Green Jasper Page 2

  Ellie stopped crying. Old Nurse was right. It was the best that could be done. She wiped her eyes and looked out through the glassless window. She would concentrate on how pretty the snow was, with each flake landing serenely in its allotted place—just as she was filling her allotted place by marrying Gavin, for whom she had been earmarked from childhood when his father, Sir Thomas de Granville, had taken her in; just as Gavin in his turn was taking in Marissa and Marie.

  “What’s more,” Ellie told herself, “I’m really very lucky. Gavin needs me, and there is no reason at all why we should not be happy. No reason at all.” She repeated these sentiments several times as Old Nurse’s fingers, though rough and pudgy, bound up the glossy wedding plait surprisingly deftly and immediately transformed an impish girl into an elegant young woman.

  “I wish Sir Thomas could see you now,” Old Nurse murmured, dabbing her eyes on her apron. “I don’t know why he had to die on crusade when so many wicked people survived. Mistress Cranby’s husband got himself home, and I know for certain that he is a thief.” She made a loud, harrumphing noise and took a swig from a small, stoppered pot. “Now, my sweet, are you ready?”

  But Ellie felt far from ready. “Just a few more moments,” she begged, and as Old Nurse lowered herself, puffing, onto a chair she suddenly ran over and plumped herself onto the old lady’s lap. There was always comfort to be found in Old Nurse’s familiar, lumpy softness, and she needed it very much now.

  Sighing, Old Nurse enfolded Ellie in her great arms and began to rock and sing in a low, cavernous voice, which ebbed and flowed like a full tide. Ellie leaned her head against the welcoming shoulder and shut her eyes, forgetting for the moment about the wedding and remembering only her childhood, when Will and she had been inseparable playmates and marriage to Gavin was something for a future still far-off. She remembered the day Hosanna arrived at Hartslove and how exciting it had been. That time seemed to have passed before she had ever properly appreciated it, for all too soon, the Hartslove horses and men had left to fight the dreaded Saracens on crusade. Ellie shuddered slightly, and Old Nurse held her tighter. But Ellie knew that not all Saracens were wicked. After all, one of them had saved Hosanna’s life. Old Nurse felt Ellie relax a little.

  Hosanna. It was impossible to be sad when thinking about him. The horse had some quality that made you feel that the world was a good place. Ellie couldn’t say quite what this quality was. Nobody could. But everybody recognized it. When Hosanna was at Hartslove, tempers were a little better and smiles a little wider. Ellie smiled now, rather wistfully, at the round face of the woman who had tended all her childish illnesses and injuries. Dear Old Nurse, she thought, and planted a spontaneous kiss on the old lady’s soft cheek. Tasting tears, Ellie felt a lump rise in her own throat, and she slid to the floor. It was time for them both to be strong.

  “Come on,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “Time to put on my necklace,” and she reached over to pick up the small box that contained carefully threaded ovals of silver and deep green jasper, her wedding present from Gavin.

  “Red jasper for love, white for gentleness, but green for faith,” he had said. “I had a hard time deciding, but in the end I chose green, Ellie, because we must keep faith with each other, and also because green goes with your hair.”

  Ellie tried not to remember that their laughter had been very uncomfortable, since neither could quite get used to thinking of the other as bride or groom, and holding the necklace up to catch the light, she also tried not to dwell on the fact that since his return from crusade, Gavin was only occasionally the energetic tease of old, a shadow of the vigorous, impetuous knight who had once delighted in making Ellie giggle and driving Will mad. The terrible wound he had suffered had changed him. It would have changed anybody, Ellie thought, but surely it does not mean that we cannot be content together?

  As Old Nurse fastened the necklace the girl tried her best to recapture the feeling that had overwhelmed her when she had first seen Gavin, broken in spirit and body, crossing the drawbridge as he returned from the war. At that moment she had known with absolute certainty that she alone could make his life whole again. The feeling had been so strong that all doubts and all worries over his injury had been pushed to one side. She had tried to explain the feeling to Will, but he had not wanted to listen. In fact, he had acted very strangely ever since.

  “I must have faith,” the girl whispered as she felt the ovals warm against her skin. “Gavin’s right. That’s the key to everything.” In the candlelight the green jasper glowed.

