A Knight Of Honour Part 14

'It would be my pleasure to teach you,' the priest said, his plump cheeks dimpling. 'Your husband is a man of learning, as I am sure you know. He too has a beautiful Bible and also a very precious Book of Hours that he allows me to use. There are many scripts that he has collected on his travels and had bound into volumes with tooled leather; I think he might let you look at them if you wished.'

'Oh...' Elona could not help feeling surprised, for she had not realised that Stefan had such a collection of rare and valuable things. 'Yes, I should-if my husband would allow it.'

'If I would allow what, Elona?'

'Your lady was expressing a wish to learn the Latin, my lord,' Father Fernando told him. 'I mentioned that you have a collection of rare scripts that have been bound and that you might allow Lady Elona to look at them.'

'Are you truly interested?' Stefan smiled oddly as she inclined her head. 'Then of course you may look, my lady. It shall be my pleasure to show them to you myself. I have other treasures collected from my travels that you might care to see also.'

'Like the bed and chair in my bedchamber?' Elona asked. 'I have never seen anything like them before.'

'Yes, like them,' Stefan agreed. 'The chair came from Rome, I believe, and the bed from the land of Mesopotamia, I am told, though how true that may be I do not know. I bought treasures home with me from my travels to the Holy Land, some of which were supposed to have belonged to Alexander the Great-though again I do not know how true the tale is, for some of these travelling merchants are rogues and would lie through their teeth.'

Elona wondered at his knowledge, for she had heard only vaguely of the great king who had conquered an empire, and knew nothing of the lands of which Stefan spoke. She nodded, ashamed of her ignorance, though in truth it was not a lack of interest on her part; her father had not considered it necessary that she should receive more than a rudimentary education, and it was only through the kindness of her stepmother that she had learned her letters and her numbers. Her stepmother had known little history herself, and they had never talked of such things.

'I have scripts that relate the history of many lands and many great men,' Stefan told her, guessing what lay behind her silence. 'One of the things I plan to do now that I have come home is to translate some of these into English. If you are interested, I shall show you some that I have begun to work on.'

Oh, how she longed for a friendship between them, the kind of relationship that she had witnessed at court. If she could only be as easy with him as she had been with Constance and her father! If he would but relent towards her, consent to let her stay here as his wife...

'Yes. . .please,' Elona said, her heart catching as he almost smiled at her. She had not expected such consideration from him and felt a rush of tears as the longing to see that look of desire in his eyes almost overwhelmed her. He had desired her once. If only he would look at her that way again! 'It would please me-if it were no trouble to you, my lord. I wish to be a good wife to you now that I am here. You must tell me what my duties are-what you expect of me.'

'Must I, Elona?' His eyes dwelled on her face for a moment, making her tremble inwardly. Her breath caught in her throat, her stomach clenching with nerves. How strangely he looked at her. She felt as if he were a wolf and she his prey, as if he were considering whether to devour her now or savour the thought of a meal later. 'Our case is a little different, I think. You must give me time to decide what I require of you. I have not quite made up my mind.'

Elona dropped her gaze, her cheeks hot as she felt his eyes on her. So, he was prepared to tolerate her here for the moment, but he could yet change his mind and decide that she would be better in a nunnery.

Chapter Nine.

Elona's fear of being sent away was beginning to fade a little. She had been at Sans...o...b.. for three weeks now, and though she had seen no sign of her husband wishing to claim his rights of her, she had been aware of a gradual change. He treated her with courtesy, the polite, meaningless consideration he would show to any lady of gentle birth.

The morning after his brother departed for Banewulf, he had sought her out, telling her that she must feel free to order his household as its chatelaine.

'You ask what your duties are, Elona. I think they must be that of any true lady. You will watch that the household servants do their work properly, consult with my steward about what stores are in need of replenishment, and give the sewing wenches their instruction. You may look over the household accounts if you choose, though Piers is trustworthy, and inspect the kitchen from time to time. And, if you hear of deserving cases amongst the poor of the village, you may take alms to them. Otherwise, your time is your own.'

Elona smiled inwardly. If the duties of a chatelaine were truly hers, she would find much to occupy her here and was glad of it. Already her women had told her of linen needing mending, of fruit needing to be preserved and a sad want of many cures and simples that any good housewife knew how to prepare from herbs and flowers that grew in the woods and meadows.

'I thank you for your consideration, my lord.'

'I suspect that my household stands in need of you and your women, Elona,' Stefan said, a flicker of humour about his mouth. He was well aware that there was much to be put right, which was the reason he had considered taking a wife in the first place. 'The kitchen wenches are fit for nothing but rough work and the cooks might do better with some instruction from a mistress.'

'I noticed that the meal lacked variety last night. We must see what is in the stores to improve it.'

