She watched as Hugh froze, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. This was exactly the sort of outspoken behaviour that had incensed Eleanor’s first husband, leading to the punishments he’d inflicted on her.
‘I don’t believe I have ever asked for your heart, and nor shall I be offering mine in return.’ He took a deep breath before softening his voice. ‘You are a shrewd, intelligent woman, and we both know that our alliance has been brought about against our wishes by King John. But it has happened and we must make the best of it.’ He paused before continuing. ‘So allow me to court you. Properly this time.’
She gaped at him in disbelief, not quite trusting anything he said. Hugh de Villiers seemed kind, and understanding, and apparently nothing like her late husband—but he was still a man used to getting his own way.
Could she trust that he would not force her when she didn’t come to him willingly? Until she knew him better there was no way of knowing. She was not so naïve as to swallow all his rational words now, when they might become irrational later, once he’d realised she would not change her mind about coming to the marital bed. What then?
Eventually she nodded cautiously. ‘Very well, my lord.’
‘Good.’ He took a sip from his goblet. ‘And I think I have just the thing for us to do—unless you’d prefer to go to sleep?’
Sleep?
Did Hugh de Villiers really believe that she could sleep easily knowing he was sharing the room with her? Even on a separate pallet, with the bed curtain shut tightly, he would still be there...sleeping in the same chamber...near her.
She gulped. ‘No, I’m not ready for sleep yet.’
‘Good. Well, in that case, we shall do something else.’
She blinked several times. ‘Do something else?’ she repeated, confused.
He smirked as he strode to the coffer and pulled out a medium-sized rectangular object covered in woollen cloth. ‘Apart from my horse, my sword and gaining my spurs, this is my most prized possession.’
She watched, intrigued, as Hugh placed the object on the bed in front of her.
‘Have you ever heard of chessmen?’
She frowned, shaking her head. ‘You want to play games? At this time?’ This wedding night was getting stranger and more unexpected at every turn.
‘Ah, but chess is far more than just a game, Eleanor,’ he said, pulling the cover off a beautifully crafted black and red two-toned board. From another woollen sack he pulled out intricate mini-statues and placed them carefully on the board. ‘It is about strategy, skill and outwitting your opponent. King Richard was a patron of chess, as were his father and grandfather before him.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘It’s true, nevertheless. And the Earl of Oxford encouraged all of us to engage in the game, believing that it was one of many skills a good knight should acquire.’
She met his eyes and smiled despite herself. Now this was a challenge she would certainly welcome to test her mettle.
She brushed her hand across the smooth chequered board. ‘It’s beautiful. Where did you get it from?’
‘More like who did I win it from!’ He winked. ‘And, before you ask, it was from an over-confident Poitevin knight who claimed to be the best player in Christendom, and he had won it from a Moor in Granada. Naturally I had to repudiate that claim.’
‘Naturally...’ She bit back a sudden urge to laugh at the absurdity of this evening.
‘Are you ready for a challenge, my lady?’
‘Certainly—how do you play?’
He sat on the bed opposite her, on the other side of the board, and crossed his legs. ‘Now, pay attention, Eleanor. These are lowly pawns and they can move one square forward and capture one square diagonally and only ever other pawns. Never anything else.’
She smiled. ‘Very lowly indeed.’
‘But very useful, which is why they’re often referred to as the infantry. And they can be successfully promoted.’
‘To King?’
‘No piece can do that, my lady. There is only one King.’
‘Indeed...’
He placed a further four pieces on each side of the board. ‘These here are two rooks, two chevaliers—or knights—and two bishops. And naturally only one King and Queen apiece.’
Eleanor listened intently as Hugh explained the way in which each piece could move forward.
‘And the aim of the game?’ she asked.
He chuckled. ‘The final aim is, of course, to trap the King and check him—a checkmate. I believe it comes from the Persian phrase shah-mat. Meaning the King is ambushed.’
She looked at him with disbelief. ‘How do you know all this?’
‘Well, if one wants to become a master at something it is imperative to gain as much knowledge and understanding as possible, don’t you think?’
‘Yes... But are you? A master?’
‘You’ll just have to find out, my lady.’ He winked. ‘All I will say is that even King John has not found a way to pass me, and he has been playing since boyhood.’
Hugh played chessmen with the King!
‘Is that so? Well, we’ll have to see about that.’
‘Fighting talk.’ He nodded approvingly. ‘I like that. But I warn you... This can be a very slow game and it can take days for an outcome.’
‘Surely we have the time?’
‘We do.’ The corners of his lips curved. ‘And while I think of ways to outwit you at night, by day I can focus my mind on the thankless job of finding the outlaws and The Fox, on top of getting better acquainted with Tallany. Your move, Eleanor.’
‘I can move the pawn just one square?’ she asked. He nodded. ‘How can you be sure of capturing the outlaws?’
‘Much as in chess, I will need my skill to outmanoeuvre them. Eventually they’ll make a mistake—even a small one. And when they do, I’ll be ready. Once I capture Le Renard and his outlaws everything,
