The Lady in the Tower (3 page)

Tom was tending Arianna’s hooves, bending down beside me, scraping the mud away.

‘Yes, and by God, I give thanks for it in my prayers every night,’ I responded. ‘But I can’t see my luck holding a second time.’

I had been formally betrothed shortly after my mother’s incarceration. My betrothed had been an elderly baronet with few teeth and the gout. I still remembered the terror and the disgust he had caused me. Luckily for me, he had died a few weeks before our wedding. But I had been left with a horror of who my father might next foist upon me. I, of course, had no say in the matter.

Tom stooped to lift Arianna’s next hoof, leaning against her so she would shift her weight across to the other leg. ‘You’ve been lucky to escape this long, if you ask me,’ he commented.

I sighed and resumed steady, rhythmic brushing strokes. Arianna swished her tail and shook her head to keep the flies off. It was a warm day, and everyone moved more slowly than usual. I felt tired and listless and, in that mood, my future seemed even more daunting than usual.

‘I stay out of sight,’ I said. ‘I doubt my father has caught sight of me in two years.’

‘He’s not forgot you, don’t deceive yourself. It just ain’t suited him to marry you off yet. But you’re fifteen now; you’ve growed up. It’s high time you was married,’ remarked Tom.

‘You’re fifteen and you aren’t married, so don’t tell me I should be, you pile of horse apples.’

‘I ain’t the daughter of an earl, like you are. Dog droppings.’ Tom grinned as he insulted me.

‘Son of a gong farmer!’ I threw back at him.

‘That’s most likely true, an’ all,’ he remarked wiping his nose on his sleeve. ‘Don’t remember much about me parents, but there weren’t nothing fine about them.’

‘I didn’t mean … ’ I said, colour mounting in my cheeks. Sometimes I forgot the difference in our stations enough to be unkind, and it embarrassed me. Since Gregory had left Farleigh three years ago, Tom had once more been my only friend. I had become steadily more estranged from my brother. We jousted together still, but that was the extent of our relationship.

I reverted to our previous conversation: ‘Well, I cannot leave Mother. She depends on me. She’s growing weaker, I’m sure of it. I don’t think she ever recovered from … ’

‘Her illness?’ asked Tom when I stopped.

I lowered my voice though there was no one near.

‘Illness, or poison. You know that Mother is sure the chaplain poisoned her food or drink. And now she dare touch nothing that comes from him. If I didn’t get food to her, she would starve.’

Tom nodded reluctantly. He knew of the secret arrangement. A woman called Alice and some of the other villagers took the food to the foot of the tower every night, where Mother hauled it to her window in a basket the village women had made for her. And throughout all this, Mother still hoped for her husband’s mercy. She firmly believed the poison was the chaplain’s doing, not Sir Walter’s. She refused to try to escape with me.

‘I know your mother depends on you,’ Tom said. ‘But I was thinking of you. You’re not treated right here. It might be best for you to be married and have your own home.’

‘Not if the marriage is of Sir Walter’s making. It’ll be another revolting old goat with one gout-ridden foot in the grave.’

‘Eleanor!’ My brother’s voice broke into our conversation. I had not heard him approach. ‘I need you. Would you care to joust with me?’

‘Very well, Walter.’ I nodded, and threw down my brush.

‘You’ll have to finish Arianna, Tom. But can you ready Beau for me first?’

Tom rolled his eyes.

‘Yes, ma’am, you just leave it all to Tom.’ He winked at me as he left to fetch the saddle and bridle.

‘Desiccated dog turd!’ I tossed after him cheerfully.

‘Festering flea bite!’ he called back.

Whilst Tom was preparing Beau, I fished a carrot out of my pocket for Arianna. As she crunched it eagerly, I stroked her cheeks and kissed her soft, velvety nose. She was a great comfort; the one precious thing my father had not taken from me. I loved her very dearly. She was at all times my favourite mount, but had never mastered the art of jousting.

I swung into Beau’s saddle, adjusting the folds of my simple kirtle. My fine kirtles and gowns were all outgrown, and I dressed plainly in what clothes could be made up cheaply and easily. I looked like the servants now, except that I wore my auburn hair loose, not bound back in a veil.