'You may tell Piers to order anything you consider necessary.' Stefan hesitated. 'I. . . believe you have experienced a loss, Elona. I am sorry if you suffer because of it.'

'I grieved for my father, but I have put that behind me,' she replied, her eyes downcast, knowing that it was not her father's death of which he spoke. She longed to tell him that there had never been a child to lose, but was afraid of rousing his anger. He was furious that she had lied to his father, but excused her in his own mind on the grounds that she had been afraid of being shamed before the world. How much worse would his anger be if he knew that she had lied without cause? He would surely be justified in turning her from his house and sending her forth to beg her bread with the lepers who sometimes cl.u.s.tered about the monastery. No, she dare not tell him, for she was sure he would never forgive her. At the moment there was a kind of peace between them, and she could not bear to rouse his fury once more. 'If you will excuse me, my lord, I have much to do.'

She walked away from him, her thoughts in chaos. Why had she not told him at once that she had lied to protect her honour from Baron Danewold? She should have made Stefan listen to her explanation, that she had been vulnerable and frightened, that she had seized upon the only thing that she had believed would protect her from the evil man who had captured her. The answer was, of course, that there was no excuse for what she had done afterwards. She had lied to Sir Ralph, because she had known that he would demand that Stefan marry her. And she had wanted that so desperately that she had been prepared to risk everything.

Her husband was justified in his anger against her. Something deep inside her sensed that the breach between them could not be easily healed. Stefan was not ready to forgive her yet. He had already made great concessions to her and she must not ask for too much too soon.

Watching her walk away, Stefan was afraid that he had hurt her with his clumsy attempt to console her. Women were often deeply affected by a miscarriage, though she was young enough to bear more children... his children.

Had she loved Will de Grenville very much? Stefan was convinced it must be so, because she would not otherwise have given herself so completely. Elona was not a wanton, despite the accusations he had hurled at her. Therefore she must have loved deeply.

Yet she had surrendered to his kisses so sweetly, melting into his body so readily that they could easily have become one. He could not believe it had been pretence on her part, for he had known other women and was sure Elona's response had been instinctive. How could she have been willing to give herself to him if she loved Will de Grenville?

It was a mystery. Unless she had been forced? In his anger, Stefan had truly not considered this explanation and now he wondered if he had hit upon the truth. If she had not surrendered willingly, the case was altered. It did not explain why she had accused Stefan of fathering her child, but it did make the knowledge easier to bear.

Stefan smiled wryly at his thoughts. What weak, vain creatures men were! It should not matter in either case, but it seemed that he might have found a way to soothe his injured pride, to accept what could not be helped.

Perhaps it did ease the burning jealousy, though the thought of her being forced to yield, of her being hurt by some rough fellow-perhaps one of those who had captured her-roused him to sudden fury. If he knew for sure who had violated her, he would kill the man. There should be no mercy given to such a monster!

Stefan was struck by guilt as he realised that he too had treated Elona harshly, ignoring her pleas for forgiveness, refusing to listen, her vows of love denied. He blamed others for hurting her and yet did so himself, such was the contradiction of love. A jealous man was a cruel man, and Stefan was shamed by his own behaviour, but as yet he could not find the strength to banish his jealousy altogether.

He was not yet ready to take her back into his heart or his bed, though there had been moments during the night when he burned for her, when temptation had nearly driven him to her. No, he could not yet forget, but he had reached a stage where he thought it might be possible to forgive.

Unaware of Stefan's own confusion, Elona strove to be all that he could want in a wife. She began with the food stores and found them lacking in spices and preserves. Until she and her women had arrived, it had been a house of men, for the few kitchen wenches knew nothing of such things; born to serve, their lives consisted of work that lasted from dusk to dawn. Something that Elona would change in time. Her stepmother had taught her charity and she would see to it that all their servants were treated fairly, given time to dance and sing as well as work. Stefan had no time for such things, but it was her duty to care for all their people and she would do so with a good heart.

There was always a supply of fresh meat, for the forest covering one-third of Stefan's demesne teamed with game and they had a stewpond in which fat carp swam ready for the days when meat was forbidden by the church. However, nothing had been preserved in salt for winter, when the game was not so plentiful. She had already set the process in train and intended to have as many preserves on the shelves of her stillroom before the ice and snow set in as she could manage.

The village was a short ride to the east, and when Elona visited, accompanied by d.i.c.kon and Piers, she discovered that her husband had begun improvements here. In place of the shameful hovels that had housed the village folk, he had begun to build small cottages of stone faced with wattle and daub and washed with lime to keep out insects. He had built a wooden ghildus, a hall where the people could drink ale and dance when their work was done, and hold their feasts on special days.

It seemed that she was not the only one to consider their people's welfare! Stefan's generosity had made him popular and when his wife rode into the village on her palfrey she was greeted by smiling faces and cries of good wishes.

