‘Yes, but I’d like to hear it from you, Ralph,’ she said quietly over the noisy clatter and din from the table.
‘There is really not much to say except that I was suffering from a bout of nerves that first day. But now, thank the saints, I feel that I’m settling in it.’
‘How are your scars?’
‘Fine.’
‘And your hand? Do you need more balm for it?’
‘That too, Isabel.’ He sighed. ‘And I have enough. Thank you.’
‘Good. And how is the training going?’
Ralph completed his duties before returning to hover behind his friends.
‘As well as can be expected,’ he muttered quietly.
‘I’m glad to hear that, Ralph.’ She sipped from her mug. ‘And no one has guessed the nature of the scheme or your true identity?’
‘No.’
Isabel titled her head away slightly as though she were talking to her husband. ‘Then why is that beautiful, young woman with fair hair, sat at the far end of the hall, constantly casting her gaze in this direction...looking, I believe, at you?’
‘I would not know,’ he said, stepping back in the shadows.
‘Oh, but, Ralph...’ Isabel’s voice sounded bemused ‘...you haven’t asked which beautiful young woman.’
Ralph had kept Gwenllian from his friend, in an attempt to make that part of his past seem of little importance. Yet, he knew the way Isabel’s inquisitive, intelligent mind worked. And he also knew how she would then insist on knowing more, if not from him then others, including Gwen herself.
‘There’s something you’re not telling me here, Ralph,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Such as the possible reason why the lady in question there is wearing your purple ribbon around her wrist?’
Hell’s teeth!
Ralph should have thrown that damn ribbon away and destroyed it rather than returning to Gwen. It had brought nothing but aggravation since he’d made that blunder that first day of the tournament.
‘Are you going to tell me?’
He closed his eyes, realising his mistake.
‘Ralph?’
‘Later,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Not here, Isabel.’
‘Very well.’ This time she did turn around as he inclined his head deferentially. ‘Be careful, Ralph. You cannot afford to risk everything you have worked hard for.’
No, that he could not do.
* * *
Gwen took a small bite from a soft bread roll that she’d dipped in meat juices before looking away. She knew she must be careful and that it would be prudent to stop looking in the direction of Lord de Clancey’s retinue. Especially at the squire, who was far too large, far too broad and far too much of a man to be one.
Gwen should have realised something had been amiss with Sir Thomas Lovent’s squire before. Deep down she had.
She stabbed the piece of meat on the trencher she was sharing with Brida with her knife.
‘Is everything well, Gwen?’ Her friend raised her eyebrow.
‘Of course, why should it not be?’
‘Because you have barely said a word since the evening in the woods.’
‘It was just the shock of well...everything. Nothing more.’
However, it was far more than that. Gwen would never have ever imagined that the same squire would actually turn out to be Ralph. And neither would she have envisioned the changes in Ralph to be so huge as to render him so unfamiliar. Yet strangely those physical changes made her feel a little breathless. They made her stomach flip over itself every time she caught a glimpse of him in his full armour, dissembling as Sir Thomas, or dressed as a squire. And yet, she had not actually seen him at all, since his head was always covered. In truth, she would never have believed any of it had he not explained it to her himself. Such as it was...
Yes, Ralph may have wanted Gwen to know that he was alive...and hale, but no more than that. He had not thought it necessary to even show his face, seemingly preferring to be hidden within the darkness that night as he was now.
‘Are you sure, Gwen?’ Brida looked at her with concern. ‘You do not quite seem to be yourself.’
‘I’m just a little tired, that is all.’ She felt the brittleness of her smile.
‘You know that you can always confide in me. I am here for you, my lady.’
‘I do know and I’m thankful for it, my friend. However, with everything that has happened I believe we need to bring forward our plans. We need to obtain the cattle we need for the journey ahead,’ she whispered behind her hand.
Gwen had not intended to begin her journey to the convent for another few days and certainly not until the tournament was properly underway. And yet, ever since she had discovered that Ralph was alive and presently at this tournament, she had been uneasy with her confused, muddled feelings for a man who wanted nothing to do with her. Not that she blamed him. Indeed, it would serve them far better if she left as soon as possible and never saw Ralph again.
Brida gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I’ll see to it and make contact again with the groom and stable hand, who said that they would help.
‘Good.’ Gwen exhaled, feeling a little relieved.
‘And what of Sir Thomas’s “squire”? Do you think you shall see him again?’
‘No. There is really no reason to.’
Ralph had welcomed no further connection or claimed any sort of acquaintance with her. He had been perfectly clear in the woods where he had effectively informed her that beyond his revelation, he owed her nothing. As she owed nothing to him in return...including her gift of a hand-woven ribbon.
‘You need not concern yourself about me.’
If Gwen was honest with herself, that had stung. Ralph had not even asked about her...about her life since they had last seen each other. It was as though he no longer cared. And why would he? Not now, after all this time when he had far more important issues, such as succeeding at this tournament. That was what mattered to him, reclaiming Kinnerton, his lands and his title.
Well, she would honour Ralph’s wishes and not seek him out any further. She looked down at her wrist that she’d foolishly tied the purple ribbon around and sighed, knowing she would have to get rid of it.
