Eleanor nodded. “I told him I would never speak with him again! He trusts no one—he does not believe than anyone is capable of acting with honor—without ulterior motives!”
“You, of all,” Mary breathed, “to accuse you of dishonor!”
“He has had more than his share of those whom he could not trust,” Eleanor said, “but, I cannot brook what he accused me of! Here I even defended him against William while we were at Litchfield, when William tried to accuse him of the poachings! He is unbelievably arrogant. Upon my peril, I cannot deal with him. Hugh has no sensibility, no feeling, nothing but disdain for everyone.”
“You speak true,” Mary agreed. “Dear sister, I cannot imagine being wed to Hugh!” Her face twisted with worry, and she glanced toward the end of the table, where Henry sat.
Following her gaze, Eleanor tightened her mouth. “Do not worry, Mary,” she promised. “I will find a way to protect you from Hugh, and, perhaps, even for you to wed Henry, if that is your wish.”
Mary’s face lit up as with a thousand candles. “Oh, Eleanor!” she said, ‘”twould be as a dream!”
“I am still sorting things out in my own mind,” Eleanor said, “about how to work the alliances and try to make William think he is getting what he wants. Although,” she sighed, “I think what he wants is me.” She looked down at her trencher for a moment and then back up at Mary. “I truly think I would agree to marry him if he would allow you to stay in England and marry Henry if I cannot find another way.”
“Oh, dearest sister!” Mary exclaimed, throwing her arm around Eleanor. “You cannot sacrifice yourself for me! I will do what is required of me, and follow your lead. I do so promise.”
Hugh looked over at the outburst, as did the rest of the diners at the table. The two sisters were so close, ‘twas easy to see. How could he wed Mary—and have Eleanor so near at hand? He sunk his chin in his hand and contemplated the goblet of wine. Nay, he could not. His nights were already fraught with dreams of Eleanor, and these would come only more frequently, should he see her more often, he was certain. To have these thoughts about his wife’s sister? By his sword, he could not do so! Not only that, but he most certainly would not wed a woman who pined for someone else, as Mary did for Henry! That would bring on disaster, and after Caroline, he wanted no more of that. Pah! He spat on the rush-covered floor, startling a dog begging at his chair and sending it whining and scuttling under the table.
“Hush!” Eleanor said, disengaging herself from Mary’s hug, and patting Mary’s arm in reassurance. “I shall find something—some way—but I don’t know yet what it will be.”
“Thank you, dear Eleanor,” Mary said. “You are a dear, dear sister.”
“What is this about?” William asked, turning from his conversation and leaning over to Eleanor. “What is this commotion?”
Eleanor flushed at his question. How could she extricate herself? “Naught,” she answered. “I merely told Mary that she would not have to play the lute for the company. You know how shy she is.” She studied William’s expression. Did he believe her?
He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, but then shrugged. “Women!” he exclaimed. Gulping down the rest of his wine, leaving little rivulets staining his beard, he got up. “To the courtyard,” he announced.
Now! Hugh told himself. Getting out of his chair, he reached out a hand and accosted William. Annoyed, William halted and turned toward Hugh.
“What ‘tis it?” he asked, displeasure flooding his face.
“You know well,” Hugh snapped. He jerked his head toward the hearth. “We must speak.”
William looked around at the Great Hall, now being deserted, save for the servants clearing the tables. “Speak, then,” he grumbled. “But make haste, for I must continue the assize.”
Hugh advanced on William, forcing him almost to the wall, glaring at him. “You knave!” he barked at William. “By arms, blood, and bones, you assault my honor and try my patience sorely!”
William backed up, his face turning purple. “What right have you to accuse me of besmirching your honor?” he blustered.
“Hah!” Hugh scoffed. “You know very well what I’m talking about. Everyone at Wykeham heard of what you accuse me! The servants’ gossiping, the foresters’ whispering, and even my own knights all have heard the tale. Think you to keep a secret in the castle?”
“I don’t know what you’re saying!” William answered, but his reply sounded half-hearted to Hugh. Knowing how idle gossip and overheard conversations ran rampant everywhere, Hugh had determined to use that as his ploy—that he didn’t know who had overheard Eleanor’s and William’s conversation in the chapel, but some pair of listening ears had done so, and it was now common knowledge. How could he lay the blame at Eleanor’s feet when she had defended him? In all good conscience, even though she was too trusting, he could not forget what Anne had said about how Eleanor had protested William’s accusation of Hugh’s involvement in the poaching.
“You,” Hugh muttered from between clenched teeth, “you accuse me of conspiring to cause poaching in the forest—in my own forest, as well as that of Strathcombe. You call my loyalty into question—my loyalty to King Edward, my liege lord and my Crusade companion! Think you that I would break the Law of the Forest?”
“’Twas just a thought, a random, passing thought,” William blustered, his face paling. “I meant nothing by it.”
“Nay, ‘twas no random, passing thought,” Hugh mimicked William sarcastically. “And, further, I am sure you think to accuse me of Osbert’s murder, next!”
The blood drained from William’s face. Hugh was pleased to see he had struck a nerve in William—and without bringing Eleanor into the conversation. It would have been too easy for William to blame Eleanor for bearing tales that were not true about William’s accusation.
“N-nay, but of
