The Winter Love (3 page)

“This isn’t how I want you to spend the evening, Tom.” Henry pulled her roughly through the crowd, but he was also supporting her. He set her on a stool. “Stay here.” Then he went back into the crowd.
Eleanor wondered what he was going to do until she heard the crowd shouting at him. He was stopping the fight.

“What’s this noise about?”
Eleanor almost fell off the stool as a voice roared from behind her. The servants disappeared in seconds and she could see Henry holding the two men apart from one another. They were struggling, but they weren’t very enthusiastic about it. “The favourite, I think,” said Henry, nodding towards the shorter of the two men.

“They’re neither of them mine.” Was this the innkeeper? “Where’s my cook? Where are my serving girls?”

“Probably had enough sense to leave as soon as the fight started.” Henry looked directly at Eleanor as he spoke. She felt the criticism was just, but there was so much she didn’t know about life outside the convent. When she had seen the fight she hadn’t known whether this was normal behaviour in an inn. Now she sensed that it might be not very usual and she was to keep out of the way.

Henry let both men drop to the floor and stepped over them as he returned to Eleanor. He looked over her and
addressed the other man. “In view of the company in your inn tonight, my servant will sleep with me. He’s too young to be able to protect himself against this kind of behaviour. Tom, get a bowl of whatever’s in the pot and bring it into the other room. The closer you stay to me the better.”

Henry brushed past the innkeeper
without waiting for a response and Eleanor got to her feet. The innkeeper was looking after Henry with the same expression on his face as the ostler had had. Eleanor was glad that Henry could not see it. She found a small wooden bowl and helped herself from the pot that was boiling on top of the fire and carried it carefully into the room where various people were sitting around tables and eating. Without exception the other guests were men. No one turned to look at her as she passed through looking for Henry. Henry was easy to find and she sat down opposite him. He acknowledged her with a nod as she began to eat. The food was surprisingly good and she was hungrier that she had thought.

As she felt more at ease, Eleanor couldn’t help
examining her surroundings. At first she was content to look at the room itself. It was a large hall. Most of the light came from the fire at one end; the rest came from the candles, tallow she guessed from the smell. Once she became aware of that smell she noticed the others. Although the rushes were fairly fresh, they were soiled and much of the unpleasant odour in the room came from them. She could see where dirt from outside had been trodden into them, some of it from the street and some from the stables. Dogs scrabbled around under the tables for scraps and part of the smell was attributable to them. Despite spending the day with him, she had not grown used to the way Henry smelt and she hoped that he would wash before they set off tomorrow.

Now she gave her attention to the
people in the room. She was struck by the colours of their clothes. At the convent the nuns wore black and the few servants wore sober colours. Here each person, save Henry, was brighter than the flowers in the convent herb garden. She wondered whether it was Henry or the other travellers who would be considered unusual. Doubtless she would find out.  None of the travellers appeared to be very well off and she wondered if they hid their wealth for safety. Perhaps Henry did the same and he could be really wealthy, rather than the impoverished youngest son he appeared. She studied him, unobtrusively. Henry’s clothes were old and worn, but had been cared for. His hair was light, although dirty enough that she could not tell its real colour, and longer than that of the other men in the room. His eyes were clear and his gaze unwavering. If he could not see into her soul, he must come very close. His tunic hung on him as if it had once belonged to a bigger man. It was Solomon who did not fit into her picture of Henry. He was not a horse owned by a poor man to work the land. There were plenty of those at the convent and he would be out of place there. He was a war horse and had probably been to war. They were not so cut off in the convent that they hadn’t heard of the recent victory in France. Yes, Henry must have fought at Poitiers and now he was on his way home. A poor soldier and not a poor landowner, then, or a rich soldier, or a soldier who had had the good luck to find a splendid horse whose master had been killed.  Perhaps he had been injured; that would account for the lack of flesh on him. Eleanor was satisfied with this conclusion and she looked more closely at Henry himself. She suspected that under the beard his face might be pleasing, but his beard was untidy as if other things were more important than how he looked. Henry noticed her watching him and she blinked and went back to her food.

Had he really rescued her and if he had
, what had he rescued her from? These questions would have to wait. This was not the place to ask them, but they were all she could think of. Eleanor began to wonder whether Solomon might have been stolen. Despite her earlier conclusion that he was spoils of war, she now thought that Henry was surely too poor to own such a horse. Even if he had taken him from a dead man, how had he been able to afford to bring him back to England? Eleanor considered this as she looked around the room. He had stolen her; he could easily steal a horse. The small amount of trust that she had begun to put in him disappeared. Just because he had told her that he wasn’t a slaver didn’t mean that he was telling the truth. Eleanor sighed. She wanted to trust Henry; she felt that he was worth her trust, but he had told her nothing and she still had no idea why he had taken her from the convent.

