"On no, that is only why I am no longer his favorite. I am being sent away because I refused to marry the Earl of Brackley."
"You did? But why?" Margaret's face pinkened. "I mean, I know of his purported cruelty, but I thought you were pleased with the new rank it would give you."
"I told Richard I could not marry Edmund because I was in love with another man. I even said I was going to have his child."
"Are you?"
"No. At least, I don't think so." Elena expected to see condemnation in the pious Margaret's eyes, but instead she saw something that surprised her. She saw compassion and...respect? Before her "adventure," Elena and Margaret had always been at odds, Margaret making no effort to conceal her disapproval of Elena's methods to gain favor and attention, and Elena scorning Margaret's avowals that a life in the church was the only way a woman could gain any sort of freedom. Now, Elena thought, I too see the uselessness of life as a lady-in-waiting, and court life, for that matter, where we walk on eggshells hoping we don't annoy the king and we agree to marry ugly old men just to gain a title or the king's favor.
Deciding to risk at least part of her plan, Elena drew Margaret to sit down in the sunny window seat.
"Margaret, there is another who would leave this castle tonight, but may be detained if he is recognized. May I use your cloak? I'm afraid you may not get it back."
"Of course you may have it."
"Are you certain?"
"It is a small enough affair. I shall scarce miss it."
"Oh thank you, Margaret! Here," she said, standing and retrieving her own two cloaks. "You must take one of these in return."
"No, no. That's not necessary."
"Well of course it is. It's only fair we trade cloaks. Now which one do you like? I think the red would look divine with your dark hair."
Margaret shook her head.
"The blue then? It would set off your eyes."
"Really Elena, it's alright. They are both beautiful--"
"Take them both, then." Elena held them both out.
"They are a bit too fancy for my taste. Besides you will need warm cloaks at your parent's home. It is near the Scottish border, is it not?"
"I will only need one cloak and so will you come winter. You know how drafty these halls become when that winter wind is blowing."
"I hope to be a novice nun at St. Mary's convent by winter time this year. Such cloaks as these would be inappropriate to wear over my plain habit."
"Oh," Elena said, disappointed that her noble gesture was defeated. Brightening, she said, "Well imagine the altar vestibules this red velvet would make! And there must be enough fur lining to make warm slippers for all of the nuns. And imagine how virtuous the sisters will think you when you show up with this cloak and begin hacking it to bits."
Margaret laughed. "Elena, the convent is not like court. You don't have to make grand displays to gain attention and favor."
"Maybe not, but surely it will start you off on the right foot, won't it?"
The dark-haired girl laughed again. "Very well, Elena, I will take the cloak. Now, do you need further help?"
Elena paused. "Do you know where the dungeons are?"
"I've never been there, but I believe they are in the tower just north of the main hall. Royal hostages are kept in the upper rooms and common prisoners are kept below. Why do you need to know?" Margaret quickly shook her head. "No, never mind. Tell me not. I don't want to know. Just be careful, Elena. If you were to displease Richard again, especially with anything having to do with a prisoner, you would no doubt be executed. Richard has become easily agitated and very short tempered since the attack outside of Middleham. The king has recently learned that Elizabeth Woodville hired men to rescue her daughter so that Richard would not be able to marry her and gain a further stronghold on the throne."
“I know. Princess Elizabeth told me.”
“Do you also know that the king received word of Henry Tudor’s arrival this very morning?"
Elena started to ask Margaret what she thought of Henry Tudor, but they were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Catherine.
"Oh my, you're still here? I would have thought you'd have slunk away by now."
Elena thought of half a dozen cutting responses to Catherine's gibe. The wickedest of them all was about to spill from her lips when she stopped herself. Deciding it would gall Catherine even more to simply ignore her, she turned back to Margaret as if there had been no break in their conversation and said, "When do you hope to join the abbey?"
Margaret answered her before responding to Catherine who was still standing in the middle of the room, looking indignant. "The letter bearing my father's permission should arrive within the month. I hope to become a novice by the end of September. Catherine, dear, did you need something?"
"I need to change to a more appropriate gown. His Majesty has asked me to be one of the few who will join he and Earl Brackley as they hunt. I believe the earl asked for my company specifically. It seems he has broken his previous betrothal."
