Authors: April Munday
“Because even if you’re wearing those, I won’t forget that you’re a nun. Now hurry up.”
Eleanor swallowed and considered what he had said very carefully. There was no doubt in her mind that the other men intended nothing good for her, but nothing was certain about this man. By now he could have killed her, so he must have something else in mind for her. Perhaps he was a slaver. She knew that there were such men, but had never heard of them being in Devon. He was big and broad-shouldered. Under his straggly beard his weathered skin was dark. His large hands must be used to wielding the sword that sat securely in a scabbard attached to the saddle. He had been unarmed! The other men had brought their swords into the abbey and had threatened the nuns. This man had come in unarmed. That might mean that he wasn’t with them, or that he had been with them and had scorned the use of arms to subdue a house of nuns. Either way, he had taken her from the convent and his reasons for doing so could not be to her benefit.
“Are you a slaver?”
The question escaped her before she could stop it.
“What!” he snorted. “Of course not. I don’t trade in human lives. Why do you ask?”
“Why did you take me?”
“Not to make a slave of you.
And not,” he added as she opened her mouth to ask the next question, “to abuse you in any way. I will not harm you, unless you do anything stupid enough to draw attention to yourself, such as going around in a nun’s clothes.”
“
Then why?”
“We
waste time here. Get changed.” He seemed neither angry nor agitated, just evasive.
Eleanor examined the clothes. “These are your clothes!” She held out the hose at him accusingly.
“You won’t be able to sit up behind me on Solomon if you’re in skirts and there
won’t be any questions asked when we stop at an inn tonight. A man and his servant may travel without attracting attention.” His tone indicated that he thought he was talking to a particularly stupid child. She ignored that and raised her arm towards him so that he could help her up. It would still be better for him to believe that she was helpless. He lifted her easily then crossed his arms across his chest as he stood in front of her.
“Turn around.”
“No. You might just be stupid enough to run into the wood.”
Eleanor had indeed considered knocking him down with a branch that lay not far from her feet and running into the wood. She must have glanced at the branch for he said, “You would not be able to lift it. I would not have set you down by it if I believed you could make use of it.” He paused, thinking about something. “I also know that you have been capable of running for some time.”
Eleanor hung her head; she was defeated.
He had thought of all these things before she could. There was nothing for it, but to obey him. She felt her face heat in embarrassment at the thought of him watching. Although this could not be the reason he had taken her, he surely expected to get some pleasure from it.
“I promise to look
only at your face.” His expression was completely serious, but she turned her back on him, pleased with her small act of defiance, even though it meant she could not see what he was doing.
Eleanor
managed to change into his clothes whilst retaining some dignity and without revealing anything that a strange man should not see, but could not manage to fasten the hose. In exasperation she turned to him and he did it for her, quickly and efficiently and without taking his eyes off her face as he had promised. Then he bundled up her clothes and put them into the roll behind the saddle. After she had drunk from the leather bottle he was ready to go. He swung himself up onto the horse, took his foot out of the stirrup and leant down to her, holding out his hand. Eleanor grasped it and he swung her up behind him. “Put your arms around my waist,” he instructed and the horse was moving before she’d grabbed the front of his tunic.
This was more comfortable
than the way they had travelled before. She could balance more easily and the motion was easier to bear. She was also able to see where they were going and had a real idea of the speed at which they were covering the ground. Now that the stranger could give his full attention to the horse she found that she was no longer afraid. He knew what he was doing and the horse responded to him. It seemed to her that they were joined together, the horse merely an extension of his body.
Before the afternoon disappeared into night they came into a town and the man guided the horse into the courtyard of one of the inns. Eleanor managed to scramble down without his help, sensing that it wouldn’t help her disguise if he helped the boy who was his servant from the horse.
As she did so, she realised that she had not done so out of fear that he would hurt her, but because she had taken him at his word. He was not abducting her; he was, it seemed, saving her. The man landed lightly beside her and gave her the reins.
“Take him
into the stables and tell the ostler that you’re sick and can’t care properly for Solomon.” Although it was vital to the disguise that she appear to be his servant, he must be trusting her not to run away. But how could she? It was not as if she could climb onto the horse and ride back to the convent and she would not get far in the dark autumn night on foot.
He eased the reins into her hands and she reached up to stroke Solomon’s face
, but turned to face him. “I may not know how to ride a horse, but I know how to take care of him. And I won’t try to run away. I have no idea where I am and no way of convincing someone to take me back to the convent.” To her disappointment his expression did not change. He looked as if he had expected this revelation since he had thrown her up onto his horse. She knew, once again, the feeling of catching up to his thoughts a long time after he had had them.
“I’m glad that you have seen sense. My name’s
Henry Attewood. You’ll have to ask for me when you come into the inn. He turned to walk into the inn, then turned back and added, “Your name is Tom.”
Eleanor took hold of Solomon’s reins and started to lead him away. The big horse was hesitant and tossed his head uncertainly. She felt Henry’s eyes on her, but didn’t allow him to worry her; she knew about horses and knew that Solomon would go with her. In another day he would sooner go with her than with Henry. Stroking Solomon’s nose and whispering soothing things to him, she took a stronger grip on the reins and led him to the stables. Once she had established her superiority over him, he surrendered to her easily enough. The ostler had shown her where Solomon would spend the night with a bad grace. Eleanor guessed that he was used to dominating the boys who looked after their masters’ horses, but she was not afraid of him. She had stood up to a much better man than him today; an ostler held no fear for her.
She considered
Solomon. It would take all her attention to care for him. The horses at the convent were workhorses who spent their days in the fields and followed the nuns wherever they were led. Solomon, on the other hand, was a highly-strung warhorse. He had been trained to do certain things in a certain way and giving in to the will of a small woman was not something he would be used to.
One of the things that Eleanor liked about looking after the horses at the convent was that it gave her time to think.
The events of this day needed much thought, but she doubted Solomon would give her much opportunity to think. She had no idea why she was here or who the men had been and she was beginning to feel that Henry did not know either. She sighed quietly.
Solomon
stood perfectly still so that she could remove his saddle. This gave Eleanor some pause. She normally had the help of another sister when she was removing horses from carts at the convent and she doubted she would be able to remove the saddle without help. Solomon was tall and the saddle looked heavy.
“That’s a big horse for a small lad,” said the ostler. “You’ll never get that saddle off.”
And if I do, she thought, I won’t be able to carry it anywhere. She wondered if a boy like the one she was supposed to be would ask the ostler for help. She looked around the stables; there must be a lad somewhere who could help her. For the first time she wondered where she would sleep. She suspected that a servant was supposed to sleep with the saddle, probably in the stable.
“No, he won’t
get it off.” Henry’s voice was amused and Eleanor looked up in time to see him step into the stable and come towards her. “It always amuses the stable boys wherever we stop. He’s far too small for that, but that’s not why I bring him with me.”
The ostler smirked. Henry noticed and took a step towards him.
The smile that had briefly lifted his lips disappeared and was replaced by something surprisingly hard and cold. He had not looked at her like that, she realised. She thought now that he might be capable of cruelty, but not towards her. The other man stood his ground for a moment then turned away and busied himself with something by the door.
Eleanor did not understand the silent exchange, but t
he ostler felt the insult and Eleanor wondered if she or Solomon would pay for it later. Henry crossed the stable and moved her gently out of the way and removed the saddle himself. “I’ll take it with me. There will be food for you in the kitchen when you’re ready. When you’ve eaten come and find me in the inn.”
Henry’s movements as he walked
through the stable seemed unhindered by the weight of the saddle. They were fluid and graceful. She watched him attentively. Eleanor had not seen many men in the years she had lived in the convent. There had been young priests who had come to meet the sisters’ spiritual needs, but none of them had moved like Henry. His movements were graceful and purposeful at the same time. The ostler sniggered and Eleanor realised that it was probably not a good thing for a servant boy to stare at his master in the way that she had been staring at Henry. And she knew that she had been staring.
“Keep away from my horse,” Henry
said as he drew level with the ostler. His voice was hard and cold. He could have spoken to her like this, but he had not, even when he had told her not to scream. Yet another thing for her to consider. “The reason I keep the small boy is because my horse killed all the other lads who got close to him.”
The ostler spat. “Ain’t no horse going to kill me.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Henry sauntered off, whistling.
Eleanor
was surprised that this exchange brought a smile to her face and her heart felt lighter. She hid her smile as she took up a brush to start working on Solomon. All the time she talked to him under her breath and told him what a wonderful animal he was and how well he had done today. Solomon nuzzled her every now and again and she was grateful that he, at least, behaved in the way that she expected. Looking after the horses was her favourite job in the convent and she would never get the chance to look after such a fine horse again.
“Only got the one horse has he?”
The ostler was standing just behind her. She had not even heard him move. This angered her. She had been kidnapped by one man because she had not been paying attention to where she was going and now another had got close enough to hurt her because she had been enjoying herself too much. There was much danger outside of the convent and she was alone now. Henry wasn’t going to come out of the inn to help her this time.
“No.” Eleanor hoped that this wasn’t a lie.
Henry didn’t look as if he could even afford to own this horse, let alone more. She did not turn to look at him, but continued to brush Solomon.
“Why aren’t you riding a horse, then?”
Did servants ride their own horses? Eleanor had no idea. How should she answer the ostler? Anything she could think of would be a lie and might be contradicted by Henry.
“My master didn’t tell me.”
It sounded weak, but she hoped that it might be the way that some masters were.
“Aye
. He looks arrogant enough, that one.”
Eleanor wondered how a servant
would react to such a statement. Should she defend her ‘master’ or should she agree? Solomon saved her by nibbling her shoulder. “Where’s the feed?” she asked. The ostler showed her and after she had made Solomon comfortable she sought out her own dinner.
The kitchen was
easy enough to find, but not because of the smell of food. There was a fight of some kind going on in there and servants of other travellers were gathered round trying to get a look. Eleanor was smaller than most of them and managed to work her way to the front. Two men were wrestling on the floor. One was almost as tall as Henry, the other was much shorter, but more muscular. The smaller man was sitting on the tall man, who was on the ground, raining blows down upon his chest. The man underneath tried to get free, but could not avoid the other man’s fists. Finally he managed to catch one as it landed on his chest and he pulled the other man off balance enough to allow himself to wriggle free. He kicked the other man as he stood. Eleanor shuddered as she heard a crunch that could only mean a broken bone; although whose it was she could not tell. Neither of the men gave any sign.
The servants were shouting encouragement
to one or the other of the men. Now that she was at the front Eleanor didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to watch, but she couldn’t get back through the men behind her. Both the men on the floor were badly battered and cuts on their faces were bleeding freely. They were half naked and their bodies were covered in sweat, bruises and blood. The servants around her were cursing and the crush of bodies was making it uncomfortably hot. She didn’t think a servant would faint under such circumstances, but she began to feel light-headed. Just as she was beginning to try to work her way back through the crowd a strong hand gripped the back of her tunic and pulled her round.