by April Munday
“You look better,” she said. It was true; he had his colour back and he was standing straight. He held his arm against his body protectively, but that was the only sign that anything was wrong.
“All I needed was a good night’s sleep.”
Eleanor thought, guiltily, that he couldn’t have had a good night’s rest since he had left France and she was responsible for the lack of it over the last few days.
“I’m glad.”
“Did you come out here to hide?” Henry softened his question with a smile.
“No,” she smiled back. “I thought you might not be well enough to come to Solomon, so I thought I would come and see that he was alright.” She blushed. “It was terribly rude of me to presume that your brother would not take good care of him.”
“Solomon missed you, so he’s glad to see you. But, yes, William does look after him very well. Like you, he enjoys the company of horses and they like him.”
Eleanor was confused; she didn’t know whether or not Henry had paid her a compliment. Seeing her hesitation, Henry’s smile broadened. “If you were a boy, Eleanor, I would gladly take you with me to look after my horses. You have a great skill and it will be difficult for me to get Solomon to leave you behind.”
Somewhat placated, Eleanor asked, “And does Solomon need anything?”
“Only some exercise. Would you like to walk him with me after you’ve eaten? I’ll show you my father’s fields, although there is little to see under the snow.”
“Thank you. I should like that.” She knew that she would. It was an unexpected pleasure to go where she desired and not where she was told to go. There were some good things about life outside the convent apart from a variety of rich and spicy foods.
Henry led her back into the house and they joined the rest of his family and the servants in the hall. Sir John greeted them and Henry took his place at his father’s right hand, indicating that Eleanor should sit on his right.
The meal was plain, but plentiful. Eleanor ate her full and managed to take part in the many conversations that were going on around her. It was noisy in the hall, but not unbearable; Sir John kept an orderly house.
William walked with them back to the stable; he liked to begin his day by inspecting all the horses and talking to the groom. Henry saddled Solomon, explaining that he would give him a short run once they reached the open land away from the fields. He and Eleanor walked out of the manor’s gate and up the hill that led away from the manor house. It was snowing gently, but she could still see the house and its wall when Henry stopped and asked her to turn round.
“You see how well defended my father’s house is? Even if they find you here, those men from the convent will not be able to hurt you.”
Eleanor bit her lip; she would not beg Henry to stay, or to take her with him, but she felt very much that he was deserting her. She understood now why he thought she needed to be kept safe; if the man who had sent the men to the convent had any idea how large the treasure was, he would know that it was worth a great effort on his part to secure it. It seemed he had already sent men to France to find Philip in the middle of a battle. Henry was worried that they had only won a temporary reprieve, but she could not satisfy him that she was glad that he was leaving her here rather than taking her with him. She knew now that there was no one waiting for him at his house and understood that it would not be proper for her to accompany him. She dared not suggest that she go once more as a boy, for that would be a sin, but she wondered what would become of her here. If Henry would not take her with him, however, she must stay here.
“You do not say anything. Eleanor, please...”
“I believe that the defences are good, if you say so, and that you cannot take me with you... if you say so.”
Henry had to be satisfied with that. He turned and started walking again
“My family come to me for the Christmas feast. You will come with them and it may be that I can take you back to Devon then.”
To her surprise, Eleanor did not feel her spirits revive at Henry’s suggestion. She pondered this as they walked over the brow of the hill and down the other side. Neither of them broke the silence for some time and Eleanor hoped that Henry found it as comfortable as she did. Now that she had accepted that she must stay, she enjoyed looking around her at the fields as they grew whiter as the snow continued to fall.
Sir John’s fields were extensive and it took them some time to walk them. Solomon grew impatient and when Henry finally got onto his back he tossed his head in anticipation.
“Care to join me?” Henry leaned down and held out an arm to her. “There’s no one here to see.”
Eleanor took his hand and he swung her up behind him. She put her arms around him and Solomon set off. No longer afraid of his speed or the distance of the possible fall, Eleanor started to laugh with the pleasure of it and Henry joined her.
They turned back towards the house and Solomon galloped as if he bore no rider at all rather than two. Just before they reached the top of the hill again, Henry let her down and they walked slowly back to the manor house. It was snowing heavily now and Eleanor started to shiver. The sky was dark and she longed to be inside, yet she found her pace slowing further. She looked up at Henry and saw that he was watching her.
“I should not have kept you out so long,” he said.
“It was not so long.”
They had stopped walking now and Eleanor held her breath, waiting for whatever it was that Henry wanted to say, but he simply adjusted the hood of her cloak to keep the snow off her face and started walking again.
After they came through the gate, Henry turned towards the stable and Eleanor crossed the courtyard to go into the house. To her surprise, Edward was waiting for her.
“Here, give me that wet cloak and come into the hall to get warm.”
The hall was deserted, but Edward called for a servant to bring her some warm spiced wine then led her to a bench set near the fire and sat next to her.
“What did Henry think he was doing, taking you out on such a day?”
