The next few hours were spent in a state of anxious confusion. As dusk settled Eleanor was racking her brain, trying to understand how this calamitous situation could have come about. She was always meticulous in her plans—always. Leaving no detail to chance and never taking unnecessary risks.
But this was different. She had issued no orders to her outlaws.
Had they acted on their own initiative? In which case, why? Had they grown weary? Restless? Since her marriage it had been too dangerous for Le Renard to lead her men in person, so had they taken things into their own hands?
Not that they knew her to be The Fox. No, only three people knew of her secret: her maid Brunhilde, her steward Gilbert Claymore, and of course Father Thomas. The outlaws knew that Lady Eleanor aided and abetted them, but not that she was Le Renard. That would be far too risky.
She twisted the corner of her veil tightly in her hand, her knuckles white. She had to ensure the safety of the outlaws at whatever cost, and had instructed Gilbert to warn them that Hugh and his men were coming after them. It was imperative that they’d got the message, but she had yet to discover whether the mission had been successful or not.
Eleanor stared out of the arched window, leaning against the cold stone wall, and sighed, thinking of the dangers the outlaws—her friends—would be facing.
They were a group of ordinary men, immersed in extraordinary deeds. Local men from all walks of life who had sworn their fealty and allegiance to her when she had helped them survive the hunger and misery that had swept the north. Good, true men. And when they came together in secret to form their band of brotherhood they served Eleanor to eradicate tyranny.
With a little help from their elusive leader, Le Renard, of course.
Her decision to defy the King and his demands for yet more scutage had not been an easy one, and nor had it been taken lightly. Yet, it had been either that or face despair and destitution. Eleanor had had to do something, even though it would be incredibly dangerous.
So, with Gilbert’s aid, she had formulated a plan. An outrageous plan that had brought like-minded people together for a common cause and to work under a secret leader, Le Renard. A leader whom Lady Eleanor, Gilbert and Father Thomas had vouchsafed to the assembled group of outlaws who had been initially sceptical of an outsider.
The outlaws believed in purging their land of the greed and corruption that had taken root under King John’s reign. And they did it by using subterfuge, cunning and guise, making them nameless traitors in the eyes of the law. And being one of them meant that Eleanor’s position was precarious, at best.
Yet the need to be Le Renard was as essential to her as the very air she breathed. It was from the ashes of her abusive first marriage that The Fox had risen, giving her purpose, helping her survive. It had meant that Eleanor could bury the shame that she carried and turn it into something good—something that enabled her to fight back. Fight for something she not only believed in but was prepared to die for... Justice.
As a woman she could do nothing, but as Le Renard she could do plenty—and in time she would do much, much more. However, since her marriage, the walls of Tallany Castle had felt as if they were closing in and she’d had to be more careful than ever before. One wrong step and it would all crumble around her.
Eleanor scrambled out of the solar as she recognised the shadowy figure of Gilbert Claymore from her chamber window, riding back into the inner bailey in haste. She grabbed a flame torch and climbed down the dark spiral stairwell, meeting her old steward as he hurried towards her.
‘My lady.’ Gilbert bowed swiftly. ‘You shouldn’t be here at this time.’
‘Never mind that—what news?’
‘We reached the hideout and informed the group of your warning.’
‘Thank God!’ She exhaled in relief.
‘Your lord husband, though...he is a masterful horseman. Faster than any man I have ever seen. He caught up with them as they were getting away and gave chase.’
Having seen him ride effortlessly quickly during their race, she could vouchsafe Hugh’s prowess on horseback. This was worrying—very worrying indeed.
‘And what of the group? Are they all...? Are they still at risk?’
‘I cannot tell, my lady. I had to ride back quickly, for fear of being exposed, but I believe your husband, his friend Sir William and others are returning now.’
‘Then I must take my leave of you. I thank you, Gilbert, as always.’
‘I live to serve you, my lady.’ He inclined his head. ‘Let’s hope I got there in time and that our friends are safe.’
She scurried back up the spiral stairwell, depositing the torch back into its ornate sconce, and then walked into the inner bailey, which was a hive of activity even at this late hour.
Had it only been earlier this day that Hugh had gifted her a flock of sheep, taught her the art of combat and then kissed her with an all-consuming passion that she could still feel now? How had it descended into this...this mayhem?
A jolt of realisation hit her. Despite the fact that she now liked, admired and was hopelessly attracted to her husband, they did not share the same beliefs. If a line were drawn in the sand, they would always be on different sides.
Eleanor watched Hugh and the others as they rode in through the gatehouse and into the inner bailey, dismounting their horses. She smoothed down her veil, which was chafing at the neck.
‘I’m glad to see you return, my lord. Were you...’ she swallowed ‘...successful?’
Hugh bowed and briefly raised her hand to his lips. He looked dishevelled, with mud spattered along his jerkin, braies and boots.
‘Indeed, Eleanor. We have caught two of the criminal outlaws.’ He gestured, tilting his chin at Will, who was pulling two men bound and gagged down from the back of a horse. ‘But you shouldn’t be here right now. This is no place for a lady. I will see you in our solar.’
Eleanor glanced at the men without revealing that she recognised them, and schooled her features into an expression of indifference at the sight of her friends, dirty with mud, grime and goodness knew what matted into their hair.
‘What will happen now?’ she demanded.
He inhaled. ‘Justice.’
With that, he trudged towards the hall, following his men.
Justice?
Lord alone knew what that meant—not that she believed Hugh to be cruel.
Eleanor closed her eyes. No, he was a good, honourable man, but she knew what happened to traitors if they were found guilty. She had to do all she could to help her friends Osbert and Godwin, who were also good and honourable. And that meant that they had to be found innocent of any charges they were accused of. She had to find a way to achieve that.
‘Hugh—wait.’
Her husband turned, his brow furrowed. ‘What is it, Eleanor?’
She straightened her back and met his eyes. ‘I want to accompany you when you question those men.’
‘Why? This is not a matter for you to involve yourself in.’
Hugh’s dark hair flopped over one eye and Eleanor watched him drag it back with his fingers, making her wish that she had done it herself.
She gave herself a mental shake. ‘Even so, I am the lady of this castle—the chatelaine—and I have always been involved with matters related to Tallany.’
‘I understand, however, this is somewhat different, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I would. But since I have experience in such matters...’
‘Your concern is misplaced, Eleanor.’ He tilted his head in irritation. ‘As the new Lord of Tallany, I promise they will get a fair trial. Now, if you’ll excuse me?’
‘Please, Hugh,’ she pleaded. ‘Please.’
He sighed, giving her a wry smile. ‘Very well, if it means that much to you. But this is important, Eleanor. I cannot have interruptions at the proceedings.’
The great hall held a tension that seemed to permeate the night air. The hammer-beam ceiling loomed large and menacingly dark, giving the room an eerie edge. Large flame torches fixed in metal sconces burned throughout the decorative stone walls of the hall, casting shadows light and dark and everything in between.
So different from the raucous celebrations of the wedding feast all those weeks ago.
Hugh sat on the dais with Will beside him, drumming a beat on a trestle table stripped of its usual finery, and on the other side sat Eleanor, resplendent in a green wool dress and a simple cream veil with the intricate Tallany silver circlet on her head.
Not that Hugh understood why his wife insisted on being present at his questioning of the two traitors. She shouldn’t be here—it wasn’t a place for a woman. He had complied with her wishes in a moment of weakness and he didn’t want to quarrel with her—especially now that he was beginning to win her trust. But he didn’t have to like it.
Lord knew, he shouldn’t expect anything less from Eleanor; his wife was unlike any woman he had ever met.
The steward was standing with a few of the Tallany knights in the corner, and he caught Hugh’s eye and nodded.
Hugh stepped down and stood in front the two beleaguered men, their hands bound behind them, kneeling in the middle of the floor on newly strewn rushes.
‘I want you to think very hard about what I am about to ask,’ he ground out in a clipped, low voice. ‘Give us the information we seek about the outlaw bandits you’re involved with.’
One of the accused men raised his sagging head and shook it with effort. ‘Please, milord, me and Godwin, here, we know of no outlaws—you have to believe us!’
‘I don’t—as you well know.’
Hugh fixed his gaze on one man and then the other. There was moment of silence which he allowed to stretch as he towered over them, his hands on either side of his waist.
‘Well?’
‘I beseech you milord...me lady. We know nothing—on my honour.’
‘You think you have honour as thieves? I don’t believe it.’ Hugh knelt on one knee and spoke quietly. ‘Osbert, blacksmith of Spalford?’ He continued when the man nodded without looking up. ‘We know of your involvement with the group as you were chased by us. Come, man, let’s put an end to this.’
‘It was a misunderstanding, milord. We were at the wrong place at the wrong time. We thought it was due to the late scutage.’
‘Why are you protecting your leader? Le Renard is a thief, a cheat and a wanted man. Your whole group is wanted.’
‘No, Your Lordship, no—you must believe us. We knows nothing of him or them outlaws. We ain’t p-part of them,’ he stammered.
‘If you give us names, locations and the whereabouts of your leader, you and your friend will be spared.’
There was a movement at the back of the hall, making the little hairs on the back of Hugh’s neck stand on edge. Someone had entered the fray, causing the flames in the sconces to flicker and flare.
‘Will they? By whose authority?’ a voice filled with arrogant self-importance retorted, interrupting the proceedings.
The company assembled in the hall shuffled and peered to see who had spoken. The voice belonged to a man of medium height who had swept into the hall dressed in chainmail, ready to do battle with a dozen soldiers by his side.
‘By mine. Who are you, sir, and what the devil are you doing here?’ Hugh roared as the small group made their way towards him with purpose.
The man inclined his head. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Hugh. I am Lord Balvoire and...’ His lips curled. ‘Ah, Lady Eleanor? What a surprise. Delighted to see you, my dear.’
‘Whilst I’m sure the pleasure is ours, sir, you have no business here.’ He glared down at him, with his arms crossed over his chest. ‘And it’s Lord Hugh—of Tallany.’
‘I do apologise, my lord,’ he said sardonically. ‘And I must beg to differ. My dire warnings to King John about the outlaws who have plagued your land and mine have effected a decree from our Sovereign.’ He clicked his fingers and one of his entourage stepped forward, handing him a scroll. ‘For immediate retribution.’
A muscle twitched in Hugh’s jaw. God’s breath, this was the obnoxious prig who had sent him his complaints on his wedding day, and now here he was, gloating about whatever it was he’d managed to wheedle out of John. Not that the King would necessarily hold firm with this abominable ass. Still, he would do well to be cautious.
‘So, you see, my lord, your business and mine are sadly entwined until we have hunted these disgusting animals down. The reward for their capture is a sweet incentive.’ Balvoire grunted. ‘And as it happens, I have made a start on the hunt.’
Another man stepped forward and handed Lord Balvoire the large sack he was holding.
‘Let’s call it a belated wedding present.’
He emptied the sack and two decapitated heads rolled out and fell on the ground in front of Hugh and the two prisoners, who started to tremble uncontrollably. There was an audible gasp, and behind him Hugh heard a soft sob coming from Eleanor. He turned, and to her credit she stilled instantly, swallowing down her distress. He hadn’t wanted her exposed to any of this, but he could never have imagined this man’s intrusive appearance.
‘I do not condone your methods, Lord Balvoire, they are unnecessary before any verdict is made.’ He scowled at him. ‘I am judge and overlord of Tallany, and as such I will establish a fair system of justice.’
‘Let’s hope that as judge you will show your mettle, my lord.’
‘I do not need your advice, Balvoire. And you’d do well not to cross me.’ Hugh glowered.
The older man chuckled. ‘Really, we are on the same side, my lord. The side of justice, the iron rule of the land and our Sovereign King, may God protect him,’ he said, crossing himself. ‘I come in peace.’
‘And now that you have delivered your wedding present, as you call it, you may go in peace.’
‘You may believe yourself to be above taking advice from me,’ said Balvoire, ‘but let me remind you that I carry King John’s approval for being here. I am his chosen representative and he will have his justice.’
‘What the hell are you talking about, Balvoire? I have not had any word of this.’
‘Haven’t you? Oh, how remiss of me.’ Lord Balvoire raised the scroll and handed it to Hugh. ‘King John wants a clear, resounding message sent to anyone either involved with or harbouring the outlaws. It makes no difference to him either way.’
Hugh knew exactly what that meant and ground his teeth. How in God’s name was he supposed to establish fairness in the rule of law if the King sought such brutal retribution? This was not how Hugh wanted these matters to be resolved in Tallany.
He squared his shoulders and glared at Balvoire. ‘We have not yet found out anything in relation to the outlaws from these men—nor have we established whether they’re even involved.’
‘No trials, no verdicts, Lord Hugh. That’s what King John has decreed. We are to do what is necessary, and you’d do well to remember that, my young lord. Besides, these men are nothing but worthless peasants.’ He flicked a glance at Eleanor and sneered. ‘As the previous Lord Tallany knew too well.’
By God, he’d had enough of this loathsome man.
Just as Balvoire walked behind one of the bound men, drawing a dagger, clearly about to demonstrate the expected ways of governance, Hugh was there, looming over him, in two easy strides.
‘That’s enough, my lord. You overstep yourself.’
‘Be careful, Lord Hugh,’ Balvoire said quietly. ‘One would think you value these cockroaches. Besides, the King has requested we work together to capture the outlaws. Mayhap I can guide you?’
