Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man.
James 1:13
The tournament, a day away, had all but abducted Eleanor’s help for the chapel. Indeed, Theo showed up every day to nail down a few boards, but then another new suitor would arrive, pulling the knight to the butts to study the new competition. Likewise, James could not resist the excitement unfolding outside the keep’s gate and hadn’t shown up for three days. Hugh had stopped coming the moment Theo made his intentions known. The only willing worker was Simon, who feverishly toiled on the altar, knowing full well time was running out for him, too.
Eleanor took a daily assessment of their progress. The floor was laid, the walls were up and the windows cut, but the roof was less than half done. The chapel was so close to completion and yet so far. All she needed were a few more days and the structure would be finished. Days she didn’t have. Days Simon didn’t have.
Inside the chapel she heard him hammering, chiseling, and shaping the rough wood. The boy worked from morn to night, for soon he would be forced to return to Sir Guy’s keep. With the very pregnant Lady Grace, Guy would want to see her safely home before leaving to fight in France with King Richard.
Her heart flipped. Simon would do whatever was expected of him without further complaint. He would never go against his father’s wishes. A true servant of God. Oh God, please let the boy finish his gift to You. He loves You so much.
Why couldn’t Hugh see how blessed he was to have a son like Simon? If only he would open his heart. Heavenly Father, please help Hugh to come to see that his son wishes to serve You.
Perhaps she should try once more, to speak to Hugh on Simon’s behalf. What could happen? Hugh could order her to leave, which would occur soon enough. The thought of leaving this place wrenched her heart. No matter how good of a husband Theo might turn out to be, a part of her would always love Hugh. No matter what, she would always look upon Thornwood as her true home because Hugh lived here and loved this place so much. No matter what, she knew her heart would always be here.
Eleanor walked outside and appraised the unfinished roof again and said to the gaping hole, “You just can’t stop loving someone you’ve loved forever.”
“Who are you speaking to?”
The strong, even voice sent her heart wobbling in her chest. She spun about. “Hugh. What are you doing here?” Her words came out in a breathless rush, and she couldn’t stop the heat flushing her skin.
He glanced about the chaotic bailey and then back at her. “Darrin and Guy are in charge of the archery tourney and have taken a third of my servants to build another butt. Sir Reginald has decided to rule my bean fields with his massive tent and entourage. My family reigns in the hall and pandemonium seems to own the bailey.” He paused and his brow wrinkled with remorse. “I thought, perhaps, you may need some assistance since Theo seems more interested in evaluating every man that notches an arrow instead of finishing your chapel.”
“You’re offering to help with the chapel?”
His eyebrows slanted downward. “I am here, aren’t I?”
This was as close to an ‘aye’ as she was going to get. Better not to push him or he may walk away. “It’s almost finished...except for the roof.”
His gaze traveled along the bare crossbeam. “This won’t take long. A few good men and this can be done within a few hours. ’Tis a small chapel.”
“I agree, but as you said so yourself, others seem to be occupied.” She waved a hand across the noisy courtyard where no one sat idle.
Servants carried clean rushes, buckets of mead, or scurried from the kitchens with fresh game, bread or fruits. Squires and young lads carried swords and bows to and from the armory to the practice fields or the butts. The braying of mules and the nicker of horses could be heard from the stable and pens. Isobel, Luke, and other children chased chickens and geese around the bailey, leaving puffs of dust in their wake.
The lines of anguish on Hugh’s face solidified Eleanor’s fears. The chapel would never be completed before she left. He knew there were many other things he should be doing.
His features grew dark. “Where is James? He should be here.”
“How can you force a lad to toil on this structure when there is so much happening to interest a young man? He’s off with Sir Gordon, doing...doing...something.” Eleanor threw her hands up in the air.
“Then I shall go and find them.” He turned to leave then paused. A steady scrapping sound came from inside the chapel. “Is someone inside?”
“Of course. Simon. He is working on the altar.”
“Not anymore.” Hugh peered into the chapel and shouted, “Simon, come here.”
The chiseling stopped and Simon appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Father? You wish to speak to me?”
