they wouldn’t, they would all go to heaven.
“We are pilgrim soldiers now,” said Sir Thomas. “We are going not just to fight but to pray as well. This is a very special calling. We will take our staffs as well as our swords—Ellie, don’t say “God’s teeth,” it is not ladylike—now where was I? Oh yes. When the killing is over, we will all do penance for it, and then we will see what every decent Christian longs to see: the True Cross, Calvary, the Via Dolorosa—all the places associated with Christ’s life and death.” He sniffed. “Your mother and I talked of going once, when we were old. Now I am old and she’s dead. That’s my cross, I suppose.” Then he smiled. “Well, at least I have my two sons, and you, of course, Ellie dear. I shall be going to the Holy City in the company of my sons. What more could a man ask, eh?”
But William was no longer listening at all. He was bored with watching the sewing and, now that his father had finished, wanted to get back out to the stables. Since Hosanna’s return from the monastery Sir Thomas and Sir Walter set tasks to test his fitness. The horse was back performing neat turns at speed, graceful reverses, and thundering charges as if he had never been ill. The horse could jump, too, and much to Sir Thomas’s alarm, he and William could be seen flying over hedges, ditches, and walls. Nothing, it seemed, was beyond them. Now William wanted to check with Hal that the new saddlery he had ordered was going to be ready on time.
The following day, instead of hunting, he suggested to Ellie that they should go over to the monastery and take the monks a present. Ellie jumped at the chance. William had given her Sacramenta to ride, and although she could not boast quite the skill that William exhibited, she could certainly ride better than many of the Hartslove knights. The two of them chattered away as they set off down the familiar route, with Sir Walter lagging behind, leading a packhorse laden with hares, cheese, and wine. Ellie had made a ring by twisting together some of the hairs of Hosanna’s tail. Although she knew the abbot would disapprove, she thought she would give it to Brother Ranulf for his part in Hosanna’s recovery.
“Please don’t talk all the time about the crusade, Will,” she begged as they hugged their cloaks round them and the horses’ breath billowed in the freezing air. “I know it is wrong to say so, but I’m sick of it already. You all put on your special ‘crusade faces’ and then smile at me in that annoying way men have, as if you all have some special knowledge which, because I am a girl, I am too stupid to understand.”
“What nonsense, we don’t put on any such faces,” said William, asking Hosanna to go from walk to canter and back to walk. “Look, Ellie, this is just the maneuver Father says is important in a battle.”
Ellie gave up.
“I’ll race you,” she said.
“Aren’t you a bit old for that, Ellie. I mean—” and here William did his favorite trick of imitating Constable de Scabious’s thin treble—“You’re going to be fifteen this year and should be more ladylike!”
Ellie pulled Sacramenta up, snapped off a hazel switch from the side of the track, and smacked William smartly across the back with it.
“You see!” exclaimed William. “Women can’t be trusted.” And with that, he urged Hosanna into a gallop, rejoicing to hear the horse’s hooves crunching through the frozen grass and puddles.
Ellie leaned forward, and Sacramenta rose to the challenge. “Go on, girl, get your nose in front,” Ellie muttered. “That would teach him.”
But, of course, Sacramenta didn’t, for fast as she was, she was no match for Hosanna, and Ellie had to be content with galloping up to the monastery gatehouse some way behind, holding her breath with slight anxiety as Sacramenta slithered over the ice that had formed in sheets where the going was rough.
William was already off Hosanna, and a bevy of monks, happily disobeying the abbot, were crowded round him. Ellie pulled up and looked back. Sir Walter was nowhere to be seen. Brother Andrew, who, despite the rigors of monastic life, would soon rival Old Nurse for size, immediately broke away from the rest.
“Miss Ellie,” he said. “I have something to show you.”
