A Knight of Honor

by Anne Herries

  ‘She was pining,’ Alain replied with a careless shrug. ‘She truly loves you, Stefan. You should have brought her with you instead of leaving her at Banewulf. She would not have minded a little discomfort to be with you.’

  Stefan’s eyes narrowed, his hackles rising like a dog defending its food. Elona was his, even if he had not claimed her. ‘Did she tell you that?’

  ‘Yes…’ It was on the tip of Alain’s tongue to reveal all, but something held him back. If Stefan loved his wife, he would discover the truth for himself, and if he did not—then Elona must bear the consequences. He did not have the right to interfere between husband and wife. ‘I admire her a great deal, Stefan. She is as brave as she is lovely.’

  Stefan’s eyes narrowed. Had his brother come here to pick a quarrel with him? ‘No doubt you think me a knave for stealing her from you?’

  ‘Indeed not,’ Alain cried and laughed. ‘It was for this reason that I brought her to you myself, Stefan, so that we might clear any misunderstanding between us. I admire her and love her as a brother should, but I have no wish to marry—Elona or any other woman. I am not yet ready to marry. I have other plans.’

  ‘You wish to prove yourself, I think?’

  Alain nodded. ‘I must gain my knighthood. I have stayed at home for my mother’s sake, but I shall go very soon now.’

  ‘Then perhaps you might care to hear news that reached me yesterday? Duke Richard has decided that Saladin must be stopped and he intends to march against him. He is even now rallying men to fight with him in the Holy Land.’

  ‘Take up the Cross!’ Alain’s eyes lit with excitement. He was as devout as any young man of his era, but it was the thought of battle, of winning glory and earning his knighthood that appealed to him; to join a great crusade was exactly what he had yearned for. ‘I vow ’tis a worthy cause. Even my mother will not deny that—nor that I must offer the Duke my sword. Think you he will accept it?’

  ‘I am sure he will be pleased to accept your service, brother. I have had my share of fighting and shall not go, but you will stand in my stead and win honour for yourself and our family.’

  ‘It is my heart’s desire. I cannot bide at home forever, even to please my mother.’

  ‘She will understand and give her blessing,’ Stefan assured him. ‘But you will stay with us for a few days?’

  ‘For one night,’ Alain told him. ‘You have no need of me here, brother.’

  ‘You are always welcome in my home,’ Stefan said with a smile. ‘I have never held a grudge against you, Alain.’

  With the insight that was a part of his nature, Alain had known and understood that Stefan felt his father had rejected him as a child, but between them there had never been anything less than friendship.

  ‘I envied you, living and training with our kinsman’s men, learning to be a knight. When you were winning your spurs in battles with Duke Richard and I just a boy, I wished I could follow in your footsteps. The travelling minstrels sung stories of great heroes of the past, but you were my hero, brother. I wanted to be you.’

  Stefan smiled, for he could not doubt the other’s sincerity.

  ‘I believe you will surpass me, Alain. You have it in you to be a great knight, a man of mercy and right.’

  ‘If I can do as well as my brother, I shall be satisfied.’

  ‘Then I shall wish you God speed. I can offer you no advice, for a man must find his own way in life and you have chosen yours.’

  ‘Then we part as friends—no shadows between us?’

  ‘We are friends. May God keep you safe until we meet again on English soil.’

  ‘And may God give you peace and happiness,’ Alain said. ‘But I keep you talking and you will wish to greet your wife.’

  ‘My wife…’ Stefan’s mouth hardened. ‘I shall go to her shortly. But first I have a gift for you…’ He crossed to one of the huge oak chests ranged against the walls at the end of the large chamber and lifted the heavy lid, taking from it a sword of shining metal, the hilt chased with gold and silver, the sheath a work of great art. ‘I won this in a great tourney in Aquitaine. Take it with my good wishes, Alain. It was too light for me, but I believe it is about your weight.’

  Alain took the sword, marvelling at its balance and the way the handle seemed to fit his hand so perfectly. It was not only a thing of beauty, its blade sharper than any he had yet seen, it felt right, and he knew it to be valuable.