“We walked fast and I was always warm.” Eleanor was surprised by Edward’s vehemence; their acquaintance had been short and he had not shown himself to be particularly careful of her so far.
“He calls himself your protector, yet takes no care of you.”
Eleanor bristled. “I was perfectly safe and I am no weak maid to be kept indoors in the bad weather. In the convent I work in the fields.” She held out her scarred, rough hands to him. “These are not the hands of a gentlewoman.”
Edward took her hands before she could pull them back and looked at them carefully. “Indeed they are not,” he said sadly. He ran a finger lightly over her calluses and a shiver ran up her spine; she must be colder than she thought, despite the fire’s heat.
“You will not work in the fields while you are with us. You will sit by the fire and sew or spin.”
Eleanor smiled as she remembered Sister Sarah’s despair at her sewing. “It is as well your vocation is not to be a wife, for no husband would put up with such poor sewing,” she had said when Eleanor had presented a tangled mess to her one time too many. Then she frowned as she realised that Edward was serious; in this house she would be expected to sew. At least she could spin; she could spin wool as fine as any weaver could desire.
Edward saw the frown. “Surely you would not prefer to work in the fields in this weather. You’re a gentlewoman and should not work in the fields at all.”
Did wives not work alongside their husbands in the world, then? This was not what she had thought at all.
“I should prefer to work with the horses,” she said, “but I suspect that your brother needs no help.”
Edward laughed. “William manages his horses very well. You have some very strange ideas, Sister Margaret.”
“I am used to working hard in the convent. We do not have servants to do everything for us and that is how it should be. We are God’s servants and should not
be served.”
“Whilst you are in my father’s house you must get used to being served. You may come to like it.”
Edward smiled and she was struck again by how handsome he was. His face looked more normal today, although it would be some time before his full good looks returned. Realising that he still held her hands, Eleanor drew them into her lap. A servant brought her wine and she took a few hesitant sips.
“Will you stay much longer?”
“Do you wish to be rid of me so soon?”
Eleanor blushed at her own rudeness. “No, I meant merely that you have been away from your business for a long time and there must be much to do.”
“There is, but I have also been away from my mother and father and it would not show them the proper respect if my visit were so short.” Eleanor knew that she was meant to hear the implied criticism of Henry, but she understood that he had been away from his manor much longer than Edward had been away from his shop. Philippa had told her yesterday that they were surprised that Henry had intended to stay longer than one night, since they were to go to him at Christmas.
Eleanor looked away. She was not used to making conversation alone with a man; it had seemed so much easier with the taciturn Henry. Edward caught her chin and turned her face back towards him. “And there is, of course, the added attraction of your presence.”
Eleanor gasped. A door opened and closed somewhere and Edward dropped his hand as Henry came into the hall. He scowled when he saw Edward sitting with Eleanor, but passed though the hall quickly. He returned shortly with a cup of warm spiced wine and sat on Eleanor’s other side.
“Have you nothing to do, Edward?” he asked as he stretched his legs out towards the fire.
“Not a thing,” replied his brother.
“I’m glad to hear it,” said William, entering the hall carrying two large buckets. “Take one of these for me.”
Edward looked at Henry. “Don’t look at me,” said Henry. “Even if my shoulder were completely healed, I would still not stop you making some contribution to your keep.”
“Is Edward lazy?” asked a horrified Eleanor when they were alone, then blushed again as she realised that she had asked another rude question. She had grown used to saying or asking the first thing that came to mind when she was with Henry.
“Not at all, but I am stronger and I normally help William with the heavy work when I’m here. But I am still angry with him and tired of all his jibes about my seasickness, so I thought I’d leave him to it.”
“And your shoulder?”
“Aches,” admitted Henry.
“You should not have lifted me onto Solomon.”
“But you enjoyed yourself, so that is worth a bit of discomfort. I wish I could make you smile more, Eleanor.”
“I do not think you have to smile all the time to be content.”
“But you are not content.”
“No, not now, but I’m sure I will be again.”
“I think it will be hard here for you and it grieves me.”
“Edward says I must sew.”
“You say that as if it were a punishment.”
“It is. I was not allowed to sew at the convent; my hands are too clumsy.”
Henry’s laugh surprised Eleanor. She had thought he might not laugh often, but this was not the laugh of a man who laughed despite himself. He must laugh a lot when he had the ease to do so.
“Do not worry, my mother and Philippa will find many ways for you to be useful and they do not have to include sewing.”
“Then I shall be content. If only you would leave Solomon with me.” She sighed a false sigh and Henry laughed again.
“You are very much like your brother. He also coveted my horse.”
“I do not covet him to possess him, only for companionship.”
“You shall have my family for that. They will love you as...” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “as a daughter, if you give them a chance.”
“I should like that.” There was peace and quiet at the convent, but not much love. Eleanor could barely remember her mother, but she knew that she had not been like Mother Abbess. Perhaps Lady Mary would be a model for her.
