by April Munday
“Henry? Henry, are you alright?”
“What?” He hadn’t realised that he hadn't answered her question and now couldn't remember it. Shame and anger warred within him. Then he remembered. “I saw you cross the courtyard just now.” He took a breath to control himself. Eleanor took a step towards him, her concern obvious on her face. Now he allowed himself to think about what she had said. She had left the convent to come here, to him. Perhaps he was not wrong to hope. “How long did you think you could be here without me knowing?” Finally he let his exasperation show.
“Longer than this. I look like a boy. I have strong arms and legs like a boy.” She sounded almost pleading, as if she were trying to convince him. Henry wasn’t even sure how she’d managed to convince his steward. She had always been more muscular than a woman should be, thanks to her work with the horses in the convent, but all his senses acknowledged that she was a woman. Why had none of his servants been able to see it?
“Oh, Eleanor, didn’t you think I would know you the moment I saw you?”
Eleanor said nothing, but turned and buried her face against Solomon’s shoulder. Henry waited a moment, confused. Had Eleanor really hoped to stay hidden here? Was there some other reason why she had come?
“You can’t stay here.”
“Please don’t send me away.” Eleanor turned back to him, her eyes wet with tears.
“I meant in the stable. You can’t stay in the stable... unless you came here to be with Solomon.” Henry frowned as he thought about this possibility. Could Eleanor have come all this way for Solomon and not for him? He dismissed the thought as the stupidity it was and acknowledged that he was not thinking properly.
“I came to be your servant.” Eleanor said, seemingly unaware of the turmoil that raged within him. “You made it clear that you didn’t want me here, but I thought that if I was your servant I could stay with you and you wouldn’t even have to see me.” Henry opened his mouth, then stopped. How had he made Eleanor believe that he didn’t want her here? He groaned as he remembered all the times he had told her that she couldn’t stay with him, that she must return to the convent. He had never once said that he wanted her to stay, only in his head, only in his dreams. Sobered by the understanding that his next words would be important, he thought carefully. He had thrown away his chance in Devonshire, but Eleanor had come to him now and he must not frighten her again.
“When I knew that you doubted your vocation I should have begged you to come back with me, but I couldn’t, not while I thought there was a chance that it really was your vocation.” Henry paused, remembering once more the devastation he had felt when his own vocation had been denied him. “You know that I was to have been a monk?” Eleanor nodded. “Something...something happened. I cannot tell you what; I made a promise to the other person involved, but it was assumed that I was the one responsible.”
“And you were not.”
“No. My vocation was so strong that I could not sin so easily.” Henry could still remember his surprise and outrage when a younger boy who was also a novice had started to kiss him and touch him as they were swimming in the river near the monastery. As he had been the elder, Henry was taken for the instigator and told to leave. He never knew if the other boy had ever confessed, but Edward had somehow learned what had happened and had always taken the opportunity to hint that his brother was not the man he should be so that parents who could have been expected to see Henry as a future son-in-law avoided him. “My father was ashamed and said I could no longer follow my vocation. When I could not go into the monastery I was lost and thought that there was no future for me. I didn’t want that to happen to you. You didn’t deserve to know such misery.” Henry shut his eyes, but the grief that he had felt for so many years was still there. Eleanor said nothing and when he opened his eyes again she stood just in front of him. Her face told him that she understood his pain.
“But when you knew that I would give up the convent for a man I didn’t love? Didn’t you think then that my vocation was not so strong?”
Henry nodded, because now he had to face, as he did every day, the way in which he had destroyed any hope he could have had of her love.
“I came looking for Edward. I was going to fight him for you or offer him money to release you or something. And having won your release from my brother I was stupid enough to...” Henry looked away from her, remembering that terrible day when he had won her and lost her in the space of an hour. “Even when I found Edward ... when I found you with Edward, I was more interested in punishing him than in helping you.” In truth, Henry could barely remember pulling his brother off Eleanor. He had only noticed that she had been beaten later, his first thoughts having been clouded by jealousy and anger. Then he had kissed her as he had longed to kiss her for so many weeks, the desire only strengthened by her absence. The kiss should have been enough, but the relief of knowing that she was no longer Edward’s and that she wanted him too had filled his head and desire had proved stronger than sense. “I knew you must think badly of me for what I had done. I walked for hours thinking about how you would receive a declaration of love from a man who had... who had done that. I cursed myself for losing the opportunity to comfort you and gradually I remembered that you had not thrown me off or fought me, so I thought there might still be hope. I sought you out and saw how you suffered and knew that I could have made that suffering easier, but for my lust.”
