She lifted her head at the sound of hooves pounding on the cobbled ground as Gilbert Claymore entered the castle gate.
‘My Lady Eleanor!’ her old steward bellowed. ‘It’s worse than we imagined.’
‘What news, Gilbert?’ She could barely get the words out.
‘It’s Lord Balvoire and he’s—he’s caught Anselm!’ he stammered.
‘What?’
‘He’s bringing him to be hanged here in Tallany!’
Eleanor covered her face with her hands, digging her fingertips into her head. Not Balvoire again. The man had been plaguing her since Hugh’s departure and now this.
She had to think and she had to think fast. She was damned if she was going to just stand by and watch her friend hang. There was one thing and one thing alone that she could do, but it was so outrageous, so dangerous, that the likelihood of success was minimal. It mattered not. She had to do it if it meant that she could somehow save Anselm.
First, though, she would have to send secret messages expediently to her outlaw group.
‘Come, Gilbert, there’s much to do.’
Hugh had been travelling back from Scotland with Will and many of his men for over two weeks. It had been a fruitful and interesting month with King Alexander and if King John had any notions of future peace, he should broker a marriage between the Scottish King and his oldest daughter, once she was of age.
For now, though, the English King had far too many problems in his own kingdom—not that he would get much assistance from the Scots, who preferred to remain neutral between John and the Rebels...for now.
Hugh had been away from Tallany and Eleanor for a long time. It had been mainly out of choice, in the hope that time apart from his wife would allow him to get her out of his mind and loosen the hold she had over him.
But it was useless. Everything at the Scottish court had reminded him of her. Every piece of music; every melody and lovelorn lyric had made him think of her... Her hair, the scent of her skin, the curve of her neck... But it was much more potent than that: he missed her...
He missed her funny little quirks... The way she chewed the inside of her cheek when she was nervous or found something amusing. The way she wrinkled her nose when she was thinking. The absurd little things she said that made him laugh. The fact that she preferred to race him on horseback and get instruction in combat rather than stay in the bower and perfect her needlework. The impassioned way she spoke about things that mattered to her, even if she differed from his opinion. The fact that she cared about the plight of ordinary people...
She always, always challenged him, with her quick wit and her indomitable spirit. Yet he could never win her loyalty and never have her trust. That belonged to others. To the outlaw and his men.
If anything, the time they had spent apart had made him yearn for her all the more. Ah, but it was no good. His feelings for her were meaningless, complicated, and they had to be suppressed, however painful that would be.
Hugh turned to Will, who had caught up with him on his dappled grey destrier, and nodded at him. ‘We’ve almost reached home,’ he said, as they reached the familiar valley that lay beyond the borders.
How long had he been thinking of Tallany as ‘home’? It surprised him that he felt that way about the place.
‘Thank the Lord! You’ve been riding like the wind trying to get back—it’s been a damned effort keeping up with you.’
‘Just putting you through your paces, Will.’
Even before they had reached the expanse of landscape Hugh knew there was something very, very wrong. He glanced at Will, who was suddenly alert and grave, all signs of levity gone, and then flicked his attention back to the scene before him. He noted the pockets of smoke dotted throughout the landscape. They must be the result of a fire. But what had happened here? And more importantly where was Eleanor? He hoped to God she was safe.
Hugh nodded at Will and they bounded down the hill and eventually reached the outer edges of the small hamlet of Ulnaby, closest to the foot of the hill. Had they been attacked? And, if so, why hadn’t he been alerted? Or was this some sort of accident?
He felt sick with anger and frustration as he rode into the midst of the hamlet and he gripped the hilt of his sword, taking in the burnt-out shells of what had once been dwellings and the carcasses of livestock.
He could see a group of people huddled together in the hub of the hamlet as he cantered towards them. He recognised the old woman whom Eleanor had introduced to him many weeks ago, when she had been giving coin—no doubt stolen coin... It was Aedith, or some such name...
The woman turned to face him as he and his men dismounted one by one and walked towards them.
‘It’s Aedith, isn’t it? What has been going on here?’
‘My lord, you’ve returned. How thankful we are to see you.’
‘What has happened?’
‘I don’t know. To be perfectly honest, it all started when you left these ’ere parts.’
‘All? What do you mean, “all”?’
‘Looting, thieving and everything in between, my lord.’
Hugh swore an oath under his breath. ‘Tell me how we can be of use.’
Her eyes widened with surprise. ‘Bless you, my lord. Anything you can spare. We ’ave children who are separated from their family. And many ’ere haven’t eaten for days.’
Hugh nodded decisively. ‘We’ll give you the rest of our provisions: food, drink and blankets.’ He smiled grimly at her. ‘And I swear, as Lord of Tallany, that I will find out who did this here and bring them to justice. Your village will be rebuilt.’
Tired and withdrawn, the old woman looked around the group, wordlessly communicating
