The Lady in the Tower (16 page)

‘Oh, I do,’ he assured me. ‘And I am looking forward to returning it to you later.’

I was furious at being reminded of the wager he had forced upon me. And I was furious with my cousin for not listening to me. Was I to be doomed to be humiliated by Lord Stanton? He would win the joust, that much was clear. I glared at him, wondering whether he would claim the kiss in public or whether he would catch me alone somewhere. I was not sure which would be worse, and felt a spasm of dread.

Stanton was smiling his insufferable smile. I turned on my heel, and walked away. It seemed he had always the power to enrage me. No doubt he had had much practice in fencing with clever words. I imagined Stanton at the king’s court, flirting with all the ladies there, and the picture added to my anger.

I felt a strong determination not to let him worst me. Was there nothing I could do to prevent his victory? I could not bear to harm his beautiful horse, but I mulled over the possibilities of putting Stanton himself out of action for the afternoon. The visions gave me great pleasure, but none of them were realistic. Not even putting the sleeping potion in his goblet. No, I must keep my eyes on my true goal, and save it to free Mother.

Nonetheless, I longed to be revenged on Stanton for his persecution of me. I reflected the best humiliation I could inflict on him was to escape and leave him without a bride on our wedding day. That would make him look such a fool. The disadvantage was that I would not be here to see his discomfiture.

Maria was at my side. I scowled.

‘Oh, my dear Eleanor!’ she cried when she saw my angry face. She came forward to put her arms about me. I pulled away crossly.

‘What is the matter?’ she asked, gently enough. When I didn’t answer, she continued: ‘Well, whatever is wrong, I have just the news to cheer you up. First of all, everyone is sure that Stanton will win this afternoon. He carries your favour, remember? I’m sure you will be happy to see his victory.’ I was silent. Maria continued undaunted. ‘There will be more dancing tonight to celebrate, and then tomorrow the seamstress is coming to measure you for your bride clothes. You will be married in a fortnight! There! I knew that would cheer you!’

I was certainly shocked. A fortnight! How close it was. I had to succeed with our escape tonight. Mother could not stay in that tower a day longer, and I could not stay here to be married.

The sound of the gong drew the ladies and other noncompetitors back to the lists and the men back to their armour and their horses. I trailed after Maria. The king was already in his seat and the first horses were lining up at the ends of the lists.

‘Eleanor, you seem out of sorts. Are you unwell?’ Maria asked. I could see her observing me closely, and I tried to pull myself together.

‘Oh no, indeed! The heat is a little tiring, that’s all,’ I assured her.

‘Good, for Lord Stanton rides now—see! We must cheer for him, he jousts for our favour, remember!’ Maria smirked and looked sideways at me. I pretended not to notice.

‘Stanton rides against Sir Percy,’ I commented. ‘He has come thus far by luck, not skill. I certainly cannot imagine him successfully challenging Stanton.’

‘You are severe,’ replied Maria amused. ‘And very certain of your lord’s prowess!’

‘Oh—as to that … ’ I shrugged. ‘I still believe my cousin may defeat him.’ I was not sure I did believe it any longer, but I said it anyway.

‘You surely do not
wish
for your cousin to defeat your betrothed?’ exclaimed Maria. ‘No, I cannot believe it.’

I didn’t reply. It was nothing to me what Maria believed.

I was right about Sir Percy. Stanton bore him to the ground in their first run, thus winning his second horse of the tournament. I sighed. Maria took it to be a sigh of pleasure and nudged me with a sly smile.

Gradually the number of competitors was reduced until only a few skilled riders were left.

My cousin rode his penultimate bout against one Sir Peter. I rather thought he was the man my cousin had named as a contender to win, but from what I could see, my cousin had a better chance of defeating Stanton himself.

I found it hard to stay in my seat, so desperate was I for Gregory to succeed. My hands were balled into fists and I was holding my breath as the two riders approached one another. Gregory struck his opponent successfully once, and then twice. But as they rode towards each other for the third time, I could see at once that something was wrong. Gregory was sitting less straight and his aim went wide. His opponent struck him hard on his left side. Time slowed. I watched my cousin drop his lance and sway in the saddle. He crumpled forward over his horse’s neck.

