The Winter Love Read online

  This was more comfortable than the way they had travelled before. She could balance more easily and the motion was easier to bear. She was also able to see where they were going and had a real idea of the speed at which they were covering the ground. Now that the stranger could give his full attention to the horse she found that she was no longer afraid. He knew what he was doing and the horse responded to him. It seemed to her that they were joined together, the horse merely an extension of his body.

  Before the afternoon disappeared into night they came into a town and the man guided the horse into the courtyard of one of the inns. Eleanor managed to scramble down without his help, sensing that it wouldn’t help her disguise if he helped the boy who was his servant from the horse. As she did so, she realised that she had not done so out of fear that he would hurt her, but because she had taken him at his word. He was not abducting her; he was, it seemed, saving her. The man landed lightly beside her and gave her the reins.

  “Take him into the stables and tell the ostler that you’re sick and can’t care properly for Solomon.” Although it was vital to the disguise that she appear to be his servant, he must be trusting her not to run away. But how could she? It was not as if she could climb onto the horse and ride back to the convent and she would not get far in the dark autumn night on foot.

  He eased the reins into her hands and she reached up to stroke Solomon’s face, but turned to face him. “I may not know how to ride a horse, but I know how to take care of him. And I won’t try to run away. I have no idea where I am and no way of convincing someone to take me back to the convent.” To her disappointment his expression did not change. He looked as if he had expected this revelation since he had thrown her up onto his horse. She knew, once again, the feeling of catching up to his thoughts a long time after he had had them.

  “I’m glad that you have seen sense. My name’s Henry Attewood. You’ll have to ask for me when you come into the inn. He turned to walk into the inn, then turned back and added, “Your name is Tom.”

  Eleanor took hold of Solomon’s reins and started to lead him away. The big horse was hesitant and tossed his head uncertainly. She felt Henry’s eyes on her, but didn’t allow him to worry her; she knew about horses and knew that Solomon would go with her. In another day he would sooner go with her than with Henry. Stroking Solomon’s nose and whispering soothing things to him, she took a stronger grip on the reins and led him to the stables. Once she had established her superiority over him, he surrendered to her easily enough. The ostler had shown her where Solomon would spend the night with a bad grace. Eleanor guessed that he was used to dominating the boys who looked after their masters’ horses, but she was not afraid of him. She had stood up to a much better man than him today; an ostler held no fear for her.

  She considered Solomon. It would take all her attention to care for him. The horses at the convent were workhorses who spent their days in the fields and followed the nuns wherever they were led. Solomon, on the other hand, was a highly-strung warhorse. He had been trained to do certain things in a certain way and giving in to the will of a small woman was not something he would be used to.

  One of the things that Eleanor liked about looking after the horses at the convent was that it gave her time to think. The events of this day needed much thought, but she doubted Solomon would give her much opportunity to think. She had no idea why she was here or who the men had been and she was beginning to feel that Henry did not know either. She sighed quietly.

  Solomon stood perfectly still so that she could remove his saddle. This gave Eleanor some pause. She normally had the help of another sister when she was removing horses from carts at the convent and she doubted she would be able to remove the saddle without help. Solomon was tall and the saddle looked heavy.

  “That’s a big horse for a small lad,” said the ostler. “You’ll never get that saddle off.”

  And if I do, she thought, I won’t be able to carry it anywhere. She wondered if a boy like the one she was supposed to be would ask the ostler for help. She looked around the stables; there must be a lad somewhere who could help her. For the first time she wondered where she would sleep. She suspected that a servant was supposed to sleep with the saddle, probably in the stable.

  “No, he won’t get it off.” Henry’s voice was amused and Eleanor looked up in time to see him step into the stable and come towards her. “It always amuses the stable boys wherever we stop. He’s far too small for that, but that’s not why I bring him with me.”

  The ostler smirked. Henry noticed and took a step towards him. The smile that had briefly lifted his lips disappeared and was replaced by something surprisingly hard and cold. He had not looked at her like that, she realised. She thought now that he might be capable of cruelty, but not towards her. The other man stood his ground for a moment then turned away and busied himself with something by the door.

  Eleanor did not understand the silent exchange, but the ostler felt the insult and Eleanor wondered if she or Solomon would pay for it later. Henry crossed the stable and moved her gently out of the way and removed the saddle himself. “I’ll take it with me. There will be food for you in the kitchen when you’re ready. When you’ve eaten come and find me in the inn.”

  Henry’s movements as he walked through the stable seemed unhindered by the weight of the saddle. They were fluid and graceful. She watched him attentively. Eleanor had not seen many men in the years she had lived in the convent. There had been young priests who had come to meet the sisters’ spiritual needs, but none of them had moved like Henry. His movements were graceful and purposeful at the same time. The ostler sniggered and Eleanor realised that it was probably not a good thing for a servant boy to stare at his master in the way that she had been staring at Henry. And she knew that she had been staring.

  “Keep away from my horse,” Henry said as he drew level with the ostler. His voice was hard and cold. He could have spoken to her like this, but he had not, even when he had told her not to scream. Yet another thing for her to consider. “The reason I keep the small boy is because my horse killed all the other lads who got close to him.”

