The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?
Jeremiah 17:9
The summer day bespoke of more blistering summer heat, but Hugh did not care. After breaking his fast, conversing briefly with Theo, he immediately headed back out to the fields and walked the lines of barley and wheat. Of course, everything was in order just as it had been a few hours ago. He thought to seek out Sylvester and go over the holding’s accounts, but that would mean he would have to enter the keep and he wasn’t ready to do so.
He decided to inspect the new hedgerows, which he already knew were in perfect condition. Mayhap he should return to the stream where he had met the old man yesterday, but Hugh wasn’t up for conversation.
Finally, after checking the hedges, he borrowed an ax from a peasant’s home and began searching the forest for brittle fallen branches, which he hacked into firewood. He hauled and split log after log, branch after branch, and still he found no peace.
Theo would marry Eleanor. A perfect match and one King Richard would, without a doubt, approve.
He raised the ax high above his head and mercilessly whacked at another fallen limb. A loud whistle hung on the air and Hugh looked up.
Darrin leaned against a sturdy oak. “You know you could be taking your frustration out on one of the suitors or Sir Reginald. No need to destroy the forest.”
“What do you care?” Hugh pulled the ax out of the branch, raised the tool above his head and smacked the limb again.
“We have a better idea.” Guy appeared from behind another tree, eating an apple.
“What do you mean another idea? What are you talking about?” Hugh slammed the ax again and the limb split in two.
“You’re worried about how to get rid of de Orsey without causing a ruckus.” Guy tossed the apple core over his shoulder.
That wasn’t the driving factor for Hugh’s actions, but he was willing to listen. But with Sir Reginald around, Theo couldn’t marry Eleanor, which gave Hugh some solace. Hugh wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “What is your plan?”
Darrin pushed off the tree and strolled to Hugh’s side. “We’ll have an archery tourney.”
Hugh dug the blade of the ax into the ground and leaned on the handle. “Why? Are you planning on throwing your hat in the ring for Lady Eleanor, too?”
“Hardly. But Guy and I have been watching these suitors. None are good archers and Sir Reginald is the worst.”
“Theo will win this contest easily, for he is the best. We’ll have three rounds with an advancement of two archers each round. Each man will have one arrow per round. This will make it look legitimate.” Guy perched on one of the split logs. “I shall be the Archery Master, and Darrin can assist me.”
“For surely Lord de Orsey will be out in the first round. The rest will be a formality. What do you think?” Darrin asked.
Hugh wanted to tell the pair they were fools, but unfortunately their plan was solid—to a point. De Orsey would be out of the picture and Eleanor would be safe from his clutches. “You cannot guarantee Theo’s win. Another suitor could have an excellent day and Theo could have a miserable one. I have seen it before.”
Guy shook his head. “Nay, I tell you. These knights work on honing their skills with a sword, not a bow. The only two that could best Theo are Darrin or...you.” Guy said the last with a smirk.
Darrin and Guy exchanged puzzling looks as if they both held a shared secret. “It is a sure plan,” Darrin added.
An uneasiness settled over Hugh. Nothing in life was for certain. “When are you planning on having this contest?”
“Soon,” Guy said. “If we announce it and wait, then more archers will come and we can’t risk having one of them beat Theo.”
Soon. The word hit like a lance to Hugh’s gut. But they were right. They couldn’t risk Eleanor winding up with anybody else other than Theo. Swallowing hard, Hugh nodded. “All right. Set the match for a fortnight from now.”
The pair of conspirators shook their heads.
Darrin placed a foot on a log. “It needs to be sooner than that. New suitors arrive daily. Week’s end at the latest.”
Five days, so soon. But Darrin was right. If they waited longer, Eleanor could end up with the wrong man. She could be gone by next week. Suddenly Hugh’s arms and legs felt weak. He leaned more heavily on the ax handle.
Guy nodded his agreement. “Call the suitors together and make the announcement. We’ll give them a few days to practice. This way we will see if there are any real challengers. Theo already knows of this plan. We discussed it earlier.”
A cauldron of emotions twisted inside Hugh. Never again would he and Eleanor practice at the butts together. Their private time gone. “You were so sure Lady Eleanor would want his favors?”
Guy shrugged. “After looking at the field of fools before her, aye. He is the only decent choice. However, she does not know of this tourney. Do you want to tell her or should we?”
The plan was made; there was only one choice. Hugh dropped his ax and swallowed hard. “I shall talk to her. ’Tis my responsibility.”
Walking past the pair, Hugh left the forest without his ax or his wood. For all he cared, the wood could rot where it lay.
Upon entering the keep, he went straight for the chapel site, but Eleanor was not about and neither was Theo. However, he did find his son, carving away on a large block of wood.
“What are you making?” Hugh asked, leaning against a partial wall.