‘Stay on,’ I muttered, and then I shouted it: ‘Hold on, cousin!’ I no longer felt detached and tired. I passionately wanted my cousin to win. My voice was joined by a sea of shouts, as the excitement mounted. If my cousin fell, he would lose his horse and he would not be riding in the last round.

Somehow Gregory hung on. Crooked and clinging to his saddle, he reached the end of the lists. The result was announced, and Gregory had won the bout on points. He slid off his horse rather than dismounting. I saw his squire catch and support him as they left the lists. I jumped to my feet. I had to know at once how badly hurt Gregory was.

‘Maria, I must go and see my cousin,’ I said. ‘He is injured.’

Maria looked taken aback. ‘But, Eleanor, they will be tending to him. You cannot … ’

I did not wait to hear her objections. I left the stands and ran to the end of the lists. It was some moments before I could locate his tent among the sea of competitors’ tents beyond the stands.

When I found it, I burst in unceremoniously and was confronted with the sight of Gregory stripped to the waist, having a nasty gash in his side tended to. Around the wound, bruising was already evident. The doctor, the squire, and Gregory himself all looked horrified at the sight of me. I cared not.

‘Madam, you intrude,’ the doctor pointed out politely. I ignored him and stepped forward.

‘How do you fare, cousin?’ I asked him.

‘Not dead this time, Eleanor,’ he said with a wry grin, and I could hear he was steadying his voice against the pain.

‘I have just been telling Hungerford that he cannot ride again today,’ the doctor explained, as he resumed examining the wound. ‘There is at least one rib broken here, and some severe contusions. I could not answer for the consequences.’

‘Withdraw?’ I gasped, horrified. ‘Gregory, no!’ My cousin grimaced as the doctor dusted his wound with some powder and began bandaging it. I could see how white his face was. Even his lips seemed drained of colour. ‘You’ve come so far…’ I said hopelessly.

He shook his head sadly at me.

‘Shall I go and announce the withdrawal, sir?’ asked Gregory’s squire.

His words brought me to life. ‘No!’ I said firmly. ‘Not until I’ve spoken to Gregory. In private.’

My cousin didn’t countermand my order, and the doctor continued bandaging, muttering dire warnings against the wiles of females under his breath. The doctor left at last, and my cousin lay carefully down, his breathing coming in short gasps. He was clearly in considerable pain.

‘Wait outside would you, Matthew,’ he ordered his squire. Then he closed his eyes. ‘Eleanor, I’m sorry to disappoint you. But I can scarce hold onto consciousness lying here, let alone mount my horse,’ he whispered. ‘And I could not lift my lance if my life depended on it.’

I knelt beside him and clasped his hand in both mine. ‘I have a better idea,’ I murmured low. ‘Is your servant trustworthy? Does he keep your secrets?’

‘Of course,’ muttered Gregory. ‘Why?’

‘I’ll ride in your place.’

Gregory’s eyes flew open at that. ‘What? Tell me I misheard you.’

‘You did not mishear me. I’ll don your armour and ride. We’re near the same height. No one will ever know.’

‘They’ll know soon enough,’ exclaimed my cousin scornfully, and I was pleased to see a little colour return to his cheeks. ‘Good God, Eleanor. You won’t even be able to mount my horse in full armour! Or hold the lance!’

‘I will,’ I promised him. ‘I’ve jousted every day for the last four years. I train with Walter, and he cannot touch me.’

Gregory groaned. ‘You think because you can defeat an eight year old, that qualifies you to ride against Lord Stanton, do you? For it is him I face in the final bout. You’re mad. Go away and leave me in peace.’

‘I won’t,’ I said stubbornly.

‘Why do you wish to do this? Is this just the stupid bet you told me of?’

‘It is that and more,’ I told him fiercely. ‘The bet was conceived to humiliate me. If Stanton wins, I must kiss him!’ I hoped my voice conveyed the disgust I felt.

Gregory laughed weakly and then grimaced with pain. ‘Eleanor, you are about to
marry
him. You’ll have to do more than just kiss him then!’

‘I will be gone before the wedding. In any case, it’s about more than that. He gets the better of me every time we meet. He is so arrogant and sure he will win. And also … ’ I hesitated, unsure whether to continue. Gregory opened his eyes.