“I wish for you to help with the raising of this roof.”
Simon looked up and then shifted his pleading gaze to Eleanor before he turned back to his father. “But the altar...”
A flash of irritation flew across Hugh’s face and Eleanor stepped forward. “Simon has been working very hard. You should see how beau—”
“I care not how it looks. What good is an altar if there isn’t a chapel to put it in?” Hugh’s gaze slid to the rough logs that needed to be stripped and planed before putting into place. “This may take longer than I thought.”
Simon’s face drooped and Eleanor ached for the boy. He wanted to finish the altar before he would be forced to leave and now there’d be no hope.
“Mayhap we could put up a thatched roof. It wouldn’t take as long,” she suggested.
Hope lit up Simon’s face, but was quickly dashed to the ground with the shake of his father’s head.
“Nay. One good rain and the whole structure would be damaged. If we work hard, we’ll be done before nightfall.” Hugh strode over to one of the unfinished logs. “Come, Simon. Let us not tarry.”
The three of them labored for hours and did not stop for the noon day meal. Instead, Eleanor called for Isobel to bring them food from the hall. A few bites were consumed during the meal, but most went into Isobel and her new best friend, Luke’s, bellies. By the time the sun started to fade away, the small structure had a sturdy roof.
They stood in a row and admired their work. “It is finished then,” Eleanor whispered and Simon smiled.
Hugh nodded. “Aye. It’s done.”
The finality of his words almost split Eleanor in two. She turned away and made her way to the hall with tears leaking from her eyes.
The hall breathed with excitement. Every soul talked about the tourney tomorrow. Some suitors bragged while others silently listened with doubt upon their faces. Hugh leaned back in his chair, rolling his aching shoulders. No doubt it would be the braggarts that would be the first to be defeated.
Julian, who sat to Hugh’s left, leaned in. “Well, Brother, soon this will be all over. You are days away from regaining your keep.”
The words should have warmed his soul, but they did not. “Aye,” was the best he could muster—Eleanor was leaving. His gaze searched the hall. Where was his fair Eleanor? He found her sitting against the hearth with four suitors and Theo circled about her. Fascinating. She toiled all day and yet she managed to give attention to others. A woman above all women.
There was only one Eleanor and she was leaving.
Leaving.
His Eleanor.
Hugh balled his hand into a first. “I need to check the battlements,” he told Julian. Before his brother could answer, Hugh was out of the hall and taking the battlement steps two at a time. At the edge he looked out over his lands spotted with campfires and tents. Soon this would all be gone, and suddenly he wished they would stay. If they stayed then so would Eleanor.
He walked along the reinforced wall to the east and contemplated the butts ready for the contest. Why had he not insisted on holding off the tournament for another sennight or two? If he had, then Eleanor would be here all the longer.
The yearning in his heart made his knees weak and he held on to the wall. God, if you can hear me. Tell me why. Why would you give me this task knowing I would want her? Tempting me with something that is forbidden. You say come and see, yet I know not what you want me to do. Do you hear me? For I cannot hear you.
“My lord.” Her soft melodious voice hung on the dark night and fired up his soul like a luminous light.
He turned slowly and gazed at her tender face, glowing like a sunbeam in the moonlight. “Eleanor,” he murmured. He fought hard not to crush her to his chest when she smiled at him. “What do you here?”
The warm winds flicked the light veil away from her face, exposing soft tendrils of her chestnut hair. He shouldn’t. He had no right. But he brushed the wisps with his fingertips. Imagination got the better of him for he swore she leaned toward his hand.
“I want to thank you for what you did today.”
Her words curled around his heart. Not because of what she said, but how she said them. He would miss her melodic voice. “Nay, ’tis I who owes you the thanks. The chapel was your idea. Now my people will have somewhere to pray to God.”
“And you, too,” she added.
He thought of the prayer he had just made. Would he have answers if he said them in the chapel? “Mayhap, in time.”
She reached out and touched his hand. Her touch soothed his skin like a sweet caress. Did she know? Would she care?
“You must promise me you will pray in the chapel. You must promise me, you will return to your faith. Please, Hugh. I cannot bear the thought of you being tortured by hell’s fires someday.”