This last was said as Elena stood to leave. She gathered up the grey woolen cloak and headed for the door. Before she reached it, however, she turned and faced Catherine's malevolence with a cat-who-ate-the-rat-smile. "Actually, it was I who decided I did not wish to marry someone so old and repugnant as the earl. It seems you are once again gathering my leftovers, Catherine." Elena opened the door and swept out the small room as regally as a queen. She marveled again at Catherine's obnoxious personality change, but in truth, Catherine's about-face occupied her mind for a few seconds at the most. She quickly set her thoughts to getting to Gareth and freeing him. She had a tentative plan formed but she wasn't sure it would work if there were more than one guard on duty when she reached the north tower. Well, she would simply have to improvise, she decided. She had always been able to think on her feet; she would simply trust in her instincts to take over.
Rushing quickly down the back stairs normally only used by servants, Elena made her way around the kitchen to the buttery where the vats of wine and ale were kept. The room was dimly lit but, thankfully, empty. Elena scooped up a pewter tankard and moved to the back of the room where the best wines were kept. Although she had long resented some of the lowly tasks of being a lady-in-waiting, such as keeping the inventory of the buttery, she was now glad of the experience because she was able to move confidently through the gloom and open one of the strongest wines Richard had purchased from France, filling the tankard to the brim. Draping the cloak over the heavy tankard, she quickly exited the buttery and made her way out the back kitchen door. Crossing the dirt bailey between the main hall and the north tower, she peered in the open door. Three men were sitting about a small table.
"Now what do I do?" she muttered. She was trying to figure out a way to get the men--or at least two of the men--out of the tower when she overheard Gareth's name being spoken.
"I can't believe Sir Gareth would betray the king," one of the men said. "He's always seemed like the most upstanding of all the knights."
A second voice spoke up. "The king sees ghosts in every shadow anymore. If Tudor doesn't invade soon, the king will have us all in prison for being traitors." There was a pause before the second man spoke again. "Do you know where they've put Sir Gareth?"
"Down in the old cellars. I wouldn't keep a dog there, but we've so many prisoners in here, he had to be put somewhere."
Elena sent an unformed prayer of thanks heavenward. Perhaps there wouldn't even be a guard! she thought hopefully. Shifting the heavy tankard and cloak to her other hand, she was about to sneak off when the third man spoke.
"Sir Gareth deserves to lose his head and he will by week's end. He's a traitor and a liar and you two will die with him if you don't stop slandering the king. Now get on with your duties. You've had more than enough rest."
Elena heard the scrape of stools against the stone floor and she turned and ran as quickly as she could with her heavy burden. The last thing she needed
was to be caught eavesdropping on the prison guards. Making her way back into the main keep, she wound through the labyrinth of back halls trying to find the stairs that led into the cellars. She had only passed by it once before since coming to Nottingham, being content to send servants on any unsavory errands. With each corner she turned she grew more and more frantic. Suppose the king was angry enough to order Gareth's execution tonight? Suppose the executioner found the cellars before she could? With each step the tankard of wine seemed to grow heavier and her arm muscles trembled with the strain. She was on the verge of panic when she turned a corner and discovered the staircase. Taking a deep breath and trying to compose her face into a pleasant smile, she prepared to put all her skill at flirtation and flattery to work.
She descended the dark stairs, bracing her hand against the cold walls and ducking a low-hanging beam halfway down the steps. She finally emerged into the cramped cellars and wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant aroma that permeated the cold moist air. She glanced in the cell closest her and saw a sickly older man curled on the pallet, shivering and coughing in his sleep. A large grating sound behind her made her jump and she quickly whirled around, sloshing wine over her hand and onto the cloak. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she discovered the cause of the noise: a snoring guard propped against the wall.
God is with me this day, she thought. Perhaps I can free Gareth without this man even waking! Quickly setting the cloak and tankard down, she rushed from cell to cell, trying to find Gareth. She found him in the cell right in front of the sleeping guard. He was huddled in the corner of the cell, his legs pulled up against his chest, his arms wound round his knees and his head resting on his forearms.
