by Anne Herries
‘Your business is your own, sir. Had I been born a man and at liberty to please myself, I should not have placed myself in your hands and might have travelled as I pleased.’
‘Alas, such things cannot be changed,’ Stefan replied. ‘Pray believe me when I say that I have given my promise to others and will do my best to carry out the task they have asked of me—despite your efforts to thwart me.’
‘I do not understand you, sir.’
‘Do you not?’ For a moment she could have sworn that there was laughter in his eyes, but in another second it had gone and the harsh look was back. ‘Then perhaps I wrong you? Excuse me, I have wasted enough of the morning in dalliance. I have business I must discuss with your father.’
Elona watched him walk away, her foot tapping. What was she supposed to make of that? She had been wasting his time with her foolishness perhaps? Or was there some deeper meaning behind his words?
What was it about this man that disturbed her so?
Three days passed without Elona finding an excuse to delay their journey further and on the morning of the fourth she was forced to take a tearful farewell of her father. In the end she had decided to leave Melise behind; the old woman would find the journey too strenuous.
‘I shall never see you again, my child,’ Melise said as tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘There is naught left for me but the grave.’
‘Pray do not!’
Elona’s heart wrenched with grief as she saw the nurse’s distress. They were standing in the courtyard, their backs turned against the others for privacy as they made their farewells. The chill of early morning was upon them as they tenderly embraced.
‘I feel this parting as much as you,’ Elona said, her eyes moist with tears. ‘But do not despair, dear heart. It may be that I shall return and sooner than you think—’ She ceased her impassioned speech abruptly as she sensed someone close by and turned to see Stefan behind her. The man moved with the stealth of a cat! She had not heard him approach.
Why must he creep up on her? She glared at him, her eyes darting flames of fury. She did not know why he looked at her so disapprovingly despite all her attempts to break down the barriers between them, and she vowed she would do so no more. It had grieved her to see Melise so distressed and she was even more determined to return to her home before too long had passed. Surely her father would welcome her if she were married to a man who could protect both her and the de Barre lands?
‘Forgive me if I intrude, lady,’ Stefan said, eyes narrowed and wary. What was she plotting now? She was clearly a troublesome wench and he would have to be alert. He had seen her in deep conversation with her squire three times since his arrival, and Will de Grenville’s feelings were on display every time he looked at her. The young man was besotted with her and no doubt willing to do whatever she asked of him. ‘I know this parting pains you, but we must begin our journey. I cannot tarry longer.’
He implied that he had already delayed too long for her sake! Elona burned with anger as she darted a last kiss at her nurse’s cheek. Would that she could dismiss him with a word or a glance, but this was not a man to be trifled with!
‘Remember that I am thinking of you,’ she said to Melise, and turned away before the tears turned to sobs of grief. She had already spoken to her father that morning in private and merely nodded at him as he stood watching with the others while she was helped to mount her palfrey. Had she gone to him now, she might have begged him to allow her to stay, but neither her pride nor her concern for her father would let her give way before the man she was beginning to think of as her enemy.
‘I am ready now, sir.’
Her head lifted, her face becoming cold and proud. It was clear that Sir Stefan found her a nuisance if nothing worse. She had seen hostility and sometimes suspicion in his eyes when he looked at her. Why should he dislike her? What could she possibly have done to make him treat her so coldly?
It did not matter. He was nothing to her!
Elona rode with her back straight and stiff, looking directly ahead. To glance back might overset her and she must not weep. To show weakness would make her vulnerable to this man with the stern face and hard eyes. She would meet ice with ice. Let him see that she was no mere girl to be treated as a piece of baggage!
As they left the courtyard of her father’s manor, Will came to ride beside her. She glanced at him and nodded, but not even for him could she raise a smile. It felt as if her heart was being torn from her body, and in her mind she blamed the man who rode ahead of them for causing her such terrible pain. It was he who had taken her from her home, he who had forced her to part from her beloved Melise, for had he waited another week or so the old nurse might have been able to withstand the journey.
Elona had a growing determination to thwart those who would marry her off to a man she had never seen, and began to think of ways to escape her fate. And then Stefan turned his head to look at her and a shiver went down her spine. She would swear that those chilling eyes could see her into her soul! Something told her that he suspected what was in her mind, though how he could have guessed she had no idea. Yet his manner warned her to be wary of him.
He had been given the charge of delivering her safely to her kinswoman and he was not the kind of man who would be easily denied. She would have to be very careful that he did not guess what was in her mind.
It was clear that the young squire was devoted to his lady, Stefan thought, watching as Will de Grenville stood talking with Elona after helping her dismount. It was his duty to assist her, of course, but he took every opportunity of touching her, and his eyes followed her like an adoring puppy. Did the foolish young man have dreams of wedding her? It was impossible—he was too far beneath her in rank and the wedding would never be permitted.
Stefan looked about him. They had made camp for the night and the servants were busy preparing the tents and pavilions for their comfort. He had ordered that his own tent should be close to Elona’s so that he could keep an eye on her. He did not trust the wench, for she had a temper and a stubborn way with her. He had attempted to reach an understanding with her on two occasions before they left her father’s house, but she had given him one of her haughty stares and taken refuge in her dignity, something that made him think her father might have done better to take a strap to her when she was younger.
