Amongst Silk and Spice (13 page)

It was misty when they sailed up the Thames and they slipped past London in the early morning. It had been close to a decade since Eloise had been there, thinking she would never see it again, but here she was being brought back to everything she'd run from.

Grasping the railing, Eloise stood on deck, watching as the ship quietly glide past on the city with its wispy mist. It was early and London was just waking, although the barges were already moving on the river.

She felt as though a weight was pressing down on her chest. She didn't want to be here, but knew it would do her good to have this confrontation.

Turning her head, she saw Hugo not far away, watching her. She smiled weakly, then turned her eyes back to the banks past the westernmost edge of London. She could not forge a relationship with him, she knew. Whatever it was they had, it ended now. He was now truly back with his people, back to his service, and she would be turning her attention toward the continent when she could.

The weak April sun shone off the water, but wasn't strong enough yet to clear the mist, although Eloise liked it this way. It made things look soft when she knew England had some very harsh realities.

Eloise stepped off the dock at Windsor, the massive stone castle ahead of her. Again, Hugo was behind her, silent and somber to equal her mood.

"What do you want to do?" he asked. "Do you wish to rest?"

"No, let's get this over with. You will be pleased to discharge your duty. No need to draw this out."

"As you wish," he said and led her through the crowded streets toward the castle, through the village that served the royal family, court and the castle’s garrisons. The sun was warmer now and people seemed happy with the spring weather and excited about the upcoming celebrations. Tailor shops were busy measuring and sewing, while merchants sold all kinds of things—French wine, fruit, fish and meat. She even saw some of the spices and silks from the farthest reaches of the world.

It was strange being back in an English town, where the people on the street broke between English and French. Eloise heard Flemish and Danish as well. Europe's nobles were in town, preparing for the tournament. Giggling girls enjoying the busy market, catching eyes of the visiting knights.

"Have you everything you need for the tournament?" she asked Hugo.

"I am sending for armor and banners. I must track down my squire as well."

"Perhaps luck will smile on you and he’s here waiting for you."

"That would be a fortunate outcome."

They arrived at the castle’s main gates and the steep entrance-way up to it. People flowed in and out of the gatehouse, and the guards did little more than manage traffic.

A cart full of weapons clanked over the cobble-stones as they reached the gatehouse and they had to stand back to let it pass. Parts of the castle were under construction with workmen clambering up wooden scaffolding, lifting blocks of stone.

"The French king's capture will be profitable for King Edward," Hugo observed. "He is using much of the proceeds from the ransom to expand the castle, it seems."

They walked over a large courtyard to another gate, into a second smaller courtyard and around the old, round keep, which was also being rebuilt. Hugo took her through large doors into a cavernous space, up a set of stairs.

They walked past rooms of scribes further into the dark building, where torches lit the hall, finally finding the office Hugo sought. He spoke to a scribe, stating that he wanted to see the king at the earliest opportunity.

"We will be called," Hugo said, turning to her. Scribes and other administrative servants busily marched around where they stood. "Eat or rest?"

"Eat," Eloise said, certain that she would be unable to rest right now. It was unlikely she could eat either, but she suspected Hugo was hungry. Apparently he would stay with her until he handed her over to the King, or her father, whatever his agreement was. "You do not have to stay with me."

"You will not know where to go in the maze of this castle."

"That is true," she smiled. Windsor was probably the largest structure she had come across in all her travels.

Hugo took her to a massive hall near the castle kitchen. Open windows let the air in and the smoke out from the fires that did little to heat the cavernous space. They took seats along one of the long tables, where soldiers ate with pewter bowls and spoons. Two plates of stew were placed in front of them by harried servants.

Fat floated on top of the stew, which had vegetables and generous chunks of beef. It was bland, spiced with horseradish and salt. "I would take the Persian food any day over this. Admit it, Persians make better food."

"I will admit that the French make better food."

"You just won't admit that you're wrong," she accused, feeling better for teasing Hugo, wishing it was just the two of them again, experiencing something new without the impending confrontation with her father.

"All that spice can't be good for the gut. Besides, in these gentler climes, hearty meals are needed."

She knew she would never convince him, or get him to concede. "Are you staying here in the castle?"

"Perhaps tonight, but I must take myself to Smithfield to prepare."

"You don't even have a horse."

"And to see that my horses arrive."

"They will be well rested in your absence."

"Hopefully they have not grown too fat and lazy."

They drank some wine, then sat for a while, watching the constant movement of people around them. "It's like a small city, isn't it?" she said.

"It takes a great many people to support the court and to defend the king."

"Is the French king here?"

"I believe he is being held elsewhere." Hugo's eyes were drawn to a scribe who appeared at the door, searching the space. "I think it's time."

Nerves crept up Eloise's shoulders, twisting her stomach, now full of stew. She rose and stepped to Hugo, who urged her to walk in front of him. She wondered if he was worried she would turn and run. The thought had occurred to her. This was it—she was about to face the man that had murdered her mother, in effect if not in act.

They walked across another courtyard and into a building, up more stairs and down halls. This building was heavily guarded, so Eloise concluded that this was where the king lived or presided.

Doors were opened to let them enter and they were finally led into a sitting room with wooden benches and glass windows. They sat and waited, watching as others were called in through a set of doors, where people constantly streamed in and out.

