by April Munday
“The wine is unloaded,” said Edward as he joined them, “and I am paid. We shall eat and then sail back.”
He and Robert soon began talking about trade and Isabelle tried to engage Eleanor in a conversation about the clothes of the other women in the inn. Eleanor tried to join in, but she could not recognise what was fashionable and what was not and she did not care. She was unable to hide this from Isabelle, who eventually smiled and said, “I see my influence has failed. I had hoped to get some idea of your taste so that we can make some dresses for you.”
“We shall make them to your taste and you can have them when I go back to the convent.”
Edward looked across at her and frowned.
“That’s very kind of you,” said Isabelle. She could not have seen Edward’s reaction, but she stopped smiling and turned away from Eleanor. Isabelle must have hoped that she would stay with Edward. Eleanor was disappointed. Isabelle might not know her brother’s true intentions, but she knew about Eleanor’s own desire to take her vows.
By the time they left the inn the weather had changed. Now it reminded Eleanor more of the storms that they had encountered on the way up the coast from Devon. The sky was black and the wind blew the heavy rain into their faces.
“Is it too rough for us to sail?” asked Robert. From the tales he had told last night Eleanor didn’t think he could be afraid. He had sailed through far worse storms than this. He glanced at Isabelle and Eleanor understood that his fear was for her.
“It is a short voyage,” replied Edward. “The wind is not yet so heavy that we should spend the night here.”
Eleanor caught the uncertainty in his voice and wondered why he wanted to take the risk. He could not be criticised for taking care of his sister and his guest. No one would call him a coward for that. They could easily sleep on the ship or in the inn and sail back tomorrow. She concluded that Robert or Edward had business matters that would not wait.
“Are you sure, Edward?” asked Isabelle.
“Yes,” he said. “It is rough, but my ship is sturdy and the crew are experienced. We came through worse bringing Henry home.”
Isabelle chewed her bottom lip, but she nodded her agreement.
“And you, Sister Margaret, do you have anything to say?”
“No, Edward, you are the captain of your ship and you know best.”
He smiled at her. “It is good to know that you trust me in some things,” he said quietly.
“I trust you where experience has shown that you are trustworthy.”
“Do I have to earn your trust?”
Eleanor hesitated. Despite everything, she liked Edward. “I want to trust you, but I see little reason to do so.”
“Henry....”
“Has nothing to do with it. Your own words and actions have done everything.” She was sharp and Edward’s expression changed to that of a scolded child.
“Is there any hope?” He pouted.
“Do not make fun of me.” He was playing with her and he had so much more experience in these things than she had.
Edward caught her arm and squeezed tightly. “I am not making fun of you. I want you to trust me.”
“Why?"
“You are not like other women, Eleanor, and I should have seen that from the first.”
“But you did not.”
“No, and I regret it now. I could have been more help to you once you knew about your brother. You have been left with strangers, but we can be more than that to you.”
“I am growing very fond of your parents. They have been very kind to me.”
Edward smiled. “They have also known great loss and they want to help you.” He looked around, as if noticing for the first time that it was raining. “Come, we should get onto the ship.”
Chapter Seven
Eleanor was very cold by the time they reached the ship and Isabelle’s teeth were chattering. Edward had someone bring them wine and they went below to Edward’s room.
Despite what she had said to Edward, Eleanor was scared. He was worried about something to do with the voyage. Perhaps he was afraid to stay in Yarmouth. Had something happened while they were waiting for him in the inn? Only she seemed to have noticed that he had been gone much longer than he had told them to expect.
Even before they left the shelter of the harbour the ship was being tossed violently by the wind and the waves. At the height of the storm on her first voyage Eleanor had not felt sick for a moment, now her innards seemed to move about inside her as if she had swallowed a live kitten and she began to feel uncomfortable. Isabelle was already lying on Edward’s bed. Before she joined her, Eleanor made sure that there was a bowl for each of them, should they be needed, although she was fairly certain that only Isabelle would require one.
The ship was bounced around by the waves like a mouse between the paws of a cat. Sometimes it seemed to fly, at others it seemed to drag itself through the water as if anchored to an invisible quayside.
Robert came briefly to see how they were, but left almost immediately. Isabelle had been sick and she did not want Robert to stay. Eleanor could not blame her.
Once, after the ship had leaned particularly steeply, Eleanor wondered if the side of the ship had gone under the water. She breathed more easily as the ship righted itself.
Isabelle started to cry and Eleanor held her, stroking her hair and talking to her as if she were a child. Suddenly the door to the small room flew open and Edward stood framed in the doorway.
“Get up on deck now,” he shouted.
“We’re going to sink,” screamed Isabelle, but Eleanor pulled her off the bed and up the ladder to the deck, shouting at her to be quiet. She kept close to Edward, for that was where safety was.
On the deck she could see that the sky was darker than ever and the waves so high that they seemed to hover over the ship like a monster from a nightmare.