Elona asked if there was sickness in the village and was told that they were all well, apart from one old man who could not walk and was near to death, and a widow who grieved for her husband and would not speak to anyone.

The old man was clearly dying, but from age, not sickness, and Elona could do nothing for him but give his daughter food and money to care for him. The widow's name was Mary the Wise, and discovering that her father had been an apothecary and that she knew a little of his art, Elona invited her to come and live at the manor.

'You can help me in my stillroom,' she said. 'For though there is no sickness now, we must be prepared for the future.'

'You are kind, my lady, and if I can be of use to you I would be glad to come,' Mary answered. 'Though my skills did not save my poor husband.'

'They tell me he died because of a terrible accident at his work?'

'The blade of a scythe cut deep into his leg. I bound it for him and applied salves, but he took a fever and died of it and I could do nothing to save him.'

'Only G.o.d has the power to give or take life. We can sometimes ease the suffering of those in pain, but it is not for us to question G.o.d's will. Yet I am sorry for the loss you suffered. You have no children?'

'We were married for but six months and G.o.d did not see fit to bless us.' Mary's eyes were sheened with tears. 'I have wondered what my sin may be that I have been so cursed.'

'You are unfortunate and this was not G.o.d's curse,' Elona told her kindly, though she knew many would say it was so. 'You have been unhappy because you are alone, but you shall not be so in future. You are intelligent and I have need of your service.'

'I can write my name and keep simple accounts, my lady. But I am best known for my cooking.'

'Then you are just what we need,' Elona told her with a smile. 'You may take charge of the kitchens as well as helping in the stillroom. Come to the house tomorrow morning and Bethany will show you what to do.'

'G.o.d bless you, my lady. I was near desperate, for I did not know how I should live this winter.'

'I am glad to take you into my household,' Elona told her. 'I have need of more ladies about me, especially those with your skills, Mary. I shall be pleased to have your services.'

'And I right pleased to give them.'

Elona told Stefan what she had done at supper that evening.

'I hope you do not mind that I told her to come here, my lord?'

'Why should I?' He raised his brows, a hint of mockery in his eyes. 'Did I not tell you to order my household as you would? I have not spoken, but I have noticed the changes. It seems that I must be grateful that you chose to join me here. It was the household of a rough soldier, as I am sure you have realised.'

He was teasing her. The first time he had done so for many weeks. Elona's cheeks heated and she looked down at her trencher. The food served was much better than when she had first arrived.

'I would have come sooner had you sent for me, my lord.'

'Perhaps I should have done,' he said, and something in his voice made her raise her head. 'Perhaps I have been a fool, Elona?'

Her heart raced as she saw that hot glow in his eyes. It was so long since he had looked at her that way!

'I was the fool, my lord. I should never have lied to Sir Ralph.'

'No, you should not,' Stefan said and the glow faded.

Elona lowered her gaze, her spirits sinking. For a moment she had thought that the old Stefan had returned, but it was hopeless. He would never forgive her.

'I thought that perhaps you might like to see some of those ma.n.u.scripts I told you of?' Stefan suggested. She had thought he had forgotten and was slow to answer in her surprise. 'But perhaps you would prefer to retire to your chamber?'

'Oh, no, my lord. I should truly like to see them-if it is no trouble to you?'

'Have you eaten your fill?'

'Yes, my lord.' Elona's heart was hammering wildly as he rose to his feet and offered her his hand. She felt that all eyes were upon them as he led her from the hall, and wondered if the men knew that he did not visit her bed.

'I have many ma.n.u.scripts in my chambers,' Stefan told her as he led her towards the staircase leading to the gallery above. 'Some are histories of England and of other lands, as I mentioned previously, but others are stories. I have a volume of stories about King Arthur that I think you will like. It has coloured ill.u.s.trations at the beginning of each tale and is a joy to touch and use.'

'It must be very valuable,' Elona said. 'Where did you find such a work, my lord?'

'I have gathered scripts from my travels,' he replied. 'I have work by Geoffrey of Monmouth on the Kings of Britain, which was penned in the years after 1130. But the stories came from all kinds of people and were written down at my bidding to be bound in vellum. I thought it would be good to preserve some of them for the future or else they may be forgotten.'

Elona listened respectfully as they walked together from the hail. She had known Stefan was a brave, true knight, but she had not realised the extent of his knowledge. She had called him a mannerless oaf, but it was not so, she saw now. He was actually a man of learning, wit and charm.

When they reached the chamber that housed the treasures Stefan had spoken of, she saw that he had ordered deep wooden shelves to be fastened to each of the walls. They were stacked with scrolls or bound scripts, which had beautifully tooled leather covers. Elona had never seen more than two books in one place, for her father had not been a great scholar. Pierre had studied for a few years, but even he possessed only his Bible and a journal in which the details of their family history had been laboriously compiled by various scribes.

