The Winter Love (10 page)

Henry turned So
lomon and Eleanor could see the two men looking at one another uneasily. If they both charged, Henry would stand little chance against them, but it was Henry who charged. Solomon advanced so quickly on one of the men that it seemed he must run into the other horse.  Eleanor closed her eyes as the collision became imminent, but Solomon pulled up and she heard the clash of swords as Henry fought the rider.

She opened her eyes so that she could see the other man.
He was coming upon Henry’s other side. She was certain that Henry could not see him, but as he drew near Solomon took them out of harm’s way.

“Give up and go
on your way,” shouted Henry. “I have already killed one of you. Do you also wish to die?”

“Nick
had no time to defend himself, but we are ready.”

“
My sword arm tires already,” said Henry quietly to Eleanor. “You must be ready to flee.”

Although she want
ed to protest, Eleanor nodded. It would not help to distract Henry or to give him more worry than he already had, but it crossed her mind that dying here with him might be better than riding around countryside that she did not know on a horse she couldn’t control.

She could see the men approaching together; they had learned quickly enough that Henry knew what he was doing.

Once again, Henry did not wait for them, but aimed Solomon towards them. This time he didn’t stop but continued at the horses until Solomon hit one of the horses in the shoulder. Both horses reared and unseated their riders. Solomon stood completely still as Henry dismounted and went at the men on foot.

Now Eleanor saw that they had never stood a chance. The only way they could have bested
Henry was to have fought together, but they were uncoordinated and Henry dispatched them both efficiently and quickly.

When
it was over, Henry sank to his knees and dropped his sword. Eleanor scrambled down from Solomon and ran to him.

“Where are you hurt?”

“It’s my old wound. I cannot hold my sword. I’m sorry”

Eleanor looked at him
helplessly. His face was pale and his lips were taut with pain. She could not tell whether the sheen of sweat on his face was from the exertion of the fight or the pain.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Can you...Can you make sure they are all dead?”

He sat back suddenly on his heels. Eleanor began to worry that she would not be able to get him back onto Solomon.
Then she understood what he had asked her. Trusting that he would not ask her to do something so terrible unless it was necessary, she nodded.

“
Yes, but you must get up. I cannot lift you.”

“You are a hard master.” Nonetheless he began to push himself forward.

Eleanor did not stay to help him, but went to each of the men in turn. It was unpleasant, but she understood why she had to do it. She hoped they were dead; it was one thing for Henry to kill them in a fight like this and another for him, or her, to kill them in cold blood. She glanced back at him and saw that he had raised himself to his knees. She did not think she would be able to kill them if they still lived.

Despite her reluctance she examined each of the men properly, so that she was sure that they were dead. By the time she got back to Henry he was standing. He pointed to his sword.

“You must clean it.”

“First you must get back on Solomon, while you still can.”

To her surprise, he smiled and nodded. She brought Solomon to him and he managed to get into the saddle with very little help from her. He sat awkwardly and she wondered if she should look at his arm before she dealt with his sword, but realised that once she got onto Solomon, if she got onto Solomon, it would be almost impossible to get off him again without causing Henry further pain or injury.

She cleared the blood from Henry’s sword as best she could in the grass, but knew it was not clean enough to return to its scabbard.
Finally she wiped it in the cloak of one of the fallen men.

“We must leave their bodies here,” said Henry. “You are not strong enough to hide them.”

“Why would we hide them?”

“Because Edward will come this way and know what has happened.”

“They attacked us.” Now she did not understand what he was saying.

“There are very few people who will believe that a man with a woman on his horse could defend
himself so well against so many.”

Eleanor wiped the rain from her face as she stared up at him.

“Edward would see you hanged?”

Henry thought about the question, then nodded.
“Edward has changed these last few months. I hardly know him.”

Eleanor looked at the
three corpses. If Edward did indeed want his brother hanged it could only be because they had fought over her this morning. It would be her fault.

“There might be a ditch a short way from the road,” she said.

“Eleanor, you can’t...”

“Henry, you have done your part
. Rest a while until I can look at your shoulder.”

He nodded
faintly. Eleanor knew then how greatly the pain must be clouding his mind, for she was certain that Henry would never have allowed her to help him in this way otherwise.