I rode down to join Walter. He had shed his petticoats these two years, and was dressed now like a miniature man in doublet and hose. No expense was spared in his apparel. My brother was now a sturdy boy of eight summers, who excelled in every form of sport. He divided his waking day between riding and learning swordplay and archery. Like our father, he despised book learning of any kind. He had never learned to read and write like I had. Our affection for each other had waned over the years as he became more and more his father’s son.

‘Ah, Eleanor,’ the castellan greeted me. He rarely allowed himself a smile. ‘I’m glad you could join us. I have news for you both. There is to be a formal announcement at supper, so if you could keep it to yourselves until then. Firstly, Sir Walter will be arriving in a few days.’ I groaned audibly, interrupting him. My father’s arrival would mean less freedom within the castle and the end of jousting practice for me. Although it had been he that had allowed me to begin learning, I’m quite sure he would be shocked if he knew I had continued all these years.

The castellan paused in his speech and I saw his lips tighten a little. I wondered if he was annoyed at my interruption or whether he agreed with my sentiments towards my father. I had suspected for years that he continued to teach me jousting as an act of rebellion against Sir Walter and his treatment of Mother and me.

‘Sir Walter will be joined,’ continued the castellan, ‘by a large party of noblemen and ladies. Some will reside within the castle itself, others are to pitch camp outside the castle walls. We expect that the king himself may visit.’

Both Walter and I gasped with surprise as the king was mentioned. A royal visit was not something that had happened in our lifetime.

‘To celebrate the occasion and in honour of the king, Sir Walter plans to hold a tournament here at Farleigh. Lists will be constructed for the joust and there will also be other events such as archery and sword fighting.’

At this point the castellan was interrupted again as Walter fairly screamed with excitement. His pony reared up in fright, blowing and snorting in indignation, and began to bolt. Walter pulled him round in a tight circle and brought him back.

‘A tournament?’ Walter cried. ‘A real tournament, right here?’ The castellan inclined his head, allowing himself a small smile.

‘I have already suggested to your father that there should be a junior event as well, Master Walter. He was disposed to agree.’

Walter whooped with delight. His pony tossed his head.

My feelings on hearing this news were more mixed. The return of my father had never yet brought me any good. Now it might mean my new betrothal was near. And although the joust would doubtless be exciting to watch, I had no chance of competing. I was nobly born, but I was female. My part would be to sit gracefully on the sidelines and watch.

‘I don’t suppose there will be a jousting event for ladies?’ I asked the castellan bitterly.

‘You know very well there will not be,’ he replied quietly.

‘But it is not fair that I may not compete.’

‘Indeed,’ nodded the castellan. ‘For you have more skill than many men, and more courage too. But it would not be seemly to display yourself before the crowd. We must take the world as we find it, Mistress Eleanor.’

I did not agree. ‘When the world has unjust rules, we should seek to change them,’ I argued.

Walter snorted derisively. ‘You’ll never have women in the lists!’ he mocked. ‘Women sit on the sidelines and fuss about their gowns and their complexions.’

‘I can defeat you,’ I countered swiftly.

‘Because I am a youth and you are near full grown.’ He tossed his head dismissively, looking just like Father. ‘In a few years I will be a strong knight, and you will be sitting with a babe in arms.’

A surge of rage swept through me and I choked on all the angry words I wanted to fling at him.

‘Father would have stopped you jousting long ago if I had told on you,’ Walter added.

‘But you did not, and you will not, because you need me to train with,’ I threw back at him.

‘Pooh!’ he scoffed.

We glared silently at one another for a few moments. Used to our quarrels, the castellan broke in:

‘If you think the rules should be changed, perhaps you will speak to Sir Walter, Mistress,’ he suggested.

I imagined the scene that would ensue, and sighed. ‘Oh well, I suppose watching a tournament will be less dull than life generally is here.’

‘Are we going to practise?’ asked the castellan drily.

We rode hard and struck our targets accurately until humans and horses alike were blown. I felt I had proved my brother wrong with my performance, though he was not going to concede the point.