“Take off your tunics” shouted Edward, but Eleanor could barely hear him above the sound of the wind and the waves crashing onto the deck. Eleanor obeyed at once. If the ship went over they had more chance of surviving without the weight of their tunics. She could not swim, though, and knew that she would have no chance if the ship went down.
“Can you swim?” Edward shouted in her ear. Eleanor shook her head and Edward produced a length of rope and tied them together. Eleanor tried to protest; she had no wish to kill Edward as she drowned. He put his mouth next to her ear again. “I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Eleanor. Do not fear.”
Eleanor did not fear. All her life she had accepted that she was in God’s hands and he would choose what to do with her. She doubted Edward knew this peace, but hoped he did.
Eleanor noticed that Robert had not tied himself to Isabelle, but Isabelle was removing her shoes and all her clothing that wasn’t necessary to preserve her modesty. The ship was hit by a wave and jerked out of the water. Eleanor would have fallen, but Edward held her.
“Take off your shoes,” he shouted at her. Eleanor did so and immediately felt more secure on the deck.
She was able, now, to look at the sailors and saw the fear in their faces and was convinced that they were going to die. She began to pray silently; she had no fear for her soul, but she could not easily contemplate a violent, painful death.
The ship lurched again and she clutched at Edward. He held her tightly. “I will get you home safely.”
“I trust you,” she said.
“You shouldn’t. It’s my fault your life is at risk.” He looked into her eyes and she was convinced that he was telling the truth and was upset about it. He had known he was risking their lives by sailing in such weather, but had chosen to do so for some overpowering reason.
“Why?” she asked, but he couldn’t hear her. He put his ear next to her mouth. She could not repeat the question, but kissed him, instead. He turned his head so that he could kiss her, briefly on the lips, then he held her, occasionally gesticulating to the sailors.
He turned a
way from her suddenly, as if something had suddenly caught his attention.
“There!” He pointed. Eleanor followed his arm, but could see nothing. “The wind has changed direction. We can sail up to Southampton.”
Eleanor did not understand; she had thought they had been sailing to Southampton since they had left Yarmouth, then she realised that she could see land on either side of the ship and they had turned out of the Solent and were approaching the quieter waters of the estuary.
The movement of the ship changed constantly, but they were once more in the shelter of land and they made their way carefully and gradually to the quay.
Eleanor was relieved when they drew alongside the quay. Still attached by the rope to Edward, she had to follow him as he walked towards the centre of the ship. She found it difficult to keep up with him and did not pay a lot of attention to where she was going and tripped over a coil of rope on the deck. Edward returned to her immediately.
“Are you alright?”
“Help me sit up.” Eleanor was dazed and there would be a bruise on her head. “I’m alright. Don’t worry.”
She smiled weakly up at Edward, touched by his concern. She had no illusions that he was in love with her, but it was good to know that he felt something for her.
Edward gave her his hand and helped her up. She found herself leaning against him and trying to breathe. Then she was able to stand.
“Never do that to me again,” said Edward as he held her against his chest and stroked her wet hair.
Eleanor shivered with cold, but Edward seemed happy to believe it had some other cause and kissed her forehead.
Eleanor and Isabelle kept to the house for two days. It took Eleanor that long to feel fully warm again. Isabelle had a slight chill and kept to the bed. It was not serious and Eleanor gladly kept her company.
After two days of inactivity she was ready to go out again. It was a clear crisp day and she wanted to go to church. She asked Edward to let her take Sam.
“Come with me. I have to go and speak to the burgesses. We can go into the church on the way back.”
It was a clear, bright day and so cold that Eleanor would have preferred to be wearing gloves, but it was too late to turn back and borrow Isabelle’s. They must be the first piece of clothing that she and Isabelle made. She would look for a piece of soft leather today if Edward would let her.
Once she had decided this, Eleanor started to pay attention to the way they were going and was surprised that she did not recognise the street they were walking along. She thought that Isabelle had shown her all the important streets and she had begun to have a good idea of where they were in relation to one another. Edward led her into a narrow alley and she began to feel uneasy. Halfway down it they were stopped by a beggar who stepped out of the shadows. He began to tell them that he had fought at Poitiers and had lost his arm there. Eleanor knew this could not be true and gripped Edward’s arm and attempted to hurry him past the man.
“I should have thought you’d be the first to encourage me to give alms to the man.” He stopped and reached for his purse. Eleanor felt that he was doing this only to impress her and wished that he would not. Something was wrong here. Why could the worldly-wise Edward not see that?
“Edward Attewood!” The shout came from behind them and Edward swung round, throwing Eleanor off as he reached for his sword. The beggar caught her with his remaining arm and held her tight. She struggled, but another man appeared from the other end of the alley and held a knife to her throat.
The man who had shouted advanced down the alley. He, too, was armed.
“Hello, Edward, anyone would think you were avoiding me.”
“Today, I am, Peter. As you can see, I am escorting a lady.” Edward looked around for Eleanor and looked surprised when he saw her situation.
The man spat. “I should have known you’d hide behind a woman’s skirts. You’ve always been a coward.”