It took longer than she expected to move the bodies out of sight and she led Solomon into the trees to provide some shelter for Henry before she started.

The rain quickly washed the blood away from the road and no traveller today would know what had happened here.

There was no ditch, but a slight depression in which she hid the bodies and covered them with fallen leaves. She looked around for fallen branches to complete the covering, but could find none. The peasants must already have taken them for their winter fires. When she returned to Henry they were both soaked to the skin and he was shivering uncontrollably. Despite this, he was still able to help her up in front of him with his left arm.

She pulled up her skirts and straddled Solomon so that she could face Henry.

“What shall I do for your wound?”

“There is nothing to be done, but it will help if you tie my arm tight against my body
so that it cannot move.”

There was nothing to tie it with unless there was something
in the saddle roll behind him, but Henry’s head fell forward onto her shoulder and she knew that he would not be able to help her off Solomon and back again to allow her to look. She thought about his cloak. It would make no difference now if they did without the little protection it offered against the heavy rain, but her fingers were cold and the cloak so heavy that she could not tie it, so she gave that up, then thought about his belt. Realising that it would be heavy and that the scabbard would get in the way, she undid her own belt and tied it around him so that he could not move his arm. Now she was struck by her stupidity; she was facing the wrong way and could not right herself without causing great pain to Henry. Their only hope was that he would remain conscious and able to control Solomon for the rest of the journey. She leant carefully against him and put her arms around him.

“This will have to do,” she said. “
You said it wasn’t far and we can neither of us get wetter.”

Henry pulled the cloak around them
both and took the reins in his left hand. At Solomon’s first step he groaned and Eleanor pressed herself tightly against him in an attempt to keep him still.

Henry urged Solomon to go faster and she felt the tension in his body as the pain took him, but he did not faint and he did not slow Solomon.

It was an uncomfortable ride for Eleanor. She rested her head against Henry’s left shoulder and was not surprised when she felt his chin rest once more on the crown of her head.

She prayed that he had been right and that his father’s house was nearby
, for he could not bear this for long.

The house of Henry’s
father was larger than Eleanor had expected. When it came in sight Henry had sighed, “At last,” and Eleanor had twisted her neck painfully so that she could see the house. It was made of stone and enclosed by a stone wall and was as secure as Henry had said. Beyond the wall was a dry moat. The house had two storeys and there was a secure gate in the wall. It was like a small castle, she thought, there was even a stone tower at the end of the house furthest from the gate. They were not far from the coast here and the threat of invasion must make this kind of protection desirable. The other buildings enclosed by the wall were made of wood and thatched. Henry had been right; this was a place where she could be protected. She could only hope that he was wrong in thinking that she needed to be protected.

The gate was open to allow a
cart to leave. Henry kept Solomon still on the other side of the narrow bridge until it had passed. The driver waved at Henry and he prodded Solomon into motion and the gatekeeper called out a welcome as he closed the gate behind them.

A young boy came running out
of the stable to meet them and stopped at the sight of his master’s son being embraced by a strange nun who was sitting the wrong way on the back of his horse.

“He is hurt,” she called out to him and the boy ran up to Solomon’s head and took hold of the reins.

As Eleanor scrambled carefully down from Solomon, Henry slumped forward. Eleanor reached up to hold him so that he wouldn’t fall off, but couldn’t reach him. Henry steadied himself, but groaned loudly at the effort.

“What has happened?”

Eleanor turned to the tall man beside her. This must be Henry’s older brother, for he looked like both Henry and Edward.

“He was wounded in a battle and he
has suffered greatly on the journey back from France.”

The man seemed to take her presence in his stride and reached up to Henry.

“Henry, can you dismount?”

“Only if I fall off.”

“Now is not the time for humour. If you fall, I will catch you, but it would be better if you can help yourself, for you are heavy, although not, I think, as heavy as you were when I saw you last.” The older man frowned and Eleanor saw the love that he bore his younger brother on his face. Here, at least, was one brother who did not hide his feelings.

Henry clutched at the saddle with
his left hand, the movement causing Eleanor’s badly tied belt to fall away, and his right arm fell uselessly forward and hit the front of the saddle. His whole body shuddered in pain, but Henry made no sound. Unthinking, Eleanor reached up to him. She could not reach his back, so stroked his knee until he had stopped shaking. It was only when he was still once more that she realised that she had pushed his brother out of the way to get to him. Blushing she moved away; he would be far more use should Henry fall than she would be.