“
You showed more sense this morning.” Henry’s quiet voice broke into her thoughts.

Eleanor stopped eating and looked across the table at him.

“You ran away from a fight,” he explained.

She swallowed what was in her mouth
before she spoke. “I didn’t know what was going on until I got to the front.”

“Next time don’t try to get to the front, just hide somewhere.
Keeping you safe is hard work.”

“
You’re my protector, then?”

He frowned. “
I thought we were agreed on that.”

Eleanor took
another spoonful from her bowl. “Not yet.” She started to chew.

“We will discuss this later.”
Henry looked meaningfully around the room, which was now quite full.

Eleanor followed his gaze and was relieved to see that no one was looking at them. She wondered why that was.
Then she thought, surely she had only to say that Henry had abducted her from the convent and one of these travellers would help her. Henry seemed not to fear that she would do so; he sat at ease watching her eat. Who was he? Why had he taken her and where was he taking her? She could not ask these questions here, but she must ask them soon.

Although he sat completely still, his eyes moved all the time and she
doubted that they missed much. That he was strong, she already knew, but how would he fare if he really had to protect her? All he had done today was steal her away from the convent; they had not met any of the other men. If he had had to fight would they be sitting in this inn tonight, or would the other men have taken her or killed her or hurt her? In the middle of chewing a mouthful she yawned. Henry noticed immediately and she didn’t bother to try to hide from him how tired she was. He, too, looked tired. She had not thought about the strain that the day might have made on him. His lips had the same pinched look that Sister Elizabeth’s had on the days when her feet were particularly painful. He must be in pain, although he didn’t move like a man in pain. She was ashamed to think it, but she might be able to find a way to use his pain to force him to take her back to the convent.

“
Have you finished your food?”

Eleanor looked into her bowl and
took the last spoonful from it. “Now I have.”

“Then let us forego the
pleasure of whatever tales these travellers have to tell and let us go to bed.”

Now Eleanor
realised that she had something else to worry about; he meant for them to share a room, perhaps a bed.

“Do not worry, little one, there will be none of that this night,”
whispered Henry. To her surprise she realised that this was not a lie.

Eleanor
had not thought her face so expressive, but she nodded, to show that she trusted him. There were some candles by the fire. Henry took one and lit it in the fire. He led the way up the stairs to their room and opened the door, allowing her to precede him into it. He followed with the candle and she could see that the small space was almost entirely taken up by the bed.

“We are lucky that the inn is not full tonight. We do not have to share with anyone else.
You will sleep on one side and I on the other,” he explained. “I will not touch you.”

When she hesitated he pulled out his knife from his belt. “Take this. If I move in the night you can kill me.”
He spoke wearily and she knew that her earlier guess about his pain had been right.

“I don’t know how to use it.”

“At least you do me the honour of taking my offer seriously.” He smiled faintly as he put it back in its scabbard. “Just take your shoes off and get under the blanket. Even if I had designs on your body, I am too tired to do anything about it.”

El
eanor knew that her eyes widened in fear, but Henry sat down on the side of the bed nearest the door and began to remove his boots. Following his example Eleanor sat on the other side and got into the bed as soon as her shoes hit the floor. She turned her back on Henry, yawned once and fell asleep.

Henry lay awake for some time trying to work out how he came to be in bed with a nun. He had not intended to remove Eleanor from the convent, but it had seemed safer than leaving her there and now that he had removed her, he had to take her somewhere and he had to keep her safe while he took her there. There would be no point taking her back to the convent. He knew what those men had wanted and the prize they sought was valuable enough for one or two of them to wait near the convent for Eleanor’s return. She could not go back until he had made it safe for her and he wasn’t sure yet how he could do that. He did know that he could do nothing now; the sea voyage had not helped his wound to heal and two days of hard riding had shown him only how unfit he was to protect Eleanor. If it had come to a fight today he would have lost. His shoulder had been healing well and he could probably handle a sword if he had to, but he could not be as sure of himself as he would have to be if his life, and Eleanor’s, depended on it. Holding her securely so that she did not fall from Solomon had undone some of that healing and the pain in his shoulder kept him awake, despite his near exhaustion.

Much as he hated to admit it, running away
today had been the wisest choice. He smiled bitterly in the dark. Despite all his good intentions, he was certainly a soldier now. Only a soldier would think that staying and killing those men would have been better than running away and saving all their lives. If he was a soldier, he should at least be able to work out how best to protect the woman who lay beside him. Tomorrow they should reach Edward and he would have some sensible suggestions. Henry was no longer unhappy that seasickness had prevented him leaving a day earlier as he had intended. If he had done so he would have completed his task and left before the other men had arrived at the convent and Eleanor would have been defenceless. Whatever doubts he had had about Philip’s death were gone. He had seen the man he now knew to be Philip’s murderer at the convent. Henry knew he had been right to take Eleanor from the convent; he just didn’t know what he would do with a nun. And she was naive in the ways that only a nun could be who had lived away from the world for a long time. She seemed to have no idea how to behave outside the convent walls and was a danger to them both. Philip had told him that she had gone into the convent as a child, but he had not said how old she was now. Henry estimated that she was sixteen or seventeen and must have been in the convent for eight or nine years. She could have little knowledge of the world beyond the convent walls.