The man walked past Edward and approached Eleanor.
“And she’s a pretty one.” He reached out a hand and stroked her cheek. “Not for much longer, if you don’t give me my money.” He said it wistfully, but the fingernail he scratched down her cheek left her in no doubt as to his intentions.
“I haven’t got it.” Edward sounded sullen.
There must have been a signal from the leader, but Eleanor didn’t see it. The man with the knife hit her hard in the stomach and she would have fallen, but for the man holding her. For all he only had one arm he was very strong.
“No!” Edward shouted, but didn’t move, not even to bring the sword up.
Eleanor gasped as she tried to breathe.
“My money,” demanded the man.
“You’ll have it. Just leave us alone.”
“Two days, you said in Yarmouth and it’s been two days.”
“I don’t walk around with that amount of money on me. You know that.”
The leader turned towards the man with the knife and nodded. Eleanor felt him draw it along her cheek. She screamed in surprise and pain.
“Leave her alone.” Edward started towards the three men. The one-armed man threw Eleanor out of his way. She hit her head against the wall and slid down it, unconscious.
Eleanor knew pain, a lot of pain. There was so much pain she could not even tell where it was. Everything seemed to hurt. Gradually she realised that it was her head that was injured and she tried to open her eyes, but that hurt too much. Instead, she tried to speak and thought she heard a grunt. It was enough. From a distance she heard a man’s voice say “Thank God. You live.”
“Henry?” There was another grunt, but she already knew it wasn’t Henry. Whoever it was cursed and let go of her hand. She knew she had said something very wrong, but could not worry about what it was now. She tried to speak again, but fell asleep.
The next time Eleanor awoke she knew it was Edward who sat beside her. When she said his name her voice sounded almost normal in her own ears.
“You have your senses, then,” he said.
“It seems so,” she said and looked carefully around the bedchamber for Isabelle. The room was lit by a single candle, but even that light had hurt her before she realised that she was alone with Edward. After a while she could look at Edward. His normally clean-shaven face was covered in three or four days’ growth of beard. Had she slept so long? He did not greet her with a smile, but a frown. “We despaired of your life.”
“I wasn’t ready to die,” she said, simply. It was true enough. She could remember not wanting to die in the alley; it would have been so sordid.
“I don’t think that matters. Can you eat something? The surgeon said you should drink some wine when you woke up.”
Eleanor knew it would be good wine and Edward first moistened her lip with wine on his fingers, then raised her slightly so that she could sip from a beaker. Her head span, but she managed to take a few sips before indicating that he could let her down.
“What happened?”
“I killed Peter. The others ran off.”
Eleanor could see that this was not something that gave him any pleasure. She recalled Peter calling Edward a coward and she was glad that it wasn’t true. He had saved her life and she was sure he must have shown bravery as he did so.
Eleanor sighed. She was very lucky to be alive.
“Thank you for my life.”
“It was not my doing.”
“You rescued me.”
“I put you in danger in the first place.”
“Then you have made up for that error.”
Edward snorted. “I do not see your life as something to be balanced against my stupidity or my bravery. It is far more precious than that.”
Eleanor grasped his hand again. There was no need for either of them to say anything.
Chapter Eight
Over the next few days Edward barely left Eleanor’s side. He was sitting next to her when she woke and when she fell asleep. He helped her to sit up so that she could eat o
r drink. Only when Isabelle or Sarah was helping her to wash was he absent.
Eleanor was glad of his presence. She was still uncomfortable and could not stay awake for long, but she liked to know he was there. He had saved her life and she felt safer with him there. They said very little. When she thought she could bear it, Eleanor asked him to read to her. She remembered the books she had seen in his counting room. They were not the kind of books she would ordinarily want, or be able, to read, but she needed to be able to think about something other than the events in the alley.
Edward looked surprised and disappointed by her request. “I have no books.”
“But I saw some in your counting room.”
“Books of accounts,” he said and she thought she heard anger in his voice. “You mistook them for something else.”
Eleanor knew she was not mistaken; she had looked at them and could remember their subject matter. She knew that when she had first arrived in his house not a month ago Edward had owned three books. Deciding not to argue with him she learned back in bed and closed her eyes hoping that her disappointment did not show.
Now she began to think about the books and why they were gone. She didn’t think Edward was lying about that. If she could walk downstairs she knew that she would not find the books. If he had sold them, why not just tell her? He was a merchant and buying and selling things was how he lived. It was a mystery and she knew that she would return to it until she knew what had happened to the books.
“Shall I read this to you?” She opened her eyes and saw that Edward held the book of hours in his hand.
“No, thank you. I shall rest now.” She managed to smile at him and closed her eyes until she heard him leave the room, then she became lost in thought again.
It was Isabelle who told Eleanor how Edward had never left her bedside while she had been unconscious.
“He carried you in,” she said. “There was so much blood.” Her voice quivered and Eleanor saw that her injury had scared her friend. “The surgeon thought you would die.” Tears sprang into her eyes and Eleanor patted her hand.