  ‘This is a precious gift, Stefan.’

  ‘Worthy of the knight you will become,’ Stefan said and clasped his shoulder. ‘The knight from whom I won the sword claimed that it had magical powers and that he had it from a magician in the east, but I do not believe in such nonsense. Yet in the hands of the right man I dare swear it could do marvellous things, and I believe you are that man.’

  ‘I do not know how to thank you.’ A slightly awkward expression came to his eyes. ‘I have a confession that I must make to you, concerning…’

  ‘The little accidents on our journey?’ Stefan’s brows rose, a hint of mockery in his eyes. ‘Always they were the thorn that pricked me, but nothing terrible happened because of them—no man was killed, no beast injured. At first I wondered if Danewold had a spy in the camp. I even suspected my own men, and then I began to wonder. Now that you have told me you had no wish to marry, I think I need look no further for the culprit.’

  ‘It was a boy’s prank,’ Alain admitted. ‘I worried lest Graylin should do something that resulted in injury and wished I had not sent him with you. ’Tis time I had more to occupy my time than foolishness.’

  ‘I agree that you should leave your home and seek life,’ Stefan said. ‘Though you may not find it as sweet as you expect—but now, come and drink a cup of ale with me. I dare say Elona has plenty to do settling into her new apartments. And I shall see her at supper. Let us talk, Alain, for it may be many years before we meet again.’

  Indeed, it might be that they would never meet in this life, for there were many perils on the way to the Holy Land and too many men died in battle or its aftermath.

  Elona was aware that her husband had returned to the manor and steeled herself against his anger. She was sure that he would come to her in a rage, mayhap to send her away before her women had time to unpack her chests.

  Yet her apartments were comfortable, furnished with all the basic necessities she needed. There was a bed of huge proportions, its ends carved and gilded in a manner she had never seen before, but thought must come from some exotic land to the east. One wall of the chamber had a window that looked down at the courtyard below, and beneath it was ranged a large oak chest banded with iron clasps and studs. Other chests stood about the room, giving her space to store her gowns and possessions, and there were two stools and a chair with X-shaped supports, which was also carved and gilded on the back and arms. A frame for her needlework stood by the window, also a trestle and board. Here she would sit to write her accounts, Elona thought, and then flushed as she wondered if Stefan would trust her to keep his household accounts. Mayhap he would choose to leave that to his steward.

  The walls were hung with tapestries of rich hues that gave the room warmth and light, and there was a separate room where her clothes could be laid on wooden shelves.

  Her women had a room beyond that she would use as her privy and there was a further room at the opposite side of hers that she had been told led to her husband’s bedchamber. She had not so far dared to look inside.

  She had been busy directing her women to unpack her own goods, and now had all her things about her, small personal treasures that had belonged to her mother. With the sewing box her brother had given her as a gift one Christmas-tide, her Bible, and various combs, brushes, scent flasks and ornaments, the chamber had taken on a permanence that made her feel as if she truly belonged there.

  But for how long? she wondered uneasily. Would her women be ordered to pack her things as soon as Stefan had had time to consider?

  Now that all w
as in order, she had changed into a fresh tunic and kirtle with a surcote of blue wool, because the chill of autumn had settled with the evening. She waited nervously for Stefan’s arrival, certain that he would burst into her chamber and demand an explanation for her unannounced arrival.

  When the summons came it was from Piers, who told her that Baron Sanscombe awaited her in the hall, where a meal was being served.

  ‘Forgive the tardy invitation, my lady. It was expected that you would come down when you were ready.’

  ‘I was not sure…at what hour you supped.’

  She had not thought she would be expected to join her husband and his men at supper in the hall. Indeed, she had expected to be banished and her stomach was a spasm of nerves as she followed Piers from her chamber, along the gallery and down the wide, important staircase. How different this house was from those she had known before she left her home. Banewulf too was more of a home than a fortress, which she knew from Lady Alayne was because there had been peace in England since King Henry II came to the throne.

