Evangeline lowered her bow and arrow and let the string go slack.
“I . . . I don’t know what to think anymore,” Westley said softly, “but John has been my friend for a very long time.” He rubbed his temple, near where John had struck him, and closed his eyes. “I just don’t remember what happened. I wish I did, but I don’t.”
“Perhaps your memory will come back to you.”
“Perhaps.” Westley let out a heavy sigh. “Either way, I think you should not go anywhere alone.”
“Me? You are the one he wants to harm.”
“Perhaps you only saw someone who looked like John. I stopped a man from beating his wife a day or two before I fell in the river. Perhaps he was the one who struck me. He had the same blond hair as John, now that I think of it. But either way, you should not tell anyone what you saw. If someone is trying to harm me, they should not hear that there was a witness to their actions.”
“No one believes me, so I think I am safe.” She gave her words a wry tone. “Even if I am mistaken—which I am not—and the two men I saw try to harm you were not John Underhill and his servant, if you do not agree to take precautions, I shall be forced to follow you around with my bow and arrows.”
“Ha!” He cocked his head to one side and frowned. “How in the world did you get Reeve Folsham to teach you how to use a bow?”
“I asked him.”
“After you cut him with the scythe, I didn’t think you were his favorite person. But you seem to have won him over.”
“I did him a good turn. When a barrel of ale was about to fall on his head, I pushed him out of the way.”
The look of admiration in his eyes and slight smile made her heart flutter.
“I think he also wanted to help me after what happened to me two nights ago.” She lifted her face to the sun, which was high overhead. “I also wanted to learn how to sword fight. I don’t suppose that would be helpful, however, since I don’t own a sword.”
He smiled at her. “No, I don’t suppose it would be.”
As she stared at his perfect teeth, a glint of suspicion shone in his eye. He wasn’t sure if he could trust her. She couldn’t blame him, perhaps, but it felt like a challenge, to win him over the way she had won over the reeve. Someday, Westley le Wyse, you’ll be offering to teach me how to sword fight.
“And now it is time for the midday meal, so we should go.”
She took the bow and arrow and stowed them away in the inside corner of the oat barn. When she came out, Westley was standing in front of her.
“I’ve never had anyone defend my life before. You looked as if you would have shot John if he had gotten any closer to me.”
“I would have. And you should take it more seriously. He could have been hiding a knife, just hoping to get you alone and then kill you with it.”
His eyes were gentle but searching.
“I should go.”
“After the meal, will you come and read a bit?”
She nodded. “I need to give my ankle a rest.”
As they walked back together, he said, “And when you’re rested, I want you to answer my question about Lord Shiveley.”
“You asked me earlier if I was betrothed.” Her heart pounded. “I am not. But it is true that Lord Shiveley’s men may be looking for me.”
He was silent for a moment. “Perhaps later you will explain.”
And perhaps you will forgive me when I choose not to explain.
Evangeline sat amid the pillows behind the castle, her back propped against the stone wall. She read from the Latin Bible while Westley read from the English version. The problem was that she only understood most of the words in Latin. She glanced over at Westley.
He looked up. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t understand some of these Latin words. Do you think I could . . . That is, do you mind . . . ?
“Do you want to read the English one?”
“I don’t want to take it away from you, of course.”
“We can read it together. Which book were you reading from?”
“I was about to start reading the book of Ruth, but I can read whatever you are reading.”
He stood and carried the book closer, then sat beside her. “Shall we take turns reading aloud?”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
He found the book of Ruth and let Evangeline read the first chapter. It felt strange to read the Holy Writ of God in the common language, but after a few verses, she lost herself in the story and ceased to think of the language she was reading it in. She handed the book back to Westley, and he started the second chapter in his even, masculine voice.
Evangeline read the third chapter. She read about Ruth going to the threshing floor where the men were sleeping, uncovering Boaz’s feet, and lying down beside him. Evangeline stopped.
“What is it?”
“It seems strange that she would risk her reputation as she does. Why does she lie down with a man when he’s with his workers at the threshing floor? How does she know she can trust him?”
“I think the intention was to signal to Boaz that she was willing to marry him.”
“I suppose. But why do it like that? Why not just speak the words? I cannot imagine doing such a thing with a man who was practically a stranger.”
“Have you always had trouble trusting men?”
Evangeline thought for a moment. “I like to think I would not trust a stranger, but the truth is, I trusted you when I knew you and your men not at all.”
“Perhaps you have more in common with Ruth than you thought.” His crooked smile seemed flirtatious.
“I have always had the idea that I should not trust men. I suppose . . .” She almost said, I suppose I got that idea from my nursemaids, but of course, a peasant did not have nursemaids. However, he already knew she was not a peasant, and certainly not a servant.
“From the very first time I saw you, there was something about you, something in your face. I trusted you. I trusted you not to molest Mildred and me, at least. Besides, when I saw you save that child from the runaway horse, I knew you had a good heart.”