‘I thank you—but, no,’ Hugh said in a low, menacing tone. ‘These men are in Tallany, and as judge in this domain I will decide. They will be imprisoned until further hearing. Now, Lord Balvoire, I believe you have exhausted your welcome here.’
Eleanor felt as though all the blood in her veins had turned to ice. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to blot out everything she had witnessed as her husband continued in his altercation with the vile Lord Balvoire.
She was vaguely conscious of Sir William’s hand covering hers, giving it a squeeze of reassurance, which prompted her to open her eyes and nod her thanks at Will’s concern. She was well—or as well as could be expected—but those two prisoners...her friends, men she felt responsible for...were far from it. Not to mention the two other men whose severed heads lay at their feet.
God, how depraved was Lord Balvoire—as was his King...
She stared in horror at the two men crouched on the ground, both shaking violently. Despite the threat of execution, they hadn’t given her or the others away—not that she had ever doubted them. Poor brave, selfless men. All of them. It made her stomach recoil, and want to empty itself, but she couldn’t betray the feelings of helplessness and guilt that washed over her.
She rubbed her clammy forehead, knowing she had to get out of the hall, and stood abruptly, hoping her feet would carry her. But just as she took a few shaky steps she caught Hugh’s anxious eyes and swayed.
‘My lady, you do not look well,’ he said as he moved towards her with urgency. ‘Eleanor?’
She opened her mouth to speak but no words were uttered. It was dry—far too dry. If only she could get something to drink...anything would do...anything to help her regain her composure. Strangely, her body felt as though it didn’t belong to her, seemingly drained of life.
Before she could ponder on this, or know what was happening, darkness consumed her.
Eleanor’s eyes fluttered rapidly, as she roused herself into consciousness. She felt as though she were floating through clouds, cocooned by a tower of warmth and strength. Ah, blissfully safe...
But then the inevitable jolt of memory flooded her senses with the horrors of what she had witnessed in the great hall.
A feeling of disorientated panic suddenly engulfed her as she pondered on the terrible events and the length of time that had passed since she had fainted.
She didn’t know that, or even where she was, so she peered from under her lashes and found that she was in the protective arms of her husband. He was carrying her up the cold spiral stairwell towards their solar. But they were not alone.
‘You’re right, Hugh, there’s no choice in the matter. It is the only way to smoke the outlaws and The Fox out of hiding and get that fool Balvoire off your back,’ Will muttered.
He was following them up, lighting the way with a torch.
‘The plan would allow a decoy entourage of knights to go ahead with you whilst I, along with a few retainers, guard the actual strongbox and follow, with a measure to separate us. That way, if you are ambushed, we can assist from the rear once we catch up with you. Thus securing the revenue and making sure the outlaws are caught,’ Hugh explained.
‘That sounds good, but there is a problem. Balvoire has insisted that I impress his demands upon you.’
‘Oh? And what does that bastard want?’
‘He’s an ambitious ass—which makes him dangerous, Hugh. I’m not sure whether you know or not, but he had been petitioning the King for Lady Eleanor’s hand after Millais’s death, angling for the huge chunks of Tallany land that border his. King John had been close to conceding.’
‘And that’s so like him to change his mind. And in this case, I’ll admit that I’m very glad.’ Hugh sighed. ‘Which is one reason why the Barons never know where they stand with John.’
‘Precisely. And whilst Balvoire has the King’s ear he has something to prove—so watch your back, my friend. He means to accompany you with the strongbox to Winchester, so he can—and I quote—“make sure you know what you’re doing”.’ Will hissed as he spoke.
Hugh swore under his breath. ‘As long as he understands that I am in command then I don’t care—especially as his men will swell our numbers, which can only help our cause.’
Eleanor kept her eyes shut as Hugh carried her inside their solar, with Will following just behind. Her head was reeling with all she had learnt from her husband and his friend, but she was alert, focussed and calm.
A clear plan began to take shape in her head. A plan that would avenge those men’s deaths at the hands of Lord Balvoire and which, she hoped, would make him suffer. Oh, yes, she wanted to cause Balvoire shame and dishonour—and although she knew it might also affect Hugh, there was no way of avoiding it.
She reflected once again on what she had witnessed in the great hall of Tallany Castle and wondered whether she could achieve what she’d planned. She sent a silent prayer and swore an oath on her mother’s small gold cross.
A flash of vulnerability darted through her mind but she pushed it aside.
This was no time for weakness.
She must have faith and courage and remember that this sacrifice was not about her, or even Hugh, but for the greater good. For justice...and for honour.