  The ostler spat. “Ain’t no horse going to kill me.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Henry sauntered off, whistling.

  Eleanor was surprised that this exchange brought a smile to her face and her heart felt lighter. She hid her smile as she took up a brush to start working on Solomon. All the time she talked to him under her breath and told him what a wonderful animal he was and how well he had done today. Solomon nuzzled her every now and again and she was grateful that he, at least, behaved in the way that she expected. Looking after the horses was her favourite job in the convent and she would never get the chance to look after such a fine horse again.

  “Only got the one horse has he?”

  The ostler was standing just behind her. She had not even heard him move. This angered her. She had been kidnapped by one man because she had not been paying attention to where she was going and now another had got close enough to hurt her because she had been enjoying herself too much. There was much danger outside of the convent and she was alone now. Henry wasn’t going to come out of the inn to help her this time.

  “No.” Eleanor hoped that this wasn’t a lie. Henry didn’t look as if he could even afford to own this horse, let alone more. She did not turn to look at him, but continued to brush Solomon.

  “Why aren’t you riding a horse, then?”

  Did servants ride their own horses? Eleanor had no idea. How should she answer the ostler? Anything she could think of would be a lie and might be contradicted by Henry.

  “My master didn’t tell me.” It sounded weak, but she hoped that it might be the way that some masters were.

  “Aye. He looks arrogant enough, that one.”

  Eleanor wondered how a servant would react to such a statement. Should she defend her ‘master’ or should she agree? Solomon saved her by nibbling her shoulder. “Where’s the f
eed?” she asked. The ostler showed her and after she had made Solomon comfortable she sought out her own dinner.

  The kitchen was easy enough to find, but not because of the smell of food. There was a fight of some kind going on in there and servants of other travellers were gathered round trying to get a look. Eleanor was smaller than most of them and managed to work her way to the front. Two men were wrestling on the floor. One was almost as tall as Henry, the other was much shorter, but more muscular. The smaller man was sitting on the tall man, who was on the ground, raining blows down upon his chest. The man underneath tried to get free, but could not avoid the other man’s fists. Finally he managed to catch one as it landed on his chest and he pulled the other man off balance enough to allow himself to wriggle free. He kicked the other man as he stood. Eleanor shuddered as she heard a crunch that could only mean a broken bone; although whose it was she could not tell. Neither of the men gave any sign.

  The servants were shouting encouragement to one or the other of the men. Now that she was at the front Eleanor didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to watch, but she couldn’t get back through the men behind her. Both the men on the floor were badly battered and cuts on their faces were bleeding freely. They were half naked and their bodies were covered in sweat, bruises and blood. The servants around her were cursing and the crush of bodies was making it uncomfortably hot. She didn’t think a servant would faint under such circumstances, but she began to feel light-headed. Just as she was beginning to try to work her way back through the crowd a strong hand gripped the back of her tunic and pulled her round.

  “This isn’t how I want you to spend the evening, Tom.” Henry pulled her roughly through the crowd, but he was also supporting her. He set her on a stool. “Stay here.” Then he went back into the crowd. Eleanor wondered what he was going to do until she heard the crowd shouting at him. He was stopping the fight.

  “What’s this noise about?” Eleanor almost fell off the stool as a voice roared from behind her. The servants disappeared in seconds and she could see Henry holding the two men apart from one another. They were struggling, but they weren’t very enthusiastic about it. “The favourite, I think,” said Henry, nodding towards the shorter of the two men.

  “They’re neither of them mine.” Was this the innkeeper? “Where’s my cook? Where are my serving girls?”

  “Probably had enough sense to leave as soon as the fight started.” Henry looked directly at Eleanor as he spoke. She felt the criticism was just, but there was so much she didn’t know about life outside the convent. When she had seen the fight she hadn’t known whether this was normal behaviour in an inn. Now she sensed that it might be not very usual and she was to keep out of the way.

  Henry let both men drop to the floor and stepped over them as he returned to Eleanor. He looked over her and addressed the other man. “In view of the company in your inn tonight, my servant will sleep with me. He’s too young to be able to protect himself against this kind of behaviour. Tom, get a bowl of whatever’s in the pot and bring it into the other room. The closer you stay to me the better.”

  Henry brushed past the innkeeper without waiting for a response and Eleanor got to her feet. The innkeeper was looking after Henry with the same expression on his face as the ostler had had. Eleanor was glad that Henry could not see it. She found a small wooden bowl and helped herself from the pot that was boiling on top of the fire and carried it carefully into the room where various people were sitting around tables and eating. Without exception the other guests were men. No one turned to look at her as she passed through looking for Henry. Henry was easy to find and she sat down opposite him. He acknowledged her with a nod as she began to eat. The food was surprisingly good and she was hungrier that she had thought.