“You saw me . . . in Berkhamsted Castle’s bailey?”
Evangeline’s stomach sank. Had she said too much? When he figured out who she was, would he take her back to Berkhamsted Castle?
“Where were you? I did not see you. You must have been inside the castle.”
“I . . . I was. May I please finish this book before you question me further?”
He held up his hands. “Very well. Go on.”
Evangeline took a deep breath and resumed reading to the end of the chapter.
Westley took back the book, their hands brushing as she helped lift it from her lap.
He read the last chapter and looked over at Evangeline. “So you would not let a man know that you wanted to marry him by lying down at his feet?”
“Um, no. But perhaps it was the custom of the day. Would you marry a woman who came to you while you were sleeping, uncovered your feet, and lay down beside you?”
He smiled as if amused. “Possibly.” Then his smile disappeared. “How did Lord Shiveley tell you he wanted to marry you?”
Evangeline stared down at the book between them. “I never said Lord Shiveley wanted to marry me.” She had to be careful. She did not want to tell a lie, but she also did not feel she had to tell Westley everything. He was better off not knowing, especially if his conscience were to tell him he should take her back to Berkhamsted Castle to do the king’s bidding.
“Are you betrothed to Lord Shiveley?”
“I already told you I am not.”
If Westley wanted to marry her himself, she would reveal all to him. If he were committed to her, perhaps he would fight for her, would think of some way to protect her from the powerful Lord Shiveley. But she did not believe Westley wanted to marry her. After all, she was running not only from the Earl of Shiveley but also from the king of England. How could she ever escape
? They were bound to find her sooner or later.
Westley did not behave like a man who was in love with her. She wished he was, but she had no idea how to make him fall in love with her. Besides, he had only known her for a short time. She could not trust him to protect her from Lord Shiveley. “May we please keep reading?”
“You are not betrothed to Lord Shiveley, but someone wanted to marry you, and you ran away to avoid marrying him. Was that man Lord Shiveley?”
“Why do you want to know so badly?”
“I want to know what manner of trouble my family will encounter in the future.”
“I do not intend to cause your family any trouble.” Evangeline avoided looking at him and kept her jaw tight, even as she struggled to keep a tight rein on her emotions. “I shall leave Glynval now if you wish.”
“I do not wish you to leave. I also don’t want you to have to marry anyone you don’t wish to marry. I was only trying to discover the reason for you running away from your previous home. Come. Let us forget about it and read. It is your turn.”
Evangeline chose to skip ahead to a different part of the Bible and read the gospel of the Apostle John. After several chapters, Westley put down the book and sighed. “I can’t read any more. Would you like me to teach you knife throwing?”
“Reeve Folsham said he would teach me the fighting skills that he taught his own daughters.” She should think of an excuse to get away from Westley before he asked more questions about her past and about Lord Shiveley. But what she should do and what she wanted to do were two completely different things.
“Come. I can teach you something.” He stood and held out his hand to her.
Chapter Eighteen
Westley extended his hand to Eva to help her up. Even though he still wasn’t sure he trusted her, something about her made him want her to trust him. Was it because she was so pretty, with her lovely red hair and green eyes and fair face? Or was it because he still felt bad about the way his people had treated her about the poison mushrooms? Besides, if she was telling the truth, she’d been the one who saved him from drowning.
When she placed her hand in his, he felt it all the way to his shoulder.
She let him pull her to her feet. A strand of hair had come loose from her braid and dangled by her cheek. Why could he imagine himself brushing the hair off her face and behind her ear? He never had a thought like that when he was with Sabina. And now, after what Sabina had done to Eva, lying about the mushrooms and possibly lying about who she saw running away from the river, he no longer had any interest in the miller’s daughter. But Eva . . . He must be careful. After all, she was still hiding something from him.
He walked toward the barn where she had practiced archery with Reeve Folsham that morning.
He turned and said over his shoulder, “Are you coming?”
She started to follow him and pulled a knife out of her pocket.
When they reached the barn, he showed her how to hold the knife properly for throwing. He demonstrated, throwing his own knife and driving the point straight into the side of the barn. Eva tried it. The side of her blade hit the wooden wall and bounced off.
“This is more difficult than it looks.” Eva bit her lip.
“After a bit of practice, you will be as good at it as you are at archery.”
She was preparing to try again when Reeve Folsham approached.
“I see your teacher has returned. I shall go. I need to speak with my father. And I’m glad your ankle is better.”
“It is much better. I thank you.” Her smile was captivating. He actually stumbled as he walked away.
Evangeline hid her amusement behind her hand as Westley stumbled. He was nearly as clumsy as she was.
Reeve Folsham began his instruction by saying, “I am going to teach you how to defend yourself the way I taught my own daughters. Knife throwing is a good skill to know, but it is no good if your attacker is in your face, grabbing your hands, or if you cannot reach your knife.”
