A Dishonorable Knight (50 page)

The door creaked open and she
started. When Margaret entered, she breathed a sigh of relief that it was not
Catherine and took it as a sign that she should ask for the cloak. Before she
had a chance to voice the question, Margaret spoke.

"Is it true you are to leave
immediately? Tonight?"

"Is it tonight now? When last
Richard spoke, it was merely before first light," she said
dispassionately.

"It is true then?

"Aye, it's true."

"But why? You have long been one
of Richard's favorites." Margaret walked closer and surveyed Elena's
packed trunk.

"I have not been a favorite
since I was in the company of a man not my husband or father for weeks. A man
Richard now thinks is a traitor."

"That is ridiculous. It was all
well explained! Surely he would not send you away on a mere suspicion!"

"On no, that is only why I am no
longer his favorite. I am being sent away because I refused to marry the Earl
of Brackley."

"You did? But why?"
Margaret's face pinkened. "I mean, I know of his purported cruelty, but I
thought you were pleased with the new rank it would give you."

"I told Richard I could not
marry Edmund because I was in love with another man. I even said I was going to
have his child."

"Are you?"

"No. At least, I don't think
so." Elena expected to see condemnation in the pious Margaret's eyes, but
instead she saw something that surprised her. She saw compassion and
..
.
respect
? Before her
"adventure," Elena and Margaret had always been at odds, Margaret
making no effort to conceal her disapproval of Elena's methods to gain favor
and attention, and Elena scorning Margaret's avowals that a life in the church
was the only way a woman could gain any sort of freedom. Now, Elena thought, I
too see the uselessness of life as a lady-in-waiting, and court life, for that
matter, where we walk on eggshells hoping we don't annoy the king and we agree
to marry ugly old men just to gain a title or the king's favor.

Deciding to risk at least part of her
plan, Elena drew Margaret to sit down in the sunny window seat.

"Margaret, there is another who
would leave this castle tonight, but may be detained if he is recognized. May I
use your cloak? I'm afraid you may not get it back."

"Of course you may have
it."

"Are you certain?"

"It is a small enough affair. I
shall scarce miss it."

"Oh thank you, Margaret!
Here," she said, standing and retrieving her own two cloaks. "You
must take one of these in return."

"No, no. That's not necessary."

"Well of course it is. It's only
fair we trade cloaks. Now which one do you like? I think the red would look
divine with your dark hair."

Margaret shook her head.

"The blue then? It would set off
your eyes."

"Really Elena, it's alright.
They are both beautiful--"

"Take them both, then."
Elena held them both out.

"They are a bit too fancy for my
taste. Besides you will need warm cloaks at your parent's home. It is near the
Scottish border, is it not?"

"I will only need one cloak and
so will you come winter. You know how drafty these halls become when that
winter wind is blowing."

"I hope to be a novice nun at
St. Mary's convent by winter time this year. Such cloaks as these would be
inappropriate to wear over my plain habit."

"Oh," Elena said, disappointed
that her noble gesture was defeated. Brightening, she said, "Well imagine
the altar vestibules this red velvet would make! And there must be enough fur
lining to make warm slippers for all of the nuns. And imagine how virtuous the
sisters will think you when you show up with this cloak and begin hacking it to
bits."

Margaret laughed. "Elena, the
convent is not like court. You don't have to make grand displays to gain
attention and favor."

"Maybe not, but surely it will
start you off on the right foot, won't it?"

The dark-haired girl laughed again.
"Very well, Elena, I will take the cloak. Now, do you need further
help?"

Elena paused. "Do you know where
the dungeons are?"

"I've never been there, but I
believe they are in the tower just north of the main hall. Royal hostages are
kept in the upper rooms and common prisoners are kept below. Why do you need to
know?" Margaret quickly shook her head. "No, never mind. Tell me not.
I don't want to know. Just be careful, Elena. If you were to displease Richard
again, especially with anything having to do with a prisoner, you would no
doubt be executed. Richard has become easily agitated and very short tempered
since the attack outside of Middleham. The king has recently learned that
Elizabeth Woodville hired men to rescue her daughter so that Richard would not
be able to marry her and gain a further stronghold on the throne."

“I know. Princess Elizabeth told me.”

“Do you also know that the king
received word of Henry Tudor’s arrival this very morning?"

Elena started to ask Margaret what
she thought of Henry Tudor, but
they were suddenly
interrupted by the entrance of Catherine
.

"Oh my, you're still here? I
would have thought you'd have slunk away by now."

Elena thought of half a dozen cutting
responses to Catherine's gibe. The wickedest of them all was about to spill
from her lips when she stopped herself. Deciding it would gall Catherine even
more to simply ignore her, she turned back to Margaret as if there had been no
break in their conversation and said, "When do you hope to join the
abbey?"

Margaret answered her before
responding to Catherine who was still standing in the middle of the room,
looking indignant. "The letter bearing my father's permission should
arrive within the month. I hope to become a novice by the end of September.
Catherine, dear, did you need something?"

"I need to change to a more
appropriate gown. His Majesty has asked me to be one of the few who will join
he and Earl Brackley as they hunt. I believe the earl asked for my company
specifically. It seems he has broken his previous betrothal."

This last was said as Elena stood to
leave. She gathered up the grey woolen cloak and headed for the door. Before
she reached it, however, she turned and faced Catherine's malevolence with a
cat-who-ate-the-rat-smile. "Actually, it was I who decided I did not wish
to marry someone so old and repugnant as the earl. It seems you are once again
gathering my leftovers, Catherine." Elena opened the door and swept out
the small room as regally as a queen. She marveled again at Catherine's
obnoxious personality change, but in truth, Catherine's about-face occupied her
mind for a few seconds at the most. She quickly set her thoughts to getting to
Gareth and freeing him. She had a tentative plan formed but she wasn't sure it
would work if there were more than one guard on duty when she reached the north
tower. Well, she would simply have to improvise, she decided. She had always
been able to think on her feet; she would simply trust in her instincts to take
over.

