A Knight of Honor

by Anne Herries

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I shall bring her to you—and in the meantime you will try to find a lady who would be willing to marry a rough brute like me.’

  ‘You are a little stern at times, it is true,’ Alayne said with a smile to soften her words. ‘But so was your father when I first met him. The right lady will teach you to smile more, Stefan.’

  ‘When I find her!’ He gave her a rueful grin. ‘I rely on you, my lady mother.’

  ‘And I shall do my best for you, dear son.’

  ‘I shall return within two months. You have my word. After all, it cannot be so very difficult to escort a lady from her home to yours—can it?’

  He little knew how soon he would learn to rue those words!

  Chapter Two

  Elona was walking in the gardens of her father’s house, her head bent in thought. Try as she might, she could find no way of persuading her father to relent. Another letter had come from England, and now her father was insisting that she go to England with this man—this Sir Stefan de Banewulf!

  She had begged Will to find out as much as he could about this English knight, but so far he had little to report other than what he had already told her. An image had taken root in her mind of a stern, cold man, and she had begun to focus her resentment on him. If he had not promised to escort her, she might have remained at home, for it seemed that his brother could not be bothered to fetch her.

  What kind of a man was content to let his brother escort his promised bride for him? He could not wish for the match, surely? Perhaps he too was being forced into it?

  A surge of rebellion went through her. She would not let them marry her to someone she disliked! And yet to refuse stubbornly might cause her father distress.

  He was so weary these days, his eyes sunk into his head and dark shadowed. How could she leave him knowing that she might never see him again? It would break her heart to do so, but it was his wish.

  Her defiant spirit was torn between a desire to please her father and the need to somehow escape this unwelcome marriage. What could she do? If only there were someone to help her!

  Her gaze fell upon her young squire. Will was untried, though brave and strong—but she was afraid that her father would never agree to a match between them.

  And even if he would agree—did she really want to marry him? Yet it might be better than being forced into a marriage with a man she did not know and was determined to dislike.

  ‘Oh, Will,’ Elona cried as they walked together in the warm sunshine that morning, ‘my father says that Stefan de Banewulf will be here within a few days and then I am to leave for England. They will marry me to Lady Alayne’s son and I shall never see my home again.’

  Tears stood in her lovely eyes as she gazed up at the young man, whose company had been her only solace of late. She was aware of a deep reluctance to leave all that was so familiar to her, and, though she would never have admitted it, there was also fear of the unknown. To travel to a strange land and marry a man she’d never seen! It would daunt even the bravest heart.

  ‘You have tried to persuade your father to let you stay here?’ There was shock in his eyes and something more—something close to despair.

  Elona shook her head, her throat tight with emotion. ‘In truth, I cannot. He is happy that he has arranged for me to live with my kinswoman. As you know, Father’s health does not improve. Who knows what might happen if I defied him? I do not wish to harm or worry him by my defiance.’

  ‘Shall I go to the Lord de Barre and ask for your hand, Elona? I swear I would defend you both with my life. You would have no need to fear Danewold if I commanded your forces here.’ Will’s voice rang with passion, a light flaring in his eyes as he dared to speak of his hopes for the first time.

  For a moment hope flared in Elona’s breast. If she was married to Will, she would be able to stay near her father. She need not go to England—and yet how could the young squire assume command of her father’s men? Until he had proved himself as a brave knight, the men would not follow him.

  ‘You have not been knighted, Will,’ she reminded him gently, the hope dying as she realised it was impossible.

  ‘Your father could arrange it if he chose. I swear Danewold would not threaten you if I were your husband, nor yet your father.’

  If only it could be! He was such a kind, generous man and she thought sometimes that she could easily love him; indeed, she was more than passing fond of him. How happy she would be to wed him and stay here with her father. And yet in her heart she knew that the Lord de Barre would refuse such an offer for her. He would not consider Will her equal.

  ‘I do not think my father would listen, Will.’

