The Lady in the Tower Read Online Free Page B

with age. I pressed my eye to it. It allowed me an imperfect view of my father standing in the gloom of the stable below. I could make out the bald patch in his red hair almost directly below. He was standing close to the chaplain, and both were speaking in lowered voices. What was the chaplain doing in the stables? He almost never rode.
    ‘Have you become squeamish of a sudden? What is wrong with you that you do not carry out my orders?’ hissed Sir Walter. His voice was easy to hear; he never could speak quietly.
    The chaplain’s soft voice was much harder to make out. ‘I can assure your lordship … the cordial … Lady Elizabeth recovered.’
    ‘There must be other ways,’ snarled Sir Walter.
    The chaplain hushed him anxiously. ‘Please, my lord … more quietly. Not without falling under suspicion … ’
    ‘I cannot believe how you have bungled this,’ my father growled. I saw him grasp the chaplain by the front of his robe, shake him and push him back against the wall of the stable.
    ‘Four years!’ he exclaimed, his voice growing louder again. He was viciously twisting the fabric of the chaplain’s garment. ‘You know how important this is. You are not even trying.’
    The chaplain, clearly desperate to defend himself, forgot to keep his voice low:
    ‘Sir Walter, I have tried everything. She does not die. It must be witchcraft,’ he gasped.
    There was a moment’s silence. I could not see their expressions from this angle. My heart was pounding in my chest. It was my mother they were discussing.
    Suddenly my father released the chaplain and he fell grovelling in the straw, panting and wheezing as he recovered his breath.
    ‘My patience wears thin,’ I heard Sir Walter threaten coldly. ‘Think of something.’
    He left the stables. The chaplain remained, rubbing his throat. Then he too got up quietly and left.
    I lay back in the hay, my heart hammering.
    So Mother had indeed been poisoned, and on my father’s orders. Why? Even after four years, I still did not know why he persecuted her. And now she was almost certainly in terrible danger once more. We were surrounded by enemies. I had to do something.

CHAPTER THREE

     
    Mother,
    Do not touch ANYTHING the chaplain gives you. You are in grave danger.
    Sir Walter is returned with guests. There is to be a tournament.
    Eleanor
    With fingers that shook, I took out my quill, ink bottle, and a tiny scrap of parchment and scratched a brief note to Mother. When it was done, I stared at it hopelessly. It was inadequate. I needed to do more.
    As soon as the stables were quiet once more I had crept out of the hayloft and fled to my bedchamber. For the past four years a tiny room high in a remote part of the keep had served as my quarters. I had no furniture save a palliasse stuffed with straw that served as my bed, and a wooden chest that held my few possessions. It was a servant’s room. No fire warmed it and no shutter shielded the narrow window from the weather. But it was mine.
    I bit my lip, thinking hard. What could I do to help my mother?
    I would think of something. But first it was vital that I take this note to Alice so that Mother would get it this very night. I tucked it hurriedly into my sleeve and then, snatching up my cloak, I made my way down to the kitchens where I would be able to collect Mother’s daily bundle of food.
    The kitchen was the busiest place in the castle. And with all the guests that had to be provided for, it was more bustling and noisy than ever. Dozens of servants were chopping vegetables, scouring pans, baking bread, and stirring cauldrons. The noise was deafening. The smells of meat roasting and gravy bubbling made my mouth water, despite my anxiety. The bundle of food Betsey, the cook, had made ready for Mother was lying neatly in its usual place.
    I hunted through the steam and smoke. Seeing Betsey shouting at a lad roasting meat on a spit over the fire, I went to her.
    ‘Keep your eyes and hands off the maids and on