The King's Champion

‘Is that so?’ said another voice, the deep, angry voice of her father as he strode into their midst. ‘What have you to say for yourself, Eleanor?’ Lord Henry grasped his daughter by the chin and jerked her head up. ‘And do not lie to me, girl, for I am in no mood for deceit!’

Ellie gasped, for she had never seen her father so angry, and she glanced with wide, frightened eyes to her mother, who intervened on her behalf, touching a soothing hand to her husband’s arm. ‘Easy, Hal, all is well. She was merely lost, but Rupert found her and brought her straight home.’

‘Indeed?’ Her father pierced her with his dark brown gaze, ‘That’s not what I hear.’ The others looked at him in questioning consternation. ‘I have heard an entirely different tale from Troye de Valois.’

Her uncle and father exchanged glances. ‘What has he to do with this?’

With reluctance Lord Henry admitted, ‘It seems we owe him a debt of gratitude, for he came to report an attempted rape and gave good evidence of the suspects, and the victim.’

‘Good God!’

‘Eleanor—’ her mother turned to her, with fluttering alarm ‘—is this true?’

Eleanor and Rupert exchanged a glance. Then her brother turned on his heel and called back over his shoulder that he would find Troye de Valois and bring him back to explain the truth.

‘Nay, Rupert!’ protested Eleanor as her father snatched at her upper arm. ‘Father, it’s not—’

‘Don’t try to deny it, girl,’ he snapped with great fury, turning to address her mother. ‘What did I tell you? Blood will out!’

‘Nay, Hal! Please, leave her be.’

But her father turned a deaf ear to her pleading mother, who stumbled in their wake as he grabbed hold of a wooden spoon from the cook’s table and dragged Eleanor to his pavilion. Once within he pushed Eleanor against the table and forced her face down with his hand between her shoulder blades. He flung up her skirts and began to strike her across the buttocks with the wooden spoon.

‘Hal, please,’ shrieked her mother, desperately trying to catch hold of her husband’s arm as it rose and fell in a fury. ‘Stop, for the love of God! She is my daughter, through and through, mine! All mine, never his!’

‘Blood will out, Joanna, but I will teach her a lesson and beat the wanton from her first.’

Chapter Two

Eleanor was beyond crying out after the first initial shocked cry, and leaned across the table in taut silence as her father smacked her. He did not apply much force; whilst each blow stung, it was her pride that suffered the most.

‘Remy, stop him, please, please stop him!’ sobbed Lady Joanna.

Her uncle stepped forwards then, the only man big enough to tackle her father, and grasped hold of Lord Henry’s arm, forcing it down and grinding out between clenched teeth, ‘Enough, Hal. There is no need for this.’

Her father snorted. ‘Is there not? Then what was my so-called daughter doing amongst a campful of tourney knights, unescorted? Lies and dissipation I will not tolerate!’

‘You have not even given Eleanor a chance to explain.’

‘Hah! What would we hear but lies, just like her—’

‘Don’t!’ screamed Lady Joanna, with such force that their ears rang, ‘You promised, Hal,’ she wept, ‘you promised me that you would love them. She’s a good girl, high spirited and strong-willed, but none the less a good girl.’

Seeing his wife with tears streaming down her cheeks and her beautiful, fair face twisted and reddened with fear and horror, he suddenly dropped the wooden spoon and released Eleanor, jerking down her skirts. ‘Go!’ he commanded her. ‘Get from my sight.’

Slowly, her back aching and her buttocks smarting, Ellie raised herself up from her punishing stance and turned slowly to face her father, and when she spoke her voice was a trembling whisper that wrenched at his heart. ‘Please forgive me, Father, if I have done wrong.’

And then she turned and staggered to her mother, who folded her tightly into her embrace and, together with her Aunt Beatrice, took her away.

Alone now, Remy turned to his brother-in-law and said quietly, ‘Your fears are unfounded, Hal. I have to agree with Joanna, there is naught of her father in Ellie.’

Lord Henry turned away, sickened with himself, enraged at the cruel twist of fate that was now rearing its ugly head to torment them. ‘What to do?’ he asked in bitter despair. ‘What to do? She will hate me now. Ellie has always been slow in her forgiveness of a wrong. But how greatly I fear the vice of the father shall be born in the children.’

