Immortal Love (26 page)

E
leanor reached
Ruth’s cottage with Abigail’s new dress in hand. The seamstress had
done a wonderful job and Eleanor was anxious for the young girl to
try it on.

Abigail answered the door on the first knock,
looking worried.

“Hi sweetie, are you all right?”

“Mama is sick.”

Eleanor quickly stepped inside the dimly lit
room. Ruth was lying on her straw pallet looking quite pale. Her
forearm covered her eyes.

Unwrapping herself from her mantle Eleanor
touched her shoulder. “What is it Ruth?"

Ruth was slow to respond. “I am fine, my
lady. Just feeling a bit tired, is all.”

Eleanor knelt beside her. Abigail sat on the
other side, taking her mother’s hand.

Ruth’s face looked as white as linen. Dark
circles smudged her eyes. “I look worse than I really am.”

For the first time Eleanor noticed the
woman’s slightly swollen belly. “Ruth?” she asked hesitantly, but
before she could ask the question, Ruth confirmed her fears.

“The babe is just giving me fits today.”

Eleanor placed her hand on Ruth’s stomach.
“How long?”

“I’m a bit over half my term.”

Eleanor plopped on the floor. “Where have I
been? How could I have not noticed?” She turned her eyes back to
the swollen belly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The discussion never came around.”

“Never came around? Ruth we have been
together almost every day the last few weeks. Don’t you think you
could have found some time?” Eleanor saw that Ruth was struggling
with a new wave of dizziness.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” She took a long
breath before she continued. Her friend’s suffering forced Eleanor
to temper her emotions. “What can I do for you?”

“Just sit here and talk to me. It distracts
me from the rolling in my stomach.” She gave a little chuckle.
“Most women are long past this stage by now, but I was never so
fortunate. I was always sick up to the very last day.”

“You feel this awful your entire
pregnancy?”

“Not every day, but some.”

A sickening realization took hold of
Eleanor’s heart. “Did Ralph know of the baby?”

Ruth’s eyes brightened. “Aye, my lady. He was
hoping for another girl. Said it would give each of the boys a
little sister to protect, instead of them fighting over
Abigail.”

A cold crept in on Eleanor’s limbs, “Then he
knew when he was sent to deliver a message to the King.”

“Aye,” the mother to be whispered softly,
tears pooling in her eyes.

It felt as if a knife had plunged through
Eleanor’s heart.

“Why didn’t he tell me Ruth? Why?” A lump
grew in her throat. “I would never have sent him had I known.”

Her friend took Eleanor’s hand. “Our castle
was under siege, my lady. Ralph knew what had to be done to save
it. There was no other way.”

Tears stung Eleanor’s eyes. “But the
sacrifice was too great.”

“My husband knew the risk.”

Eleanor felt her own kind of illness. How
could she have let this happen? She looked toward Abigail. So
young. She would never remember her father. Eleanor touched Ruth’s
stomach once again. And what of this child? What would its fate
be?

She had to leave the cottage or she would be
as sick as the woman on the pallet. Bending down she kissed her
friend on the cheek, then the top of Abigail’s head. “I must go. I
just remembered something urgent I must see to.”

Refusing to acknowledge Ruth’s questioning
look, Eleanor had to get out of the cottage as emotions churned up
like a bubbling cauldron.

Donning herself in her mantle, “I will be
sending Martha with tea and broth. She will stay as long as you
need her.” Then she ran out the door, and shut it behind her.

She tried to run away from the guilt and
sorrow. Feet taking flight, Eleanor ran all the way back to the
castle. Once inside the great hall, with nowhere else to go, the
feelings slammed into her like a tidal wave. Needing to spend
energy, she grabbed a cup from the table and hurled it at the wall.
The clanking sound of metal hitting stone echoed through the room.
It gave her no satisfaction. Frantically, she looked for something
else to throw, but there was nothing. Wrapping her arms around
herself, she tried to hold back the guilt, the fury and the
devastation that enveloped her.

Just then Dominick entered. At first he
smiled. Then his face turned to concern. “Eleanor what is it?”