Taking a deep breath,
Henry began sliding his leg slowly across Solomon’s back and his brother reached up to help him. Between them they managed to keep his shoulder from further harm.

“Henry!”
Eleanor turned and saw a middle-aged man running from the house towards them. He looked so much like Henry and Edward that he could only be their father.

“Eleanor...
Sister Margaret, this is my father, Sir John Attewood. Father, this is Sister Margaret. She is my... guest.” Henry’s voice shook, but he managed to smile at his father.

“Welcome home, my son. We
received a message from Edward that you were coming back. But he did not mention a nun.” He looked uncertainly at Eleanor. “Nor did he mention an injury.”

Eleanor waited with interest to hear how Henry would explain her presence.

“Sister Margaret was attacked and I couldn’t leave her where she was. The injury is old and healing.” His voice trailed off, giving the impression that he was too weak to continue, but Eleanor thought it was because he did not wish to lie to his father.

“Then you are welcome, Sister. Come inside.
But you are wet. How did you come to be so wet?”

Eleanor shivered with the reminder, but Henry said, “I left my leather cloak in my chest. Edward will bring it.”

Eleanor realised that, but for his anger, Henry would have retrieved his cloak. Now they were both cold and wet and would pay the consequences. For herself she worried little; she spent most of her time outside and the other sisters were envious of her good health. Getting wet and cold would not do her too much harm, but Henry was recovering from an injury and had suffered greatly on the journey back from France. Who knew what harm would come to him?

Henry smiled at his father. “Do not worry. Sister Margaret is as strong as an ox.” His smile broadened at his father’s shocked expression.
“I am more likely to come to harm than she is, and I will not come to harm.”

Sir
John led them inside. Henry’s brother supported him as they walked into the house. Henry hung his head and Eleanor felt that he was ashamed of what he must consider another sign of weakness. Neither of them could explain that his pain had an honourable cause, for no one could know of the attack on the road. Then she saw that he was biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain. He was hiding his pain from his father.

When they entered the hall they were greeted by
Henry’s mother and a young woman.

“Henry, you are here so early. We expected you later today.”
Her face fell as she noticed that he was being supported by her oldest son.

“We came away
from Edward’s without breaking our fast. I’m afraid I was inconsiderate to Eleanor...Sister Margaret. Oh, Mother, this is Sister Margaret. Sister Margaret, Lady Mary, my mother.”

“You are ill?
And where is Edward?”

Henry shook his head.
“It is a wound from battle. It is healing. And Edward follows later. He had business to attend to. We only arrived in Southampton yesterday.”

“What can we do?”

“A bath,” suggested Eleanor.

Lady Mary nodded. “We were expecting you, so one is being prepared.”

“No,” said Henry, “Sister Margaret should...”

“No,” said Eleanor
firmly. “My needs are much less urgent.”

“But hospitality...”

“Henry, you must get warm and someone must look at your shoulder. I need only to be dry.”

“You have no clothes to chang
e into.”

“Sister Margaret may wear something of Isabelle’s. She is right, Henry, it is not a failure of hospitality for you to bathe first.”

Henry lowered his head in defeat, but Eleanor knew no triumph in her victory.

It was warm in the hall and Eleanor started to feel more cheerful.
They had arrived with their lives and that, she thought, was enough for one day.

“Then come and
sit in the warm. Sister Margaret, this is my eldest son, William and his wife Philippa.”

Now that she was able to look at him undisturbed,
Eleanor thought William was the most handsome man she had ever seen, even more handsome than his younger brothers. He was taller than Henry and his fair hair framed a flawless face. Whereas Henry and Edward had grey eyes, his were so blue that they reminded her of a summer sky. His wife was taller than Eleanor and her beauty was no less than her husband’s. Eleanor tried not to hope that her own face was as striking, but in vain. Philippa was as dark as her husband was fair, but it was her hands that impressed Eleanor the most. They were small and elegant and Eleanor hoped that her own chapped and work-roughened hands were out of sight. Philippa looked Eleanor up and down, as if trying to read her soul, but it was Henry’s mother who made the biggest impression on her. Lady Mary greeted Eleanor as if she were a daughter she had not seen for many months. She began to feel more at ease.