  A tremendous hubbub arose from the courtyard, and Ellie peered out. “Will’s here!” she exclaimed. “Look, Old Nurse. Oh, look! He has got Hal to braid golden threads into Hosanna’s mane and tail. We are a matching pair!”

  Old Nurse grunted. “Earl or no earl,” she grumbled, “he is late. Now, Miss Ellie, or ‘my lady’ as I shall have to get used to calling you, I am going downstairs to see what those good-for-nothing servants have done about the wedding dinner. Master Gavin likes his venison rare. If I leave it to the idiot meat cook, it will be roasted to a crisp. And then there’s the mulled wine and the honey. If you don’t need me anymore, I’ll be off.”

  Ellie spun around. “I’ll always need you, Old Nurse,” she burst out. Then recovering her composure, she smiled and slowly circled. “How do I look—I mean, really?”

  Old Nurse scanned her up and down. “You look perfect, dearie, just perfect,” she said, and Ellie flew back into her arms.

  “Wish me luck, Old Nurse,” she whispered as they held on tightly to each other. “Wish me luck and promise never, ever, to call me ‘my lady.’”

  “You’ll always be Miss Ellie to me.” The nurse’s voice was muffled. “Now, we’d both better get downstairs.”

  They embraced again, after which Old Nurse straightened Ellie’s dress, smoothed her hair for a final time, and chivied her out of the door.

  At the turn of the steps leading down from Ellie’s chamber, they parted. Ellie made as if to go straight into the great hall, but once the nurse was out of sight, she paused for a moment. She could hear the babble of voices, nearly all male, within.

  Suddenly she picked up her skirts and descended farther, until she emerged from a small door opening straight into the courtyard. The air was bitter, and the hoof marks that Will’s party had made on their arrival were already turning crusty. The snow was still falling quite gently, but a heavy sky threatened worse to come.

  Ellie strained her eyes toward the stables. At first, she could make out nothing; then, as torches flared one after the other all over the castle, she saw Hosanna, red as a flame himself, framed in the doorway of the long block of stalls. Will’s squire, Hal, had thrown a heavy, embroidered blanket over him and hooked the reins on a spike before taking Will’s second horse, Dargent, inside. Hosanna stamped his foot, impatient for his supper.

  “Hosanna!” Ellie called. Oblivious to what the snow might do to her gold wedding slippers, she slithered across to greet him properly. Hosanna whickered gently as she approached, and put his nose into her hand.

  Ellie laughed. “Hello to you, too!” she said, and touched the star between his eyes. “I haven’t got anything, dear Hosanna,” she went on. “Sacramenta, your greedy mother, had all my tidbits earlier today.” As she stroked his ears he bent his neck around her, and Ellie leaned against him, savoring the warmth. “Everything will be all right, won’t it?” she murmured into his thick mane. She stood for a moment, then patted him and began to walk slowly back to the hall. As she turned, Hosanna was looking at her, and in his deep, liquid eyes, the green stones of her necklace were reflected back at her.

  Inside the hall the air was pungent with spices, wood-smoke, and wet dog. Trestles had been laid across the width of the room, steaming wine jugs and great trenchers of bread were stacked on top of them. Men were drinking freely and watching the cooks and pantry boys bringing in custards and tarts. The actual marriage ceremony would take only a few m
oments, and they were very glad. The dinner was what they had really come for, and their mouths were already beginning to water.

  Gavin was standing by the huge hearth, surrounded by his favorite wolfhounds, his empty sleeve tucked into his belt. Marissa and Marie had not decorated the dogs’ collars. Instead, Marie was helping the servants, and Marissa was sitting, swinging her legs and tossing her hair. Ellie knew from the tilt of Gavin’s dark head and from Marissa’s high-pitched laughter that he was indulging her, and she felt two small pangs, one of pride that this handsome man was to be her husband and one of jealousy that he was paying attention to another girl. She hurried forward.