Simon stood and brushed the wood shavings off his breeches. “An altar for the chapel. I just started this morn. What do you think?”
The pattern had been drawn and lightly etched with a fine tool. Even with a small part carved, Hugh could see the detailed crucifixion scene. The tortured body of Jesus and the angry faces of the mob, bent on Christ’s destruction. Simon’s figures emanated the emotion of the destruction of the Savior.
His son truly held a talent. Had he been born a peasant, he would have been a fine craftsman. But, Simon’s destiny differed. He would be better off using his hands to hone his ability to wield a sword or loose a bow.
“What will be on this side?” Hugh pointed to the blank side of the block.
Simon puffed out his chest. “That? Why the resurrection of our Lord, of course.”
“Of course,” Hugh mimicked dryly. At his tone, the boy’s face fell. “Will you be able to have it completed before you return to Sir Guy’s keep?”
His son’s hands trembled and it looked like he would shake his head in defeat. But then the boy rallied, lifting his chin. “I wish to stay here until it is completed. Father, I want to give my life to the service of God. Please give me your blessing on this.”
The old seeds of bitterness and rage began to grow fresh within Hugh. “Again the Church. You know my feelings on this. You are all I have. What I build here will be yours someday.”
“I don’t want it, Father. None of it. I would give it away...like Uncle Julian did.”
Fury flew fast and infused Hugh’s weary limbs with massive strength. With a rough push of his foot against the wooden block, he knocked it on its side. “Cease this foolishness. You will do as I command.”
“Father!” Simon fell to his knees, shaking his head. “Lady Eleanor was wrong. She said if I asked you to come and see what I was doing, you would have a change of heart. But I did not. I knew you wouldn’t care.”
Come and see. The old man’s words. A tightness settled on Hugh’s chest, upon his rock-hard heart. He turned and strode away from the chapel with his age-old bundle of resentment on his back. His son would never, never be like his brother, and Lady Eleanor would learn her place. Now.
When he entered the great hall, she was nowhere to be found. Neither was his captain, which flamed Hugh’s ire all the more. Where could they be? Taking the stairs two at a time, he did not stop his pace until he came to her chamber door. Banging on the wood produced no answer. He boldly flipped the latch, but the room was empty.
His temper bubbled. They are probably walking in the woods hand in hand. He raced up the battlement steps, hoping the view would give him a better advantage.
It did.
There, on the battlements they stood, Theo’s arm around Eleanor’s shoulder, and his lips close to her ear. No doubt whispering honeyed words. Hugh paused for a second, but then his hard heart and blind rage propelled him forward.
“Lady Eleanor, a word with you,” Hugh snapped.
The pair turned and Hugh stalled when he noticed Eleanor’s tear-streaked face. The hostility, resentment and jealousy fled from him.
“What is wrong?” he said tenderly.
“Isobel almost got trampled on by Sir Reginald’s horse. Adam holds Lady Eleanor responsible,” Theo answered, giving Eleanor’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
A flickering flame of jealousy twisted in Hugh’s chest. He had to fight the urge not to knock off Theo’s arm. Instead he used another tactic. He strode over to the couple. “I would like to speak to Lady Eleanor alone.”
Theo frowned, drawing Eleanor closer to him. “What you need to say to her you can say to me.”
So his captain was making his claim already. Hugh wanted to console Eleanor, take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. Reassure her that he would talk to Adam and smooth over any ill feelings. Instead, Hugh gritted his teeth and encased his heart.
He lowered his chin and pierced Eleanor with a firm gaze. “Very well. There will be an archery tournament. The man with the most skill will earn your hand in marriage.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened and her skin paled. “I thought you were coming up with a way to get rid of Sir Reginald so the field would be open for Theo to have my hand in marriage.”
Theo. So his captain was allowed to be familiar with the lady. Hugh balled his fist, trying desperately to hold onto an anger that wasn’t warranted.
“Well, we hope Theo wins. It was Sir Guy’s, Darrin’s and Theo’s idea to begin with.” Hugh snapped. Pleasure filled him when Eleanor shot a wary eye in Theo’s direction.
“When is this tournament to be held?” she asked coolly.
Hugh put his hands behind his back, never removing his hard gaze from hers. “At week’s end.”
Something Hugh could not understand flashed in her eyes. “So soon,” she whispered.
Theo squeezed her shoulder again. “Fear not, I shall win.”
A faint smile slipped on her lips, and she gave Theo a tender look. “I shall pray you are successful,” she murmured.
Hugh seethed. What hogwash. “I still have another subject that needs discussion. I wish to speak to the lady alone.”
His captain began to protest, but Eleanor patted his arm affectionately. “It’s all right, Theo. I am fine now. When I am finished speaking to Lord Thornwood, I will meet you at the chapel.”