"Gareth!" Elena hissed. "Gareth! Wake up!" Gareth didn't budge and fear seized Elena's heart. Glancing behind her to make sure the guard was still asleep, she turned back to the narrow window in the door and whispered louder, "Gareth! It's me, Elena!"
Gareth lifted his head suddenly, looking confused. When he realized who she was, he pushed himself to his feet and quickly crossed the few steps to the door. "Elena! What are you doing here? If you're caught--"
"Shh!" she hushed him. "I've come to free you. Gareth I..." she was about to tell him she loved him, but the unfamiliar words stuck in her throat. Swallowing, she chastised herself and drew to mind the picture of him being led to the executioner's block. That thought spurred her on and she said, "I--I love you, Gareth. I can't let you die." Slightly embarrassed, she took a step backwards, but Gareth's hand shot through the narrow window to grasp hers. He pulled her hand through the opening and pressed it to his lips, his gaze locked to hers, silently reaffirming his feelings for her.
The guard's loud snore was followed by several sharp snorts and Elena whirled around, staring at the man fearfully. He was waking up. "Damn!" she mouthed. She had hoped to free Gareth without even awaking this gross ruffian. The man opened his eyes and then stumbled to his feet when he saw Elena.
"Who--where did--" As he realized that Elena was no common serving wench he bowed awkwardly and said, "My lady, is there something I can do fer you?"
Swallowing her grimace of disgust, Elena drew on her most flattering smile.
"You can tell me your name."
"Osgood, lady," he said with another awkward bow.
Elena forced herself to remember her objective and blinked her eyes coyly. "Osgood is absolutely my favorite name! You must think me terribly forward, but I've noticed you about the castle and--"
"You've noticed me, my lady?"
"Well of course. What lady wouldn't notice a man as strong and as handsome as yourself? It has taken me days just to discover where you would be on duty alone so that I might approach you."
Osgood stared dumbly at Elena while her words slowly sank in. It was evident when they did because a broad, half-toothless grin split his face. "Well aren't you a clever little thing to chase me down here!"
"Yes and I've brought some wine that we might enjoy it while we get to know each other."
A frown creased Osgood's thick brow. "I ain't allowed to drink while on duty. Why don't you save it till after I get off. Say, after supper? We could meet in the stables."
Elena pouted prettily, her lower lip pushed out and quivering delicately. "Oh but I shan't be able to get away then. And who knows the next time we might meet? Won't you have just a little? You're so big and strong, surely a few swallows won't impair your watchfulness." At the appeal in Elena's eyes, Osgood melted like a piece of fat over a fire.
"Well, of course a sip won't hurt me. Besides, how can I refuse a pretty little lady like you?"
"You can't, of course." Elena rushed to retrieve the heavy tankard of potent wine.
"You didn't happen to bring some bread or meat with you, did you? I haven't eaten since sunup."
Good, Elena thought. "I'm so sorry, it was all I could do to get my nerve up to bring wine. Next time I'll bring a whole tray of delectables for you."
"Oh I don't want no delectables, just a meat pie or mayhap a fruit tart." Elena held her breath as Osgood took the wine and lifted it to his lips. He paused just before taking a swallow and said, "Next time, lady?" a disgustingly lurid smile on his lips.
Elena forced her nose not to wrinkle and instead smiled coyly. "Of course next time. How else are we going to get to know each other?"
"How else, indeed? And I'm hoping I'll get to know you real well!" He took a large swallow of the dark wine and smacked his lips. "I'll be damned if that ain't the best spirits I've tasted."
"Well take another swallow. I picked out the very best wine just for you."
"Maybe just one more. Then I better stop else I'll not stop and then won't we have fun?" His one more sip took him four swallows to down and when he lowered the pitcher, he blinked several times as if to clear his vision. "That's damn fine drink, lady. But how'd you come by it?"
"Oh, I work upstairs," she said vaguely.
Osgood took another swallow and then sat back down on the low stool that had recently served as his napping post. "Why don't ye set yourself down here with me and we'll get more friendly?" he said, patting his knee.
Before Elena could think of what to do, Gareth's voice behind her yelled, "NO!" She whirled around, surprised, but found Gareth was not looking at her. He was glaring at Osgood threateningly, which, she thought, was rather ridiculous considering he was unarmed and trapped behind a locked door. Furthermore, he was impeding her best efforts to free him. Before she could attract his attention and convince him that she knew what she was doing, Osgood stumbled past her and slammed a meaty fist against the door.
