In the Shadow of Midnight - By Marsha Canham Page 0,122
the ring into Eleanor’s hand— “and tell me if you know it.”
Eleanor frowned and ran her fingers around the surface of the gold circlet. “No. No, I—” She stopped and held the ring higher. She rubbed it harder and traced the distinctive filigree with the pad of her thumb before she gasped and slipped it over the smallest finger of her right hand. It was a perfect fit.
She reached out across the darkness and gripped Marienne’s shoulders. “Where did you get it? Where did it come from? Dear God … Eduard! Where is he? Have you seen him? Have you spoken to him?”
“No, I have not seen or spoken to him myself, my lady, but the captain has. He told me yesterday—whisht!” She stopped and bit her lip, glancing back down into the darkness. “The walls may have ears, my lady. We should say no more until we are behind our own door.”
Eleanor’s grip tightened briefly, but she could see the reason for caution and practically dragged her young maid up the winding stairs behind her. Safe in the isolation of the tower room, they closed the heavy door and took the further precaution of sitting in the farthest corner of the solar, near the prayer nave.
“Tell me,” Eleanor commanded. “Tell me everything.”
“There is not much to tell, for ’twas only a chance remark yesterday that first caught my ear.”
“What did he say? What exactly did he say?”
“He said … exactly … that a group of graycloaks were passing through the village and had decided to lodge at the inn while one of their party was tended by an herb woman.”
“One of them is injured?” Eleanor gasped. “Or possibly using it as a ruse.” “And? Was that all he said?”
“Not all, my lady. He also said … one of the knights bore a scar on his cheek.”
Eleanor squeezed Marienne’s hands so tightly, the maid thought her fingers might pop apart at the joints. The princess turned toward the crucifix that hung in the nave and made soft, choking sounds, as if she did not know whether to laugh or to cry.
“He has come. Dear, sweet Eduard … he has come. Oh but … Jesu, Jesu …” She whirled back around and gripped Marienne’s hands more ferociously. “Why has he come? What does he think he can do? If the king’s men discover who he is, or … or if they even suspect … !”
“Do not distress yourself, my lady,” Marienne said. “Lord FitzRandwulf is no pudding-head. He is the bravest, boldest knight in all of Christendom—he will not have come without a clever plan to rescue you!”
“Rescue me?” Eleanor cried aghast. “Surely not! Surely he cannot be thinking … ! He would not try … ! He has not come to take me back to Brittany!”
Marienne looked puzzled. “Surely that is exactly why he has come, my lady. Brittany is your home. He has come … to take you home.”
“Dear Mother Mary,” Eleanor whispered, so weakened by the thought that she slipped down onto her knees. Her hands shook visibly as she ran them down the front of her gown, from breasts to belly, and when she raised them again, the tiny silver cross of her rosary beads was caught around her fingers. “I cannot go back to Brittany,” she gasped. “Not like this. My uncle sought to shame me, and he has succeeded. I cannot go back to Brittany! I cannot let Eduard see me like this! It would … kill him.”
“If he kills anyone, it will be the king,” Marienne declared savagely. “And good riddance to him! As for the people of Brittany, they love you. They will never stop loving you, nor can they blame you for the king’s perversions. They will be thankful enough you are still alive and not … not …”
“Not lying in a watery grave like my poor Arthur? Sometimes … I think I would have been better off beside him. At least then he would not have been alone, and I … I would not have had to bear the shame of Angevin lust and greed.”
“Your Highness, you must not speak this way. Lord Eduard has come to rescue you, to save you from this place, and from the king’s madness.”
“Then he has wasted his time, for there is no rescue possible for me, only sanctuary, and this the king has already provided for me.”
“Here? In Corfe? You would be content to remain the rest of your days here?”