Theo! Lord Thornwood! Bah.
The winds shifted direction and the afternoon heat faded with the return of dark clouds. Hugh raised his eyes heavenward. More rain. Perfect. Maybe the storm would wash away this whole fiasco.
Reluctantly, Theo let go of Eleanor and retreated to the stairs, every so often casting a look over his shoulder, glaring at Hugh.
After Theo left, Hugh turned his attention back to Eleanor. Her large doe eyes reached into him and chipped at his unyielding heart. A few curls escaped her veil and settled on her long graceful neck. Indeed, Eleanor had many charms and a beauty which superseded many others. She had a loveliness that would never fade over time. How he wished he could capture her brightness and hold it to his black soul.
“Speak of what you could not say in front of Theo.”
Theo. Darkness grabbed Hugh’s heart again. “My lady, I would appreciate it if you would stop encouraging my son with his dreams of the Church.”
Her lips grew tight and she seemed to grow taller as she clasped her hands. “I am not encouraging him. It is what God has chosen for him. If you are angry, perhaps you should take your complaint to our Heavenly Father. I think spending some time in prayer is exactly what you need. Tell me, Sir Hugh, when was the last time you conversed with the Lord?”
Her words took him back to a different time, to old wounds torn open and naught else mattered. “First off, Lady Eleanor, I am not angry,” he spat out. “Secondly, my faith is not your concern.”
“It is the duty of all good Christians to bring a man to the faith, and if a fellow Christian is struggling, then God has instructed us that it is our duty to support and nurture that person through their trials.”
He could not help but watch her lips as she spoke. If he were not careful... “How will you nurture and care for me?”
She started, stepped back and raised a hand to her throat. “Oh...through prayer and quoting of the scripture.”
He inched in closer and reached out to touch her cheek. “Eleanor,” he groaned.
This time she jumped as if he had slapped her across the face. “Sir. Please. I-I-don’t understand what you are doing. What do you want?”
Neither did he. But he did know he didn’t want to see Eleanor with Theo just as much as he didn’t want to see her with Sir Reginald. Hugh sighed inwardly. He had to get control of himself immediately.
Struggling within, he stepped away. “Forgive me, Lady Eleanor. What I am trying to say is my soul is my concern, and if I choose to practice or not to practice my faith, that is my concern also.”
A hesitant look crossed her features. “I am sorry, but I must disagree. I know it has been hard for you and Simon since Jane’s death, but God is always there for you. He does have a plan for you, just as he has a plan for Simon. Please stop hardening your heart and let God in. He will help you.”
A sharp pain hit Hugh’s chest and shook him to the core. He clenched his teeth and lashed out. “You know naught. I am not suffering because Jane is dead. Her death gave me freedom. I’ll never shackle myself again. As for Simon. He is my son and I will do with him as I see fit. And the Church will not suit him!” His voice echoed off the battlements.
“Stop shouting,” she whispered, the anguish of his verbal assault evident on her face.
Hugh raked a hand through his hair. “This is foolishness.”
“At least try to understand, Simon’s love for God is genuine. Why can you not come to see that?”
An electrifying shock shot up Hugh’s arm and slammed into his hard heart when Eleanor placed a few light fingertips on his hand. Come and see. Come to see.
Hugh raised his eyes to the heavens. Dark clouds loomed and brushed away the bright sky. He looked down in defeat and shook his head. She asked too much. God asked too much.
At that moment, shouts rang out from the guards. “Riders approaching.”
“Oh dear,” Eleanor said. “’Tis Lord de Vin’s colors.”
Hugh narrowed his gaze on the approaching column of riders. “You mean the man who made you clean the stables?”
Eleanor nodded.
Hugh turned and stomped down the battlement stairs into the courtyard. He never broke his stride as he headed for the gate. The shouts of men and the clatter of horses’ hooves filled the bailey. A man dressed in a grey tunic with a red hawk splayed on his chest dismounted and took off his gloves.
“Lord Thomas de Vin?” Hugh asked. Before the noble could give him a curt nod, Hugh slammed his fist into the man’s face. “Never make a lady work in a stable. Get back on your horse and get out of here.”
Shock and confusion filled Lord de Vin’s face as well as those around them. But Hugh didn’t care. He had had enough. More shouts resonated from the keep entry, and Hugh was ready to launch another attack. From this point on, there would be no more new suitors.
Hugh drew his sword, but the person who came through the entry made him pause and, God forgive him, he swore under his breath.
“Heavens. The lord of the keep greets us with a drawn sword?” The feminine voice hushed the chaotic bailey.
A white horse trotted in and the tall, muscular, blond-haired rider, smiled down at Hugh. “It definitely appears so.”
Hugh let out a deep breath. “Greetings, Mother. Welcome, Brother.” God did indeed ask too much.