He disappeared for a moment, then returned with two huge books. Ellie dismounted. Brother Andrew was always showing her books. They were filled with pictures and words, which the monk told her were about medicines. Although nervous that William would think she was becoming girlish, Ellie was fascinated. She was envious of the ease with which Brother Andrew talked about great doctors of the past, how he could tell her what Aristotle thought and how he believed that so many diseases would eventually be cured. It was heady stuff, and when Brother Andrew returned, Ellie gazed at the words he showed her and longed to be able to read them herself. Today, he was telling her that they had just finished copying a book by the famous doctor Galen.
“This is something really special,” he said. “Galen lived not so long after Christ, and what he didn’t know about medicine is hardly worth knowing. I’ve made some very special ointments with his teaching in mind. Ointments that can cure anything. This book has taken us about two years to copy, but it is the future, Miss Eleanor, mark my words.”
“Is that a list of the medicines?” asked Ellie, peering at the words and pointing to the margin.
“Dear me, no!” said Brother Andrew. “Those are the names of flowers and herbs, and here, look, are the pictures to match. And there is a decorated letter E. E is what your name begins with.”
“Is it?” said Ellie, smiling at Brother Andrew’s enthusiasm. “It’s beautiful. Did Doctor Galen paint the letters, too?”
“No, no,” said Brother Andrew. “One of our monks thought to illustrate our copy himself. He’s clever with his brush. Now, I have another book to show you. This one is most unusual.”
He put down his book of medicines and, with difficulty because the parchment was stiff, opened another. This one was full of pictures of animals. One, in particular, caught Ellie’s eye.
“What on earth is that?” she exclaimed. She could tell the animal must be large because the man painted next to it was tiny.
Brother Andrew was very excited. “Yes, exactly,” he said. “What is that? Well, Miss Eleanor, it is what they call an elephant. Look, here is one of those Es again. E for elephant. This chronicle is written by a man whose name we don’t know. He claims that this creature, whose name appears to be Abu L’Abbas, was given to the great emperor Charlemagne by Caliph Harun of Egypt—that’s a country on the edge of the world. It can carry anything, and can charge as fast as a horse. If you notice, its back legs seem to have knees that bend like ours. Isn’t that curious? If we turn the page we’ll see—ah! Here comes Sir Walter. I’d better put this book down inside. We don’t want it ruined.”
Sir Walter, looking rather peeved, came to a halt beside Ellie. She tried not to look cross but could not help gazing longingly after Brother Andrew. What extraordinary things you could learn from books and what a surprise Brother Andrew would have if, one day, when he was showing Ellie a page, she could read the words to him instead of him reading them to her. Ellie’s heart gave a small flutter. But now she turned to Sir Walter.
“The horse bearing gifts is rather slower than the others,” said the old knight pointedly.
Ellie gave a small, apologetic grimace. Sir Walter patted her shoulder.
“Never mind,” he said. “Crusading fever is infectious.”
Ellie frowned and began to unpack the panniers. “You are very patient with us, Sir Walter,” she said politely.
But Sir Walter was busy greeting the almoner, who was back, rubbing his chubby red hands together.
“Here,” said Ellie. “No books, Brother Andrew, but six hares and six flagons of wine to go with them. Sir Thomas sends his regards and hopes you are remembering to pray for him daily.”
“As if we would forget,” said Brother Andrew, his eyes lighting up in anticipation of a feast.
At that moment Brother Ranulf and the abbot appeared, and Brother Andrew tried to look more monk-ishly gloomy. He winked at Ellie as she handed over the last of the presents. She smiled, then left him and walked over to where the abbot was standing, his hands clasped tightly together in front of him. Even though he was always very pleasant to her, she could almost feel his disapproval that a woman should come near his monks. She kept her eyes modestly down as she approached, congratulated him on the quality of the new bell recently installed, and then, on the pretext of asking Brother Ranulf something about Hosanna, managed to prize him from the abbot’s side for just enough time shyly to hand over the ring.
“It’s for you, from Hosanna,” she explained. “Before he goes to the Holy Land.”
