Chapter Two
Grey’s Inn was a popular place on the northern outskirts of London, a busy establishment with a very large main room and plenty of bodies to fill it. Now that the sun had set, it was full of the rabble of the city seeking shelter and comfort for the night.
Ellowyn sat in front of the big window near the front door. Her escort sat at tables surrounding her, for she would not let them sit with her. She wanted to sit by herself and enjoy her meal in private. Presented with boiled beef, turnips and carrots, she had quite a feast.
Wrapped up against the chill air snaking between the slats of the window, she unwittingly found herself in conversation in spite of her desire to remain alone.
The head of her escort, seated at the table next to her, had mentioned something to his colleagues about de Russe, a comment that had fired up Ellowyn.
Now the old soldier found himself easing a woman who was fairly quick to temper.
He’d made what he considered a fairly innocent comment and she flared.
“Nay,” Ellowyn snapped. “You do not understand. I care not of the man or his reputation. What he did was… was inexcusable.”
“I am not excusing him, my lady,” he insisted calmly. “But in fairness, de Russe is a wealthy and powerful man. I am sure he has women approach him by the dozens. He simply thought you were one of the rabble.”
Ellowyn made a face, her lips twisted and her nose wrinkled, something her father called the “pickle snuff”. She’d been doing it since infancy and it was an expression she never outgrew. It was comical and animated, displaying her vast displeasure at something.
“That is an insulting presumption,” she said flatly. “You are intimating I look like a… a trollop.”
“I am not, my lady.”
She turned her back on him, obviously. “I will not speak to you any longer,” she sniffed, returning to her food. “You defend de Russe.”
The old soldier was trying not to smile, for Lady Ellowyn was feisty to the point of comedy.
“I do not, my lady,” he said steadily, casting a glance at his smirking companions. “I was simply attempting to ease your anger.”
“You did not ease it,” she said, still facing away from him. “You have only made it worse. Now you are making me speak to you when I swore that I would not. Go away and leave me alone.”
The old soldier stood up from the table, biting his lip to keep from grinning. “We will not be far if you need us, my lady.”
“Go far away,” she sniffed. “Go sleep in the stables. I do not want to see you again until morning. Now, see what you have made me do? I am speaking to you again when I swore that I would not. Go away from me now.”
She growled and smacked the table angrily.
The old soldier and his three companions vacated her presence lest she see them all laughing at her.
They wound their way through the tables and bodies of the crowded room, filled with smoke and loud men.
They wouldn’t go too far, for they would not leave their lady without protection.
But with the mood she was in this eve, the old soldier truly pitied the man who might try to accost her. He would come away missing an eye.
So they hovered near the stairs that led to the second floor of the inn, a rickety set of slats that were in need of repair.
The de Nerra escort tried to hide from her view but within minutes she spied them, lingering in the shadows, and her eyes widened with outrage.
She pointed the knife she was using for her bread at them, silent words of threat implied, so the lot of them ducked away and went out the back of the establishment.
They would head around to the front so they could watch her from the street.
Ellowyn watched her escort disappear into the back of the inn, satisfied they were finally leaving her alone.
She had spent far too much time with them already and they were annoying her.
Like dogs, they followed her around eagerly and she wanted no part of it.
At least, not tonight. Tonight, she simply wanted to be left alone to eat and rest before they began their trip home tomorrow.
Her solitude was not to be. No sooner had her escort vacated the noisy establishment than an unwelcome visitor appeared. Ellowyn smelled him before she even saw him, the scent of blood and sweat and disgust enveloping her like a fog.
“My sweet and lovely lady,” a man in well-worn chainmail plopped down in the chair opposite her. “Pray, are you traveling alone?”
Ellowyn frowned and pushed back from the table, eyeing the man. He was a knight, not particularly young, with a ragged haircut and ratty beard. He was unattractive and rather big. She tried not to let her irritation turn to fear.
“I did not ask for your company, sir,” she said. “If you would please leave me alone, I would be grateful.”
The man merely smiled, showing his green-tinged teeth. “You should not be alone,” he said. “You are far too beautiful. There is no knowing what manner of rabble will try to molest you. You must have protection.”
“I have protection,” she said, waving the knife in her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Be gone before my protection returns and you are in serious danger.”
The man laughed. “Your escort went outside,” he gestured lazily towards the rear of the tavern. “I saw them myself. I have been watching you, sweetling. You are a very fine woman.”
He was tapping his head as if very clever and Ellowyn was starting to feel some apprehension. She could sense his unsavory intentions and sought to think of a way out of the situation that would not end with her screaming for help. She was coming to seriously regret sending her escort away.
“I am not speaking of my escort,” she said, bluffing. “They are not all of the protection I have and you would be wise to leave immediately.”
“Is that so?” the knight seemed interested. “Where is the rest of your protection, then?”
You had better make this good, she told herself.
Her bluff was getting bigger and bigger.
“My husband is expected at any moment,” she said the first thing that came to mind.
“Leave now and I will not tell him that you have seriously annoyed me. Stay one moment longer and I will make sure he punishes you.”
The knight laughed again, boldly reaching for her wine cup and taking a big gulp. “If you are indeed married, then your husband is a fool for leaving you alone. He does not deserve you.”
Ellowyn did the only thing she could do.
She stood up, moving away from the table.
The knight jumped up and grabbed her arm, causing her to take the knife she had been holding most of the evening and stab him in the hand with it.
It was purely a reflexive action, infused with fear and fury.
As she saw it, she was defending herself from an attack and had no qualms about using a weapon.
That is, until she saw the look in the knight’s face.
She was coming to think that stabbing him in the hand had been a very, very, bad idea.