  ‘You know that I love you?’ Now there was a hint of desperation in his voice.

  Elona gazed up at him, seeing something in his intense eyes that she had not been aware of previously. His love for her was no light thing—not a boy’s tenderness, as she had imagined, but a man’s burning passion. Her soft mouth quivered as he closed the gap between them, taking her into his arms to kiss her with a hungry yearning that startled her by its fierceness. Yet she clung to him, finding comfort in the strength of his devotion as she realised that this man was truly hers to direct as she willed. The power that gave her as a woman was a little frightening for she had never experienced the feeling before.

  ‘You must not speak to my father,’ she said as he released her. ‘For then he might send you away. No, stay close to me, Will, be my friend and protector. If I find that I cannot bear to marry my kinswoman’s son, then—I shall run away with you. If we married and returned to my father, he would surely not turn us away.’

  ‘Would it not be better to speak openly of our feelings?’ Will was an honest man and did not care for the idea of deceiving his lord, yet he found the thought of her wed to another almost unbearable, especially if that marriage were against her wish.

  ‘I think he would be angry,’ Elona said. ‘We must try to think of a way for you to earn your knighthood, Will. My father would welcome you then.’

  In truth, it was her father’s place to secure that favour for him, Will thought somewhat ruefully. He had served his lord faithfully and well and the honour might have been sought from Duke Richard’s hand long since. He came of a good but poor family and had hoped to rise in the service of John de Barre, though of late he had begun to think that he must look elsewhere if he would win honour or wealth. It was only his devotion to the Lady Elona that had held him here.

  ‘I am yours to command as always,’ he said and knelt before her, taking up the hem of her gown to kiss it. ‘I swear to die before allowing Danewold or any other to harm you.’

  Elona’s cheeks were heated as she begged him to rise. His declaration had made her feel a little foolish and yet it also excited her. Until this day she had not realised the depth of his devotion to her. It gave her confidence. She was not alone, for Will would never desert her, and if need be she would run away with him.

  ‘You are my dearest friend,’ she said. ‘But we must do nothing too soon, Will. For the moment we must wait and see…’

  Standing as they did at the edge of the woods bordering the north side of her father’s lands, they could be clearly seen by any riders approaching the manor house from the north. Yet neither of them had thought for others. Caught up in each other as they were, neither noticed the small party of horsemen in the distance, nor the lone rider who had come on ahead of his men and was close enough to see and hear Will’s pledge to his lady.

  A frown creased the man’s brow as he watched the pair turn and walk slowly back towards the house. Just what had he witnessed and what were the two plotting now?

  Stefan watched as, nearing the house, they broke apart, the young man walking now a few steps behind the lady. Were his suspicions correct? Had he just seen a lovers’ tryst—and was this the woman he was supposed to take back to Banewulf as his brother’s bride?

  Anger flared inside him. He would not stand by
and see Alain offered soiled goods. If this woman had given herself to a lover…but he must not judge her too harshly. The man’s devotion had been clear enough, but the lady was less easy to read. She would bear watching, Stefan decided. He had promised Lady Alayne to take her kinswoman safely to her at Banewulf and this he would do—heaven help any callow youth that tried to stop him!

  If he suspected that the lady was not as pure as she was beautiful—and she was undoubtedly lovely—he would inform his brother and stepmother of her shame.

  For the moment he must watch and wait, and reserve his suspicions to himself. Before he rushed to judgement, he must speak with the lady’s father and discover what kind of a man he was, and from that he might better judge the lady herself.

  Later that afternoon, when she came down to the great hall to greet her father’s guests, Elona was dressed in a gown of deep emerald silk. The material was thick and rich, embroidered with silver thread, which shimmered in the light of the torches that lit the hall, as did the scarves of the same hue she wore at her creamy throat and in the cap of silver threads that held her bright hair. A plain silver cross hung from a chain to mid-waist, a simple ornament but one that suited her regal bearing.