  Actually, Gavin was less interested in Marissa than in catching the words of an old man, Sir Percy Manderlay, who had been one of his father’s greatest friends, as he waited impatiently for Ellie to appear. He nodded at the men and women still arriving through the solid double doors at the far end of the hall, banging the snow off their boots and throwing their swords into a great pile in the corner, but his eyes were only for his bride. When Ellie approached, although his expression hardly changed, his heart jumped. She looked so poised. He stood back as Sir Percy kissed the girl warmly on both cheeks and scarcely noticed when Marissa, her lip curled, slipped away.

  “My dear, you are freezing!” Sir Percy exclaimed, drawing Ellie toward the fire. “What has that old nurse been doing to you? Feeding you ice?”

  “I went outside for a moment, Sir Percy,” Ellie explained. “Do you like my necklace? Gavin gave it to me.”

  Sir Percy squinted at Ellie’s neck. “Very pretty, indeed,” he said. “Suits you, that jasper. Now, where’s young William? He cut it pretty fine, but he’s here now and that’s what matters.”

  “Are you talking about me?” Will was suddenly beside them, brimming with robust good health, his brown hair tousled and damp from the journey. “Well, Ellie, you do look something. Did you see Hosanna’s mane? Hal spent hours doing it.”

  Ellie beamed, but Will backed away. He was speaking quite fast, and although he grasped Gavin’s arm, he did not look his brother directly in the eye. “Congratulations on your wedding day, Gavin.”

  “I’m very glad to see you, Will,” Gavin replied.

  “Sorry to be so late,” Will rushed on. “The roads are awful, and we could only travel slowly. The snow is really bad farther to the west. Hope we haven’t kept you waiting.”

  Ellie opened her mouth, but was given no chance to speak. “I have brought you a present.” Will was like a torrent in full flood. “It’s nothing, really. Hope you like it, though.”

  With that he thrust a small parcel wrapped in silk into Ellie’s hands and vanished into the crowd, where she could hear him laughing very loudly at somebody’s joke. She looked at the parcel. Gavin was watching.

  “Open it,” he said. Ellie obeyed. Inside she found a small ruby horse’s head set into a gold bar on which a craftsman had inscribed one word: HOSANNA. “Oh! How beautiful,” she whispered.

  Gavin took the brooch. “What is that word?” His lips tightened because he had to ask. Neither he nor Will had ever learned to read.

  “It says ‘Hosanna,’” said Ellie. “Look, here is the H—”

  “This is not a schoolroom, Ellie,” Gavin said shortly.

  Ellie looked mortified. “Of course not.”

  “Here.” Gavin was quickly ashamed of his ill humor. “You should wear the brooch today. Let’s fasten it to your bodice.” Ellie moved closer to him. He fumbled with the clasp, and she helped him. They managed between them, and Gavin let his hand drop back to his side.

  “Ellie—,” he began to say. But she interrupted him.

  “I still prefer this.” She put her hand into the folds of her dress and brought out a small, rather battered-looking wooden dog. Some of the tension eased from Gavin’s face. When Ellie was small, he had given her the dog, and since then it had been something of a talisman between them, marking the various phases when they had been either childhood friends or enemies.

  He took the dog briefly, then handed it back. “I can still remember that day by the moat with— What was the dog’s name?”

  “Diligent.”

  “That’s it. Diligent. I still don’t know what got into me, having this carved.”

  They were both silent.

  “It all seems ages ago, Ellie. Another life. A different life.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, touching her green jasper necklace. “But now we have our life together. It is what your father wanted.”

  “But is it what you want?” Gavin’s eyes grew troubled. “My arm will not grow again, you know. There will be no miracle.”

  “Gavin,” Ellie said, looking straight at him. “In the three weeks since you have been back, have I given you any reason to doubt that I want to marry you?”

  “No—but three weeks is hardly a lifetime.” He paused. “I know how fond you are of Will …” His voice trailed away.

  “Of course I am fond of Will,” said Ellie gently. “I am very fond of Will. But in as much as I want to marry anybody, I want to marry you. Please, Gavin. Please try to believe me.”

  He inclined his head, but did not seem convinced. Without thinking, Ellie put up her hand, wanting to touch his cheek, but he turned away at just the wrong moment and Ellie was left feeling foolish. Catching her gesture in the corner of his eye, Gavin immediately turned back, but it was too late. Ruefully he raised his eyebrows, and his expression was so comical that Ellie felt a sudden uprush of hope. Everything would be all right.