Remy clasped his shoulder, offering his support. ‘By nature there is a measure of vice in all of us. But I believe you have nurtured her so well—indeed, both of them—that it is no more than the usual. I know you mean well, Hal, but let things be for a day or two. You will see, Ellie will love you still, as the good father you have always been to her.’

‘Good!’ Hal snorted in self-disgust. ‘I have never in her life, nor mine, beaten a wench before.’

‘Nay, but in a fit of hot temper we all do rash things we later regret. She will forgive you.’

In the adjoining pavilion Ellie lay face down upon her cot covered in soft furs, too numb with shock and misery to cry, to even speak, and lay staring at the canvas walls, while her mother and her aunt whispered conspiratorially behind her. Rupert returned and knelt beside her, stroking her hair and whispering that he had been unable to locate de Valois, but on the morrow he would find him and let him speak his truth. Eleanor roused herself, sniffing as she reached out and clutched at her brother’s sleeve, her voice muffled and strained as she begged him not to.

‘Please don’t, I have no wish for him to know of my disgrace.’

‘But you have done nothing wrong!’ protested Rupert, ‘Mayhap you have been foolish, but ’tis nothing like what Father thinks. Troye de Valois will set him straight.’

‘Nay!’ sobbed Eleanor. ‘Say nothing.’

Reluctantly Rupert departed, and after a word with his mother and restraining himself from tangling with his father, he returned to his own tent on the knights’ side of the field.

All night, and the following day, she would talk to no one, and lay still and silent upon her bed, refusing all food and even water. Worried, Lady Joanna sent for her son, and paced restlessly until at last he came, but as she rushed to him she contained her outburst as she saw that he was accompanied. Questioningly, she frowned at Troye de Valois as he bowed to her with quiet respect.

‘What is he doing here?’ she asked, somewhat ungraciously, too concerned for her children to bother with niceties.

‘I thought that he could speak to Father, and reassure him that what happened was not Ellie’s fault.’ He turned to de Valois, and with a lift of his eyebrows encouraged him to speak.

‘It is so, lady. Your daughter did nothing wanton and her only error was to be naïve enough to think she could wander through an encampment full of drunken men unmolested.’

Lady Joanna smiled at him then, and sent a serf to fetch her husband, before turning to Rupert with a worried frown, She has not spoken, nor eaten, nor even swallowed a drop of water since…since last night.’

‘’Tis shock,’ supplied Troye, thinking to be helpful and unaware of the full events, ‘but she’s young and strong and will soon recover.’

‘Nay…’ Lady Joanna shook her head ‘…my husband was very angry and—and he…beat her. I think that has upset her more than anything else.’

Troye politely stood aside while mother and son conversed in whispers; when Lord Henry entered the tent and cast upon him an enquiring, speculative eye, he bowed with respect, although as the King’s champion he had no need to bow to any man. Troye wasted no time, and carefully explained that he had no doubt that Eleanor had not behaved in any way to encourage an interest in her. ‘She tried to fight them off and save her honour, but if I had not chanced to hear her scream and come to her aid, she would not have had strength enough to succeed. Rest assured, my lord, your daughter is not a wanton and her honour is intact.’

This was a thought that had not occurred to Lord Henry as of yet, and he spoke sharply to his wife. ‘You have examined Eleanor? She is virgin still?’

‘Of course,’ murmured Lady Joanna through stiff lips, a guilty blush flaring upon her cheeks as she had not considered such an examination necessary and her blush deepened as her son and his companion stared uncomfortably at their boots.

‘And you,’ Lord Henry spoke with equal abruptness to Troye, ‘what state was my daughter in when you found her?’

‘Well, naturally, she was very distressed—’

‘That was not what I meant! In what state was her clothing?’ Lord Henry leaned very close, his eyes full of glittering danger. ‘Was she…undressed?’

‘Nay, my lord!’ Troye protested hotly. ‘It was as I have told you. Her clothing, and her honour, were all intact.’ He thought it best not to mention that he had, in fact, refastened her hose and garters, sensing that even this brief assistance to a distraught and dishevelled damsel would send her father into a paroxysm of rage.

Lord Henry released a pensive sigh, and then jerked a brief, grudging bow to Troye, ‘My thanks for your assistance. We are grateful. I trust,’ he said with grave warning, ‘that this will not be a topic for campfire conversation. My daughter’s reputation relies upon your discretion.’