the stairs.’
He jumped up with a puppy-like willingness, springing back over the low bench. Eva eased herself up carefully, grabbing at the boy’s fragile-boned shoulder. She kept her actions deliberately slow, gradual, not wanting to draw any attention from the top table. The last thing she wanted was for Katherine to come rushing down to help. Or him.
Her movements seemed laboured, unwieldy. The long trestle tables, the flaring torches, swam before her vision. Objects seemed hazy, edges blurred and undefined. What was the matter with her? All she had to do was reach that curtain across the doorway. The boy moved forward and she hopped to keep up with him, pressing down on his shoulder, injured leg raised up behind her.
Pushing the curtain aside, she dismissed the boy. A thick rope curved up along the wall of the spiral stairs; that would serve her now. She would crawl on her hands and knees if need be. Her progress was painfully slow, but at last she reached the next floor, hopping along the corridor to the bedchamber she shared with Katherine and the children.
Clicking up the iron latch carefully, she pushed inside, lurching clumsily across the polished elm floorboards to her truckle bed, tucked neatly against Katherine’s large four-poster bed. The chamber was dim, lit only by a single candle in an iron sconce, the flickering flame casting uneven shadows across the bumpy plaster. Over by a charcoal brazier, glowing with hot coals, Katherine’s three children slept, their small bodies bundled beneath huge furs. Angling herself down awkwardly, Eva lowered herself on to her bed, checking the bandage around the wound. Much as she hated to admit it, her leg seemed much better after Bruin’s deft handling. His cool, strong fingers grazing her skin.
There was a muted tap at the door and Martha came in, carrying a jug of hot water. ‘The mistress bid me bring this to you.’ Her eyes flicked to the lone guttering candle and she clicked her tongue in irritation. ‘Ah, I should have brought you another light.’ An earthenware bowl sat on an oak coffer; she poured the steaming water into it, glancing at Eva. ‘What happened to you? They’re saying in the hall that the big knight hunted you down.’
Her heart lurched at Martha’s choice of words. The girl was young, with a sense of the dramatic. Her plump hands dunked a linen washcloth into the bowl; it swirled around, absorbing the water. ‘I hurt my leg, that’s all,’ Eva replied 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