His voice dropped as if he were not used to the idea of desire. “I thought it would be better to talk to you in the morning and once you were taken and I had failed you again, I did not know how to win you and so lost you without a fight.”
“Then I may stay?” Eleanor was hesitant still.
“I’m not sure why you want to,” he admitted, “but I have loved your for a long time.”
“And I you, but I think I hated you when you left me with Edward, although now I see that you thought I was safe.”
As if he had not heard her declare her love for him, he said, “I thought you knew him and would keep away from him. He, too, wanted the gold, although I didn’t know that then. I think he overheard us when I told you about it. It seems he owes more money than he can repay and his creditors have grown belligerent. William has sold his shop and his stock to repay them, but Edward has taken his ship and gone on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.” At Eleanor’s surprised expression he added, “William believes it is a way of avoiding his creditors, but I hope that he goes to atone for what he did to them and to you. It does not explain how I came to treat you so badly. I should not have left you alone without telling you...without telling you everything. I should have trusted you to have had the strength to turn me down.” Henry stopped, as he realised that he was babbling, but there was so much he wanted to say to her, so many ways he wanted to love her.
“And Philip?”
Henry could see that the question pained her, but he did not know why. “Philip?”
“Edward told me that you and he were lovers. And...” she swallowed, “And I have known that you loved him since you told me how he died.”
Henry was angry that Edward had caused more pain than he had realised, then he understood what Eleanor was asking him. “You mean that if he and I were lovers you and I could not be.”
“He was my brother; it would not be right.” Eleanor waited without breathing and Henry felt that he would win or lose her with his next words, but it was his way to tell the truth, even if it cost him everything. He was overcome by the desire to touch her one last time and started to reach a hand towards her face, before he knew that he could not presume that she would welcome his touch or the memory of it after he had said what had to be said. His hand fell uselessly to his side.
“We were not lovers. It was not for want of trying on his part or lack of love on mine. I loved him greatly. More, I think, than I have loved anyone else, except you. I could not have been his lover for it would have betrayed the love I bore him.” He paused. Eleanor seemed to be e
xpecting more. “I told you how we met and became friends. I was happy with his friendship. We fought beside one another as brothers.”
He stopped and looked at her helplessly. She was innocent of these things and he would once again be responsible for showing her something else of the world that would take away some of that innocence.
“I knew that Philip liked men,” Eleanor said slowly. “I don’t know how I knew, but I did. Was it grief for your loss or... guilt that prostrated you that day in St Michael’s?” Now she did what he had not dared and stroked his face.
Henry remembered how she had comforted him in the church when he had thought that he must die because of what he had done and not done, because he had not managed to save Philip, but wanting to live because he had now fallen in love with his sister.
“Both,” he said at last. This time he would tell her the whole truth about him and Philip. He would lose her, but even now he could not tell the lie that tempted him.
Eleanor closed the distance between them and kissed him lightly on the lips. He stepped back so that he could not be tempted to return the kiss. He had lain awake many a night thinking about their kiss in the solar, ashamed that he had taken advantage of her, but excited by the memory of how she had felt in his arms.
Eleanor’s face fell and he stroked her cheek, unable to stop himself.
“Is it such a terrible story you must tell?”
She understood. Henry opened his mouth to start, but she placed her fingers over it to silence him. “I will help with part of it, if I may. Philip never intended me to have the gold, did he?”
Henry could not speak. How had he given himself away? He shook his head; he had to tell the whole truth now.
“He never thought highly of me,” Eleanor continued. “Girls were a waste of time. I did not see that then, but now I understand. If he had meant me to have the treasure he would not have taken the ring to France. He gave me charge of his estate, knowing I could not inherit it, but if he had left me the token I would have the gold and it would have gone to the convent. He could have given it to Stephen, but he knew that our cousin would waste it. He gave it to you, didn’t he?”
“I couldn’t keep it; it wasn’t mine to keep. I told him that you should have it, but he said it was his to do with as he pleased.”
