Rhuddlan (12 page)

“Where’s Gwalaes?” Eleanor demanded.

“I—I don’t know, my lady,” the girl
stammered. “I was told to come up here and see to you.”

“Who told you?”

“Sir Miles, my lady.”

“Have you seen Gwalaes?”

“No, my lady. Only Sir Miles.” She looked
nervously at Eleanor. “He said the earl has arranged for some of
the ladies to help you dress this morning.”

“Gwalaes is the only help I need!” Eleanor
said angrily. “Where is she?” But it was apparent she could get no
other answer from the girl and she gestured for her to continue
making the fire. With obvious relief, the servant turned away.

Not long afterward there was a quick knock on
the door and two finely dressed women entered the room without
waiting for a response. Eleanor recognized them as the wives of two
of Hugh’s retainers. They informed her that they had come to help
her with her toilet and stood over her bed, staring down at her
impassively and, she thought, a bit contemptuously. If she had had
Gwalaes’ nerve, she would have ordered them to go; instead, she
wilted under the unblinking scrutiny and got out of the bed.

“The earl wishes to see you at Mass this
morning, my lady,” one of them said after Eleanor had been dressed
and her hair brushed and veiled.

But the idea of leaving her apartment without
Gwalaes to help her made her shiver. “Please tell the earl I don’t
feel well,” she answered. “Perhaps this afternoon I will visit the
chapel.”

The two women glanced at each other. The
second one said, “The earl specifically mentioned it, my lady.
We’re to escort you.”

Sudden annoyance flashed through Eleanor. She
had always been patient and cautious and generally unaffected by
waves of strong emotion but this morning she was worried about
Gwalaes and resented the unwelcome intrusion. “I have a headache,”
she said. Her voice sounded firm and she was encouraged enough to
add, “I will stay here and wait for Gwalaes to come.”

“But your chit won’t come!” the first one
said, frowning. “The earl will be very angry, my lady!”

She decided she didn’t care. What could he do
to her that he hadn’t already done?

They were both staring at her again but this
time their expressions ranged from shock to disbelief. She felt
some measure of power in denying her husband’s orders, especially
when she read in their faces that they would never dare the same.
She sat down on the cushioned bench below the window and gazed up
at them, seemingly unperturbed. “You had better go, or you’ll miss
Mass.”

They looked at each other again but short of
physically dragging her away, there wasn’t anything they could do.
After they had gone, the serving girl, who had finished making up
the fire and tidying the bedchamber, crept towards the door. “You!”
Eleanor called sharply and the girl froze. “Find Gwalaes and send
her to me immediately!”

But it wasn’t Gwalaes who came; it was Hugh.
He didn’t even bother to knock—he just swept the door back with
enough force to send it thudding off the wall and walked in. She
had been leaning on the windowsill, waiting for Gwalaes, wondering
what was keeping her, imagining that she was still angry and she
jumped at the sudden noise. She turned around, saw her husband’s
thunderous face and quailed. Her earlier bravado fled. Before she
could react he had crossed the floor, grabbed her forearm and
backhanded her across her cheek. She cried out once involuntarily
but otherwise made no noise, just fell to the floor under the
impact when he released his grip. Her hand flew up to her face. She
didn’t get up, having learned that any action or word on her part
only served to inflame him further while if she remained quiet and
inert his anger ebbed away much more quickly.

“When I give an order, I expect it obeyed,”
he said, his voice low and taut. “Do you understand that?”

She nodded, not looking at him. “Yes, my
lord.”

“You will no longer take meals in this room.
I want you seated next to me at breakfast in quarter of an
hour.”

She didn’t reply. She heard him turn on his
heel and cross the floor as quickly as he’d come in. She stole a
glance in his direction and was mortified when she saw his captain,
Roger of Haworth, standing in the doorway and just behind him the
two women who had dressed her. No one had ever witnessed his
brutality before, not even Gwalaes.

Gwalaes! Her humiliation was forgotten. “My
lord, please!” she said urgently, scrambling to her feet. “Can you
tell me why Gwalaes is being denied to me?”

