Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger.
Psalm 8:2
“More riders are approaching,” James shouted from the front seat of the cart.
Sitting next to the lad, Eleanor sighed inwardly. She knew it was too good to be true. It had been three days since Hugh had gotten rid of the other knights and everyone had settled into a brand new routine. He had started delegating more of the keep’s business to Sylvester, which freed Hugh up to help with the building of the chapel, though he claimed it was only temporary until more suitable suitors arrived. They were almost inseparable, building the chapel by day and then ending it with archery practice.
Mustering her courage, she had a nice discussion with Sir Gordon, explaining his chances of winning her hand were all but nonexistent, offering him the opportunity to serve Lord Thornwood as one of his knights. Sir Gordon jumped at the prospect and never gave a second look in Eleanor’s direction, which was a relief, but a little humbling as well that she could be tossed over so easily.
Unfortunately, to Eleanor’s disappointment, here came more suitors.
Hugh sat in the back of the cart with Isobel. He tried to stand as the cart jostled forward. “They all carry the same colors. This is not many suitors but one and his band of knights. Things are looking up, Lady Eleanor. A man of property already, here to woo you for your own charms.”
“Ah, I’d rather it was a band of mercers carrying fabric that could be used on our chapel altar.”
“If you wanted cloth, you should have said so. I could have gotten Darrin to get you some. He is very resourceful.”
“Nay, not his way. You know stealing is a sin. I pray daily that you both would return to your faith. You do know James, Isobel, and I pray every morn. You could join us.”
Her request was met with silence. This had not changed since she had arrived; Hugh de Maury still refused to practice his faith. She had hoped with the building of the chapel this would change, but alas, she had been wrong.
“The band carries a red and black banner, my lady,” James said.
Eleanor narrowed her eyes, watching the black and red flags flutter in the wind, she knew them. Her heart all but thumped out of rhythm. “Reginald de Orsey,” she whispered.
“Hey, what did you say?” Hugh asked, stepping over the logs as he tried to make his way to the front of the cart.
“The band of men. They carry the same colors as Sir Reginald de Orsey.”
“Ah, the cousin.” The playful tone Hugh had used earlier was swept away and replaced with a more solemn voice. “We will not be able to shoo this one away as easily.”
Her palms began to sweat. If no other worthy suitors came forth, she would have to accept Sir Reginald. His beady eyes always watching, always darting here and there. He trusted no one because he was not to be trusted. What would life be like with a man you could not trust?
They entered the gate after the riders. Standing near the cart, Sir Theodore offered his hand to Eleanor. “A new suitor for you, my lady.” He didn’t look all that happy either.
“You know, Sir Reginald?” she asked, stepping down from the cart.
“His reputation is well known.”
Hugh jumped off the back of the cart as their guest approached. “Lord de Orsey, welcome.”
The shorter man bowed to his host. By all appearances, Reginald de Orsey looked harmless. Some might think him almost jovial. Warm, wheat-colored hair, round rosy cheeks, and a summer smile that would fall away when his eyes became slits. Only then could you see his true nature. His dark eyes would turn into black peas, revealing the dark soul which controlled his thinking.
“Thank you for your hospitality.” Lord de Orsey turned and took Eleanor’s hand, placing a withering kiss upon it. “And you are looking well, my lady.” He stood and his eyes constricted as he gazed at the cart of logs. “It seems peasant work agrees with you.”
A cut. He often had commented to Uncle Leonard that she spent too much time in menial tasks unbecoming of a lady.
“And you are the same, Sir Reginald,” she quipped.
Before she could speak another word, Hugh stepped between them. “I am sure you are tired from your long journey. Perhaps you would like to retire to the hall for refreshment. My stable master will look to your horses. Lady Eleanor and I will follow shortly. We must oversee the unloading of this cart. The wood is for our new chapel Lady Eleanor is building. Would you be interested in helping with the construction later?”
Sir Reginald’s brows shot upward and pure disdain filled his face. “That is a job for peasants, not a lord. Nay, I think I shall pass.” He pivoted and strode straight to the hall as if he owned the place. Isobel scurried after him.
“Isobel,” Eleanor called, but the child ignored her.
Hugh reached out and touched Eleanor’s arm, sending warmth to replace the chill Sir Reginald had placed in her heart. “Let her go. She may finish him off for us.”
Laughter escaped Eleanor’s lips. “Aye, he has failed the test. Can we kick him out on the morrow?” Eleanor asked hopefully.
Hugh stared after Sir Reginald. “Nay. This one we cannot throw out as easily. He’s a titled lord and a powerful one. He would have to do something disastrous, and Reginald de Orsey is a careful man. I cannot see him making a terrible mistake.”
“I was afraid you would say that. So he stays in the running?” She cringed when her voice came out as a miserable whine.
“Fear not, I am sure there will be others.” Hugh gave her a sympathetic smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder.