If Ralph didn’t want it because it reminded him of a past that he’d rather forget, then neither did she. Gwen would do what Ralph should have done. She would throw it away in the hearth later. Then she would forget about him as he had asked her to.
After all, Gwen had important matters of her own to attend to, in carrying out her plans to escape to the convent sooner than originally planned, while heads were turned towards the spectacle of this tournament. She would use the distraction to put as much distance as she could between herself and Stephen Le Gros. Then and only then would she find peace and some measure of fulfilment, away from his avarice and ambition. An ambition that he made no secret of—to force Gwen into marriage, since he believed she belonged to him anyway. Her fingers absently touched the scar at the base of her neck.
Yes, she would keep Ralph’s secret as he’d asked. Indeed, she wished him every success in his endeavours, but there was nothing more that would tie them together—not even a woven purple ribbon.
With a hollow feeling in her stomach, she got to her feet. ‘I think I’ll retire to our quarters now,’ she muttered, but held her hand out, when her friend looked to follow her. ‘No, no. You stay and finish your meal, Brida.’
‘Allow me to accompany—’
‘I insist. Please do not worry, I’ll be perfectly safe. I just need a little time to myself.’
Gwen ambled outside before stepping into the keep and the cold, dank spiral staircase that would lead to their chamber. She absently noted that the guard who usually stood at the entrance was missing and reached for the torch from the metal sconce and frowned. The flame wa
vered, flickering in the night, giving her a prickly feeling that something or someone was nearby. She turned around, waving the torch in front of her several times in an attempt to see in the darkness.
‘Who goes there?’ she said, hoping her voice sounded more resolute than she actually felt.
Gwen could see no one, however. It was most probably a gust of wind since there wasn’t anyone in the stairways or the passageway below. She dragged her hand across her forehead, feeling the tension ease a little as she began to climb the stairs.
But Gwen had not been mistaken. She heard the soft footfall behind her and knew instantly that she was not alone... It was too late, however. She spun around just in time as Stephen le Gros took her by surprise, grabbing her and pinning her against the stone wall, holding both of her wrists above her far too tightly in one hand.
‘My Lady Gwenllian, how fortuitous for us to meet in such a quiet corner of this castle.’
‘How can it be fortuitous when you followed me?’ she said with quiet determination, not knowing how she’d managed to keep her voice even. Her heart was hammering in her chest, violently. ‘Let go of me, Stephen.’
He stood a step or two lower, yet he still managed to tower over her.
‘Not yet.’ He tilted his head and studied her as he caught a stray tendril from beneath her veil, twisting it around his finger. ‘Just look at the extremes I have to go to just to snatch a moment with you, Gwen.’
She felt bile rise as he pressed his groin against hers.
‘Mmm, sweet as honey.’ His lips brushed her skin as he nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply as he held her tightly. ‘You won’t evade me any more, you know, once we are finally married, Gwen. God knows I’ve waited long enough for you.’
He could wait for all of eternity for all she cared...
‘After all this time, you still believe that I would willingly tie myself to you?’
‘Oh, but you will, my dear,’ he sneered. ‘After I triumph at this tournament, the Crown will be forced to accept me as Kinnerton’s rightful lord, especially since I have the backing of the Earl of Hereford. Naturally, you shall also be given to me, my sweet. Whether you’re willing or not is of no consequence.’
Oh, heavens, she felt faint!
‘I asked you to let me go, Stephen,’ she muttered slowly.
She could smell the wine on his breath as he smiled, his grey eyes crinkling in amusement. It was always like this with him, he revelled in the disgusting games he played.
Suddenly, the fine hairs on Gwen’s body rose, with the sudden chill sweeping through. She could feel another’s presence and knew instantly that someone else was also now in the passageway below. Gwen twisted her head around and saw a powerful-looking man, who looked remarkably familiar, even in the darkness.
Ralph?
He stood with his legs apart, his gloved hand clenched dangerously around something that looked remarkably like the hilt of some weapon. It flashed as he moved it beneath his cloak. He lifted his head, the wide hood of his cloak covering his head, edged in a pool of hollow darkness. She could make out the movement of his chest, rising and falling rapidly.
Oh, mother of Mary, she knew this could spiral into disaster, but when Ralph spoke, it belied his stance, that of a warrior ready for battle.
‘Apologies, my good lord and lady,’ he said in a deferential tone that might have belonged to a manservant. ‘I mean no harm by venturing here to these parts, but only to do my duty by my mistress who sent me in this direction.’
Ralph lifted his head and she caught the whites in his eyes beneath the hooded cloak that he always wore. They held a murderous glint.
Please...please go, she begged silently in her head. Turn around and leave. I can handle Stephen le Gros.
She quickly faced the man still holding her, knowing she had to do something before this situation spiralled into disaster.
‘I asked you to let me go, Stephen,’ she muttered under breath. ‘I’m not sure what the Chief Justiciar, Hubert de Burgh, or the Earl of Chester, who also have the ear of the young King, will make of this behaviour. I’d doubt it would help in your pursuit of Kinnerton, if it were known, even if you do have the backing of the Earl of Hereford.’