Finally Hugo's name was called and they rose. The doors they'd been staring at for over an hour led to a larger room, filled with tables and scribes, and they walked into a second, smaller room, with a heavy oak table. Two noblemen sat, drinking wine and the king stood leaning against the wall. He was dressed like any noble, although his surcoat was a deep, green velvet.  Power and assurance emanated from him and Eloise had no doubt he was a king.

Another man sat on a chair further down the room, and Eloise knew him immediately as her father. He looked older compared to the last time she'd seen him, gray around the temples.

Eloise could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to acknowledge him.

"This is her?" King Edward asked. "Is this your daughter, Chanderling?"

The king waved his fingers to someone behind her and Eloise heard the door open. She turned to see her old housekeeper, who had also aged greatly. Eloise felt her heart twist at seeing the old woman who had been integral to her household.

"Is this her, Madame Sommiers?" the King said.

If nothing else, she was reunited with Madame Sommiers, but the woman was shooed out of the room after confirming her identity. Eloise hoped she would wait and they could speak. Seeing the old woman brought all the painful memories back.

"Then here she is. Well done, Beauford. I've heard you've had to cross the world for her. All the way to the far-off shores of Cathay. A bird that's flown very far. What drew you all the way to Cathay?" the king asked.

"I was curious. I had heard tales." The king considered her with shrewd, hard eyes. "One city led to another."

"You've sent young Beauford here on a merry chase. We never expected his quest to take him so far."

"That was not my doing, I believe," she said, knowing she was challenging the king's statement, but felt she needed to state that this was not her choice.

"Extraordinary," the king said. "Quite a mystery what happened to you. Lord Chanderling here has wondered for many years over his daughter's fate."

"Not his daughter. His wife's bastard, I believe."

The king's eyebrows rose. "You will not acknowledge him?"

"I will not."

The king smiled and looked at Lord Chanderling. "She denies you, my friend, but then she did that many years ago."

"Words I spoke in anger," Lord Chanderling stated softly. It was the first time in a very long time she'd heard his voice. He didn't appear angered by her declaration. Perhaps based on her acts, he should expect her stance. "They were but temporary."

"It matters not. I will not undo them." Finally she turned her eyes on him, as cold as she could make them.

"I have searched for you since you disappeared, to right the wrong I did in a moment of fury."

"You murdered my mother. There is no righting that. I want nothing to do with you."

"I am your father."

"A position you gave away. As I said, I will not undo that. I have no need for you, and whatever reason you called me here, I have no intention of accommodating you. I don't care what you need from me. I need nothing from you."

"Perhaps he needs his daughter," the king said.

"Then he should not have thrown her away," she stated plainly, making no effort to temper her anger or direct stare.

A silence descended on the room. "You think with the literal interpretation of a child," the king said, and Eloise managed to temper her bristles.

"I would never have left you to fend for yourself. I would have found a place for you in my household. There still is."

"I found my own, and I intend to continue in the same fashion."

"Your father has much to offer you."

"This land holds bad memories for me. Something I don't think I will ever forget, and I will quit this land at the earliest opportunity. Now if you would be as good as to excuse me."

"We cannot finish like this. I wish you to stay," Lord Chanderling said.

"And I have no wish to comply with your request."

"Then you will perhaps comply with mine?" the king said with assurance and Eloise faltered. Denying a king's request was altogether a different thing. He had sovereignty over her, and denying a direct request was a chargeable offense, close to treason. "I wish you to stay here, in my court."

Eloise blinked and slowly nodded, wishing she could scream her frustration. She could not say no. She was a subject of this land after all, even as a bastard daughter of a burnt witch. "Until you see fit to release me, then," she said.

"You are not a prisoner, but I wish for you to reside here—enjoy the entertainment and spectacle of the court. We have a tournament shortly. No doubt you will find it amusing. Beauford here will participate, will you not?"

"I will, Your Majesty."

"See. It will be entertaining. It is a wonderful year, after all. Once you start seeing what you have been missing, you may be more open to a reconciliation with your father, I'm sure."

"Until you release me," she repeated.

The king chuckled at her stubbornness. "We won't treat you as a lost cause just yet," he said and nodded to one of the guards, who stepped forward and urged her and Hugo out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Eloise was shaking with after-effects of the meeting, while Hugo said nothing as he led her away. She half expected him to chastise her for her behavior, but perhaps he knew her better. He took her to another building, asking for a Lady Turrell to attend to them.

Tears threatened as they stood and waited. Eloise couldn't believe she was stuck here, having missed foreseeing that the king might order her to stay at court.

"Lady Turrell will see you to some quarters," Hugo said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. All Eloise wanted at the moment were his arms around her, to find comfort in him, but it was impossible now. They were at court and strict rules of behavior meant they were nothing to each other. She was her father's wayward and obstinate daughter, and he was one of the king's knights. "I must leave you now," he said. "Lady Turrell will see to everything you need."

"Passage to Venice?"

"Unlikely," he smiled.

"Will I see you again?"

"At the tournament if not before."

Eloise nodded and a woman in fine silk gowns and gauze-covered hair appeared at the doorway. "What have we here? Beauford? It has been a long time since you were at court. You must be here for the tournament."