The Lady in the Tower (13 page)

‘I am looking for … Joan?’ I asked, embarrassed.

‘That’s me. You’d better come in,’ the woman said.

She did not look remotely like a witch, I thought, as I stepped over the threshold. I found myself in a small room, with straw upon the floor, and a few sticks of shabby furniture. It was neither clean nor dirty, neither comfortable, nor yet destitute. There were no signs of witchcraft as I understood it. But there was an intriguing and not unpleasant smell of herbs pervading the room.

‘What can I help you with?’ Joan asked abruptly. ‘It’s usually babies with girls of your age. You’re not with child, are you?’

‘No!’ I exclaimed, embarrassed. ‘Certainly not.’

‘Good. Cos I don’t hold with getting rid of babies,’ continued the unnerving young woman.

‘I’m … I’m Eleanor Hungerford,’ I began by way of explanation.

‘I know that,’ interrupted Joan.

‘Oh.’ I was finding this surprisingly difficult. ‘Then you’ll know that my mother, Lady Elizabeth, is imprisoned in the castle?’

Joan nodded.

‘Alice sent me. She thought you might be able to make me up a sleeping potion or some such thing, that I can give to the chaplain who guards her. I want to help her escape.’

‘I can do that,’ she said. ‘What will you pay me?’

‘I have … an ivory comb, or some embroidered cushion covers … ’ I began uncertainly.

She sighed.

‘Do I looks like I needs an ivory comb?’ she demanded. ‘Food’d be more useful.’

‘But much more difficult for me to bring out of the castle,’ I explained. ‘I already bring some food out for my mother and it’s risky. Can you not trade the goods?’

She looked at me for a moment and nodded. ‘As it’s for her ladyship. Come back in two days, and I’ll have it ready.’

‘Thank you.’ I stood up to go, and at the door I paused, remembering Alice’s warning.

‘It won’t kill him, will it?’ I asked.

‘No. But he’ll have a head fit to bust next day,’ she said caustically.

‘Good.’ I gave a satisfied nod and made my way back to the castle. My fear for my mother, a few moments ago all-consuming, was now tempered with hope.

Dearest Mother,

I am so afraid for you!

How did this happen?

Are you well enough to flee Farleigh? Betsey sends her best foods to make you well again.

I love you,

Eleanor.

I sought out Gregory at breakfast the next day.

‘Good morrow, Ella,’ he greeted me cheerfully. ‘And so—the tournament begins!’

‘Indeed,’ I answered distractedly. ‘And do you ride?’

‘Nay, cousin. It is the junior event today. Shall we cheer on your brother Walter? I hear he is a true Hungerford and talented in the lists.’

‘Yes, he is very skilled for his age,’ I answered. I lowered my voice. ‘And what of Lord Stanton. How good is he?’

‘He will not be riding today either, cousin,’ replied Gregory, a twinkle in his eye.

‘I know that,’ I sighed impatiently. ‘But is there any danger he will win the tournament?’

To my dismay, Gregory nodded. ‘He’s nigh unbeatable,’ he replied simply. My jaw dropped. I had not expected that.

‘Truly?’

‘Most truly. He has won almost every event he entered in years.’

I sagged a little against the table. Then I straightened and said briskly: ‘No one is unbeatable. Who has the greatest chance of defeating him?’

My cousin became suddenly preoccupied with his goblet, twirling it in his hand. Then, a little colour in his usually pale cheeks, he replied hesitatingly: ‘Well, I am generally considered … that is to say, I have come second to him a number of times. But Sir Peter is also … ’ He stopped and grinned. ‘What must I sound like, boasting of my own prowess?’

‘You sound very modest,’ I assured him at once. ‘You do
not
boast, and you are not arrogant like Stanton.’

‘Has he been boasting?’ asked Gregory, his brows lifting in surprise.

‘Yes, indeed. From what he said to me, I believe he expects to win. And I would dearly love to see him lose.’

‘How I wish I
could
beat him!’ exclaimed Gregory.

‘Is he always so arrogant?’ I asked.