Gwen hoped that she hadn’t pushed Stephen too far, beyond even his limited control. She watched the flash of anger glint in his eyes before giving way to amusement.
‘Sir, would you allow the lady to pass?’ Ralph’s deferential voice, so unlike his own, boomed from below, but Stephen ignored him and watched her intently.
‘You were always good with words, were you not? Always knew exactly what to say. I suppose that is how you evaded me, Gwen. By running away and using that talented mouth of yours to become the Crown’s ward. Very clever, but no more.’ He ran his thumb across Gwen’s lips and then slowly let her go. ‘Until later, my sweet.’
He inclined his head at Gwen and then turned on his heel, leaving through the entrance and barging past Ralph who had held his head low, covered beneath his hood.
Gwen turned her head toward the entrance and clung to the wall for a moment as Ralph stepped back in the darkness again. Yet she heard his rampant breathing, chiming with her own.
‘Gwen?’ he murmured. ‘Did he...did he hurt you?’
‘No,’ she whispered.
No more than usual...
Gwen picked up the torch that had fallen by her side, her hands shaking, and sensed that Ralph was about to depart as stealthily as he had arrived.
‘Thank you, by the way, for your assistance,’ she murmured quietly. She wanted to say more, but the words were stuck in her throat. They stood staring at each other in the darkness, with only the sound of her heart beating wildly in her chest. Gwen inhaled slowly before she turned around and continued to climb the stairs as swiftly as her feet could carry her.
CHAPTER SIX
The knights’ procession the following day was a colourful spectacle filled with pomp and gallantry, demonstrating skill and commanding horsemanship. Apart from the exhibition and warm-up combat from the previous days, this would now usher the commencement of the mêlée à pied, the mêlée à cheval and the hand-to-hand combat.
The knights passed by in perfect formation, bowing in unison to King Henry, the silver metal of their armour and chain of their hauberks gleaming, as it caught in the sunshine. Deprived of their customary metal helmets, the exuberance and excitement were palpable on every young knight’s face. The colours and heraldry of banners and surcoats paraded, marking out the various Lords’ retinues that the knights belonged to.
Gwen was sat beneath the ornate canopied dais reserved for the King and the attending court, watching the knights mounted on their magnificent horses with a composed serenity. Yet inside she was in turmoil after what had happened the previous evening. She pasted a smile on her face and clapped her hands along with everyone else, as the knights marched past without really absorbing much around her.
Stephen le Gros had slithered into her mind, like a viperous snake, but then again, she had expected this from him. She never doubted that he could have changed over the years.
Indeed, she had been quite correct to have brought forward her meticulous plans to get away to the convent she had made prior arrangements with. And with the finer details settled, they would leave on the morrow. As soon as might be. It would allow her the opportunity to finally be free of the man for good.
Lifting her head, Gwen noticed a woman she recognised from the previous evening smile at her, a lady who had sat among Lord de Clancey’s knights, talking to Sir Thomas’s squire...to Ralph.
‘Brida, is that Lord de Clancey’s wife?’
‘Yes, I believe that’s Isabel de Clancey.’
The lady in question briefly looked at the group of knights passing with the de Clancey colours, including Thomas Lovent, smiling in his golden self-assured manner, as h
e rode passed. Gwen watched as Lady Isabel then flicked her eyes to Ralph standing as squire on the far side, his head and face covered, trying to look inconspicuous before returning back to her and inclining her head. Gwen flushed, but also bowed her head in return, her light blue veil billowing behind.
She realised then this lady must know about her...from Ralph. She swallowed down the mortification, feeling stifled, and turned her attention back to the parade. The sooner she could finally leave and be on her way from this place, the better.
* * *
Ralph watched Gwen from where he was standing and wondered once again at her cool manner after what he had witnessed the previous evening.
God, but when he had discovered Stephen le Gros holding and pressing her against the stone wall of the stairwell, he felt like raging against his cousin. And he would have had the man not let Gwen go. Ralph knew she had been shaken by the experience, but there was also something a little disturbing about the unfolding events.
The way in which Gwen had kept her nerve and not cowered, but had stood up against le Gros, had been both admirable and perplexing. In fact, she had been trying in vain to placate Stephen in a calm, measured way. Ralph had sensed Gwen’s outrage and revulsion, but the lady had not been as surprised as he’d expected her to be in such a precarious situation. It was almost as though such a thing had happened before between Gwen and his contemptable cousin.
Ralph felt sick to the stomach just considering this to be a possibility. But then, Stephen had pursued Gwen, inappropriately when they had all been younger. Was there more that he had not been aware of? Had that been part of the reason that Gwen stayed at Kinnerton and had forced him to leave?
From a distance Ralph could see Gwen rise from her seat and steal away from the spectators’ area. He darted his gaze in every direction, making sure that no one was watching him before slipping away in search of her. He found her of all places at the blacksmith’s, talking quietly with her companion. At least the woman had accompanied her mistress this time, unlike the previous evening.
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