Brother Ranulf was thrilled. “Thank you,” he said, quickly slipping the ring into his pocket. “I shall treasure that.”
“Now,” called Sir Walter, who could feel the cold seeping into his bones. “It is time we were off. Come on, you two.”
Ellie and William said their farewells and mounted their horses. Three monks helped Sir Walter onto his.
“Pray for us!” shouted William as the packhorse, freed from his burdens, set off at a resolute trot.
“God bless you all,” called the abbot. “May you get safely to Jerusalem,” and he sighed.
As Hosanna disappeared into the trees the almoner approached the abbot. “You know, Father Abbot,” he said conversationally, “that girl, Miss Eleanor, is really very bright. Would it not be the Lord’s work to teach her to read? When she marries and has children, she could teach them in their turn.”
The abbot was too old and wise to snap. He let a moment elapse, then said, “Now, Brother Andrew. Look into your heart and tell me whether women are anything but trouble or not.”
Brother Andrew looked into his heart and found that the abbot was right. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose they are.”
The abbot nodded. “Then that is your answer,” he said, and called his monks to order.
“Oh well,” said Brother Andrew to himself as he helped the abbot chivy the monks into the cloister, “thank God I was born a man.”
When William and Ellie got back to Hartslove, the groom removing the panniers found that they were not quite empty. At the bottom of one was a tiny, sealed box wrapped in parchment. Puzzled, Ellie unwrapped it. On the parchment was a beautifully decorated letter E, and on the box some other letters and words.
“What is it?” asked William, leaning over her shoulder. “It is special ointment,” said Ellie, taking a wild guess. “It’s for horses—or people—close to death.”
William looked disbelieving.
“How do you know?” he asked. “You can’t read.”
“I can, a bit,” retorted Ellie. Then she added loftily, “Ointments like these are something only women know about. I am afraid you wouldn’t understand.” With that, she opened her eyes very wide and gave him an innocent smile.
William stared hard at Ellie, but she said nothing more, just raised her eyebrows and sailed up the steps leading to the great hall. For one tiny moment a fleeting memory of his mother passed through the boy’s mind.
Hartslove was alive with people assembling for the crusade. When William followed Ellie into the hall, it was to find that Gavin had returned from Richard’s court.
After leaving Hartslove in disgrace just over two years earlier, he had conducted himself with commendable bravery in the north before being summoned to help the new king stamp his own authority on a kingdom he knew almost nothing about. Gavin was thinner, and his face had lost its boyish roundness. He looked like a knight a father could be proud of.
Sir Thomas stood with Old Nurse to watch how the two brothers greeted each other.
“Gavin!” said William, taken by surprise.
“William,” said Gavin.
They shook hands. Then Gavin, shuffling slightly, asked to see Hosanna, and the brothers went down to the stables together. Sir Thomas did not know what was said, but an hour later both boys had come into the great hall looking a little easier in each other’s company. Sir Thomas and Old Nurse exchanged glances. William was growing up, too.
At dinner that evening Sir Thomas was again struck by his sons’ deep voices, and marveled at how Ellie, despite occasional lapses, was blossoming from a grubby urchin into a young lady.
“I have almost reached my allotted years on this earth,” he said to Sir Percy as he chewed on a leg of lamb and watched Ellie push back her hair to reveal a face of distinctive if rather unconventional beauty.
Sir Percy nodded. “Very likely, Thomas,” he said. “But you can be proud of your children. And that Ellie, well, orphaned she may have been, but she has lacked for nothing.”
Sir Thomas sighed. At the back of his mind was a growing certainty that he would not return from the crusade.
“I shan’t see my grandchildren,” he confided as dinner drew to an end. “But in time, Ellie will make a fine mother for them.”