Noticing the animation in her look as Elona spoke to the young man, Stefan wondered what was in her mind. He had caught a snatch of her conversation with the old nurse before they left her father’s manor and had been disturbed by it. Had she been lying to comfort Melise—or was she truly planning to return to her father’s house?
Yet if she was against the marriage, why had she not spoken out long before this? The Lord de Barre was not an unkind man and when he and Stefan had spoken together he had seemed to care only for his daughter’s future.
‘She must not fall into Danewold’s hands,’ John de Barre had warned. ‘She would fare ill as his wife, for he cares only for wealth and advancement. My poor daughter needs someone who will love and protect her. Is your brother such a man, Sir Stefan? I have heard good of your father, and the world knows of your deeds, but little is said of your brother.’
‘Alain is a good brave man,’ Stefan said. ‘He has not yet been knighted, though the King would have done it at the tourney last summer, when he stood as Henry’s champion. My brother asked that he might earn it in battle or some brave deed, but as yet there has been little opportunity. However, should he be ready to take a wife, I have no doubt that my father will arrange for Alain to receive his spurs.’
‘Is he capable of protecting her?’ the anxious father asked. ‘There are others who would treat her kindly, some who truly love her—but you know that a man must be strong to protect his lands and his lady. Is your brother such a man?’
‘My brother is untried in battle, though a victor in the tourney many times. Yet I believe there is strength in him…’
Stefan had not added
that he thought his brother sensitive, perhaps too gentle and good a knight for the proud beauty Elona of Barre. She needed another kind of man to tame her!
At that point Stefan had realised where his thoughts were leading him and checked them instantly. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and something in the way she looked at him stirred him in a way no other had—but she was not for him. Any feelings he might have for the proud beauty must be crushed ruthlessly. She was destined to be his brother’s bride and in all honour he must deliver her safely and untouched to Banewulf. To have lustful thoughts of her would be to betray the code of honour by which he lived.
Perhaps it was because he found her more attractive than he cared to admit that Stefan had withdrawn into himself even more. Far better that she should dislike him than that he should be tempted to betray a sacred trust! Yet there were moments when he had felt…but that was mere lust. Any red-blooded man might feel as he had for a woman as lovely as she.
It would be a matter of a few weeks before they reached Banewulf. He would be a poor excuse for a man if he could not control his baser instincts for that long!
He would allow no woman to make him betray his honour. Even one as beautiful as Elona de Barre.
‘I tell you, I do not trust him,’ Elona said in a soft voice that was not meant to carry. They must be constantly on their guard that they were not overheard. ‘The way he looks at me…watches me…’ Indeed, every time she turned around his eyes seemed to follow her.
‘Sir Stefan is a man of honour,’ Will said, for he had mixed with the English knight’s men and heard stories that gave him nothing but admiration for him. ‘I believe that he means only to protect you, my lady.’
‘He does not like me. I feel his hostility—his suspicion. I have tried to break down the barrier, Will, believe me. I thought to discover what manner of man his brother might be, but he says little of anything. Trying to learn anything from that man is like drawing blood from a stone!’
‘They say Alain de Banewulf is very different to his brother—a merry man who smiles and dresses in the manner of the court. Yet he has also won the tourney on several occasions and they say that only his brother can best him in a wrestling match. But then, there are few men who could beat Sir Stefan in that sport. He has the strength of ten men, so they say.’
‘He is a great bear and I hate him,’ Elona said passionately. ‘He knows all of fighting and war, and nothing of kindness or love. You must help me escape from him, Will.’
‘Are you sure?’ Will’s heart raced and his eyes leaped with excitement. He wanted her for his wife and yet he was afraid that she might regret his lowly status. ‘Do you not think it might be better to visit Banewulf first? You need not agree to a marriage and within a few months I may earn my knighthood—then I could claim you in all honour.’
‘You have changed your tune,’ Elona cried with a flash of temper in her eyes. ‘Only a few days ago you begged me to fly with you.’
‘I have not changed my mind. I merely wondered if it might be better if I sought service with Duke Richard for a while. In his service I might quickly earn my honours…’ Honours that had been denied him in the service of John de Barre.
‘But if you seek service with Duke Richard…’ Elona frowned. He could not take service with another lord for a few months and then return to her father. ‘But that would mean we might have to—’ She broke off as she saw Stefan striding towards them. As usual he was frowning and a shiver of fear ran down her spine. ‘Hush, Will,’ she said as he began to speak. ‘We will talk of this further another time. Leave me now. I would speak to Sir Stefan alone.’
‘Your pavilion is prepared,’ Stefan said to her, his face as expressionless as his tone. ‘Your maids await you. I dare say you would like to refresh yourself before we eat.’
Elona looked at him, her thick lashes flicking down an instant later to veil her eyes. Was he suggesting that she join him for their evening meal? She saw that the two largest tents had been erected side by side—one of them hers, she presumed. Clearly one of them belonged to Stefan de Banewulf. Was it his intention to stay close to her so that he could watch over her, prevent her from escaping?