  “Shall we do the deed?” Gavin asked more easily. His eyes were still anxious, but his voice was now half mocking, half serious, just as Ellie loved.

  “Better not keep the guests waiting for dinner,” she replied. He took her arm and helped her through the throng and up onto the dais, to be greeted by Brother Ranulf, who was to bless them.

  He squeezed her hand, then took a deep breath. “My friends,” he shouted. “My friends.” Nobody took any notice.

  He turned to Ellie. “Shout, ‘DINNER!’” she suggested. Gavin raised his eyebrows again, but in the end, to Gavin’s minor discomfort, it was Will who called the gathering to order.

  “Fellow knights, pray silence for the Count of Hartslove,” he demanded in the new deep voice he had developed in the years he had been away on crusade. There was silence at once. Will now had the authority of a knight twice his age.

  “My friends,” Gavin said, nodding to his brother, but not smiling. “You are invited to feast here today to mark the wedding of Eleanor Theodora de Barre to me, made Lord de Granville, Count of Hartslove, by King Richard, and master here since the death of my father. We were betrothed long before my father, my brother, and some of you good people, as well as I myself, left to follow King Richard to Jerusalem. Many did not return. My father was one of those. We do not forget him. But today is a day for rejoicing. Eleanor and I will make our promises, then Brother Ranulf will bless our union. After that we will feast. You remember the custom here at Hartslove of leaving my late mother’s chair empty? Well, we are not going to do away with that. Both my father’s and my mother’s chairs will sit up here. I have had new chairs made for my wife”—Ellie blushed prettily as rowdy cheers broke out at the back—“and me. Now, if we are all ready?”

  Nobody spoke, so Gavin took Ellie’s hand again and they turned to face each other. Old Nurse sniffed loudly.

  Gavin began. “I solemnly declare,” he said, “that I wish to take you—”

  As he spoke, there was a slight commotion. Gavin took no notice at first, only raised his voice slightly. “I wish to take you, Eleanor Theodora de Barre, as my—”

  Now the noise was louder. Gavin repeated, “I wish to take you—” but then had no choice but to stop. He looked apologetically at Ellie and frowned into the body of the hall, his mouth already open to demand a bit of hush.

  However, the noise was not coming from the guests. Somebody was attempting to force open the double doors from the o
utside.

  “What the devil?” At that moment about forty knights, heavily armed, broke through and strode in with their swords drawn. The dogs growled, but although their hackles rose, they hesitated.

  “Who on earth are you?” Gavin demanded as he moved quickly in front of Ellie.

  The leading knight pulled off his helmet and shouted at the dogs by name, his grating voice and darting eyes daring them to attack him. The dogs slunk back, perplexed.

  Gavin stepped forward. He could hear Ellie breathing hard behind him as they both recognized the intruder. “Constable de Scabious,” Gavin said with no hint of welcome. “I am surprised you show your face here. As someone who betrayed our father’s trust in spectacular fashion while we were away, you should know better. Since we have returned, we have heard nothing but ill of you. Unless you come in peace, the king will hear of this, and he will not be pleased.” Gavin’s eyes, now cool and unflinching, held the constable’s for a moment.

  Piers de Scabious hesitated, then flourished his sword. At once, the Hartslove knights rushed for the corner where their own weapons were piled, but their way was blocked. In the hubbub de Scabious smiled, displaying much of his breakfast between his teeth.

  “You can forget your swords!” he shouted at the wedding guests, thrusting his head back and forth like a startled turkey, a characteristic that had given Will and Ellie ample scope for mimicry when they were small and the constable ran the castle for Sir Thomas. “And you, Master Gavin, can forget your fine words.” De Scabious could hardly contain himself. “The king will, indeed, hear of this. You see, the king is no longer your Richard. Richard is dead. All loyal men now pay homage to John, and as one of those loyal men, I have been charged with giving you these glad tidings. Long live the king!”

  There was silence as de Scabious’s words sank in, then wild murmurings as men turned to each other with stricken faces. Some knelt and crossed themselves.

  “The king is dead!”

  “King Richard is dead!”