“You swine’s head!” Hugh swore, shaking his fist in William’s face. William backed even further toward the wall. “If John de Bretton murdered Osbert, we shall find it out—and find out who it was commanded it! I shall question him myself!”
“Well, then,” William said, making a show of bravado, “shall we reconvene the assize, then? All must be wondering and waiting.”
“Aye,” Hugh answered. “And if I find you complicit in slurs upon my honor, by Jesu I will call you out and challenge you to a duel!”
William paled again. He straightened his cap and looked at Hugh. “You will not find that necessary, I trow,” he said, not meeting Hugh’s angry eyes.
“We shall soon see,” Hugh snapped.
Now to get to the bottom of this with John de Bretton, Hugh told himself. If John had murdered Osbert, ‘twould be most grievous for him. Eleanor would not want Mary to wed him—but—did he wish to wed Mary, anymore? Hugh sighed heavily. The vision of Eleanor, her dark brown curls tumbling about her face, rose up in front of his eyes. She was not going to speak to him, ever, she had said.
How was he going to resolve this?
Chapter Sixteen
“Surrender, since Love wishes it, peacefully, and with good grace.”
- Le Roman de la Rose, 13th c.
Eleanor watched William and Hugh emerge from the Great Hall and descend the steps into the bailey, now even more crowded with peasants, knights, and ladies, waiting for the assize to continue, everyone talking and laughing loudly. As the two men took their chairs in front of the assembly, Eleanor noticed that William seemed pale and Hugh—well—Hugh looked as if he were simmering with anger, his jaw set and his face stern. Hugh looked the way she felt. In truth, she still felt flayed alive after Hugh’s slurs on her honor and his insinuations about Osbert. What had William and Hugh been speaking of? Had Hugh said something to William as terrible as he had said to her? William certainly deserved whatever Hugh said—she did not!
Next to her, Mary reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Hugh has such a hard face,” she whispered. “I cannot imagine wedding him!”
Eleanor returned the squeeze. “Nay, sister, I shall find a way, so that you shall have your Henry.” She dearly hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt. Involuntarily, she looked at Hugh, and found to her great consternation that he was staring at her. Her face suddenly heated, and she quickly lowered her eyes. Looking down at her ring on her hand, she began twisting it back and forth.
Her emotions were still raw after his rude accusations on the way into the Great Hall before the meal. How could he have said those base and cruel things to her? She could not abide them! How could he have been so arrogant and mean-spirited? His words were truly a slap in the face, especially when she shamefacedly remembered the feelings she had for Hugh that had been confusing her so profoundly. Those feelings of passion wracked her in the middle of the night, and woke her, shivering, pulling the covers up tightly around her neck. Sometimes, she had to splash icy water on her face from the pitcher in her solar, waking Agnes, who would begin grumbling and asking what was the matter.
Sitting here in the late afternoon sun, she could still feel Hugh’s arms around her, stroking her, pulling her closer… Could he have already forgotten their embrace but a few hours ago? And then—not but a few hours later—he had humiliated and angered her by his accusations of her bedding Osbert and making Agnes lie for her!
Still, she reluctantly acknowledged to herself, the memory of that kiss burned within her. Although she had vowed to Mary that she would never speak to him again, in her heart, she knew that was not possible. Arrangements still had to be made regarding Mary’s betrothal, and then there was the matter of the poachings… Eleanor rubbed her ring on the sleeve of her surcoat, back and forth, hard. She could not imagine how she would be able to deal with Hugh again.
“John de Bretton, come forth!” Hugh called out, not waiting for William.
“Yes, come forth!” William echoed, weakly.
John, hunting cap in his hands, approached William and Hugh. “Aye, good lords?”
“You are my servant, my chief forester,” Hugh asserted. “Do you know anything about how Osbert le Fraunceys was murdered so coldly this day?” He folded his arms across his chest and stared implacably at John.
Marry, but he was strong-willed! Eleanor thought. Here he was now wresting control of the assize from William—and William only followed Hugh’s lead, sitting hang-dog in his chair, eyes watching Hugh. Truly, Hugh was a fearsome opponent. She swallowed hard. He was a man to be reckoned with—in more ways than one. He had been so cruel in his false accusations of her, and it seemed he had not cared a fig for how she felt, which was hurt and demeaned. The man had no sensibility, none whatsoever, and rode roughshod o’er all, never trusting a soul. She shook her head.
John glanced around him at the crowd and looked back at William. He cleared his throat. “I, sire, know nothing of this murder.”
“Then why do you speak of hearing gossip regarding Osbert and his poaching and you chose to do nothing?” Hugh challenged him. “This poaching was occurring in your forest, the one you are held to accounts for, are you not?”
“I—I—”