After dinner Gavin found himself standing in front of the fire with Ellie at his feet. She was playing with William’s dog. Like his father, he, too, had been struck by her unconscious new elegance, and even though he had given her few thoughts when he was away, now he found himself suddenly in awe of her. In all his travels no other girl had had this effect on him. As a boy, Gavin had always enjoyed teasing Ellie. But now, an experienced knight, he found himself unable to think of anything appropriate to say. As Ellie murmured to the dog Gavin felt increasingly frustrated.
He coughed. Ellie took no notice. Gavin gave up. Even though he had been back only a short time, he could already see that she was going to find it harder than William to forgive his treatment of Hosanna. He stared down, not knowing how to put matters right between them. For half an hour he watched her play with the dog and did nothing at all. Eventually Ellie got up and, after exchanging a joke with William, slipped away.
Gavin gave one of the logs a vicious kick and sent sparks up the chimney. Women! he thought to himself, and decided to avoid Ellie if he could.
Ellie herself walked slowly up the steps to the women’s quarters. After a frantic whispered chat with Will during dinner, she was quite prepared to forgive Gavin over Hosanna and even forget about her humiliation on the morning Gavin had left for the north. But the truth was, she found herself unable to treat him as she once had. Something was different. Instead of Gavin just being an ordinary part of Hartslove life, she found his presence disturbing. This was nothing to do with Hosanna. Ellie did not know what it was to do with. As Old Nurse brushed her hair and helped her with her nightgown she was irritable. She needed somebody to talk to, and somehow William did not seem the right person. She briefly contemplated confiding in Old Nurse but dismissed the thought. Old Nurse was far too old to understand the feelings of a girl of fourteen. “When she was fourteen, if, indeed, she ever was,” Ellie muttered to herself, “it must have been during the time of the Barbarians.”
The following morning, running back from the stables, Ellie ran slap bang into Gavin in the courtyard.
“Heavens, Ellie!” he said as they disentangled themselves. Ellie said nothing, but to her acute embarrassment and fury, she knew she was blushing.
Gavin stood aside to let her pass, but as she did so, his resolution to avoid contact with her melted away. He touched her arm.
“Ellie,” he said awkwardly, not quite knowing what words were going to emerge, but feeling that anything was better than nothing. “I know you would prefer to end up with Will rather than me, but I’m the oldest, so we’ll both have to make the best of it—unless a Saracen arrow meets its target, that is.”
Ellie could not thi
nk of a suitable reply, so they stared at each other for a bit before Gavin stepped aside and was gone. After that Ellie was in even more of a muddle than before.
There were several things still to do before the de Granvilles left for the Holy Land. William, now nearly seventeen, must be made a knight—“dubbed to knighthood” as he rather pompously told Hal. Then, Gavin and Ellie must be betrothed. They should really be married and a son conceived before Gavin went on crusade, but Sir Thomas somehow could not bear to think of Ellie facing all that with only Old Nurse for company.
“The de Granville inheritance is in God’s hands,” he told himself. “God looks after crusaders and will surely keep at least one of my boys safe.”
It was decided that William’s dubbing to knighthood would take place in July at Vezelay in France, where the king had arranged for all the crusaders to meet so that all the nobles from his huge empire, together with the king of France and his men, could set off together. This meant that Ellie could not witness it, and she was very disappointed. However, being dubbed to knighthood by the king himself was too powerful an opportunity to pass by just to please a girl.
Gavin and Ellie’s betrothal was a simple affair conducted at Hartslove with the minimum of fuss. Everybody found it uncomfortable. Old Nurse cried, and Gavin and Ellie gabbled their responses. After the traditional feasting and dancing were over, William found himself filled with unfamiliar emotions that would not let him sleep. Until he saw them standing side by side and making their promises, he had never really thought seriously about Gavin and Ellie having a future together. It had always been a bit of a joke. Now that it was no longer a joke, William found he did not like it. After they all retired to bed, he tossed and turned, the picture of Ellie dancing with Gavin playing itself over and over in his mind. He found himself oddly affronted that she had not looked more unhappy. It was a relief, the next morning, to put Ellie out of his mind as he surveyed the crusading preparations.
