A Dishonorable Knight(125)
Elena paused to rethread her needle, judging the effect of the tapestry. Its base was of heavy gold fabric and onto it she was working an intricate design of pomegranates, vines, and lions in rich jewel-colored silk threads. Returning to her work, her reflection of her present life resumed.
More and more she seemed to be spending time alone, sewing or staring out the window at the men practicing for war. During those times, like now, she did not have to decipher the veiled hostility of the other women of the court and she was free to let her mind wander. More often than not, her mind led her willingly to thoughts of Gareth and his last-minute declaration of love. Over and over she replayed that scene in the bailey. She saw the intense look on his face as he realized they were about to be separated. She could hear his voice, low and hoarse as he said, "I love you!" In her mind she stared at his face as her skittish horse was dragged away and she was lifted from its saddle. Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly alienated from the other members of court, she would rearrange that last scene. She would have Gareth proclaim his love right before they reached Nottingham castle. Then, instead of entering the great gates, they would turn and ride as fast as they could across the landscape and not stop until they reached Eyri Keep where they would marry.
Other times--times that made her cheeks flame with embarrassment and excitement--she would imagine the words escaping him in the heat of passion. Or in the tender quiet afterwards when they lay in each other's arms. Regardless of how the scenario began, it always ended the same: with their return to Eyri Keep. Eyri Keep had become an ideal in her mind where she was cherished without having to manipulate others, where she was admired without hostility, where Enid and Elen had proven themselves to be true friends who did not pretend to like her one moment and disdain her the next. And Eyri Keep was the place where she would look forward to her husband's return. As it stood now, she was dreading word of Brackley's return to Nottingham.
Catherine, the previously timid kitten, had somehow grown claws in the intervening weeks and had informed Elena that her fiancée had not been overly dismayed to learn of her disappearance and that he had, in fact, shown her, Catherine, undeniable partiality of late. Catherine had rambled on a great deal about the questions that were arising concerning Elena's good name after having spent so much time alone with a man. She had also made it quite clear that she felt she was infinitely more suited to being the earl's wife than was Elena. Elena had long ago learned the value of keeping her mouth shut on certain topics and she knew that should she say anything regarding her reluctance to wed the earl--especially to Catherine--the words would quickly find their way into Richard's ear.
Elena would have liked nothing better than to see Catherine wed to the repugnant man instead of herself, but considering Richard's mood of late, she knew that she must be very careful about how she broached the subject of her betrothal lest he grow enraged and wed her to Brackley immediately out of spite.
Her hands shaky at the thought of the earl, Elena stabbed her thumb with her needle as she took a stitch.
"Damn!" she exclaimed, dropping the thread and squeezing the offended digit. A bright red drop of blood welled out of the prick and she moved instinctively to put her thumb in her mouth. She paused, hand in midair as she remembered her mother telling her that blood from a seamstress's hand rubbed into a seam brought good luck to the wearer of the garment. Elena found a bright red flower on the tapestry and rubbed her thumb on it. The cloth would not be worn, but perhaps if hung in her room, would bring her good luck. At this point, she reflected, she needed all the good luck she could get.
A knock at the door was quickly followed by a page who brought word that the new Countess of Salisbury was in residence and King Richard charged his ladies-in-waiting to attend her on a horseback ride about the castle grounds.
Elena left her needlework and the privacy of the large sewing room to quickly change her clothes and join the small group of women gathered in the great hall. Amongst the women were Richard and another well-dressed man Elena assumed was the Earl of Salisbury. Presently they were joined by a regal looking woman of perhaps thirty who was closely attended by a smug looking Catherine. Elena wondered again when Catherine had grown so cocky but with a mental shrug of her shoulders, attributed it to life in the court. Thank my stars I have never been so worried about my position in Richard's court, she thought, with only a touch of irony.
Richard presented the small group of ladies to the Countess and Elena suppressed an instinctual feeling of danger when Richard merely mentioned her name to the countess and moved on to the next lady. Every other time Elena had attended his noble guests, Richard had made a special emphasis when introducing her. He had told this Duchess or that Lord that Elena was his prized attendant, or that as they were his favorite vassal, so must they have his favorite lady attend them. As a result, Elena had been showered with gifts and had been privy to many conversations she would have otherwise been excluded from had Richard not made a point to recognize her value and importance. That he was now ranking her with the group of ladies who were only trusted to prepare trays of edibles and help arrange skirts was unnerving.