He reached to embrace her, but she held up
her arms to ward him off. “Don’t.” Taking two big gulps of air to
control herself, she said, “Ruth is with child.” The words rushed
out of her mouth.

Dominick stepped back. “When did this
happen?” Wariness crossed his face. “Is one of my men
responsible?”

“No. She’s beyond her mid-term.” The walls of
control were beginning to crack. Dominick waited for her to
continue. Hot tears streamed down her face. Her stomach roiled
ready to expel its contents. “Because of me that child will never
know its father.” A sob rattled out of her chest. “I sent him to
his death. A father who should be raising his boys and that sweet
little girl.”

“Did you know Ruth was pregnant?” he said
trying to reason with her.

“No.” She clenched her fists tightly at her
sides.

“Eleanor, you’re not responsible for her
husband’s death.”

“That’s not true. I may as well have killed
him myself, because I was too much of a coward to deal with
McPhearson.” Strength left Eleanor’s knees, and she crumpled to the
floor, sobbing.

Dominick tried to reach out to her.

“No! Don’t touch me!” Venomous anger pooled
on her tongue. Desire to strike out overwhelmed her. She gathered
her strength to pull herself off the floor. “It was all about land
and borders. Players take one another’s pieces, and it doesn’t
matter who gets caught in the middle. People die, and it’s all part
of the game.”

Dominick stood straighter. “Eleanor, don’t
put me in the same light as McPhearson.”

“Why not? You both draw your little lines in
the sand, daring the other to cross it.” She waved her hands. “This
border or that border. It doesn’t matter who gets killed. It’s the
stronghold that counts,” she spat. “War is nothing but a big cock
fight.”

He stood dangerously close to her. “Don’t
presume to tell me what war is about.” His low voice rolled like
distant thunder. “I have seen enough bloodshed to fill the Nile. I
have seen men, women, and children slaughtered with less mercy than
farm animals. The vacant eyes of widows riddled with grief haunt my
dreams. Young men in my command died while serving their king. I
have held them in my arms and watched life drain out of them. The
wailing of their mothers is a sound I will never forget.”

He turned away to stare into the fire. “Do
you think your people would have fared better under McPhearson’s
thumb? Its people tortured and killed? Which was the better fate
for Godwin, Eleanor, his, or mine?”

Eleanor couldn’t bring herself to answer.

She could see the hurt
in his eyes. “I had hoped you finally saw the real man you wed, but
apparently you still see the face of a warrior. There will never be
hope for us until you can get beyond that.” He gazed into her eyes
for what seemed an eternity. Then he strode out, leaving her
emotions torn and tattered.

D
ominick left with no
destination. He would not admit that Eleanor’s words cut him
deeply. He understood her pain. The decision to send anyone out to
his or her death was a horrible responsibility. A responsibility
one as young as Eleanor should not bear.

He agreed with her that war in many ways was
all about power. Many battles he fought were an exercise in
futility and waste. Too many men died for the gain of one man. She
was not wrong, but what made the deepest wound was that she
compared him to McPhearson.

Clouds of anger swirled around his heart. Was
the woman blind? There was no bloodlust in him. No desire to have
any more than what he gratefully now had. Their people were not
persecuted and never suffered unjustly.

Soon he found himself on the training field.
He drew his sword and swung at the quintain. The sand bag swung
around, and with ease he cut it from its rope. It hit the ground
with a heavy thump, much like his heart in his chest. Still angry,
he began to chop at the wooden pole with ferocity. Wood splintered
in all directions.

In the last few weeks he thought all his
dreams had come true. He was a landowner with a wife that loved him
as he loved her in return. Now he knew the truth. She saw him as a
reptile like McPhearson. He continued to chop away until the wood
cracked and it fell to the ground.

Looking down at the broken pieces lying
pathetically in the dirt, Dominick felt as though he were looking
at the reality of his life. Never whole. Sharp pain sliced through
his gut. Somehow, Eleanor had betrayed him. Her words had taken
away his hope.

E
leanor sat in her
chambers. She had no heart to join in the evening meal. Dominick
would be there, and she was too ashamed to look him in the face.
The hollow words she assaulted him with echoed mercilessly in her
ears.