“Where are the children?” asked Henry, looking around.

Philippa turned away and ran from the hall. Henry’s face fell and dread filled Eleanor. She grabbed his hand, knowing what was to come. So many children had died that summer. She hadn’t known that they had had the same sickness here. It was so far away from the convent.

“It
was like the Big Death again,” said Sir John, “except it only took the children.”

Henry sank down onto a bench. “All of them?” Eleanor barely heard him. Sir
John nodded.

“And in the village.”

Lady Mary was crying quietly next to her husband. Eleanor held Henry and stroked his hair. She hadn’t thought he might have children; they had not spoken of such things. She wondered where his wife was. Realising what she was doing, she stepped back from Henry. “It is a great loss for William and Philippa and for you,” he said.

“These are sad times,” said his mother.

“My brother and his wife had three children,” explained Henry as he struggled to his feet again.

“I’m sorry. We had the sickness at the convent, too. I did not know it had come this far.”

“I think it covered the whole of England,” said Sir John. “God must be punishing us for something.”

Eleanor had heard some of the nuns say the same thing. Mother Abbess said that
this might be true, but they should not guess, but pray for wisdom and guidance and Eleanor had done so.  The Big Death had taught her that God’s ways were unknowable and that was only right. How could a creature know how its Creator thought or understand his actions? Only God could understand God.

“Come and sit,” said Lady Mary.
“We grieve, but we live still and you must eat.”

Henry looked as if he were going to refuse.

“You need to eat,” said Eleanor quietly enough that only he could hear. “You are too thin. Your mother sees it and is worried. It will be a while before your bath is ready.”

Henry nodded and sat beside her.
She removed his cloak and a servant brought them both warm blankets which they wrapped round themselves as they ate.

The meal was not extravagant. There was sufficient for them both and it was good, but Eleanor wished there had been more for Henry’s sake.
The house had told a tale about Sir John’s wealth that was not supported by the food that he produced. Although they were not expected until later, she had thought that there would be more food for Henry when they arrived. For herself, she was used to much less food than this and she had considered giving Henry some of her bread and cheese, but saw that it might be taken as an insult to his parents.

It was warm enough in the hall and s
he grew more comfortable as she sat, but no drier. It would be good to get out of her habit and into some dry clothes. Henry must be feeling the same, or worse, for he had not her strength.

After they had eaten Eleanor was shown to the room of
Henry’s sister Isabelle, which she would share with the other woman when she returned from her visit to her friend in the nearby town. For now Eleanor would sleep alone. There was a bowl of hot water waiting for her and Eleanor used it to wash and warm herself. Now she began to feel better.

The servant
took her clothes away, having laid out something of Isabelle’s for her to wear. Eleanor was nervous; she had never worn such clothes, having entered the convent as a child. She struggled with the ties and guessed that Isabelle must have help to dress. Eleanor was ashamed to ask for help in what was usually a simple task for her, so she did the best she could, then lay down on the bed and slept until she was woken by a knock on the door.

“Eleanor, I need to talk to you...”

Surely Henry should be in bed, resting
. Then she remembered, he would tell her now why he had taken her from the convent. It must be a terrible reason if he had waited for them to arrive here before he told it. Worse, that he wanted to tell her before he rested, but she was coming to realise that it was like him to put what must now be a matter of honour before his own needs.

She opened the door. Henry stood
unaided with his arm caught in a sling tied around his neck.

He smiled at her. “William should have been a physician.”
She wondered how he managed to stand, and how he managed to walk to her room, unless he had had help.

“I’m sorry I stole your bath.”

“It is of no matter. You needed it; I didn’t. You look better.” He didn’t, but she thought the lie would help the healing. He was still very pale and held himself so stiffly that she thought he must break if he tried to move.

“I don’t think there was
too much harm done.  It’s just that I wasn’t ready.”

“
You told me you would run away from a fight.”

Henry reddened.

“They would have caught us. They had good horses.”

“I have brought you much trouble.”
Eleanor felt this keenly. Once she had accepted that Henry had not meant any harm when he had abducted her, she had seen how much effort and pain she had cost him.

“No. There are always thieves on the
roads, although Edward says that he met none.”