“It was. He never needed it; he managed the estates well. I shall never need it, for I have learned to live with little.” She sighed. “Tell me the story. You are a good man, Henry and I think you have always done what was right, even when it gave you grievous pain.”
They stood in silence for a moment. Henry still held his fingers against her face and she looked up at him expectantly. If this was the last time he would touch her... He leant forward and kissed her forehead and Eleanor sighed contentedly.
“I remember how I told you about Philip’s death and you held me afterwards to comfort me. I fear that when I tell the rest of the story you will hate me, but if you do, do not go away. Stay here until I or William can find a husband for you.”
Eleanor took his hand from her face and kissed his palm. It was a simple gesture of trust that he thought misplaced.
“I think you will find it very hard to send me away now that I know that you love me.” She continued to hold his hand as she smiled up into his face.
“Then let me tell you my tale. Philip was beautiful and I knew that he had lovers...men, I mean. Our love for one another grew quickly and he told me that we should become lovers to express that love. He said we depended on one another to survive and we could show that trust even more in bed. He asked me to sin and yet my love for him did not die, so I told him that it would be a better expression of our love to deny ourselves so that we could remain alert in battle. I have seen men after they have been with camp followers or other men and they are distracted and unreliable. He was a good soldier, but even good soldiers need to keep their wits sharp. Philip took it badly and said that I did not love him. We argued and in the end I told him that I did not and could not love him as he wanted, but I did love him. I would have given up my life for him, but he would not listen and went away to get drunk. I found out the next day that he had taken another lover that same night and that pained me greatly. That was not the last time I saw him alive, but it was the last time we spoke. We no longer shared a tent and he would not fight near me, although I always stayed as close to him as I could. But that is why I was not with him at Poitiers when he needed me most.”
Eleanor said nothing for a moment and he knew that she was thinking about how she could best let him down.
“You did not cause his death and if you had been with him you might have been killed as well.”
“You do not understand, Eleanor. My guilt was not entirely because I had not saved him; it was also because part of me was glad I had not saved him. Even though I knew I must take you back to the convent, I loved you and I knew that if you gave me the slightest sign I would be able to consummate that love only because Philip was dead, for he would have forbidden it.”
Neither of them spoke for a while. Eleanor looked up into his face as if she thought there was more that he might say, but he could not. He had shown her the darkness within himself and he did not think it would help if he begged her to stay with him.
Eleanor stepped closer to him, laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, my love, you have suffered much.”
Henry held her tight. “Does this mean you will stay?” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
“I will stay as long as you will have me.”
Henry unwrapped her arms from him and stepped back so that he could look into her eyes. “Will you stay here as my wife?”
“Yes, I think that would suit us both very well.”
He kissed her.
That night Eleanor lay in Henry’s bed in Henry’s arms. They had gone to the priest that afternoon, after Eleanor had bathed and changed herself back into a woman. Heedless of custom, they had gone from the priest to Henry’s bed.
She thought that for two people who had intended to spend their lives in celibacy they had taken very quickly to the physical expression of their love. At first Henry had been more enthusiastic than practical and he had hurt her. That had sobered him and then he had taken his time and they had talked and found their way together. Eleanor had thought that she could never know such joy again as she had the first time he had spilled his seed inside her, but each time had brought more pleasure as they had learned how to please each other and they had fallen asleep completely at peace.
Now it was dawn and Henry was breathing softly into her hair while he cradled her against his chest. She took a deep breath of pure happiness, glad to have found her true vocation at last.
“Are you awake, my love?”
She kissed his chest, then his neck. “Yes, my love.”
“Then perhaps we should rise and pray together.”
Eleanor smiled; she need have no fear that Henry would keep her away from her prayers or that she would not be able to find peace in his house.
“I think I should like very much to pray with you, this morning and every morning.”
“Good. There is but one thing we need to attend to first.”
He raised a hand to stroke her face.
Eleanor raised herself enough to kiss his mouth. “I think I should like that very much as well.”
About the Author
April Munday lives in Hampshire with a few chickens and a vegetable plot. She has been interested in the fourteenth century for some time and enjoys seeing the changes that were happening in England at that time reflected in the lives of her characters.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleve
n
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen