by Anne Herries
‘Not for two days,’ Stefan told her, his eyes dwelling briefly on her lovely face, noticing the uncertainty reflected there. ‘My business with the King will occupy me until then. I shall come to escort you to the tourney, but you must find your own amusement in the meantime. I imagine there are merchants enough to keep you from straying into mischief.’
‘Visit the silk merchants?’ Elona frowned. Once she would have flown into a temper at his teasing, but now she knew it meant nothing. She had not previously met with a sense of humour in a man and scarcely knew how to react. ‘How shall I pay them? My father always attended to such matters.’
‘You may tell the merchants to apply to me for payment.’
‘But will they accept such an arrangement?’ Elona was hesitant as she looked at him, trying to read his expression and failing.
‘Oh, yes, I believe you will have no difficulty. However, I shall give Dickon a letter of authority and you may leave him to settle with the merchants on your behalf. It is his business to serve you and save you such inconvenience. All you have to do is choose whatever you wish and as much as you please, for it may be some time before you are again in London, and it is best to choose enough now rather than send for the wares you need.’
Elona accepted that her father had given Stefan a sum of money to defray her expenses and put the matter from her mind. She would miss seeing him every time she looked around, but it was only for two days and in the meantime she would enjoy visiting the merchants of this city.
Yet a little voice in her head told her that she would have enjoyed it so much more if he had accompanied her.
The bedchamber was strewn with bales of beautiful silks and damasks; a bewildering array of colour and the finest cloths available. Elona had discovered such treasures at the merchants she had visited that she had bought recklessly.
‘Do you think I have spent too much?’ she asked her women as she ran her fingers reverently over the gorgeous fabrics. ‘I did not intend to buy so much, but the merchant kept showing me more and I could not resist.’
‘Such is the way of merchants,’ Bethany said. She picked up a pair of dainty slippers. They were made of soft leather and embroidered with beads. ‘These are particularly fine, my lady.’
‘I prefer these…’ Elona pointed to a pair of yellow shoes with heels made of painted wood. ‘Or perhaps these…’ She had bought ten pairs in all and matching girdles, some of them jewelled or adorned with gold and silver. ‘Oh, mercy, I fear Sir Stefan will say that I have bought too much! How will he ever get all these things on the wagons? They were already filled to bursting point.’
‘I dare say he will have to hire another wagon,’ Bethany said with a giggle. ‘You will not need to visit another merchant for years.’
Elona bit her lip, beginning to regret her reckless spending. How could she have been so very extravagant? It was just that she had never seen so many lovely things. At home the merchants had brought samples of their wares to her father’s house and her stepmother had advised her on what she ought to purchase. They had normally chosen cloth for two or three gowns each from the selection shown them.
Discovering a row of cloth-merchants’ shops, all of them with vivid, tempting signs hanging outside, had been like walking into a magical world of enchantment for Elona.
At first she had found the city daunting. It had seemed noisy, dirty underfoot and the streets smelled awful. Beggars with dreadful sores sat in the filth at the roadside and begged for alms until they were driven off by some honest burgher with a stout stick; painfully thin dogs hunted amongst the rubbish for rotting food, and it was difficult to ignore the horrid stench. Elona had wondered why anyone would choose to live within the city, and it was not until she came to the cloth merchants that she had begun to enjoy herself.
Each shop was a part of the merchant’s home. There were huge wooden shutters that were let down during the day and boarded up at night, and it was possible to see through to the wares on display inside. Some of the cheaper wares were on display in the street, but the more expensive goods were inside.
Elona had spent several happy hours going from one merchant to another. Now, as she saw how much she had bought, she was anxious lest Stefan should scold her—or worse still, tell her she must return some of these wonderful things!
‘I think he will be very cross with me,’ she said. ‘But there, it is no matter. It is my father’s money I have been spending, not his!’