  ‘Before that there was always unrest,’ Alayne had told her. ‘But whatever history may say of this king, he has done that much for his people. There have been rebellions by his sons, but thus far the nobles have lived peaceably with one another—for most of the time.’

  Elona knew that noblemen grew greedy for wealth and lands, quarrelling with their neighbours over the merest trifle as an excuse to fight and steal their property. Her father had constantly been fighting petty battles with his close neighbours, and she marvelled that the English King had managed to keep stability in his kingdom for so long.

  The hall was not as large as some she had seen, but it was large enough for the gathering of perhaps sixty men who sat at the boards that had been set on long trestles. They were drinking ale and wine from cups of pewter or horn, but as she entered they rose as one and saluted her.

  ‘To the lady of Sanscombe, welcome.’

  The cheering brought a lump to her throat. She had not expected this and the tears were close as she made her way to the high table where Stefan, Alain, a round-cheeked priest and the steward stood to greet her. Her heart was hammering as she made her curtsy to her husband. Now, now if he so chose, he could shame her so deeply that she would never dare to defy him again.

  ‘My lord…’

  ‘My lady,’ Stefan said, his dark grey eyes dwelling on her face. He had noticed the slenderness of her figure as she walked so proudly down the full length of the hall, the heavy train of her gown trailing behind her. He noticed that it was the gown she had worn to the tourney, the one he had bought for her, and wondered if that was why she had chosen it. Oh, unworthy soul that he was to rejoice in the loss of a child! Yet the relief was so overwhelming that his throat ached from it. ‘We had not thought to send for you sooner. Please take your seat by my side if you will.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ Elona whispered, daring at last to meet his eyes. She could see that they held a serious, thoughtful expression, but no sign of the icy anger of their last meeting. Had he forgiven her? But no, he was merely showing mercy. She knew that he was renowned for the mercy he had shown his enemies, how could he be less forgiving to her?

  She took her place at his left side, the right occupied by his brother, who was their guest and entitled to the place of honour. A servant came forward with a dish of fowl swimming in a rich sauce, another brought bread, another cold meat and cheese on a silver platter.

  She accepted a little of the cold meats, refusing the richer dish and taking a chunk of the fresh bread, which crumbled in her fingers as she ate. She was conscious of Stefan sitting next to her, of the slight scent of leather and horses, of cedar wood and his own musk that she found so attractive. At court some of the men had used perfumes to mask the body odours beneath their rich robes, but she knew that Stefan bathed regularly, either in a handy stream when travelling or in the tub his men provided, and needed no such arts to cover the stench of stale sweat.

  Wine had been poured for her into a silver cup. She sipped it and discovered that it tasted sweeter than she was used to and looked at Stefan in surprise and pleasure.

  ‘Honey wine,’ he told her. ‘Have you not tasted it before, lady?’

  ‘No, never,’ she said and took another sip. ‘My father’s taste was for something much different. I found it sour and often drank only water at table. This is much more pleasant to the tongue.’

  ‘I had it brought here…for those who prefer it,’ Stefan said. ‘But be careful, Elona, it is a potent brew. Too much and you will lose your senses and your dignity.’

  ‘I have never drunk more than one cup of wine at table, my lord.’ Her head went up, pride making her eyes glitter. Was he reminding her that he expected her to behave with a proper modesty?

  Stefan was surprised at the way his heart gladdened to see such pride in her eyes. He had thought it crushed entirely and regretted the part he had played in her humiliation. She had lain with her squire and that could never be changed; it was a stain upon her honour, but not such a terrible sin. He could have understood and forgiven it in another, but in the woman he loved—the woman he had thought returned his love—the knowledge had sent him reeling to a pit of despair.

  ‘I am merely warning you,’ he said now, denying the urge to smile at her, to tell her that he was pleased to see her despite the jealousy that still lingered at the back of his mind. But it had abated now that his first shock had cooled, and he believed he could keep it at the back of his mind. He was after all a grown man, not a sullen child. ‘I would not want you to be taken unawares by its potency.’

