The Bride Tournament by Ruth Kaufman Read Free Book Online Page A

no comfort as she oft had from the symbol of her hopes for the future. Even her source of solace was lost to her now.
    She lifted herself on one elbow. Richard hadn’t moved for some time. Carefully, she climbed out of bed. She lit a candle with glowing embers, then held it toward Richard. Good. His eyes were still closed. Shielding the fragile flame, she hurried to two wood chests on the other side of the room. The larger, plainer chest held her clothing. But the smaller one, with its ornate carved border, held greater treasure.
    After another glance at Richard, Eleanor set the candle down. She pulled the chain over her head and used the key to turn the lock before lifting the lid. Her favorite scent of lemons now seemed stale and bittersweet as her fingers trailed over linens and cloths she’d spent hours embroidering, many with the initials A and E elaborately entwined in thread of precious silver. Near the bottom rested her wedding gift for Arthur, a tapestry depicting his favorite hound, as fine in her eyes as a costly cloth of Arras.
    She bid a temporary farewell to the past, to things that had meant so much to her. On the morrow, she’d have this chest moved to the storage area, where the trappings of her disrupted life would molder with her dream of what should have been.
    Until she could make it so.
    Dawn had barely broken, but she had to talk with Alyce before joining the remaining wedding guests.
    Eleanor knocked on her sister’s door. “Alyce! Let me in.”
    Never would she have admitted she hastened to escape Richard. Though they’d remained on opposite sides of the bed, his mere presence did strange things to her. Surely her sleepless night was due to enthusiasm for her new project.
    Alyce opened the door and rubbed sleep from her eyes. “Is aught amiss?” Her face brightened. “Or have you come to tell me about your wedding night? What was it like?”
    “Naught is amiss and one choosing to give herself to the Church shouldn’t be concerned with what takes place in the marriage bed.” That took care of Alyce. Now she only had the rest of the castle to deal with. Eleanor closed the door behind her.
    “This could be my only opportunity to learn of such things,” Alyce persisted.
    The rising sun peeked through the arched window, highlighting her sister’s delicate beauty. With her pale skin, luminous azure eyes and hair almost as shiny as gold, she looked like an angel. The lone flower in the withered garden of her stark room.
    “Every time you’re here, you make that face,” Alyce said. “How else can I prepare for my future? But I would like to hear of your wedding night.”
    “We’ll talk of that anon,” Eleanor said with a dismissive wave. “Alyce, I have a project.”
    “Oh, no, Eleanor. No.” Alyce gasped. “Not another project. You promised. The last one almost cost a year’s crop from our herb garden.”
    “Adding nourishment to the soil to make plants grow faster and bigger remains an excellent idea. I must’ve miscalculated the proportions. Or had the wrong mix of ingredients.”
    “And before that, I feared the wool would never grow back on the sheep.”
    “I hoped to make shearing easier and faster. I almost succeeded.” Eleanor hopped onto Alyce’s bed. “This time is different, you’ll see.”
    Alyce shook her head. “I’ll hear you out, but make no promises.” She picked up her comb, climbed onto her bed and began unwinding her long braid.
    Eleanor wanted to dance with joy. “We are going to find Richard a bride!”
    “He already has one. You.” Alyce’s hands dropped from her hair.
    “I’m going to seek an annulment. If I get it, Richard will be left with nothing. No bride, none of her lands or gold, none of the prestige of a highly ranked wife. Whether I get it or not, if I find another bride who’ll satisfy both him and King Edward—a better bride—he’ll be happier with her and end the day ahead. We’ll all be happier. Then I can marry Arthur.”