‘I am not one of his cronies,’ shrugged Gregory. ‘But I believe him to be generally liked. His sporting prowess makes him popular and his manners and temper are generally considered good. I’ve never heard ill of him. At least not until you—’ He broke off uncomfortably, not wanting to refer to the conversation we had had the day of the hunt.

‘Well, I think ill of him, as you know,’ I said. ‘And I should like it very much if you were to win this tournament. In fact it is vital that you do so.’

‘I shall do my best, for your sake,’ bowed my cousin. ‘But tell me. Is it because you dislike him so much, or do you have a wager?’

‘Both,’ I replied promptly. ‘I’m relying on you, cousin!’

As the guests left the breakfast table and made their way out to the lists, I was caught by Mistress Maria.

‘I expect the pleasure of your company at the lists, Eleanor.’

I felt annoyed and suppressed it with an effort. I could see Sir Walter standing within earshot, a frown upon his brow. I curtseyed politely.

‘Of course,’ I said meekly. ‘I am quite ready to accompany you.’

The event was entertaining. There was a large crowd, and many of the youngsters rode well.

I could not help but feel excited when my brother’s herald announced him. Walter looked splendid on his sturdy mount, his legs reaching barely halfway down its sides. His horse bore the Hungerford coat of arms on his cloth: a griffin and a long-beaked bird. The Hungerford device of the sickle was emblazoned on Walter’s tunic.

As usual, Walter rode fearlessly and defeated his first opponent easily. I was less sure how he would do against the other contenders, especially as some of the boys were a few years older than him. But I need not have feared. Walter won round after round to resounding cheers and applause.

There was a break for refreshments at midday, and then the event continued, with more youngsters trying their skills. The standard was high, and I cheered my brother on each time he rode.

My cousin came by briefly in a pause between contestants.

‘So Walter is in the final round,’ he said excitedly. ‘A great day for the Hungerfords. He rides against the winner of the next round.’

‘I hope you will be as fortunate,’ I told him warmly. Gregory smiled, pleased.

‘Well, someone needs to defend the family name,’ he said. ‘It is a shame Sir Walter is not riding, for he was a great champion in his youth.’

‘Indeed, he still is,’ objected Maria, beside me. ‘The only reason he is not competing this week is because he is hosting the event. It would scarcely be fair to win it. Nor is he so very old!’ she chided. Gregory and I exchanged grins as soon as she looked to the lists once more.

Walter rode to victory, of course. I felt jealous watching him showing off his skills. I was much better than he, and yet must sit watching, trammelled by my petticoats as he had so unkindly predicted.

My father was glowing with pride as the king presented Walter with his prize, nicknaming him ‘Knight of Farleigh’.

‘Well done, Walter my boy,’ roared Sir Walter, slapping his son on the back. ‘I did the same at your age. You do our name honour.’

Honour. Do you dare to speak of honour, I thought resentfully. I imagined my mother waiting patiently in the tower, sick from her recent poisoning. There is no honour in you. I bit my lip and glowered at my father as he continued to speak.

‘We will have dancing tonight, if it pleases Your Majesty,’ Sir Walter declared, bowing low to the king. ‘To celebrate my son’s victory!’ The king nodded his gracious consent, and my father hurried away to make the arrangements.

The evening was a splendid affair. My father had hired musicians and the guests had surpassed themselves and dressed even more lavishly than usual. The hall was so crowded it was difficult to move about. The king sat upon Sir Walter’s carved chair on the dais and surveyed the crowd, ogling the pretty women and greeting friends. My brother had a place of honour near him and looked as though he might burst with pride and excitement. He caught my eye and gave me a lofty look, which said as plain as could be ‘I told you so.’

When it was time to begin the dancing, my father bowed low before his liege and offered him the honour of opening the dance. We all knew the king’s leg was troubling him, so no one expected him to dance, but to my surprise he nodded and spoke a few quiet words to my father. Heaving himself to his feet, he was supported down from the platform by two of his courtiers. To my horror, I found I was to have the honour of leading the first dance with the king.

I had danced so little in my life and I could feel all eyes upon me. My body became stiff and clumsy and I found it difficult to move. The king offered his arm and I laid my hand upon it, whereupon he led me to the top of the hall. Couples formed all the way down the hall behind us while we stood and waited. I kept my eyes mostly on the floor, but I could feel King Henry’s eyes upon me. They seemed to burn into me. I felt hot and had trouble breathing in my tight clothes.