Rushing quickly down the back stairs
normally only used by servants, Elena made her way around the kitchen to the
buttery where the vats of wine and ale were kept. The room was dimly lit but,
thankfully, empty. Elena scooped up a pewter tankard and moved to the back of
the room where the best wines were kept. Although she had long resented some of
the lowly tasks of being a lady-in-waiting, such as keeping the inventory of
the buttery, she was now glad of the experience because she was able to move
confidently through the gloom and open one of the strongest wines Richard had
purchased from France, filling the tankard to the brim. Draping the cloak over
the heavy tankard, she quickly exited the buttery and made her way out the back
kitchen door. Crossing the dirt bailey between the main hall and the north
tower, she peered in the open door. Three men were sitting about a small table.

"Now what do I do?" she
muttered. She was trying to figure out a way to get the men--or at least two of
the men--out of the tower when she overheard Gareth's name being spoken.

"I can't believe Sir Gareth
would betray the king," one of the men said. "He's always seemed like
the most upstanding of all the knights."

A second voice spoke up. "The
king sees ghosts in every shadow anymore. If Tudor doesn't invade soon, the
king will have us all in prison for being traitors." There was a pause
before the second man spoke again. "Do you know where they've put Sir
Gareth?"

"Down in the old cellars. I
wouldn't keep a dog there, but we've so many prisoners in here, he had to be
put somewhere."

Elena sent an unformed prayer of
thanks heavenward. Perhaps there wouldn't even be a guard!
she
thought hopefully. Shifting the heavy tankard and cloak to her other hand, she
was about to sneak off when the third man spoke.

"Sir Gareth deserves to lose his
head and he will by week's end. He's a traitor and a liar and you two will die
with him if you don't stop slandering the king. Now get on with your duties.
You've had more than enough rest."

Elena heard the scrape of stools
against the stone floor and she turned and ran as quickly as she could with her
heavy burden. The last thing she needed was to be caught eavesdropping on the
prison guards. Making her way back into the main keep, she wound through the
labyrinth of back halls trying to find the stairs that led into the cellars.
She had only passed by it once before since coming to Nottingham, being content
to send servants on any unsavory errands. With each corner she turned she grew
more and more frantic. Suppose the king was angry enough to order Gareth's
execution tonight? Suppose the executioner found the cellars before she could?
With each step the tankard of wine seemed to grow heavier and her arm muscles
trembled with the strain. She was on the verge of panic when she turned a
corner and discovered the staircase. Taking a deep breath and trying to compose
her face into a pleasant smile, she prepared to put all her skill at flirtation
and flattery to work.

She descended the dark stairs,
bracing her hand against the cold walls and ducking a low-hanging beam halfway
down the steps. She finally emerged into the cramped cellars and wrinkled her
nose at the unpleasant aroma that permeated the cold moist air. She glanced in
the cell closest her and saw a sickly older man curled on the pallet, shivering
and coughing in his sleep. A large grating sound behind her made her jump and
she quickly whirled around, sloshing wine over her hand and onto the cloak. As
her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she discovered the cause of the noise: a
snoring guard propped against the wall.

God is with me this day, she thought.
Perhaps I can free Gareth without this man even waking! Quickly setting the
cloak and tankard down, she rushed from cell to cell, trying to find Gareth. She
found him in the cell right in front of the sleeping guard. He was huddled in
the corner of the cell, his legs pulled up against his chest, his arms wound
round his knees and his head resting on his forearms.

"Gareth!" Elena hissed.
"Gareth! Wake up!" Gareth didn't budge and fear seized Elena's heart.
Glancing behind her to make sure the guard was still asleep, she turned back to
the narrow window in the door and whispered louder, "Gareth! It's me,
Elena!"

Gareth lifted his head suddenly,
looking confused. When he realized who she was, he pushed himself to his feet
and quickly crossed the few steps to the door. "Elena! What are you doing
here? If you're caught--"

"Shh!" she hushed him.
"I've come to free you. Gareth I..." she was about to tell him she
loved him, but the unfamiliar words stuck in her throat. Swallowing, she
chastised herself and drew to mind the picture of him being led to the
executioner's block. That thought spurred her on and she said, "I--I love
you, Gareth. I can't let you die." Slightly embarrassed, she took a step
backwards, but Gareth's hand shot through the narrow window to grasp hers. He
pulled her hand through the opening and pressed it to his lips, his gaze locked
to hers, silently reaffirming his feelings for her.

The guard's loud snore was followed
by several sharp snorts and Elena whirled around, staring at the man fearfully.
He was waking up. "Damn!" she mouthed. She had hoped to free Gareth
without even awaking this gross ruffian. The man opened his eyes and then stumbled
to his feet when he saw Elena.

"Who--where did--" As he
realized that Elena was no common serving wench he bowed awkwardly and said,
"My lady, is there something I can do fer you?"

Swallowing her grimace of disgust,
Elena drew on her most flattering smile.

"You can tell me your
name."

"Osgood, lady," he said
with another awkward bow.

Elena forced herself to remember her
objective and blinked her eyes coyly. "Osgood is absolutely my favorite
name! You must think me terribly forward, but I've noticed you about the castle
and--"

"
You've
noticed
me
, my
lady?"