  As she felt more at ease, Eleanor couldn’t help examining her surroundings. At first she was content to look at the room itself. It was a large hall. Most of the light came from the fire at one end; the rest came from the candles, tallow she guessed from the smell. Once she became aware of that smell she noticed the others. Although the rushes were fairly fresh, they were soiled and much of the unpleasant odour in the room came from them. She could see where dirt from outside had been trodden into them, some of it from the street and some from the stables. Dogs scrabbled around under the tables for scraps and part of the smell was attributable to them. Despite spending the day with him, she had not grown used to the way Henry smelt and she hoped that he would wash before they set off tomorrow.

  Now she gave her attention to the people in the room. She was struck by the colours of their clothes. At the convent the nuns wore black and the few servants wore sober colours. Here each person, save Henry, was brighter than the flowers in the convent herb garden. She wondered whether it was Henry or the other travellers who would be considered unusual. Doubtless she would find out. None of the travellers appeared to be very well off and she wondered if they hid their wealth for safety. Perhaps Henry did the same and he could be really wealthy, rather than the impoverished youngest son he appeared. She studied him, unobtrusively. Henry’s clothes were old and worn, but had been cared for. His hair was light, although dirty enough that she could not tell its real colour, and longer than that of the other men in the room. His eyes were clear and his gaze unwavering. If he could not see into her soul, he must come very close. His tunic hung on him as if it had once belonged to a bigger man. It was Solomon who did not fit into her picture of Henry. He was not a horse owned by a poor man to work the land. There were plenty of those at the convent and he would be out of place there. He was a war horse and had probably been to war. They were not so cut off in the convent that they hadn’t heard of the recent victory in France. Yes, Henry must have fought at Poitiers and now he was on his way home. A poor soldier and not a poor landowner, then, or a rich soldier, or a soldier who had had the good luck to find a splendid horse whose master had been killed. Perhaps he had been injured; that would account for the lack of flesh on him. Eleanor was satisfied with this conclusion and she looked more closely at Henry himself. She suspected that under the beard his face might be pleasing, but his beard was untidy as if other things were more important than how he looked. Henry noticed her watching him and she blinked and went back to her food.

  Had he really rescued her and if he had, what had he rescued her from? These questions would have to wait. This was not the place to ask them, but they were all she could think of. Eleanor began to wonder whether Solomon might have been stolen. Despite her earlier conclusion that he was spoils of war, she now thought that Henry was surely too poor to own such a horse. Even if he had taken him from a dead man, how had he been able to afford to bring him back to England? Eleanor considered this as she looked around the room. He had stolen her; he could easily steal a horse. The small amount of trust that she had begun to put in him disappeared. Just because he had told her that he wasn’t a slaver didn’t mean that he was telling the truth. Eleanor sighed. She wanted to trust Henry; she felt that he was worth her trust, but he had told her nothing and she still had no idea why he had taken her from the convent.

  “You showed more sense this morning.” Henry’s quiet voice broke into her thoughts.

  Eleanor stopped eating and looked across the table at him.

  “You ran away from a fight,” he explained.

  She swallowed what was in her mouth before she spoke. “I didn’t know what was going on until I got to the front.”

  “Next time don’t try to get to the front, just hide somewhere. Keeping you safe is hard work.”

  “You’re my protector, then?”

  He frowned. “I thought we were agreed on that.”

  Eleanor took another spoonful from her bowl. “Not yet.” She started to chew.

  “We will discuss this later.” Henry looked meaningfully around the room, which was now quite full.

  Eleanor followed his gaze and was relieved to see that no one was looking at them. She wondered why that was. Then she thought, sur
ely she had only to say that Henry had abducted her from the convent and one of these travellers would help her. Henry seemed not to fear that she would do so; he sat at ease watching her eat. Who was he? Why had he taken her and where was he taking her? She could not ask these questions here, but she must ask them soon.

  Although he sat completely still, his eyes moved all the time and she doubted that they missed much. That he was strong, she already knew, but how would he fare if he really had to protect her? All he had done today was steal her away from the convent; they had not met any of the other men. If he had had to fight would they be sitting in this inn tonight, or would the other men have taken her or killed her or hurt her? In the middle of chewing a mouthful she yawned. Henry noticed immediately and she didn’t bother to try to hide from him how tired she was. He, too, looked tired. She had not thought about the strain that the day might have made on him. His lips had the same pinched look that Sister Elizabeth’s had on the days when her feet were particularly painful. He must be in pain, although he didn’t move like a man in pain. She was ashamed to think it, but she might be able to find a way to use his pain to force him to take her back to the convent.

  “Have you finished your food?”

  Eleanor looked into her bowl and took the last spoonful from it. “Now I have.”

  “Then let us forego the pleasure of whatever tales these travellers have to tell and let us go to bed.”

  Now Eleanor realised that she had something else to worry about; he meant for them to share a room, perhaps a bed.

  “Do not worry, little one, there will be none of that this night,” whispered Henry. To her surprise she realised that this was not a lie.

  Eleanor had not thought her face so expressive, but she nodded, to show that she trusted him. There were some candles by the fire. Henry took one and lit it in the fire. He led the way up the stairs to their room and opened the door, allowing her to precede him into it. He followed with the candle and she could see that the small space was almost entirely taken up by the bed.