Stefan showed her a copy of the History of the Kings of Britain, which had been written by Geoffrey of Monmouth. There was also a description of the country of Ireland from the hand of Gerald the Welshman.

'This is something that may interest you,' Stefan said, handing her a tiny book. 'It is a collection of poems, many of them anonymous. Most of the scripts here would be of no interest to you, for they are dull works-like this on the laws of England. But here is the book I promised you. It is filled with romantic tales about King Arthur and his knights. I believe you will find that to your taste. Father Fernando may use that for your lessons, if you wish.'

'You are generous, my lord. I thank you for allowing me this privilege.' Her hand touched his as he held the book out to her and she trembled. She felt a little breathless as she looked into his face and saw the glow in his eyes. He had not looked at her like that for so long. 'Oh, it is beautiful-the binding and the script is all so carefully done. It is a very precious thing.. .are you sure I may look at it?'

'You are my wife,' he said. 'All that l own is at your disposal.'

'I do not deserve your kindness.' There was a break in her voice, for something in his manner told her that he was close to forgiving her. Her heart was beating so fast that she felt as if he must hear it.

'Do you not?' Stefan's eyes dwelt on her for a moment. Then his hand reached out towards her, and he trailed one finger down her cheek. The lightest of touches and yet it sent a torrent of sensation coursing through her body. It was all she could do to keep herself from falling into his arms. 'I was very angry with you, Elona, and might have done you harm. I have thought long and hard, and I understand why you lied to Danewold about your condition, but not why you also lied to my father. You must have known that we would help you no matter what.'

Elona's breath expelled, her breast rising and falling beneath the heavy silk of her tunic as she looked into his eyes and saw something that gave her hope. He was no longer angry with her and surely... surely that was desire she read in his eyes? She swallowed hard, knowing that what she said now might determine her future.

She must tell him the truth and bear the consequences! 'I was in great distress. I acted hastily for the most selfish of reasons and I have regretted my lies a thousand times.'

He knew her reasons. 'Was it Will de Grenville-or one of Danewold's men? Did you go to him willingly, Elona? Tell me truthfully, for I shall know if you lie.'

Elona's heart was racing. He looked as if he wanted to take her in his arms and she longed for it so desperately, her whole body crying out for his.

'It was...' Elona began, but before she could tell him that it was all a lie, that she had never lain with any man, they heard the sound of running feet.

The door burst open and Piers entered, breathing hard. He halted as he saw them so close together, and sensed that he had interrupted more than a discussion about learned scripts.

'Forgive me, my lord.'

'I trust you have good reason for entering in such haste?' Stefan frowned, for he knew that Elona had been on the verge of telling him the truth, and it was suddenly terrible important that he should know. 'Speak out, man! What is so urgent?'

'There is a raiding party in the village. They are killing men and ravishing the women, and the villagers need your help.'

Stefan cursed aloud. These things happened but he had not expected an attack, for he was on good terms with his neighbours.

'Forgive me, Elona, I must go. We shall talk of this another time.' His attention now was all for his steward. 'Tell me, is it known who attacks us?'

'We are not sure, but we think it may be some of Baron Danewold's men.'

Elona did not hear Stefan's answer, for he had left the room and was striding away, clearly in haste. It was terrible news and she knew that he had had no choice but to answer the call from his people, but she felt a wave of despair that the summons should come at such a moment. Another few seconds and she would have found the courage to tell her husband the truth.

Yet perhaps all was not lost. He had shown her his precious books and told her she might use them for her lessons. And, just for one moment, he had looked at her with desire.

If only they had not been interrupted. Even now she might have been in his arms, losing herself in his kiss, thrilling to the nearness of his body. Now a shadow lay over her for, with fighting in the village, anything might happen.

But she would not allow herself to think such gloomy thoughts. Stefan and his men would soon see off the raiding party and then he would come back to her and she could tell him what was in her heart.

Elona left the books he had said she might use on the table, for she did not like to remove them from his special room without permission. He had begun to thaw towards her and he wanted nothing to come between them.

Despite the faint anxiety at the back of her mind, she was smiling as she went to her own chamber. Stefan was too wise to leave the manor unprotected, and he would take only as many men as necessary to drive off the party of raiders. It would not be long before he was back with her and this time she would tell him the truth and hope that he would believe her.

There was a cloud of black smoke over the village as Stefan and his men approached. Several houses had been set on fire, as had the ghildus he had been building for the villagers.

'My lord!' A man came running to his horse. 'You are too late. They have gone.' Tears had streaked his soot-blackened face. 'They killed my wife because she fought them and took my son. He is but ten years old and I fear for him.'

'Your name is?'