How could she have been so unforgivably
wretched? It was a side of her she hadn’t seen before. Where had
those hateful words come from, and why had she attacked the one
person who’d never done her harm? She felt as ugly as a troll,
filled with self-loathing.

A knock sounded at the door.

Eleanor was too despondent to respond, but
Martha entered without invitation. She bore a tray laden with food,
but by the pursed lips and lack of greeting Eleanor realized she
was angry.

“Go ahead and say it, Martha.”

“I stood in the hall and heard you spout out
at Dominick.” Martha all but slammed the tray on the table. “Well,
my girl, I had never thought I would see the day when I was ashamed
of ya.”

Eleanor sank deeper into her chair. She
deserved Martha’s angry words, but it hurt deeply to hear it come
from her friend. “His lordship did nothing to warrant such an
attack.” Her beloved servant stood in front of her, fists on hips.
“The man has worked hard to give us a home and a sense of peace.
And you, what do you do? You tell him he is no better than that
devil’s spawn, McPhearson.”

Eleanor bowed her head. “I know.”

“How ungrateful can ya be?”

She felt the need to explain. “I know Martha,
but I had just found out about Ruth. It was unexpected. Once my
mouth was open, I couldn’t shut it.”

“Well woe be to me for not teachin’ ya
better.”

“Martha, I’m sorry.”

The woman looked at her with indignation.
“It’s not me you should be apologizin’ to.”

Violently Eleanor shook her head. “I can’t. I
can’t face him right now.”

“Then yer not the brave girl I once thought
ya to be.” Without another word Martha left the chamber.

Eleanor couldn’t feel lower. Martha was
right. She had to apologize. She couldn’t let this lie between
Dominick and her. Loving him the way she did, she would let no wall
divide them. Determined to right her wrong she knew where to find
him. When he was worried and upset, he walked the battlements.

It didn’t take her long. Her resolve nearly
faltered when she saw him approached her. His face was dark. There
was no warmth when he looked at her. About to walk by her without
speaking, she reached out her hand and grabbed his arm,
“Dominick.”

He turned slowly and looked questioningly
down at her hand.

Uncomfortable, she removed it.

“Yes,” he said with a detached voice.

She took a deep breath. “Dominick, I would
like to talk to you.”

He stood straighter. “Are there more insults
you wish to hurl at me? Or maybe you would like to share more of
your expertise on the wages of war. Or how McPhearson and I belong
to the same coven of widow makers. Is that what you would like to
talk to me about?”

“Dominick, please. I want to apologize for
what I said earlier.”

“Fine,” he said coldly, “apology accepted.
Now if you will excuse me.” He tried to walk away from her.

She reached out to pull him back. “No,
wait!”

He raised one eyebrow. “Is there something
else?”

Frustrated, she placed her hands on her hips.
“You’re not making this easy for me.”

“I don’t intend to.”

She tamped down her anger. She knew she had
no right to it. Whatever Dominick had to say to her she would
accept it. “Please listen to me. I was wrong to snap at you the way
I did. I felt guilty about what happened and instead of taking
responsibility for my actions, I lashed out at you.” His lack of
response made her more desperate. She grabbed his tunic and
continued. “Dominick, I know who you are. I was blind to it in the
beginning. But it didn’t take long to see the honorable man you
truly are. My people would have died without you, and from the day
I realized that, I prayed every day in thankfulness that the King
sent you to me.”

Eleanor was encouraged when his stance
softened. “I’m so sorry for what I said, but believe me when I tell
you I don’t believe a word to be true. It was hollow and cruel, and
I’m ashamed for the coward I was. I couldn’t face up to what I had
done and I took it out on you.” She gazed into his eyes hoping he
would believe she spoke the truth.

He embraced her tightly, and she nearly
sobbed on his chest with relief. “Please forgive me, Dominick. I’m
so sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

She shook her head. “I was awful.”

She felt a chuckle erupt from his chest.
“Misguided, but not awful.”

They held each other for some time. Then he
let her go. “I saw Ruth today.”

Really, “Thank you for doing that. How was
she feeling? I left her rather abruptly, I’m afraid. More of my
unforgivable actions.”