  She looked what she was, the proud daughter of a wealthy lord, her eyes gleaming with defiance. In the smoky light of the torches her hair was a flame that no veil could quite hide, her face beautiful but cold, showing none of the churning emotion inside her

  ‘My Lord of Sanscombe,’ John de Barre said, pride stirring in his breast as he looked at his lovely daughter and knew her a prize for any man. Had he thought of it, he might have sought an alliance with this eldest son of Ralph de Banewulf, for there could be few in France who had not heard of his brave deeds, in battle and the joust. ‘It is my pleasure to introduce you to my daughter, the Lady Elona de Barre.’

  ‘Lady, I am honoured to meet you,’ Stefan said as he bent over the hand she offered, but his expression was stern, his eyes cool as he greeted her—she was indeed the woman he had seen earlier that day. By heaven! She was a proud beauty, but she had not looked so coldly upon the lover who had plighted his troth to her. ‘I know that the Lady Alayne is eager to welcome you to Banewulf.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I am happy to welcome you to my father’s house, but I fear we must delay our journey for a few days.’

  ‘Why is that, Elona?’ John de Barre was puzzled by both her manner and that of his visitor; they seemed to have taken an instant dislike to one another, which was a pity.

  ‘My nurse is sick and cannot travel yet and I cannot go without her—it would break her heart.’

  ‘You make too much fuss of an old woman,’ her father scolded. ‘If Melise cannot accompany you, she must stay behind. Sir Stefan will not want to linger here more than a day or so; he is a busy man and has other calls on his time. We are fortunate he has come all this way to escort you, daughter.’

  Elona frowned and bit her lip, but said no more. Stefan caught a flash of something in her eyes—was it distress? If so, it was quickly hidden. Yet perhaps she was not the faithless wanton he had taken her for; a woman as lovely as she might have many admirers and remain pure of heart and body. He must not rush to judgement too soon.

  ‘I can give your nurse three days,’ he told her, ‘and then we must leave. I have a message to carry from Duke Richard to his father the King and may not tarry too long.’

  Elona knew she was beaten. She inclined her head, assenting to his command. Her father was not to be swayed. He was determined that she must go to England and she could not disobey him—though once she had left his lands it would be a different matter. She would ask questions of this man who had come to escort her, try to win his confidence, though that would be no easy thing—and if she decided that she could not bear to wed his half-brother, she would ask Will to take her away.

  Her decision reached, she felt calmer and began to study the man who had come to take her to England. He was a large man, powerful and stern with long dark hair and eyes the colour of wet granite. He was not a handsome man, but neither was he ill favoured or repulsive to her gaze.

  Stefan de Banewulf’s eyes were icy cold as they dwelt on her face and she felt as if he were probing her mind, trying to see her thoughts. There was suspicion in his face, as if he did not quite trust or like her—now why was that? They had only just met. Surely she had done nothing that could arouse his dislike?

  A shiver ran through her and she thought that if this were the man she was intended to marry, she would flee from her home this very night and seek sanctuary with the nuns. Nothing would persuade her to marry a man like him!

  And yet she must find a way to break down his reserve if she wanted to discover what kind of man his brother might be.

  ‘You are kind to give me so much of your time, sir,’ she said and forced a smile to lips that were too stiff. Inside her emotions churned, but she fought them down. She must govern her temper and her tongue if she wanted his confidence. ‘Perhaps my nurse may be ready before the three days are up. Melise is very strong, though old and reluctant to leave the home she has known all her life.’

  ‘I dare say it will be a wrench for her—and for you, lady,’ Stefan replied, feeling a flicker of sympathy for her. He knew what it was like to be wrenched from those he loved and could understand her feelings. ‘To leave the home and people you love behind is never easy, but I believe you will find an honest welcome in Lady Alayne’s house. She bid me tell you that you are very welcome and she looks forward to seeing you at Banewulf.’

