Anne Herries - Promised to the Crusader

‘Indeed?’ Lord Howarth towered over her. A tall thickset man, he was the very opposite of her gentle father, for whom she was still in mourning. ‘We shall see about that, lady.’

The late master of Howarth Castle would never have forced his only daughter to marry a man she despised. He had married Elaine’s mother for love and mourned her sincerely when she died in childbirth some seven years after her daughter’s birth. Her babe had survived but a few hours after her and the then Lord Howarth had wept as he buried his son’s tiny body with its mother. He had loved his wife too well and would not take another, though it meant his brother would succeed him. He had his daughter and that must suffice.

‘Marcus is a just man,’ her father had told Elaine as he lay dying earlier that year. ‘You must follow his advice, my dearest child, for if you do not he may grow angry. My brother is honest, but he is not the most patient of men and he likes to be obeyed.’

Elaine had kissed her father’s cheek and told him not to worry for her, but she had not given her promise. She had never liked her uncle and knew that he thought her spoiled and too proud. His wife Margaret was quick to obey him; indeed, she tried to anticipate her husband’s every whim and was clearly afraid of displeasing him. Elaine could not go to her aunt for help because she would tell her it was her duty to obey her uncle.

‘I am an heiress in my own right,’ Elaine said, looking at her uncle boldly. He was tall and strong and could break her with his hands if he chose, but she doubted that he would stoop to violence. She supposed that in his own way he was the honourable man his brother had thought him, but he believed that he knew what was best for her—for the family. ‘If you will not allow me to wait here for Zander’s return, allow me to go to my dower lands. I can live there and be no trouble to you, my lord.’

‘Foolish girl!’ Her uncle looked at her in exasperation. ‘How long do you imagine you would be permitted to remain there without my protection? Your beauty—your wealth—makes you a target for every rogue baron in the country. Within six months you would find yourself a prisoner of some penniless knight and forced to wed him because he had disparaged you. I am offering you a match that will bring you prestige and wealth. Newark is a favourite with Prince John and will take you to court, where your beauty will be appreciated. You will have beautiful clothes, jewels and a respected name as his wife. Come, Elaine, give me your word and I shall send for him and the betrothal may be in a few days.’

‘No…’ Her heart raced as she saw the fury spark in his eyes, but her chin jutted and her head went higher. ‘My word is given to Zander—’

‘A landless knight who can offer you nothing! Your father told him he must prove himself before you could wed—and what did he do? He took the Cross and went to the Holy Land. Had he stayed here and won honours from Prince John, you might have been wed long since.’

Elaine bit her lip. In her heart she felt much as her uncle did, for she’d wept bitter tears night after night when Zander had left, but she knew that the man she loved would never have sought honour at Prince John’s court. He would think the prince corrupt and despise the way he imposed fines and taxes on a people struggling to survive despite poor harvests and the poverty that so many endured.

There was no point in telling her uncle that she did not wish to go to the prince’s court. All Elaine wanted was to be chatelaine of her own home. The dower lands that had come to her through her mother were fertile and situated on the borders between England and Wales, a distance of almost a hundred miles. If she left her uncle’s protection she knew that she would become a target for unscrupulous knights, who might snatch her and force her to wed them for the sake of her fortune.

‘Please, Uncle, for the love you bore my father, grant me a few more months. If Zander does not return by…the Eve of Christ’s Mass, I will accept my fate and marry the man of your choice.’

Lord Howarth stared at her in silence for several minutes and Elaine feared that he meant to impose his will. Rather than submit, she would run away, but she knew that if she did she might find herself in more danger. Unless she had an escort of armed men she might be kidnapped and either held to ransom or married against her will. Her best option was to wait for Zander’s return, but it seemed that her uncle was impatient for her marriage. She knew that she was well beyond the normal age for marriage, which for girls of her lineage was often arranged by their twelfth birthday. Yet she would rather live as a spinster than marry a man she despised.

Why did it matter to her uncle whom she married? Surely he had nothing to gain either way—and yet perhaps he would rather the earl was a friend than an enemy. If Newark was angered, it might mean that he would try to take by force what he could not get another way.

Howarth’s gaze narrowed. ‘You will give me your solemn word, Elaine? If this rogue you’ve set your heart on does not return by the Eve of Christ’s birth, you will marry the earl?’

‘If it is your wish, sir, yes.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back for nothing would make her marry that evil man. Somehow she would contrive to get away and seek sanctuary in a convent.

Her uncle inclined his head. ‘Then I shall grant your wish. It is but two and a half months away. I am not such a hard man that I would force you just to please myself, niece—but this is for your own good. If you delay much longer, the chance will pass you by and you may have no choice but to retire to a nunnery.’

She would much prefer that to a marriage she did not like, but she said nothing of defiance, pretending to a calm she did not feel.

‘I thank you for your patience, Uncle.’ She lowered her head demurely so that he should not see the flash of temper in her eyes. Rather than marry a man she despised she would retire to a nunnery—or, if driven to it, she would take her own life. There were poisons that were quick, though they caused terrible pain, but she would endure even that rather than submit to Newark. The way he looked at Elaine made her cringe inside and his thick lips made her shiver with disgust at the thought they might touch hers.

‘Very well, my word is given. Go to your aunt now and see if you may help her. She was feeling poorly earlier and your skill with herbs may ease her.’

Elaine inclined her head. She had already tended her aunt, for the poor lady suffered with terrible headaches and lay prostrate on her couch. There was no point in telling her uncle that her aunt was now resting. He might visit her to investigate when all that gentle lady needed was a little peace.

Leaving her uncle’s private chamber, Elaine walked through the great hall. The room was always filled with knights and servants going about their business. In winter and even on summer days a huge log fire was kept burning in the hearth, for the stone walls and high vaulted roof made it cold. Sunlight seldom penetrated the tiny slitted windows and it was often dark. Outside it was a glorious autumn day, but in the castle there were dark corners until the torches were lit.

Her dower lands did not boast a stout castle such as this one, merely a manor house, but it was much lighter and the deep windowsills made a perfect place to sit and look out at the gardens and fields that surrounded her mother’s home. She had spent many happy days there in childhood and wished that she might go there now, but her uncle was right. Without a husband to protect her she would be vulnerable and at the mercy of ruthless barons.

‘My lady, will you walk?’ Marion, her companion and faithful servant, came up to her, a basket over her arm. ‘We need herbs for the kitchens. I go to the woods. Will it pleasure you to come with me?’