by Nancy Gebel
Chapter 9
November, 1172
Chester Castle, England
One morning, Eleanor left her chamber accompanied by two of her ladies who, she was now convinced, had been charged by the earl to keep a sharp eye on her. Did they know what had been done to Gwalaes, she wondered. Did everyone at Chester know and she had been the only one in the dark?
She felt simultaneously composed and nervous. She was at ease with her decision but the successful execution of it was a variable over which she had only partial control. While she could swear her intention was written clearly on her face for everyone to read, she knew in reality that it was the least likely action anyone could suppose she would take.
Sir Miles was alone in the council room. She left the two women at the door, telling them she wished a private meeting with the steward and they acquiesced without a murmur; there was nothing suspicious about it. She glanced curiously around as she walked into the chamber; she had never before been in it. It was decidedly masculine—a minimum of furniture, undecorated walls, poor lighting, cold in temperature and untidy. At one end was a long table scattered with papers and pens and pots of ink; Sir Miles had told her once that in his spare time he was writing a history of the earls of Chester. A bitter smile twisted her lips as she wondered if he would include the less than noble habits of the current earl. That he was well aware of these habits was obvious. She could tell by the way he couldn’t look her in the face.
And he was too friendly and too obsequious, begging her to sit down in his own chair and asking if he should have wine brought in. She despised him for that, even though it meant his embarrassment and sympathy for what she endured under Hugh were genuine. She supposed he could have been patronizing or high-handed…She knew from personal experience in her father’s house that that was the way people with no status were treated.
She didn’t want to arouse the slightest suspicion, so she spoke in a quiet, humble voice and hardly dared to lift her head further than his kindly gaze. Once he understood that she hadn’t come to beg help from him or to make some kind of scene, he was like a benevolent uncle; he desired to know what service he might do for her.
“Sir Miles,” she said, staring down at her tightly clutched hands, “I’m sure you know of my husband’s fervent wish for an heir. It’s a deep disappointment to me that so far I’ve not been able to perform my duty to him as his wife and produce at least one. I’ve taken it in my mind to go to the church of St. John the Baptist and beseech God’s pity.”
He beamed. “I think that’s a fine idea, Countess! It will help to relieve your anxiety. And how could God refuse the entreaties of such a lovely petitioner as yourself? But are you quite certain you want to travel across the city in this cold? Won’t the chapel suffice? God will hear you just as well in there.”
She hadn’t expected opposition. Had Hugh left orders that she was not to leave the castle? But the steward’s tone was concerned, not mistrustful. “Of course, I’ll do what you think is best, Sir Miles,” she said immediately. “But the weather doesn’t bother me and I have a special reason for wanting to visit St. John’s…it was, after all, where the earl and I were married.”
“I see…No, no, I don’t object. If you want to go there, you shall go there,” he pronounced. “I’ll have an escort readied for you whenever you want it.”
“Thank you, Sir Miles,” she said and gave him a small smile. On the other side of the door, it died instantly. Her cheeks ached from the effort. How contemptible she found him! It was quite plain he was relieved she had apparently decided not to fight against her troubled circumstances. She hoped that when she was discovered missing, Hugh would blame him for it.
When she left Chester Castle, she took only the clothes on her back, a leather bag containing leftover bread and Gwalaes’ pin. She passed under the gate on horseback, preceded and followed by a pair of guards and she didn’t look back.