  ‘And your brother, sir? Will he also welcome me to his home?’

  ‘I believe he may,’ Stefan said his eyes watchful. What was in her mind now? ‘But that will be for him to say when you meet. I am merely your escort. Banewulf is not my home, though I have been visiting there for a few weeks prior to this journey.’

  ‘You have lived for many years in Aquitaine, I believe?’ Elona moved away to stand a little closer to the fire. For some reason she felt shivery, though the day had been warm enough.

  ‘I returned to England some months ago to make my home there and have purchased a manor of my own. My father is still a strong, healthy man and I hope it will be many years before I inherit his manors, therefore I have made my own plans.’

  Why did his eyes seem to see into her very soul? Elona turned away to hold her hands to the fire. She was a little afraid of this stern man, though she believed he meant her no harm.

  ‘You have been too busy to think of settling before this. Your name has become illustrious, Sir Stefan, linked with Duke Richard’s as both a fearsome warrior and a man of honour.’

  Stefan’s expression did not alter. ‘You are too kind, lady. I have merely served my lord as I ought.’

  ‘Yes, some would say that,’ she agreed, determined to press on no matter how many rebuffs she met. ‘But I have heard that, though you are a brave and skilled soldier, you have shown mercy to your enemies whenever it was possible.’

  ‘It gives me no pleasure to take a man’s life,’ Stefan told her and his voice grated harshly on her ears. ‘But if necessary I would do it and not think twice.’

  Elona turned and looked at him, her knees quaking as she saw the look of iron about his mouth, his eyes hard and unforgiving. She knew then that he was not a man to be crossed by man or woman and an arrow of fear pierced her heart. This man carried a deep hurt inside him; she felt it instinctively, felt also his inner loneliness that he kept hidden, and something inside her reached out to him. Yet her mind shied away from these feelings. She did not want to like or trust him, for she meant to use him and then betray his trust if she chose.

  Her eyes moved round the room and found Will de Grenville. He was watching her, a mixture of anxiety and—was that jealousy in his eyes? She smiled at him, wanting to reassure him. He need not fear that she would turn to this man for comfort instead of him; there was no softness in Stefan de Banewulf that she could see.

  When she looked at the
English knight again, she saw that the cold look was back in his eyes and her heart caught with fright. Had he seen her smile at Will? Had he guessed her secret? Yet how could he? No one could know, for she did not know for certain what was in her own heart and mind.

  ‘Come, my daughter,’ John de Barre said. ‘It is time that we dine. Sir Stefan has travelled many leagues this day and will want to rest, his men also. Tomorrow we shall hold a feast, but this evening we sup quietly together.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’ Elona went to him, noticing that he had shadows beneath his eyes and looked tired himself. Her heart caught with fear for him. She must do nothing that might hasten his death, for it would grieve her all her life if she did. ‘I shall do as you bid me…’

  ‘And how are you this morning, my lady?’ Stefan asked as he chanced upon Elona walking in the garden the next morning. It was a fine day, the air warm, the sun just beginning to break through the clouds of early morning. He had been up with the dawn, exercising with his men as usual, but it was early for her to be abroad. His gaze dwelled on her lovely face for a moment, noticing faint shadows about her eyes. ‘I trust you slept well?’

  Elona’s head went up, a flash of pride in her eyes. ‘I slept as always, sir,’ she answered, for she would not have him know that she had been restless throughout the night—and because of him!

  ‘Then you were not kept awake by fears for your nurse,’ Stefan said, a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. ‘I hope she is no worse today?’

  ‘No worse, but no better,’ Elona said, annoyed that she had let him trap her into the admission. ‘She needs several more days to be ready for the journey.’

  ‘We must hope that she recovers soon,’ Stefan said, ‘for I fear I cannot wait for her. My business will not brook delay.’

  Elona looked at him with dismay. He was a cold, hard man and she heartily disliked him!