Ordained by God

Section Nine

After a few moments, Eleanor joined her brother and father in the great hall. Walking up to her father, Earl Ivan, she embraced him and said, “happy return. I trust your journey from France was pleasant?”

Earl Ivan was a large, muscular man with big, dark eyes, tan skin and a greying head that once bore blonde curls. Eustace was a younger version of his father but with a broader build and meaner disposition. When Eustace was born, there was no doubt in Winshire’s mind that the father was the Earl. But when Eleanor was born, with her fair skin, green eyes and blonde hair, there was some speculation as to if the father was another man.

But Eleanor was too much like the Earl to be another man’s son from their deep devotion to God to the way they walked.

Earl Ivan loved Eleanor and clearly favoured his daughter of his son. “Eleanor,” he said with an earnest tone. He took her hand and sat her down on the bench next to him. “It was a fine journey. We ran into cast away when coming into Portsmouth and then again when outside of Crawley. ”

“Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine.”

Eleanor smiled. “Eustace said you had something important to tell me.”

“Ah, yes.” Ivan looked away from his daughter and into a crowd of men who were talking. “Lord Roland, come here.”

A man drew away from the throng and walked towards Eleanor and Earl Ivan. “Yes, My Lord?”

Roland was a handsome man with brown curls, light blue eyes and a wide back. He wore a tunic with a crest on the front and a scabbard at his hip.  With no more than twenty-eight years tearing the strong corner of his jaw, he was a handsome man with a compassionate expression.  “This must be Lady Eleanor. I’m Lord Roland of Ashbourne.” He took her hand and kissed her soft skin.

Calling upon her lady-like manners, Eleanor smiled and forced herself to appear in a blushing fashion. From a glance from her father, she knew why Lord Roland was here. My husband, she thought bitterly.

In a way, when she had imagined her wedding as a little girl, this was the type of man who would be her greater. At least, it had seemed that was the only way a Lady could marry. She imagined her father giving her away to a ma of Roland’s status. But she didn’t want to marry Lord Roland; she wanted Clement.

 Roland sat on the bench across the table from Eleanor. He took his scabbard and sword off from his hip, clearly relaxed “How old are you?”

“Newly nineteen. How old are you?” Eleanor knew it was a bold thing to say but she had to know. There was a chance he would be outraged at her audacity to ask such a personal question.

Roland, along with Earl Ivan and a few men, laughed. “I’m twenty-six.”

Eleanor smiled, relieved knowing he was not her fathers age only seven years older.  She spent the rest of the night talking with Lord Roland but wishing it was Clement.  With the inheritance of Duke of Norford, Lord Roland had been raised to be a proper and just leader.  Eleanor knew she should be grateful for the quality of a marriage such as hers, but all she could feel was indignation.

“Lady Eleanor,” Lord Roland took Eleanor’s hand as they stood in the middle of stairs the lead to the Earl’s quarters. “I must confess that I like you a lot more than I thought I would. Your beauty is legendary across England but what I didn’t know is how benevolent and temperate you are.”

Eleanor smiled as she felt her thought slowly drift away from Clement. “You, too, are better than I ever could have imagined.”

Eleanor opened her mouth to tell more- specifically about the past few months of her life and love of Clement. But she decided against that; it would be foolish to put a marriage such as this one in peril because of one tanner.  Instead she rose to her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. 

With her back turned to him, Roland reached grabbed her forearm and swung her around into his chest. Clasping his right hand around her head, and the left around her waist, he kissed her. 

Stunned into submission, Eleanor let his hands roam over his torso and to her breast.  She put her hands on his hips and if she tried hard enough, she could trick her mind into thinking those lips were Clement’s. But Clement’s lips were softer and gentler than Lord Roland’s. Clement’s hands were familiar with her body and knew that her ticklish spot at the base of her spine made her giddy.

Eleanor tore away from Lord Roland and slapped his cheek where her lips had once willingly touched.  At the sight of his confused and partially angry face, she said, “When we are married.” I’m not going to be part of a show for the peasants here, she thought resentfully.