Despite her fear and distress, for which he felt very guilty, there was a stillness and distance about her that he admired. She was not a flighty girl who flirted with him and there had
certainly been enough of those since he had become rich for him to recognise the type. No, she was someone who belonged in a convent. She was made for prayer and meditation, not for roaming the countryside with a soldier newly returned from France.

Eleanor sighed in her sleep and he eased the blanket up to her neck.
Then he got out and closed the curtain on her side, leaving the one next to him open. He wondered, as he had wondered since Philip’s death, how he could tell Eleanor why the men were there and what they wanted. He was sure it would be better to wait until they were somewhere safe. Perhaps he should take her to his parents. They would look after her and she could stay there until it was safe for her to return. He turned in the bed restlessly and then held his breath until he knew that he had not disturbed Eleanor.

Eleanor
looked so much like her brother that it had been hard not to call her by his name. Philip had been a short man and Eleanor’s hair and eyes were the same colour as his and her hair was just as unruly as his. Perhaps it would be easier for him if she had looked more like a woman when she had changed into his clothes. Her short, blonde hair made her look just like a boy, despite her shape. Henry’s clothes hung on her the way that they would on a boy and tied her belt loosely, so her waist was not obvious. His clothes were too large for her, so her breasts were hidden. Now that they were in bed, in the dark, he was very aware that she was a woman, full-grown and alone. He tried to work out whether she was pretty. He thought she might be if her hair grew. He had not known that nuns kept their hair short, although he was grateful that this was the case. A boy with hair to his waist would have attracted attention. He wondered if life in the convent pleased her or whether she wanted to be a wife and a mother. This was none of his affair; his only task was to keep her safe and take her back to her convent. There was no one else to protect her. Her parents had died many years ago and now Philip was dead. That made Eleanor Henry’s responsibility, even though she didn’t know it yet.

They only had to reach the coast to be safe
.

It was still dark when Eleanor woke up. That wasn’t unusual; the nuns always woke for prayer in the middle of the night. What disturbed her was that it wasn’t Sister Elizabeth’s quiet voice that was doing the waking. It was a man’s voice and he was impatient.

“It’s time to get up. We
have a long way to go today.”

Henry, her k
idnapper. She pulled free of the hand that was shaking her shoulder and swung herself out of bed. Before she knew it she was sprawled on the floor.

“Are you hu
rt?” Henry was beside her even as she managed to sit up.

“Very sore. My legs don’t feel right.”
They had provided no support as she had tried to stand.

Henry looked down at her,
“I should have stopped earlier yesterday, but we had to put some distance between us and those men. Let me help you up.”

Eleanor groaned as she
tried to stand, but could not mange it, even clinging on to Henry.

“It will ease as you start to walk, come on.”
He reached out his left hand to her and Eleanor took it.

He
helped her to stand then held her round her waist as he led her around the room. As she started to walk, her inner thighs burned as if they were being held over a fire and pricked by a thousand sharp needles. She stumbled against him, but soon managed to control her legs a bit more. She was aware again of his strength as he held her. He supported her as if she were nothing, but he held her gently, as if he was afraid of her, or afraid that he might break her. This morning she felt fragile enough that she thought it possible that he could.

“Try it on your own.”
Henry’s voice was encouraging, but impatient.

Henry let her go and Eleanor found she could shuffle
across the floor unaided.

“That’s not very impressive,” he said. “No one’s going to be convinced by a stable boy who’s saddle sore.”
He was irritated by her again.

“Perhaps I can have some other kind of illness,” suggested Eleanor.

“You can’t be sick at all.” He was exasperated by her lack of understanding. “We have to leave here on Solomon and you need to eat something. I can’t wait on you, you’re the servant.”

“Then perhaps you should have been my servant!”
Eleanor shouted.

“Nuns don’t have servants,” Henry muttered.

“I didn’t ask you to take me away.” She was close to tears, but would not let her captor see them. She had known too much humiliation in the past to show her feelings easily. Her parents had died in the Big Death. Although not much older than her, her brother was already an adult and had inherited their father’s estate and property. Philip had enjoyed his inheritance, but he had not enjoyed being responsible for a young girl. For a while he had suffered her presence, making her aware that he took no pleasure in it. He had made fun of her to his friends and she had learned early how to hide her distress and embarrassment. She had kept this protection about her since he had sent her to the convent for her education and the nuns had found her a strange and distant child, happiest when alone and never seeking out anyone’s company. It had taken a long time for her to accept that the nuns meant her no harm and to behave in a way that showed her trust in them. Now she remembered the lessons she had learned so early and put them into practice so that her abductor could not hurt her.

