A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,149

Elena said, disappointed that her noble gesture was defeated. Brightening, she said, "Well imagine the altar vestibules this red velvet would make! And there must be enough fur lining to make warm slippers for all of the nuns. And imagine how virtuous the sisters will think you when you show up with this cloak and begin hacking it to bits."

Margaret laughed. "Elena, the convent is not like court. You don't have to make grand displays to gain attention and favor."

"Maybe not, but surely it will start you off on the right foot, won't it?"

The dark-haired girl laughed again. "Very well, Elena, I will take the cloak. Now, do you need further help?"

Elena paused. "Do you know where the dungeons are?"

"I've never been there, but I believe they are in the tower just north of the main hall. Royal hostages are kept in the upper rooms and common prisoners are kept below. Why do you need to know?" Margaret quickly shook her head. "No, never mind. Tell me not. I don't want to know. Just be careful, Elena. If you were to displease Richard again, especially with anything having to do with a prisoner, you would no doubt be executed. Richard has become easily agitated and very short tempered since the attack outside of Middleham. The king has recently learned that Elizabeth Woodville hired men to rescue her daughter so that Richard would not be able to marry her and gain a further stronghold on the throne."

“I know. Princess Elizabeth told me.”

“Do you also know that the king received word of Henry Tudor’s arrival this very morning?"

Elena started to ask Margaret what she thought of Henry Tudor, but they were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Catherine.

"Oh my, you're still here? I would have thought you'd have slunk away by now."

Elena thought of half a dozen cutting responses to Catherine's gibe. The wickedest of them all was about to spill from her lips when she stopped herself. Deciding it would gall Catherine even more to simply ignore her, she turned back to Margaret as if there had been no break in their conversation and said, "When do you hope to join the abbey?"

Margaret answered her before responding to Catherine who was still standing in the middle of the room, looking indignant. "The letter bearing my father's permission should arrive within the month. I hope to become a novice by the end of September. Catherine, dear, did you need something?"

"I need to change to a more appropriate gown. His Majesty has asked me to be one of the few who will join he and Earl Brackley as they hunt. I believe the earl asked for my company specifically. It seems he has broken his previous betrothal."

This last was said as Elena stood to leave. She gathered up the grey woolen cloak and headed for the door. Before she reached it, however, she turned and faced Catherine's malevolence with a cat-who-ate-the-rat-smile. "Actually, it was I who decided I did not wish to marry someone so old and repugnant as the earl. It seems you are once again gathering my leftovers, Catherine." Elena opened the door and swept out the small room as regally as a queen. She marveled again at Catherine's obnoxious personality change, but in truth, Catherine's about-face occupied her mind for a few seconds at the most. She quickly set her thoughts to getting to Gareth and freeing him. She had a tentative plan formed but she wasn't sure it would work if there were more than one guard on duty when she reached the north tower. Well, she would simply have to improvise, she decided. She had always been able to think on her feet; she would simply trust in her instincts to take over.

Rushing quickly down the back stairs normally only used by servants, Elena made her way around the kitchen to the buttery where the vats of wine and ale were kept. The room was dimly lit but, thankfully, empty. Elena scooped up a pewter tankard and moved to the back of the room where the best wines were kept. Although she had long resented some of the lowly tasks of being a lady-in-waiting, such as keeping the inventory of the buttery, she was now glad of the experience because she was able to move confidently through the gloom and open one of the strongest wines Richard had purchased from France, filling the tankard to the brim. Draping the cloak over the heavy tankard, she quickly exited the