I headed back to the castle with my head full of the coming joust, and thought of little else over the following days. I wished I could enter. Nothing on the scale of this tournament had happened in years, and the whole castle buzzed with excitement. Even the servants, to whom this would bring so much extra work, walked with a new spring in their step, and could be seen bustling all over the castle, opening up little used apartments and spring cleaning. The kitchen was likewise a hive of activity, as our stores of grain and preserves were checked and counted and orders for more supplies were made out. I wandered hither and thither, without any role in the preparations, feeling wistful.

As usual, I sought refuge in the stables, and it was from here that I saw my father arrive a few days later. I was hiding in the hayloft at the time, having had another argument with Walter in which he had spoken insultingly of our mother. I could not understand that he had not more loyalty towards her. I had to remind myself that he had been only four when she was taken from us.

The stable loft was my favourite hiding place when I needed to be alone. There I could lie in the warm, sweet-smelling hay and listen to the horses breathing and moving about below. It was a place of security and comfort.

The clatter of hooves in the courtyard interrupted my thoughts. I leaned out through a window high in the wall, and looked down upon the sight of Sir Walter leading a cavalcade of about a dozen men. There were many fine horses among them, though just now they and their riders looked weary and dusty from the road.

The grooms and stable boys ran out to take the horses. There would be frantic activity in the stables from now on, as the horses were fed, watered, and rubbed down and all the tack was cleaned. From my vantage point above the yard, I saw Tom go to the head of a tall roan gelding and take his reins behind the bit, while his elderly rider struggled down from the saddle, stiff from his long ride. My insides froze, as it occurred to me that this might be the man my father intended to betroth me to. Indeed, it could be any of them, I realized with horror, looking them all over. My gaze lingered especially on the older members of the party, noting the red noses, bad teeth, and bulging paunches. I shivered.

I realized I was observed. An elegant young man, fashionably dressed, was sitting easily astride his black horse, one gloved hand resting on his hip. He was looking straight at me, a grin spreading over his face. I drew back hastily into the dim light of the loft. Before I lost sight of him, he winked at me. I was disconcerted, and hid myself in the darkest corner. There, comfortably snuggled into the hay, I contemplated the change in my circumstances these visitors might bring about. My habit was to hide from strangers. But would I now be called to eat my meals at the top table of the great hall as a daughter of the house? Time would tell.

My ears caught the sound of my father’s voice in the stalls below. Cautiously, I pushed aside a pile of hay and sought a crack where the planking had shrunk with age. I pressed my eye to it. It allowed me an imperfect view of my father standing in the gloom of the stable below. I could make out the bald patch in his red hair almost directly below. He was standing close to the chaplain, and both were speaking in lowered voices. What was the chaplain doing in the stables? He almost never rode.

‘Have you become squeamish of a sudden? What is wrong with you that you do not carry out my orders?’ hissed Sir Walter. His voice was easy to hear; he never could speak quietly.

The chaplain’s soft voice was much harder to make out. ‘I can assure your lordship … the cordial … Lady Elizabeth recovered.’

‘There must be other ways,’ snarled Sir Walter.

The chaplain hushed him anxiously. ‘Please, my lord … more quietly. Not without falling under suspicion … ’

‘I cannot believe how you have bungled this,’ my father growled. I saw him grasp the chaplain by the front of his robe, shake him and push him back against the wall of the stable.

‘Four years!’ he exclaimed, his voice growing louder again. He was viciously twisting the fabric of the chaplain’s garment. ‘You know how important this is. You are not even trying.’

The chaplain, clearly desperate to defend himself, forgot to keep his voice low:

‘Sir Walter, I have tried everything. She does not die. It must be witchcraft,’ he gasped.

There was a moment’s silence. I could not see their expressions from this angle. My heart was pounding in my chest. It was my mother they were discussing.

Suddenly my father released the chaplain and he fell grovelling in the straw, panting and wheezing as he recovered his breath.

‘My patience wears thin,’ I heard Sir Walter threaten coldly. ‘Think of something.’

He left the stables. The chaplain remained, rubbing his throat. Then he too got up quietly and left.

I lay back in the hay, my heart hammering.

So Mother had indeed been poisoned, and on my father’s orders. Why? Even after four years, I still did not know why he persecuted her. And now she was almost certainly in terrible danger once more. We were surrounded by enemies. I had to do something.