shortly, an involuntary shiver coursing her slim frame. Hunted down. It had certainly felt like that, to hear that man’s shouts, the bulk of his body thrashing through the undergrowth, pursuing her. If it hadn’t been for that wretched trap, she would have escaped him easily.
Martha’s eyes rounded. ‘They’re saying he was an outlaw, at sea with the exiled Lord Despenser.’
Her heart jolted. Lord Despenser. A knight known for his cruelty, his barbaric methods. ‘That doesn’t surprise me.’ And yet, this knowledge of his past did surprise her, for although the knight had treated her in a brusque, matter-of-fact manner, he had been considerate. Up to a point.
‘Let me look.’ Martha approached the bed. ‘Lift your leg up on to the coverlet, so I can see it more clearly.’ Eva raised her leg. Martha eyed the stocking bound around Eva’s calf, the limp fringes of moss poking out. ‘Did you do this?’
‘He did,’ she admitted reluctantly. A pair of silver eyes startled her vision; she hunched forward uncomfortably. How could that man, that stranger, affect her thus, when he wasn’t even near her?
Martha untied the knot, unravelling the woollen stocking with care. Three wounds gouged Eva’s pale flesh. ‘Mother of God,’ Martha said, ‘it looks like you have been bitten by a dog. I bet it hurts.’
‘Not as much as it did.’ The bleeding had stopped, thank God.
‘But the wounds look as if they might close up on their own? I’ll clean it for you; put a new bandage on. I don’t think you need stitches.’
‘I agree. I have some salve that will—’
The door slammed back on its hinges. Katherine stood beneath the lintel, breathing heavily, her brown eyes furious. ‘He’s only gone and done it again!’ she cried out, marching into the chamber, flinging herself across the bed. Her slender feet, encased in leather slippers, swung clear of the floor. The gold beading worked across each slipper toe gleamed in the shadowed light. ‘That man—will be the bane—’
‘Hush, Katherine.’ Eva put a warning finger to her lips. ‘Don’t wake the children.’ Reaching up, she touched her friend’s sleeve. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
Katherine’s face crumpled, about to cry. Then she took an unsteady breath, drawing herself upright, smoothing one palm across the outspread velvet of her skirts, as if to calm herself. Spots of colour burned her cheeks. ‘Those knights downstairs,’ she enunciated slowly, ‘those knights have been sent by my dear uncle, the King, to escort me back to Lord Gilbert’s castle.’
‘But why?’ Eva whispered.
‘I am to be married.’ Katherine raised her head listlessly, her sable eyes enormous, worried. ‘Like you said, Eva, I am a wealthy widow; how could I possibly be allowed to keep all that money to myself? Edward wants to reward those men who have shown the utmost loyalty to him—and I—I am that reward,’ she finished bitterly. ‘Damn him! I knew this life couldn’t last! How I wish I were not related to him!’
‘He can’t do this, Katherine. He can’t force you!’
But Katherine was nodding sadly. ‘He can, Eva. He is the King and my guardian. If I disobey, he will take my children away and throw me into a nunnery. Or worse, he might even kill me. The way he has been behaving lately, the methods he has been using to punish people who go against him, I wouldn’t be surprised. You of all people should understand this, Eva. How men can make your life a living hell!’
With a swift tilt of her head, Eva indicated Martha’s silent figure, a warning to her friend to stay quiet. The servant hovered by the oak coffer, the washcloth hanging between her hands, beads of water dripping into the bowl. Martha’s eyes were avid, alive with curiosity, drinking in her mistress’s words like an elixir.
‘Martha, go. Do not repeat a word of what you have just heard to anyone.’ Katherine’s eyes were hard, stern. ‘Otherwise I will dismiss you instantly.’ Collecting the bowl and jug from the coffer, the maid ambled from the chamber, slopping water as she walked, trailing glistening spots across the wooden floorboards.
Both women remained silent until the door closed. Eva gripped Katherine’s hand. ‘I can’t let them take you like this. Not after everything you’ve done for me. There must be something we can do.’
Katherine’s chin drooped to her chest, a forlorn, disheartened movement. As if she had given up already. Dry sobs racked her body; the pearls in her filigreed silver circlet trembled. ‘And there’s something else, Eva,’ she said, her voice low.
‘What is it?’
‘That knight who brought you back—Lord Bruin.’ Katherine lifted her head, defeat dulling her eyes. ‘He’s asking about the Lady of Striguil.’
* * *
Eva slept fitfully, tossing and turning beneath woven blankets. Katherine had taken a long time to settle; she had helped her undress, brushing her hair with an ivory comb, plaiting the shining strands into two long braids for the night. Now she could hear Katherine’s regular breathing from the high bed beside her, her friend’s slim frame relaxed into a deep sleep against the goose-down pillows.
She stared into the shadows of the chamber, eyes straining with tiredness. With the candle extinguished, only a faint light emerged from the charcoal brazier, one hot coal emitting a feeble glow. Her leg throbbed, but less so now. After Katherine had climbed into bed, she had cleaned the wounds herself, applying salve and rebandaging her leg.
Katherine’s words churned in her mind and refused to let her sleep, worrying at her like a dog with a bone. Why, oh, why would Count Bruin be asking about Striguil? And, more specifically, asking about her? Before Katherine had gone to sleep, she had taken pains to reassure Eva that Lord Bruin had discovered nothing about Eva’s true identity. At the table, still reeling from the news of King Edward’s plans for her, Katherine had informed Bruin that she had never heard of the name Striguil, let alone a lady who resided there and he had seemed to be satisfied with that.
The simple lace at the neck of Eva’s nightgown tickled her chin and she pushed the fabric away, turning her head towards the window. Her braided hair rustled against the straw-filled pillow. Her mind scuttled fruitlessly down one path after another, chased by a pair of silvery eyes, a hard, determined mouth. Through the rippled glass, light from the rising moon tipped over the window ledge and stretched down into the chamber, pooling on the floorboards like milky liquid. How on earth could she and Katherine extricate themselves from this mess?
Beneath the window, a bundled lump on one of the low pallets shifted around, then sat up, furs falling off young shoulders. Alice. Golden hair fell down in a tumbled mass over a white nightgown; Eva’s heart panged with guilt. While she was downstairs, Martha had put the children to bed, obviously forgetting, or simply not bothering, to braid the girls’ hair. The child made a small mewling sound, reaching out towards Eva.
She threw back her blankets, welcoming the distraction of the child from her own troubled thoughts. Tentatively, she placed her weight upon her injured leg, please to find it was less painful now. She moved with a hitching, but bearable gait across to Alice, kneeling down beside the pallet bed.
‘What’s the matter, darling?’ she whispered, placing her hand on Alice’s head. The child’s golden hair, exactly like her mother’s, was silky beneath her palm.
‘I feel sick.’
Eva