  ‘I thank you for your concern, my lord,’ Elona said and defiantly took another sip, but then, remembering that she relied on his tolerance, she put it down and summoned the servant carrying the water jug. ‘Some water, if you please.’

  ‘We are all pleased to see you here, lady,’ the priest said to her, claiming her attention. ‘I am Father Fernando and I serve Sir Stefan as his chaplain here. I am always at your service should you need me.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Elona said and smiled at him. ‘Do you read the Latin? I can read and write in my own language, and in English, for my stepmother taught me, and I know how to keep accounts, but I confess I cannot read the Latin.’

  ‘Would you wish to do so, my lady?’ The priest was a little surprised, for few ladies bothered to learn more than how to write their name, though some could keep accounts.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Elona replied. ‘For then I could read the Bible. I have a copy that belonged to my stepmother, but I can only look at the illustrations, which are very fine and coloured in gold and crimson and blue—but I would like to be able to read from it sometimes.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure to teach you,’ the priest said, his plump cheeks dimpling. ‘Your husband is a man of learning, as I am sure you know. He too has a beautiful Bible and also a very precious Book of Hours that he allows me to use. There are many scripts that he has collected on his travels and had bound into volumes with tooled leather; I think he might let you look at them if you wished.’

  ‘Oh…’ Elona could not help feeling surprised, for she had not realised that Stefan had such a collection of rare and valuable things. ‘Yes, I should—if my husband would allow it.’

  ‘If I would allow what, Elona?’

  ‘Your lady was expressing a wish to learn the Latin, my lord,’ Father Fernando told him. ‘I mentioned that you have a collection of rare scripts that have been bound and that you might allow Lady Elona to look at them.’

  ‘Are you truly interested?’ Stefan smiled oddly as she inclined her head. ‘Then of course you may look, my lady. It shall be my pleasure to show them to you myself. I have other treasures collected from my travels that you might care to see also.’

  ‘Like the bed and chair in my bedchamber?’ Elona asked. ‘I have never seen anything like them before.’

  ‘Yes, like them,’ Stefan agreed. ‘The chair came from Rome, I be
lieve, and the bed from the land of Mesopotamia, I am told, though how true that may be I do not know. I bought treasures home with me from my travels to the Holy Land, some of which were supposed to have belonged to Alexander the Great—though again I do not know how true the tale is, for some of these travelling merchants are rogues and would lie through their teeth.’

  Elona wondered at his knowledge, for she had heard only vaguely of the great king who had conquered an empire, and knew nothing of the lands of which Stefan spoke. She nodded, ashamed of her ignorance, though in truth it was not a lack of interest on her part; her father had not considered it necessary that she should receive more than a rudimentary education, and it was only through the kindness of her stepmother that she had learned her letters and her numbers. Her stepmother had known little history herself, and they had never talked of such things.

  ‘I have scripts that relate the history of many lands and many great men,’ Stefan told her, guessing what lay behind her silence. ‘One of the things I plan to do now that I have come home is to translate some of these into English. If you are interested, I shall show you some that I have begun to work on.’

  Oh, how she longed for a friendship between them, the kind of relationship that she had witnessed at court. If she could only be as easy with him as she had been with Constance and her father! If he would but relent towards her, consent to let her stay here as his wife…

  ‘Yes…please,’ Elona said, her heart catching as he almost smiled at her. She had not expected such consideration from him and felt a rush of tears as the longing to see that look of desire in his eyes almost overwhelmed her. He had desired her once. If only he would look at her that way again! ‘It would please me—if it were no trouble to you, my lord. I wish to be a good wife to you now that I am here. You must tell me what my duties are—what you expect of me.’

  ‘Must I, Elona?’ His eyes dwelled on her face for a moment, making her tremble inwardly. Her breath caught in her throat, her stomach clenching with nerves. How strangely he looked at her. She felt as if he were a wolf and she his prey, as if he were considering whether to devour her now or savour the thought of a meal later. ‘Our case is a little different, I think. You must give me time to decide what I require of you. I have not quite made up my mind.’