The music began. The king bowed. I curtseyed, and almost lost my balance. Then we were dancing. I had to mind my steps so carefully that my fierce concentration almost overcame my fear. But then every time we came together in the dance, the king and I, he squeezed my hand with his podgy paw, and I could feel his smelly breath on me. Twice he farted and the stench almost overwhelmed me. We all had to pretend we had not heard him, though it had been as loud as a trumpet. I began to fear I would faint long before the two first dances were over. But somehow I survived.

The king bowed over my hand and went off to dance with a duchess. I found Gregory at my side and clung to his arm with relief, my limbs trembling.

‘Would you like to dance?’ he asked.

‘Never again!’ I said, breathless and dizzy. ‘I need some air.’

Gregory cast his eyes over the room, looking for the best way out. But then I felt a light touch on my shoulder and turned to see my betrothed standing behind me.

‘Mistress Eleanor,’ he bowed. ‘Is it too much to hope that after your royal partner, you will condescend to dance with a mere viscount?’

‘I regret to inform you that the lady is already promised to me,’ said Gregory swiftly, taking my hand.

‘Ah. I was under the impression it was me she was promised to,’ returned Stanton ironically.

‘In marriage, yes.’ Gregory bowed courteously. ‘But the next two dances are mine.’ So saying, he pulled me through the crowd and onto the dance floor. As soon as we were out of earshot, we both giggled like children.

‘Well done, Gregory,’ I praised my cousin. ‘That left him without a word to say. No small achievement!’

‘I was under the impression … ’ Gregory mimicked Stanton’s lazy voice, and we laughed again. ‘And we did not even give him the chance to engage you for the next two dances,’ he added.

‘For which I thank heaven, fasting!’ I responded. ‘But look, cousin, he repines not. He is dancing with Maria! I don’t think much of his taste.’

‘Nor I, indeed. She’s handsome enough, I grant you, but her temper would turn the milk sour.’

I could feel myself beginning to relax after my ordeal of dancing with the king. I was breathing more freely and with my cousin I was not ashamed to make a wrong step now and again.

‘So what kind of women do you admire, Gregory, if not Maria?’ I asked.

‘Angelic,’ he said at once. ‘Golden haired and delicate.’

‘Oh.’ I was taken aback, and a little hurt. I had asked the question light heartedly, but his answer was serious. I thought of my hair, which was more red than golden, and of my body, muscled and strong from hours in the saddle and the lists. ‘Nothing like me then.’ The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Gregory’s dreamy eyes came back into focus.

‘No, indeed,’ he agreed, a little too decidedly for my vanity. ‘Not that you are not a very pretty girl, Eleanor,’ he added hurriedly, perhaps reading my feelings in my face. ‘But I admire the ethereal qualities, you understand. And you are so very—’

‘You do not need to explain,’ I said, piqued. ‘Cousin, I have the headache a little, would you mind if I retired? Perhaps you could help me escape the hall without Lord Stanton seeing me?’

‘Of course,’ replied Gregory, at once. ‘Eleanor, this doesn’t have anything to do with our conversation, does it? You are not offended? After all, you are betrothed.’ He looked concerned.

‘No,’ I assured him, not entirely truthfully. ‘But I have a long day tomorrow and I am very tired.’

‘A long day? Watching the joust do you mean?’ he asked with a grin. Then as I hesitated, he asked sharply, ‘Eleanor, what are you up to?’

‘Not here,’ I whispered urgently. Gregory ushered me from the great hall as quickly as the crowds of dancers and spectators would allow. There was a worried crease in his brow, as he hunted for an empty chamber near the hall where we could talk privately. Several rooms were brightly lit with candles and contained guests playing at games of chance. In one room, we came across a couple locked in each others arms in the darkness. We withdrew hurriedly before they became aware of our presence. At last we found a deserted chamber overlooking the garden. There were no candles, only a gleam of moonlight shining through the narrow window. Gregory pulled me into the room, and shut the door behind us.