‘No, of course you have not been too reckless,’ Stefan assured her when he came to the house that evening. She might have spent twice as much and he would have thought it worth it for that look in her eyes. He had thought her magnificent when she was angry, but when she smiled at him like that…but he must not let himself think that way! ‘If you are to marry, you must be well prepared. Did I not tell you to buy whatever you desired?’
‘I hope my father gave you sufficient monies, sir, for I fear I may have spent more than you expected.’
His expression remained unaltered. ‘Have you bought all you need? That is my only concern.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said, smiling as she saw his indulgent look. ‘Besides all the lovely materials I found a new gown at one merchant’s shop. It had been made up by his sewing women for a customer who had not collected it, and he was pleased to sell it to me. Bethany has altered it to fit me and I shall wear it to the tourney tomorrow. It is finer than any gown I have in my trunks.’
Her words were more revealing than she knew.
‘What colour is your gown?’ Stefan asked, his eyes intent on her face. She had such pleasure in these simple things—gifts that many another would have taken as their due.
‘Green,’ Elona said, her eyes lighting with pleasure. ‘A deep leaf green with a girdle of gold threads—do you think that suitable?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Stefan replied. ‘I am glad you chose green, for I believe this chain will go with it.’ And the emeralds he had bought for her would match the colour of her eyes, though they changed with her moods, becoming darker or brighter as she went from anger to happiness.
Elona stared as he took something from beneath his tunic. He was dressed as always in the plain tunic and hose of a soldier with a heavy hauberk of mail and leather. He had a small silken pouch in his hand, which he handed to her in an odd manner…almost shyly, she thought.
‘What is this?’
‘You will need some ornament to wear to the tourney, Elona. All the other ladies will be richly dressed. I have noticed that you wear only a plain silver cross. I asked your women and they said you have no other.’
A little defensively, she touched the cross that hung from a silver chain at her breast. ‘It was my mother’s. I have had no need of anything more.’
‘I believe you may feel more comfortable with some ornament tomorrow,’ Stefan said. ‘Why do you not look and see if it pleases you?’
Elona drew the chain from the pouch. It felt heavy and she saw that the gold was intricately worked and that several dark green stones were set into the metal. It was a thing of beauty and very precious. She frowned, for she guessed that it must be valuable.
‘Are you sure my father gave you sufficient gold to buy all these things, sir?’ she asked, lifting her bright gaze to his. ‘I would not be in your debt, for I cannot pay you myself.’
The Lord de Barre had never been particularly generous to his daughter in the past. Until his son died it had always been Pierre upon whom he lavished his gifts, and Elona who received what was necessary, but that was the way of things and she had not noticed any lack. It was true that she was heir to his lands, but they would pass to her husband once she was married. She knew that it was her father’s wish that it should be so ordered, and indeed, it was the custom. A man was a better guardian of lands and wealth than a woman, though Elona knew that some women held lands in their own right.
She had never wished to inherit the de Barre lands. They should have gone to her brother, her own portion somet
hing much more modest.
‘Your father has been generous, Elona,’ Stefan told her, breaking into her thoughts. ‘You do not come empty handed to your wedding.’
Elona nodded. Of course, the chain would form a part of her dowry. She had thought for a moment that it was a gift from Stefan, but he would not give her something like this. Why should he? Only a man who intended to wed would give such a gift.
‘I understand. I must be grateful to my father—and to you for thinking of me. The chain is beautiful and I am grateful that you took so much trouble to choose it for me.’
Stefan smiled, but said nothing. The chain was a gift from him as were all the other goods he had told her to purchase. Although a dowry would be paid on Elona’s marriage, and her father’s lands become her husband’s in time, the Lord de Barre had provided little for her present expenses. It had been Stefan’s idea that she might like to visit the merchants of London. He had made it his business to learn all he could of her life, and he knew that, far from being the Lord de Barre’s spoiled daughter as he’d first thought her, she had oftimes been neglected in favour of her brother.