He wanted to chase her fears away, but he was not sure if he could fulfill her wish. “I will try. For your sake.”
A cloud settled over part of the moon, and her face took on a ghostly shadow. A chill swept through him. He could not let her drift away like some enthralled spirit. He reached and grasped the hand lightly sitting on his forearm.
She gasped. “My lord?”
“Nay, Eleanor say my name. Like you used to.”
She shook her head and dropped her gaze to the shadows. Swallowed deep. Gone. “Eleanor,” he shouted.
The cloud moved away and she looked up, the moon glowing on her glorious face. “Hugh?”
His name so slightly said filled him with a deep desire that almost removed all his honor. He wanted to kiss her with total possessiveness.
But she was not his.
His body shook and he fought for control. If he told her the truth, that he loved her, cherished her beyond all doubt, would she forgo this ridiculous charade of a contest and marry him?
She gazed upon him with questioning eyes. “Are you all right? I know this has been hard for you, but rest easy, tomorrow it will all be over. I promise Theo and I will leave soon thereafter.”
Theo and I?
Theo and I.
Theo and I!
Indeed! Hugh took a deep, shaky breath. She had chosen her man. And a good one at that. King Richard would be pleased. All would be pleased. The air slowly seeped from Hugh’s lungs. He should be pleased.
Hugh dropped her hand and stepped away. “Excellent.” The word came out a hot sizzle, and he watched her bristle as it burned.
Her shoulders shot back and her spine seemed to snap straight before him. “I have but one more request before I leave.”
Another demand. What would this be? A plea that he employ a priest to say Mass every morn? “What now, Lady Eleanor?”
This time he saw her flinch at the harshness of his words. “I ask that you let Simon finish the chapel altar before you send him away.”
Raw rage mixed with his agonizing want for her. “I don’t care about the altar. It can rot where it sits!”
Her face shuttered, and he knew his selfishness had pushed her away, but his pride would not let him relent. He turned away and gazed out over the butts, ready to seal both their fates.
“I ask you to think on it, nothing more. Know that your son loves you and will do whatever you wish. But, for once, I wish you would do what is right for him. I pray our Heavenly Father will open your eyes so you can come and see what He wants.”
A low laugh left Hugh’s throat. He turned around ready to state that he also wanted to know what he should see. But all he saw was her retreating back, her veil swiftly fading away into the dark night.
Just as he thought to go after her, a faint light coming from the chapel caught his eye. “What now?” Hugh called to the wind. “I swear I will have the head of whoever is in that structure.” He tore down the back steps of the battlements and stormed into the chapel.
There he found his son. The soft candle light shining off his silky head, fast asleep with a chisel in hand. The wrath within Hugh evaporated. He reached over to gently wake up his son, but froze when the soft light flickered on the altar. The figures were intricately carved, as if someone had breathed life into them. The scenes unfolded. The anguish and passion of Christ loomed from the block of wood and tore through Hugh’s soul. He reached out and drew a finger along the lines of his Savior’s tortured face. What pain and suffering He endured. To what purpose? To save wretches. The undeserving. To save him.
Hugh lifted his gaze to the new ceiling. Why? What good was there in saving those who were worthless? Dropping his chin, his gaze caught another figure in another scene—the radiant resurrected Lord. Hugh crumbled to the ground. How had he not seen? He had been walking in a dead past when a resurrected present was right before him. He had been punishing himself and his son for sins committed long ago. But Christ had washed those all away. Together they could walk into a brilliant future.
“Father? Why are you crying?”
Hugh touched his cheeks. Aye, he was. He reached out to his son. “I am sorry. I am so very sorry for being so blind. The Lord has blessed you with an outstanding gift. Who am I to stand in the way of what He wants for you. Do as you wish, Simon. I’ll not force you to be something you’re not.”
For a moment Simon stared at his father as if he were waiting to wake up from a very pleasant dream. Then Hugh held out his arms and the boy fell into them.
“Thank you, Father. Thank you.”
Nay, thought Hugh. Thank God.