"Get back, ye dog. Ye're no knight, so I hear, and you'll not be frightening this lady who's come to see me!" Osgood swung around to face Elena and wavered on his feet. Grasping his head with one hand and the wall with the other, he paused for several moments. "Oh," he moaned, "I moved too quickly."
"Here," Elena said, grabbing his elbow and leading him towards the stool. As she moved the inebriated guard the few steps to his seat, she threw a meaningful glare over her shoulder to Gareth and mouthed the words, Be quiet!
She maneuvered Osgood onto his stool and then picked up the half-empty tankard. "Here, darling, take another sip. It will clear your head."
Osgood obediently gulped the wine and in a move amazingly fast for his increasing condition, scooped Elena onto his lap, his fingers digging firmly into her waist.
"Now, pretty lady, let's get to the 'knowing' part."
Striving to maintain her composure and prevent her revulsion from showing--the man smelled as if he slept in a sty with the hogs and what was left of his teeth were grey--Elena braced her hands against his chest so that he could not pull her closer.
"Why don't you have some more wine? I picked it out especially for you."
"I'm already half-way to drunk. Are ye trying to make me pass out?" His foul breath was hot in her face and Elena felt a draught of queasiness pass through her.
"Of course not, my dear one.
It's just that I don't know when next I'll be able to bring you such a fine wine and I want you to enjoy every drop of this one."
"Well then," he said and belched, making no effort to divert the foul fumes from washing over Elena. "'Tis only fitting that you have some of this vintage. Here."
"No really, I--"
"Here," Osgood said more forcefully and Elena took the tankard, fearful what the drunken man would do if she protested further. Tipping the heavy vessel, she allowed the wine to touch her lips and then quickly lowered the tankard.
"You're right. This is delicious."
"Surely that's not all you're going to have," Osgood protested, shoving the tankard back to her. His clumsiness increasing, he sloshed wine over the edge of the pitcher and down the front of her dress.
"Oh!" Elena exclaimed. She longed to slap the man's face and then dump the contents of the tankard in his lap. Instead she said as sweetly as she could through clenched teeth, "I am not nearly as strong or large as you are and wine affects me dreadfully!"
"Good!" he leered. Then, as if suddenly struck by a thought, he leaned back and studied her face. "Ye know, here we are gettin' to know each other and I don't even know yer name."
Elena considered giving him her real name--after all, the man was no doubt too drunk to remember what she looked like, much less her name, but inspiration and caution struck and she said, "Catherine. Catherine is my name."
"And a beauty it is, too," Osgood toasted with another swig of wine. He lowered the tankard, peeked in it, and declared, "There's no point in leaving such a small amount, is there?" Elena shook her head, but she doubted if his question required a response since he was already tipping the tankard to drain the last drops of wine. Setting the pitcher on the floor, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and belched again. To Elena's great relief, this belch was mostly concealed behind his hand.
"Now, let's get down to knowin' each other," he said and wrapped his arms around her more tightly.
Elena panicked. He appeared nowhere near the verge of passing out and his behavior was rapidly getting beyond her control. Standing and twisting abruptly, she tried to disentangle herself from his grasp. His reaction, much slower than a few minutes before, was to grasp for her shoulder, but instead of grabbing the fabric of her gown, his fingers became entangled in the delicate necklace she wore. The fine chain snapped and slipped unheeded to the ground as she pulled back abruptly. She whirled around in time to see Osgood waver on his stool before landing on the ground with a grunt. The drunken man seemed surprised to find himself amongst the filthy straw on the cold stone floor, and unable to push himself up. Elena darted around him and snatched up the heavy pewter tankard. Inspired by fear and conscious that at any moment another guard might come to relieve Osgood, she swung around and brought the tankard down with a thud on his head. She gasped when nothing happened. Or rather, when something happened--Osgood slowly turned to look at his assailant. Elena wasn't sure she would have the temerity to bring the tankard down again. She breathed a prayer of relief when his eyes slowly rolled back and he sprawled further on the ground.
A Dishonorable Knight Page 35