Perhaps it was that knowledge, gained from Will de Grenville and her women, that had made him want to indulge her a little. After all, he was a rich man, well able to spend large sums of money if it pleased him, and it pleased him to give her some happiness. She, too, had known what it was to come second in a father’s affections. Forced to leave her home for a strange land, to live with people she had never met, and perhaps to wed a man she did not know, Elona had faced her future bravely.
She had not begged or pleaded, because to make a fuss might have caused her father to suffer. Stefan admired her restraint and the character that led her to put her father’s wishes before her own.
He had been aware of her inner struggle. Had she been given a chance, she might have fled with her squire in the hope of being forgiven after the marriage by her father. Stefan believed that she would have been sadly disappointed. The Lord de Barre was more likely to have cast her off as a disgrace to her family and his name.
Stefan had guarded her well, as much for her own sake as any other, and now that they had reached the safety of the English court, he was in the mood to relax and allow her to enjoy herself.
‘Have you ever been to a tourney, Elona?’
‘No—at least, there was a small one held at my home a few months before my brother died. Pierre was the victor—he was so brave, so clever, that he vanquished all comers, including knights who had won many honours at larger tourneys. I was so proud of him that day…’ She sighed. ‘Pierre promised to take me to the Duke’s court when I was seventeen, but…it was not to be.’ She lifted her head proudly, determined not to let her sadness spoil the treat that lay ahead for them. Her brother had loved her and from him she had received much kindness. ‘I am looking forward to the tourney very much.’
‘As am I,’ Stefan said softly. The shadows in her eyes touched him in a way he had not thought possible. He was aware of a need to protect and cherish her. ‘It will be my pleasure to escort you. And now I must leave you; the hour grows late. I shall return soon after cockcrow, for we must be early enough to secure you a good place, Elona. You will want to see everything.’
She smiled as he took her hand and kissed it gallantly. After he had gone she held the spot where his lips had touched her to her cheek, feeling a warm glow inside. No one had ever taken such care for her pleasure, not even her beloved brother.
If she had had any doubts they had all fled now. Stefan de Banewulf would be her husband or she would have none at all.
‘Oh, it is so exciting,’ Elona cried as she saw the pennants flying in the wind, the bright colours of the knights’ pavilions that had been set up in the field and the throng of richly dressed ladies and gentlemen. ‘I have never seen so many people in one place.’
‘Now you know why it was difficult to find a suitable place for you to stay,’ Stefan said. ‘It is a huge occasion; this tourney is the most important of the year and all the knights will try to win honour here.’
‘I do hope that they will not injure themselves,’ Bethany said anxiously—she knew that one of Sir Stefan’s men had entered the lists of challengers, and, although nothing had been said, there was an understanding between them.
‘It happens,’ Stefan told her seriously, ‘but it is not often that anyone is killed unless he falls badly—or a lance enters his breastplate. If a knight is well prepared, and his armour well maintained, he should suffer nothing more than a few cuts and bruises.’
‘You do not fight?’ Elona looked at him, a shaft of fear touching her heart. If he were to be in danger all her pleasure in the day would disappear.
‘Not this time,’ Stefan assured her. ‘I have fought and won honours enough, most on the field of battle. Today I am devoted to giving you pleasure, Elona. I shall be by your side and we shall sample all the delights on offer together.’
‘What kind of delights?’ she asked, giving him a teasing look that brought a gleam to his eyes. When she looked like that she was irresistible!
‘Why, from the peddlers and side-shows, lady,’ Stefan said. ‘Have you not seen them wandering amongst the crowd?’
‘Yes, I had noticed,’ she replied. She pouted at him, little knowing that it raised a raging desire in him to sweep her up in his arms and carry her off. ‘Shall I have my fortune told, Stefan?’