Henry drained his cup and stood. “I’m afraid I cannot spend the day talking with you, there must be work for me to do.”
“Please sit a while longer. I do not think anyone will grudge you a bit more rest for your shoulder’s sake.”
Henry stared at his boots for a moment. When he looked at her again his face was serious.
“I am not very good at taking my ease.”
“Then let us both practise together for a while longer.”
Henry sat again and they were still there when the servants started to prepare the hall for the midday meal.
Over the next two days Lady Mary and Sir John made Eleanor feel welcome and she began to feel that she had known them for a long time. She told them much about herself and kept no secrets from them. It was a few days before she felt comfortable in their house, but things became much easier when Isabelle returned two days after Eleanor’s arrival, for Henry’s young sister was close to Eleanor’s own age and, despite a mischievous spirit, was a sensible, hard-working young woman who accepted an unknown nun into the house as readily as she would an old friend.
Each morning Eleanor went with Henry to Mass in the village just as it was getting light. William, Philippa and Lady Mary went with them. This was a happy time for Eleanor, as she had missed the comforts of the church since Henry had taken her from the convent. The last traces of mistrust disappeared as she saw signs of true piety in him. William also impressed her as a man of his word. He was quicker to smile than Henry and talked more, but he took everything as seriously as his brother.
Henry was quiet, but, since his parents did not seem troubled by this, Eleanor assumed that this must be his normal humour and since she herself preferred quiet, she became more and more comfortable with his presence. He recovered quickly in the forced inactivity. Neither his father nor his brother would allow him to do anything except exercise Solomon. He sat in the hall and Eleanor read to him from one of the two books that Sir John owned, when she thought it did not show too much ingratitude to her host. Sir John, however, encouraged it and she sat with Henry while others worked. Henry did not allow her to read for long, seeing that it tired her, and they would sit in silence or discuss what she had read or some of her lessons from the convent. He was better educated than she had expected and he corrected her occasionally. She smiled at his corrections, noted them and followed his arguments as he took her lessons a step further. Sometimes William would sit with them briefly and join in their discussions and he and Henry would argue for and against whatever point they were discussing. Eleanor quickly realised that she could not keep up, but she enjoyed the vitality and earnestness with which they pursued knowledge and understanding. Edward never joined in these discussions. If he crossed the hall while they were talking he would continue on his way without stopping. If, however, Eleanor was reading, he would stop and bring a stool close to her so that he could listen.
On the third morning after her arrival Henry was not in the hall when she looked for him after Mass so Eleanor sat with Lady Mary and span wool. After a while Lady Mary went to manage something in the kitchen and Eleanor was working alone.
“There you are.”
Eleanor looked up from the wool she was spinning and smiled at Henry, then her smile faded. “You’re leaving now?”
He wore strong boots and warm clothes and a travelling cloak was folded over his arm. She had hoped he would remain a few more days.
“I can stay no longer. I have come to say goodbye and to leave this with you.”
Eleanor stood and looked down at his hands. He was holding a book. She looked up at his face. How could a soldier like Henry afford such a thing? She could see no shame in his face; so he had come by it honestly. Could he truly have won enough prize money to be able to afford something like this?
&nb
sp; “Take it, please. You may return it when you go back to your convent.”
Eleanor took the precious object carefully and opened it. It was a plain book of hours. There were few illustrations and they were not of the best quality, but the writing was bold and clear. She traced the shape of the cover with her fingers then looked at the first page and the last one. On this page stood a single Latin inscription, “Henry made me, 1351”.
That explained how Henry came to have such an expensive object. Edward, who was a wealthy man, had three books which he kept in the chest in his counting room. One was about falconry, one was about archery and the other was a collection of pilgrims’ tales. This one was different. It was much smaller and made to be carried by its owner.
“You made a book.” She allowed her surprise to show in her voice.
“I learned how at the monastery where I was a novice.” He looked away as if thinking about that time was painful. “Afterwards, when I knew I would never be a monk, I knew that I would need something to help me. I wanted to follow the Rule as much as I could, so I asked Father Abbot if I could be allowed to go into the library at the monastery and copy a book. By then he knew the truth of what had happened and gave his permission, although my father was not happy about it.”
Eleanor frowned, for she had come to understand that Henry’s father found much to displease him in his second son. She tried to remember what Henry and Isabelle had told her about Henry’s vocation. Surely Henry had been forbidden entry into the monastery by his parents. This story did not make sense. Was Henry lying to her? What was it that the abbot knew the truth of?
It was Henry’s turn to frown. “You don’t believe me?”
Eleanor bit her lip at her slip; she was usually so good at concealing her thoughts. “Of course I believe you.” She stopped. She did not wish to seem to interrogate Henry, but she could not pretend to understand his story. She held his eyes, afraid to look away in case he should doubt her. “It is just... well, it’s not...” She clutched at the book as if hoping for some help from that quarter.