‘Yes?’

‘Also I have dreamed for years of riding in a tournament such as this.’

My cousin groaned.

‘Eleanor,’ he pleaded, eyes shut again. ‘If you are wounded, there’ll be no hiding it. It’s deception. Cheating. Imagine the shame for us both.’ Gregory was white about the mouth again. He needed to rest. I had a momentary twinge of guilt, but I didn’t let it stop me.

‘Just lie quietly and get some sleep,’ I told him. ‘And don’t worry. All you need to do is get well.’

So saying, I called in his squire. ‘Matthew, your name is? Good. I am to secretly ride in your master’s place in the final,’ I informed the astonished youth. ‘Time is short. Please help me find some suitable clothing and assist me in donning your master’s armour.’

Matthew gawped at me open-mouthed. Then he turned to Gregory.

‘Sir, you’ll never let her … ’ he managed to gasp at last.

‘He’s in no position to prevent me,’ I replied quickly, removing my hood and flinging it aside. I stripped off my gown and threw it down on the ground and my kirtle followed it. I did not even stop to consider the need for modesty. Excitement was coursing through me. I bundled my clothes under Gregory’s things. ‘Come, Matthew! A shirt. Some hose. Look lively!’

Matthew looked at Gregory lying helplessly on his palliasse. He was as pale as death and made no move to stop me. I wondered if he had fainted.

Bemused, Matthew handed me spare hose. He blushed and averted his eyes as I rolled them onto my legs.

‘There’s no shirt, Mistress,’ he stammered. ‘Only this one.’ So saying he held up the sweaty, bloody, and torn shirt that Gregory had recently shed. I grimaced.

‘Oh well. So be it.’ Gingerly I pulled it on. I also tied back my hair and stuffed it down the back of my shirt. ‘Now, my armour.’ I clicked my fingers at the bemused Matthew and then turned to my cousin. ‘Is he always this slow?’ Gregory did not reply.

As Matthew began buckling my cousin’s armour on to me, I felt a wild joy. I was going to ride! It felt so good to be doing something at last after so many days of frustration. That this would not help free Mother, I did not pause to think.

I needed to surprise Stanton. He was expecting Gregory Hungerford, not Eleanor Hungerford. That might be surprise enough. I had also the advantage of being completely fresh, while Stanton had ridden many bouts already today.

Gregory was right. A serious injury would mean my unmasking. It was a risk, but I relished it.

‘Now, Matthew,’ I ordered the hapless squire once my armour was in place, and I had pulled on my cousin’s tunic, bearing the Hungerford device of the sickle. ‘You must accompany me and speak for me if anyone tries to talk to me, otherwise we’ll be undone. I’ll pretend to be injured, you’ll be supporting me. Let’s go. Did you say something, cousin?’ I turned to Gregory, who had been muttering something about deception and dishonour again. ‘No doubt you wished me good luck?’ I asked him. Gregory lay silent, eyes shut. I grinned, pulled down my visor and limped from the tent, leaning heavily on my faithful squire. ‘Close the tent after us,’ I muttered. ‘We don’t want anyone finding Gregory.’

Fellow knights slapped me on the back, making me stagger, and wished me luck as I reached the lists. Matthew helped me onto my cousin’s horse. The horse sidled and fretted, snorting and pawing the ground nervously. He knew he had a strange rider on his back. The crowd saw only Gregory Hungerford, however, the Hungerford coat of arms on my horse’s cloth, and the device on my tunic. The spectators set up a great cheer, which I acknowledged by raising my armoured right hand. I could see Stanton at the other end of the lists and my excitement steadied into a fierce concentration. I felt serious now.

I bent forward as though in pain, hoping Stanton was watching and triumphing. I could hear the crowd murmuring uneasily, and grinned to myself. I knew as sure as if he’d told me where Stanton would aim. That gave me a huge advantage.

I patted my steed. ‘Good boy, Damien,’ I whispered. ‘You can trust me.’ Damien wasn’t reassured, and backed up anxiously, arching his neck. I gathered the reins and drove him forward to the starting point. Our heralds announced us and we saluted one another. I could hear the crowd cheering, and it was thrilling. Though I had jousted so many times before, I had never known the excitement of a tournament.