‘If it pleases you. My only wish is to give you a day you will remember as being happy—’ Liar that he was! His true wish at that moment was to take her into his arms and feel the warmth of her melting surrender, but such thoughts were dangerous and must be quelled. With some difficulty he recalled his wandering thoughts. ‘But first I must take you and introduce you to the King. I would warn you that he is not well, Elona. Some say he has ailed from the day that his knights murdered the sainted Archbishop Sir Thomas à Becket, and that he is cursed by the crime that will forever stain his memory—but I think it is merely the curse of age that takes its toll of him.’
‘I have heard men speak of that ill deed,’ Elona said and looked grave. ‘Some say it was a careless word from the King that sealed the Archbishop’s doom, causing those knights to foully slay him, but they say also that His Majesty was justly angry with them and has regretted it from that day to this.’
‘I am certain that is so,’ Stefan said. ‘But I do not judge a man on words spoken in anger. Any man might speak as Henry did when his patience is at an end—just as a blow may be struck in the heat of the moment and then regretted—it is the slow drip of malicious poison that I despise and hate. Liars and those who would use slyness to gain their evil way.’
There was something in his tone then that made Elona look at him. She caught a flicker of anger in his eyes, a hardening of his mouth, as if he was remembering something, and yet in an instant the look had gone and he was smiling at her.
‘But we speak of things best left unsaid. The King will hardly notice you, Elona. You have only to smile and curtsy, and it will be over.’
‘You will stay with me?’ she asked nervously, and felt better as he inclined his head, giving her an encouraging smile. With Stefan by her side, how could she fear anything?
As he had promised, the introductions to his Majesty were brief; the King inclined his head, but gave no further sign of having noticed her. He was clearly weary, his face sallow and sickly, his body slumped in the huge chair that had been set for him on the dais as if he found it almost too much trouble to attend the festivities. Within seconds they had passed on and Stefan was introducing her to his friends as the daughter of John de Barre and kinswoman to the Lady Alayne de Banewulf.
Elona met several knights who greeted her with courtesy, bowing over her hand and smiling. One of them, she learned, was Sir Orlando of Wildersham, Stefan’s closest friend, for whom, she guessed, he held a warm affection.
She saw one or two glances between the knights, which seemed to say that they sensed mo
re—that perhaps they suspected an understanding between Sir Stefan and the lovely woman he had brought to the tourney. However, nothing was said to bring a flush to her cheeks.
She was given one of the seats of honour, just five or six places down from where the King’s own party was seated. Stefan stood behind her, for all the seats were occupied by ladies, who were laughing and whispering behind their hands to each other, clearly very excited.
‘Who do you think will be the champion of the day?’ asked a pretty dark-haired girl sitting next to Elona. ‘I am Constance Graves. Someone said that your name was Elona de Barre—is that correct?’
‘Yes. My father is John de Barre,’ Elona replied. ‘I do not know who may win. I am newly come from France and this is the first time I have attended such a splendid tourney.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Constance smiled in a friendly way. ‘I have been many times. My father is one of his Majesty’s advisers and we travel about the country in his service. Not that he is well enough to travel as he once did. We have been quartered in London for some months now.’
‘Does your father take you with him wherever he goes?’
Elona was surprised, for her father would have thought it unsuitable to take her with him. She had always been left at home when he and her stepmother visited the Duke’s court at Aquitaine.
‘Oh, yes, he cannot be parted from me,’ Constance said with a soft laugh. ‘My sisters say that it is time I was wed, but my father will have none of it. He will not bear to lose me for another year.’
‘What does your mother say?’
‘She died some months after I was born. My father has not married again, though he has five daughters. My eldest sister was twelve when our mother died and she has been a mother to us. We are trying to find our father a pretty young wife, for we all love him dearly.’
Elona found her merry smiles enchanting, and wondered at the relationship she was describing with her father, which seemed to be an ideal one. They continued to talk happily to each other until a fanfare of trumpets announced the parade of challengers. As each name was announced there were cheers from the crowd, and, occasionally, some booing or cries of disapproval.