Their gazes locked briefly and Eleanor hoped he saw into her heart, saw who she truly desired. But he broke the moment and shifted his eyes to the others.
“Theo, James, let us move these logs. Lady Eleanor and I have a guest to attend to.”
James and Hugh went to the back of the cart, but Sir Theodore held back. “Do not worry so, my lady. Your chapel will get completed.”
His tone was so tender she didn’t have the heart to tell him, she did not worry about the chapel, but feared the monster in the hall.
The hot afternoon air seeped into the great hall and added to an already tense situation. Upon entering the room, Eleanor was surprised to find Sir Reginald slouching in the lord’s chair, sipping ale. She expected Hugh to take offense, but he just smiled and took the chair to his left, leaving Eleanor the chair to the right.
“So Sir Reginald, I hope your travel was easy. I assume you have come to seek the hand of our fair Lady Eleanor?” Hugh asked, pouring more ale into Lord de Orsey’s cup.
A puff of air left his lips. “The journey was hard and tedious.”
“Yet, you made it here within a sennight after King Richard issued his new decree.” Hugh placed his forearms on the table and flexed his fingers until they formed fists.
A shiver of fear ran down Eleanor’s back. These games of intimidation and power never went well. She reached across the table for a pitcher. “Would anyone like some spring water? ’Tis quite tasty.”
Both men shifted their gaze to her—one kind and expectant, the other cold and calculating. “We have just discovered this marvelous spring on Lord Thornwood’s lands. The water is fresh and clear and delicious.”
Sir Reginald looked down at his ale. “Nay. That’s a woman’s drink.”
Hugh reached across his guest and offered an empty cup to Eleanor, which she quickly filled. Hugh gulped the water down and offered his cup for more.
He wiped his mouth. “Not so. I find the water frees my mind and recharges the body. I am refreshed and able to complete my afternoon tasks.”
“Tasks?” Sir Reginald took another heavy pull of his ale. “Those too should be done by servants, peasants, and women. You should leave the overseeing of your keep to your steward.”
Hugh’s finger’s curled around the cup. “Master Sylvester is an excellent steward, but I have always believed it is wrong to ask others do what you would not do yourself.”
Sir Reginald drained the ale in his cup and smirked. “Ah, but my situation is different. I have many holdings and cannot possibly work at all of them. But I am not here to discuss how to manage a keep. I am here to discuss the terms of betrothal for Lady Eleanor’s hand. I would like the marriage to take place posthaste.”
Her pulse quickened. Just like that the game was over. Sir Reginald knew he held the upper hand and Hugh would acquiesce. He had to.
Yet a storm brewed in Hugh’s blue eyes. “You are presuming Lady Eleanor’s hand is yours?”
Sir Reginald waved around the hall. “I see no other suitors here. Nor will any arrive with as much right as I.”
“Right?” Hugh leaned in deadly close. “King Richard has set up the qualifications...of which, you may be lacking.”
Had she not been breathing, Eleanor would have sworn her heart no longer beat in her chest. Their words would lead to physical blows and then what? War? King Richard would be furious. He was rallying troops to fight in France. A civil war would not sit well.
“My lords—” Both men held out a hand to silence her without moving their gaze from each other.
Blessed be the name of the Lord, for at that exact moment Isobel decided to pull on Sir Reginald’s sleeve. “What’s that on your chest?” The child pointed to the emblem of a dragon on his tunic.
The tension broke with Hugh’s smile. “’Tis Lord de Orsey’s coat of arms.”
“A dragon?” Isobel said in awe.
With a shove of his elbow, Sir Reginald sent Isobel stumbling backwards. “Get off of me.”
Hugh was up and in the man’s face. “Take care Lord de Orsey, she is but a child.”
“You should teach your peasants some control and respect.” Sir Reginald began to stand, reaching for his sword.
Before he could rise completely, Eleanor dumped the rest of the pitcher of water in his lap. Her heart raced as she reached for a cloth and began dabbing the liquid on his breeches. “Oh I am so sorry, Sir Reginald. The pitcher just slipped.”
He rose and grabbed the cloth from her hand. “Cease this.” His dark pinhole eyes shifted back and forth between Hugh and her. “This is a keep of lunatics. Where is my chamber?”
Isobel rubbed her arm. “The top of the stairs. Are you going to use your dragon wings to get up there? You don’t even look like a dragon. You look more like a round turtle.”
Sir Reginald ignored her and glared at Hugh. “You had best beat that child or surely next time I will.” He then strode to the stairway as if he owned the keep.
Eleanor opened her mouth to reprimand Isobel, but before she could speak Hugh reached out and placed a hand on her arm.
“Isobel,” he said. “In the future hold your thoughts of Lord de Orsey to yourself. He may look like a turtle, but he carries the temper of a dragon. Do you understand?”
The child’s brown eyes grew wide as she nodded. No one wanted to tangle with a dragon.