He stopped just short of the door and turned
around deliberately. “Denied to you?” he repeated. He shook his
head. “She isn’t.”

Eleanor was bewildered. “But she hasn’t come
yet…”

Hugh had been furious only a moment before
but now she thought she saw a grim little smile on his face. “Nor
will she,” he said.

“I don’t understand…” The smile frightened
her more than his knuckles across her cheek had. Obviously he knew
horrible news concerning Gwalaes.

Instead of answering, he deferred to Haworth.
“Roger?”

Haworth’s voice was devoid of emotion.
“According to the guards on the main gate, the girl left at dawn
with the Young King’s messengers, Countess.”

There was a moment’s shocked silence. Then
she burst out, “No! It’s impossible!” and her stunned eyes darted
from one man to the other and back again.

Hugh snorted, his smile growing tighter and
grimmer. “I didn’t expect you to believe me, of course. Ask who you
want, look where you’d like. She’s gone.” His tone turned
impatient. “She never liked Chester, Eleanor! And frankly, Chester
is better off without her.”

Eleanor could only stare in disbelief at him.
“It isn’t so! She would never leave me!”

“Obviously you’re wrong,” he replied. His
eyes were cold, unfeeling. Eleanor wondered how she had ever
thought them beautiful. Now she hated blue eyes…

She turned away from them. She heard his
terse voice remind her of her appointment for breakfast, she heard
a jumble of noise as everyone moved out of the doorway and started
down the stair, she heard Haworth make a comment of some kind; she
heard Hugh laugh heartily in response. It was enough to twist her
stomach until she felt sick…Gwalaes…Had their last argument really
been so horrible? All their arguments? She didn’t doubt the truth
of the story Haworth had told her; it was in Gwalaes’ impetuous
nature to grab the first opportunity that came her way.

Eleanor felt betrayed. She turned to face the
window and looked blindly out onto the ward, the main gate in the
near distance. Gwalaes had often spoken about somehow escaping
Chester but such schemes had always included her. Of course Eleanor
would never have gone; how could Gwalaes have thought otherwise? At
Chester she was a countess. All she had to do was produce an heir
for Hugh and she was certain his aggression towards her would
diminish and their relationship would revert to the polite
disinterestedness it had once been…

But in the meantime she needed Gwalaes. She
hadn’t a friend at Chester besides Gwalaes and the other girl knew
that. Eleanor became more angry than upset. It wasn’t right that
Gwalaes should simply leave her; it wasn’t the act of a true
friend.

Five weeks later, Hugh, Haworth and fifty men
left for Avranches.

It was hardly an easy time to travel; winter
had started early and already, in mid-November, a thin shroud of
wet snow lay over the countryside. The earl had an advantage in
that he could cross the breadth of England and stay in one of his
own properties practically every night but Eleanor hoped anyway
that he might freeze to death on his horse. Or failing that, fall
overboard and drown when he sailed to Normandy.

He was the reason Gwalaes had fled Chester;
the girl had never made a secret of the fact that she didn’t like
him and as the days passed, Eleanor became more convinced that this
dislike was what had caused Gwalaes to leave. His harsh treatment
of her since her brother’s death had made Eleanor frightened of
him. But his driving away of Gwalaes, her only friend and
companion, caused her to despise him with a ferocity which Gwalaes
herself would have admired. She became withdrawn but not subdued;
she sat by his side at all meals but never spoke, she suffered his
physical abuse but wouldn’t cry and tolerated his intimacy as if
she were a statue, with the result that he soon stopped coming to
her door. She spent most of her time in the solar, absently
embroidering or sewing and listening with half an ear to the
gossiping of her ladies but said not a word herself. Sir Miles
avoided her. She had once been the queen of Chester and everyone
had greeted her respectfully, but the fickle crowd took its cue
from its lord and master and when Hugh was observed to be treating
his wife disdainfully, those who once listened to what she had to
say no longer bothered. After Gwalaes disappeared and Eleanor
withdrew into herself, they ignored her almost totally. There was a
rumor afoot that when the earl returned from whatever business had
taken him to Normandy, he would seek to have his marriage annulled
on any grounds his counselors could devise; more likely than not,
the fact that they had been married for longer than a year and the
countess was not yet pregnant.