Henry took her awkwardly in
to his arms and began to smooth her back. To her surprise she moved closer to him and took his tunic into her fists. “I’m sorry Eleanor, I didn’t intend to take you away, but it was the safest thing to do. I truly don’t mean you any harm, but I can’t take you back there now.”

Eleanor sniffed. “I know.
Let me go, I’ll walk.”

Henry released her and Eleanor walked purposefully back to
her side of the bed and sat down to put on her shoes. It hurt a great deal, but she managed not to cry out. Then she thought about getting back onto Solomon and choked back a sob. Busying herself with her shoes, she managed to bring herself back under control.

“Can you carry my bag and my sword?”

She looked up. Henry was holding the saddle. He looked less comfortable with it this morning than he had last night. He would not be able to carry the sword as well. She picked up both, even though the sword was heavier than she expected. Henry opened the door and went down to the hall before her. Each step was easier than the last, but each one made her catch her breath. She could not suggest that Henry ask the innkeeper for any balm, but perhaps when they were on their way he could be persuaded to purchase some. That must surely help.

They sat together again as they ate and
Henry kept a wary eye on the rest of the travellers. Eleanor knew that today would be just as dangerous as yesterday, but for different reasons. Any one of these travellers could be an outlaw who would waylay them and rob them later. They might even pretend to be going in the same direction so that they could accompany them to a quiet place where they could attack them. She wished Henry looked a bit more able to look after himself, and her. She noticed that he was using his left arm and hand as much as possible, as if he had been wounded in his right arm. He was right-handed; he wore his knife on his left hip and the scabbard for the sword hung on the left side of the saddle. Yesterday he had used his right arm more. He had certainly used it to hold her when he had first put her on Solomon.

S
lowly she looked around the room, trying to work out which of their fellow travellers looked most suspicious.

“Stop that.” Henry was quiet, but firm. “You look worried and that will
attract their attention.”

In response she fixed her
eyes on him.

“If outlaws and vagabonds were that easy to spot no one would be robbed on the king’s highways
,” he said.

“I am only a servant,” she said. “Servants are allowed to be afraid.”

She thought he was trying not to grin, but he said, “No servant of mine would be afraid.”

She laughed at that and he frowned while she controlled herself. When she had calmed down she said
, “You look like a peasant on a stolen horse. Everyone in this room has probably already picked us out as the easiest target for thieves and murderers, but the one least likely to yield any reward.”

“I do not look like a
peasant.”

“You don’t talk like a peasant
, but you look like one.”

“How many
peasants are there in the convent?”

Eleanor opened her mouth, only to shut it again.

“You have no idea what a peasant looks like. I am a soldier and I look like a soldier.”

“Then let us hope that the thieves and vagabonds do not make the same mistake that I did.”

Eleanor returned her attention to her food, angry at Henry for not telling her more. It was a peace offering when she said, “Tell me what to do if we’re attacked.” It was an unpleasant thought, but she had heard many tales in the convent of travellers robbed and even murdered on the roads.

Henry looked slightly surprised, then recovered himself. “Keep holding onto me. Solomon will do a better job of getting us out of trouble than I will.”

Eleanor tried to hide her disappointment. He had been joking when he had said his servant would not be afraid. She had expected Henry to explain that he was an experienced soldier and that she had nothing to fear, but he was relying on a horse. She was in even more trouble than she thought.

The ostler was very short-tempered when they went to fetch Solomon. A bruise darkened the left side of his face and Eleanor was surprised that a man who worked with horses had allowed himself to be kicked by one. He was lucky to be alive. She wondered if he could have received the bruise in another way, but the skin was broken in a way that suggested that he had, indeed, been kicked by a horse.

“You couldn’t keep away from my horse, could you?” asked Henry with a grin
as he led the way into the stable with the saddle.

“Did he hurt you very much?” asked Eleanor, concerned
that the ostler might have a serious injury.

The ostler growled
and made a gesture that Eleanor guessed was meant to be offensive. Henry changed direction and approached the man, who moved quickly away to another part of the stable. Solomon neighed as he heard Eleanor’s voice and it was her turn to grin. She started talking to him as she approached and then began to prepare him for the day. Henry put the saddle on him, then she led him out to the courtyard. Solomon followed her happily and she held his head while Henry mounted. He pulled her up behind him and she had to bite her lip to stop from crying out at the pain. She was shaking as she put her arms around Henry.