‘Oh Nell, that’s foolish talk!’ John laughed.
‘It’s not,’ she said grimly. ‘I behaved like one. Renard was very patient with me, but I knew what he was thinking.’
‘Then that augurs well, because none of us ever do.’
‘None of us ever do what?’ Renard asked, walking through the archway into the room and dumping his helm and gauntlets on the coffer. His eyes were alight, dangerous glints of quartz in their darkness.
‘Ever know what you are thinking,’ John answered amiably and gave Elene a reassuring smile. ‘And by the way you’re scowling at a priest, a virgin and a sick man, I don’t believe I really want to. Is it confessable?’
Renard glared at him, but then, amid a three days’ dark stubble of beard, his lips started to curve. ‘Oh, it’s confes — sable all right,’ he said, ‘but not in the present company. How’s Henry?’
Elene spread her hands. ‘No better, no worse, my lord.’
‘No wound fever then?’ He stooped over the sickbed. ‘He’s hot.’
‘A little, but nothing serious. I’ll have a tub prepared for you.’
He looked round at her and stood up. ‘Do I smell that bad?’
She blushed. ‘No, my lord. I only thought that with the Earl of Leicester present and the other wedding guests …’ Her voice trailed off beneath his stare.
‘Of course, you’re right,’ he said with a curled lip. ‘A bridegroom should not come reeking to the feast. By all means prepare a tub. Scent it with bay and spikenard and whatever other concoctions you can find in the coffer. We don’t want to offend the Earl of Leicester’s nose, do we?’
‘Renard!’ John said sharply.
‘If you’ll excuse me then, I’ll go and see to it.’ Lowering her gaze, lips compressed together, Elene almost ran from the room.
‘There was no need for that.’ John glowered at Renard. ‘She’s only concerned for your welfare.’
Renard thrust his right hand into his hair, grabbed a handful, and released it. ‘I know, I know,’ he puffed out in exasperation. ‘But the moment I walk in she starts twittering about bathtubs!’ He gave a caustic laugh. ‘Christ, the future of our lands is in jeopardy and all I get is, “do you want to bathe?”’
‘It was the offer of comfort and you’d do well to accept it. Half a candle notch with your eyes shut in a hot tub would do wonders for your temper. You haven’t even greeted me properly yet, and after a gap of four years!’
Renard had the grace to look ashamed, and embraced John. ‘Take no notice. I’m glad to see you, but I’m not so sure about Robert of Leicester. Did you have to bring him?’
John shrugged. ‘I asked him for leave to officiate at your wedding and he decided to invite himself too. More in the cause of diplomatic persuasion, I think, and he cannot abide Ranulf de Gernons. You want to think about that.’
‘I’ll see if I can find the time.’ Renard looked again at Henry. ‘I don’t think Leicester’s revulsion can ever reach the depths of mine.’
A maidservant entered the room and curtseyed to the men. ‘Mistress Elene has sent me to keep vigil over Lord Henry.’
John gestured to the bed, giving her full leave.
‘Where’s Mama?’ asked Renard.
‘Resting. She took the night watch with Henry, and Papa insisted that she went to bed until vespers at least. Papa’s in the solar with Lord Leicester and Adam. His cough seems better than it was. Having you home has made all the difference.’
Renard looked down and beat dust from his travel-grimed clothing. ‘I’m not surprised,’ he grunted. ‘I’m the one running my arse into the ground now.’
The words were spoken in a brittle tone, but without malice, and John did not take him up on them but said instead, ‘I hear you’ve got some solace at Hawkfield, an Outremer dancing girl, no less?’
‘God’s death!’ Renard hissed with irritation. ‘That news has travelled faster than a dose of corn cockles through the bowels. Does Elene know?’
‘Not as yet, at least I don’t think so, but you’ll have to tell her soon.’
‘I know.’ He tried to close the subject by walking towards the curtain, unhitching his swordbelt as he strode.
‘Let her down lightly,’ John pleaded. ‘I know you have a lot on your mind, but for other reasons so has she.’
Renard sighed. ‘I’ll try,’ he said, ‘if only to stop you from preaching me a sermon.’
Renard stepped into the bath water, noting that it was neither scented, herb-scattered, or anything else. It was, however, very hot and made him gasp and clutch at the sides of the tub.
‘Are you trying to boil me!’ he demanded.
‘It will soon cool, my lord. You undressed more quickly than I expected,’ Elene said. ‘Shall I put in some more cold?’
‘No, leave it now.’ Gingerly he relaxed and looked at her. She was like a young deer poised for flight — a tall, slim girl with enormous, haunted eyes. Her lips were full and looked as though they would be quite kissable when set in a different expression. ‘You were not so formal four years ago,’ he said. ‘Or have you forgotten my name?’
She blushed and shook her head and looked at her toes.
‘It was a long time ago,’ he mused. ‘I used to slap your rump and ruffle your hair, but we’ve each gone beyond that kind of familiarity now, haven’t we?’
‘Yes my lo— Renard,’ she said.
‘Where’s the soap?’
She brought it to him and he saw that her hands were shaking, and her chin dimpling with the effort of holding on to her composure. Guilty irritation washed over him, and then a wave of compassion. He sighed. ‘I’m sorry if I was bad-tempered, Nell.’ My mind was dealing with more difficult matters. You were right about the bath.’
She turned away to fiddle with the towels that were laid out. ‘My thoughts were only for your comfort.’ It was the customary duty of the wives and daughters of a great household to see to the well-being of all new arrivals to the keep, be they visitors, friends or family. The offer of a bathtub and comfortable clothing was always the first hospitality. Elene had performed the function of hostess so many times now that this particular occasion should have come as second nature. The fact that it hadn’t and that she was intensely aware of him, naked and in a volatile mood, was unsettling.
‘Yes, I know.’ He began to wash. There was an awkward silence. More out of desperation to break it than anything else, he asked her how the flocks up at Woolcot were faring.
Her reply commenced in a quavery voice. He did not look at her as he washed, but occasionally intercepted with a question. Gradually her tone brightened with a spark of confidence. He discovered that the discussion, far from boring him, was a diversion from mental worries of vassals and supplies, stratagems and defences, sickness and death.
‘I have ideas for the wool clip too,’ she said, as he stepped from the tub and she handed him towels holding them out at arm’s length.
‘Oh yes?’ he said drily, but Elene, not looking at his face, heard only the sarcasm without reading the humour.
‘I … I know they will be yours to deal with as you see fit after our wedding. I wasn’t presuming. I …’
Renard ceased drying himself, tucked the towel around his waist, and took hold of her shoulders. ‘Stop making excuses and apologies, Nell, and we’ll get along much better.’
‘I thought that you were annoyed.’ He was so close that she could not think properly. There was a queasy knot where her stomach should have been, part fear, part something else. She wanted to touch his skin, run her hands up his forearms over the smooth muscles until she linked her fingers around his neck. Of course, innocent girls did not do such things uninvited, but when they had lived under Lady Judith’s tuition, they knew about them all the same, even if not in graphic detail.