But Eleanor
was
pregnant.

She had suspected since September, after
missing her bleeding for the second time, but she hadn’t told
Gwalaes because her monthly fluxes were never very regular and
she’d wanted to wait another month. After all, she was barely
seventeen; she wasn’t certain if the changes to her body were
merely further signs of maturation or something more dire. Then,
also, she’d wanted to keep the secret—if, indeed, she were
pregnant—to herself for a while. With Hugh controlling so much of
her life and Gwalaes haranguing her from the other side, this was
one thing that was hers alone, and there was something satisfying
and even joy-inspiring about hiding such important knowledge in
herself. She had little else to make her happy at Chester.

By the time she was certain she was carrying
a child, Gwalaes was gone. Now the knowledge became slightly
terrifying. She had no close acquaintances among the ladies in the
castle and certainly none whom she could trust. It was suddenly
frightening to be solely responsible for this life inside her; it
seemed so fragile, so tenuous that she found herself taking care to
conduct her movements with the utmost vigilance. She might have
blurted out the news to Hugh if he’d continued to raise his fists
to her, but since Gwalaes’ departure, he had bothered her less and
less.

Hugh would have to know some time she
supposed. This was what he had been waiting so impatiently to
happen. This was the whole reason for her existence at Chester. She
thought darkly to herself that once he had his son from her, she
would become superfluous. Perhaps he would send her to one of his
lesser castles to live out the remainder of her days. She would
never see her child again…

Not long after the earl and his party had
gone, Eleanor was awakened one gloomy morning by the girl who came
to her chamber every day to open the shutters, pour fresh water for
the countess’ toilet and build up the fire. Eleanor seldom paid her
any attention nor conversed with her but this morning some piece of
the girl’s attire as she leaned forward to light the oil lamp
caught her attention, and she called sharply for her to come near
the bed.

“Where did you find that pin?” she demanded.
Unconsciously, the girl put her hand to the round metal ornament
which decorated her otherwise plain brown gown. “Take it off and
let me see it!”

Hastily, the girl pulled it up and handed it
to Eleanor. “It was a gift, my lady! I didn’t find it, it was given
to me!”

Eleanor stared at the item in her hand. It
was a small pin of no great workmanship; a fusion of twisted wires
representing something only its maker could name, but Alan d’Arques
was, after all, a soldier and not a craftsman. Still, Gwalaes had
treasured it and worn it always…

“Who gave it to you?” she
asked, and was nervously told a name which meant nothing to her.
“Where did
he
get
it?”

“I don’t know, my lady.” The girl looked at
her, suddenly appalled. “I’m sure he didn’t steal it!”

“I want to see him,” Eleanor said. “Fetch him
here now. Quickly, before those two old crones come to dress
me.”

She heaved the covers back and got out of the
bed. Her heart was pounding and her breathing was labored; her
whole body was tight with anticipation. She cautioned herself to
remain calm. The explanation was most likely very simple. Gwalaes
probably just dropped the thing…or maybe she’d used it as a bribe
to get herself out of Chester and whoever she’d given it to had
dropped it…maybe, even, she had given it to this young man herself
for some reason and he in turn had given it to the girl he was
wooing…But she couldn’t shake her feeling of apprehension. The pin
had been one of Gwalaes’ most prized possessions; surely there had
been other items she might have used to barter.

Finally they came. It wasn’t proper for
Eleanor to have a strange man in her chamber, especially when she
was wearing only her mantle over her shift and her hair was loose,
but she didn’t care what sort of impression she was making. She sat
on the stool next to the brazier and tucked her bare feet
underneath the hem of the cloak for warmth.

She showed the young man, one of the castle’s
garrison soldiers, the pin and repeated the question she’d asked
her servant. He answered immediately that he had found it on the
ground.

“Where? In the ward? In the hall?”

“Neither place, my lady,” he said. “I found
it at the postern.”