Chapter 12

                                    

                                          
Richard
I never expected the climb up to my chamber to be so perilous. Someone careering down the stairs in darkness collides with me, threatening to send us both crashing to the ground. I'd have been safer in my pavilion.
My heart thunders as I reach out to steady my accidental assailant and feel the soft curves of a woman. Perhaps I'm not so unfortunate, after all.
"Why the hurry, lady? You could harm yourself." 
She leans into me with a sigh of relief. 
"Ah, Richard! Thank the Lord 'tis you! But quietly now—Gilbert must not come down! Oh no, but you must not go up, for he's not alone!"
My heart now dances—it's Elena. Alone, virtually in my arms, and apparently in need of comfort. I grin widely to myself in the darkness.
I slide my hands appreciatively from her shoulders to her elbows, and caress them with my thumbs. I hear her suck in a breath. Is she affected by me, or just anxious?
Gentling my touch, I bring my face so close to hers that my hair brushes her cheek, and whisper, "Lady Elena, I do swear. I didn't have you down as one who flits between men's chambers in the night." 
Her body quivers, but hopefully, not from fear. I steady her with my hands around her waist. So slender, like an arrow's shaft. But before I can appreciate the moment, she tries to wriggle free.
"I must go. Let me go!"
Too soon. Putting a smile in my voice, I say, "Why, when this is the pleasantest part of my entire evening?"
Alas! Fortune has deserted me already. She takes a deep breath, steps out of reach and says, "It's not what you think. I—"
"You know what I'm thinking? I'm impressed at your powers of deduction, lady," I tease— anything to keep her by me a little longer. "Are you a witch?"
"If you would hear the truth—" she begins, but I interrupt.
"Aye, the truth would please me greatly. Why do you scurry about like a mouse in the darkness in a place where no lady should be?" I had thought her an innocent. I hope I'm not about to be proven wrong. What I mean is, I want her to be innocent with everyone else, but not with me.
"I came to find you."
Interesting. "That pleases me greatly."
I can tell that I'm trying her patience now. I can just imagine the flush in her cheeks, the earnest look in her forget-me-not blue eyes. This encounter is more than I could have hoped for.
"It is no jest! I came to dissuade you from fighting tomorrow. You're not well enough. Your judgement was clouded when you accepted. It must still be so, or you'd never have laid hands upon me as you did just now."
Then why was she charging down from the storey above my chamber? Oh, wait. I think I understand. "On the contrary, I think my judgement most sound. Anyway, you sought me out and now you've found me. But I was not where you expected me to be. Am I right?"
There's a moment's silence. "I thought you were to be in Gilbert's room." 
As I thought. "He made that offer, yes. But I declined it, it being too high up for a man inclined to stagger, after receiving a blow to the head. I've been given the chamber below. Reach behind you and you'll find the ring. We may talk more comfortably within.'
"You know that I cannot."
I'm still concussed, I think, for against my better judgement, I twist my hands into her hanging sleeves, making her my captive. "You came to persuade me not to fight. I should like to know what arguments you would have used."
I'm only half-joking now. Her nearness does something fundamental to me.
I try to clear my head. "You were scurrying down from above. From Gilbert's chamber. Tell me, little mouse, saw you something there you didn't like?"
There's no answer, though I sense she longs to speak, but has difficulty finding the words. Sweet angel of purity! 
I guess at what has happened. "You sought me in Gilbert's chamber but I was not there. He was. Did he offer you offence?" If he dared do such a thing, I'll not deal kindly with him on the morrow. "Never fear—I will champion your honour. Tell me, what did he do?"
I feel her wringing her hands. Her face is just a white oval in the gloom, pallid but perfect. 
"You're not listening to me. I've already told you—he offered me no offence. Not deliberately, anyway. I just... I just saw him there with his leman.'
"And were shocked? Poor Lady Elena, pure as the white dove that brings hope, or the doe that flees from the greedy hunter." 
I'm babbling poetry now. What's wrong with me?
She tries to pull free but I keep a determined hold of her. "Perchance you have learned your lesson then, that 'tis not wise to creep about after the curfew has been laid over the fire and the rush-lights extinguished. You never know what you may come upon in the night. A man abed with a bawd, or a lusty knight who has no scruples about taking advantage of you."
She tugs ineffectually at my hold, but I won't release her, not even when she begs, crying, "Leave me be, now. I must go."
The words escape me before I can stop them. "But Lady Elena, I was just thinking how delightful it would be to kiss you."
She freezes, shocked. "No, no, you must not!"
"Only a chaste kiss, lady, not upon the mouth—though the temptation is strong. Not even upon the cheek if it will bring the blush to it. The edge of your robe would serve but I fear I may not find it in the darkness without losing my dignity. So, I'll content myself with your hand, if you'll allow me."
"No! What about Gilbert?"
A disappointing reaction. "What of him? You said he was already occupied with a woman."
There's another silence. She says, "You don't know, do you? No one has told you that I'm to be Gilbert's wife."
I can't move. The darkness presses around me, blanketing sound, hushing our rapid breathing. It steals into my heart, black and endless. Woodenly, I disentangle my hands from her sleeves, and from nowhere, a cold draught rushes between our bodies.
I keep my voice level as I say, "Please don't be offended, lady. As I think you are my friend, I hope you'll forgive my jest. I called you a mouse and toyed with you like a cat, merely for amusement. I meant nothing by it." 
Untrue. Coward! But I'm too shocked to think. And I'm cursing myself for my own stupidity—she broke bread with him. She's the most enchanting woman in the castle. Of course, she belongs to the baron's heir.
She edges around me, avoiding contact, and I hear a stifled sob as she disappears down the spiral stair.
My head falls back and I pray for divine guidance. I've behaved abominably and deserve to do penance. Mayhap I will, upon the morrow.
If Gilbert de Waltham learns I've touched his betrothed, he'll be disinclined to mercy. Pray God I have the strength to defend myself, so that afterwards, I can apologise to Lady Elena properly.
Assuming she'll ever let me speak to her again.