‘I shall require only a light meal in my pavilion,’ she told him icily. ‘I am tired and would be alone, sir.’
‘As you wish,’ he said, his look of disapproval deepening. ‘I must warn you not to wander abroad after dark, lady. My men have strict instructions to keep a close guard over the camp and anyone found wandering would be dealt with severely. I would not care for you to receive rough handling by mistake.’
‘I think your men know me well enough, sir!’ Head up, she challenged him.
‘Have you not heard the saying that all cats look alike in the dark?’ Stefan’s white teeth gleamed in the dusk as he grinned suddenly. ‘Some enemies are cunning and send women to do their spying for them—nor would I have you mistaken for a camp follower. You might find that embarrassing, if not worse, my lady.’
Elona’s cheeks flushed dark red. ‘You dare to insult me, sir? You would not have done so in my father’s house!’
‘I meant only to save you from insult,’ Stefan said and there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. ‘Men sometimes drink of an evening if they are not on duty and the blood heats—I would not have you offered insult by any of my men. Besides, there can be no reason for you to leave your pavilion after dark—can there?’
‘No, of course not,’ Elona snapped. Could he read her mind? She had hoped to slip away with Will while his men slept, but it seemed that there would always be someone to guard them. ‘So you might have saved your breath.’
She swept past him, her shoulders straight and proud, but inside her heart was hammering wildly against her ribs. There had been something different in the way he looked at her for a moment, something that had frightened her. Had he guessed that she was considering a plan to escape his escort and return to her home?
Surely he could not know? She had been uncertain of her feelings at first; even now she had her doubts as to the wisdom of putting herself in Will’s care. She knew he was devoted to her—but Sir Stefan’s words had brought home to her how vulnerable she was in this world dominated by men. He himself was reputed to be a man of honour, a man who fought bravely and yet showed mercy when it was possible—but there were others who did not live by the rules of honour that governed a true knight’s life. The laws of chivalry that decreed a lady must always be treated with courtesy and respect, the laws that governed a man’s honour demanding that he cling to that above all else, did not apply equally to all those who called themselves knights. Baron Danewold was one of those—and Elona knew that she would rather die than be his bride.
Once again she was torn with indecision as she went into her tent and allowed her women to come to her. She sat on the stool provided while they unbraided her hair, brushing it until it shone as it fell about her shoulders in silken tresses.
‘They say that Alain de Banewulf is very handsome,’ Julia said and giggled as she assisted her mistress from the gown she had worn all day, replacing it with the softest silk night-rail. ‘He sings like a nightingale and his hair is the colour of ripe corn, his eyes like a summer sky.’
‘Where have you heard that, Julia?’
‘Oh…from one of Sir Stefan’s men,’ the handmaiden said with a faint blush. ‘He spent some time at Banewulf and he says it is a fine house.’
‘But Banewulf belongs to Sir Ralph and will belong to his eldest son one day,’ Elona said, looking thoughtful. ‘Alain is merely a second son, though I believe he inherits his mother’s lands in France, which are quite considerable.’
‘But Sir Stefan is the wealthier of the two,’ Bethany pointed out as she removed the fine leather riding boots from Elona’s feet and then brought her scented water in a silver basin to wash her face and hands. ‘He is such a fine, handsome man—so strong and brave. I think he would make a worthy husband for you, my lady.’
‘Sir Stefan is not cold,’ Bethany said with a little smile at the corners of her mouth. ‘He may not have the pretty looks of some men, but he is attractive. He has such noble bearing and when he smiles his face is altered. You have only to see the way he looks at you, my lady, to know that there is fire beneath the ice.’
‘May God have mercy!’ Elona said and crossed herself. ‘I would cut off my hair and cover myself in sackcloth if I thought he looked at me with desire. No, no, Bethany, you are quite wrong. Sir Stefan despises and distrusts me.’
‘I wish he might look at me the way he does at you sometimes,’ Bethany insisted, but was quietened by a look from her mistress. ‘Forgive me, it was merely a jest.’
‘Then think before you make another such,’ Elona said. The last thing she wanted was for Sir Stefan to look at her with lust—and yet there had been something different in his eyes earlier. She had noticed it herself. He could not secretly desire her? No, no, it was unthinkable! Elona thrust the idea from her mind.
Her serving woman was foolish, as was the way of such girls; they thought of little else but handsome knights and love, their heads filled with tales of courtly love and the legends of Queen Eleanor’s Court of Love, which had begun the tradition.
It was pleasant enough to pass a winter’s night with such stories of daring feats performed in the name of love, but Elona knew only too well that love was seldom found within marriage. Marriage was something arranged between powerful men for their advantage, women merely the pawns they moved at will. Even her father had not consulted her wishes, though she knew he had been thinking to protect her from a worse evil. Yet, had he once asked her what she wanted, she might have been safe at home and married to Will.
Was there a tiny voice in her head that told her she did not truly wish to be Will de Grenville’s wife? If there were, she would not listen to its prompting.