Evangeline nodded.
“Now, if you don’t have a knife, look around for something to use as a weapon—a rock or a block of wood or something else heavy or sharp or hard. If you find something, strike your attacker in the head or the throat or between the legs. If you don’t have a weapon, use your knuckles to attack his eyes or his throat. Strike hard and fast, then run. And always scream as loud as you can to raise the hue and cry.”
Evangeline nodded.
“Now, if I were to attack you from behind, like this—” He went behind her and put an arm around her neck. “You can try to elbow me”—she tried but missed, as he was standing too far back—“but that won’t work, so you have to stomp on the middle of my foot.”
Instead of stomping his foot, Evangeline stomped beside it. “Then what?”
“Then when your attacker loosens his hold, you can take a step back and reach his midsection with your elbow. Slam him a good one to his ribs. That should loosen his grip enough so you can get free. Then turn around and ram your knee between his legs. Or if that doesn’t work, strike his throat with your knuckles.”
Evangeline followed his every word and move. They practiced several moves until Evangeline almost wished someone would attack her so she could use her new skills.
“Thank you for teaching me, Reeve Folsham. Here are your bow and arrows back.”
“You may keep them. I insist. Every peasant maiden should be able to defend herself against violent men or unwanted attention.”
“Every peasant maiden,” he said. But did his rule apply to every maiden who was not a peasant, but a ward of the king, told she must marry a man she found loathsome? Yes, Evangeline needed these skills even more if she was ever found by Lord Shiveley.
Westley discovered his father sitting at his desk in his study, a small room next to the family’s library.
“Father, I need to speak to you.”
He turned his attention from his task to Westley. “What is it, son?”
“Eva, the new servant girl—”
“The one who claimed to be mute and was accused of trying to poison everyone?”
“Yes, she said she saw John strike me and push me into the river.”
“And you still do not remember what happened?”
“I remember walking to the river to fish but nothing after that until I woke up in bed with Mother hovering over me.”
“Perhaps this girl is lying. What do we know of her?” The brow over Father’s one good eye lowered.
“She and her friend Mildred joined the men and me when we left Berkhamsted Castle on our way back here. Mildred claimed Eva was mute after being beaten by her former mistress. But Eva has admitted that was a lie. She said she was trying to get away from a man who wanted to marry her, and it was her way of disguising herself.” He decided not to tell Father that he suspected the man she did not want to marry was the Earl of Shiveley or one of his men.
“I thought it was Sabina who found you after you fell in the river. Did she say anything about seeing John push you in?”
“At first Sabina said nothing about anyone pushing me in. Eva said nothing because she was still pretending to be mute. But then Sabina said she saw two men running away after I fell in.”
“What else?”
“Eva said Sabina was lying, that she wasn’t there when I fell in. She said she was the only one around when John and his man, Roger Cox, approached me at the river. She said John and I exchanged angry words, then he struck me with a block of wood and pushed me in.”
“This is a grave matter. Why did she did not tell us this right away?”
“She said she asked Sabina to tell me that she saw two men running away after I fell in so I would be on my guard. But she did not know who the man was who struck me until she saw John and Roger Cox at the well two days ago. And then he showed up again this morning.”
“What did John want?”
“I don’t know.” Westley rubbed his temple, trying to bring back the memory
that had flashed through his mind when he saw John scowling at Eva and her raised bow and arrow. “But it is strange that I have hardly seen John these past three years and now he is showing up so often. And John behaved strangely when she accused him.”
“She accused him to his face?”
“While aiming a bow and arrow at him.”
Father raised his brows.
“Reeve Folsham was teaching her to shoot.”
“Reeve Folsham? Did she not throw a scythe at him her first day here?”
“The scythe slipped out of her hand and gave the reeve a small cut. But that seems to be forgotten now.”
Father was still staring at him in disbelief.
“I believe she won him over when she saved him from a rolling barrel of ale that fell off a cart and nearly onto his head. And then when the other servants falsely accused her of trying to poison them, he defended her. I think he agreed to teach her because he wanted her to be able to defend herself.”
Father cleared his throat—something he sometimes did when he wasn’t sure what to say.
“I don’t like to think that John Underhill would try to kill me, but I had a strange little flash of a memory . . . a memory of his enraged face and his arm raised. I don’t know if it was a memory or just my mind playing with me. And then his answers to Eva did not ring true. And yet . . . it seems ridiculous to believe this girl over John, especially when she deceived us all.”
They were both silent for a few moments.
“When was the last time you had talked to John, before you fell in the river?”
“He met me one day a few days ago on the path through the woods near the oat field on the north side. He looked angry and he argued with me, saying his father was a good man and that it was our fault the villeins rose up and killed him.” Westley hated to tell his father that.
“You know that isn’t true, don’t you?”
“I tried to get him to remember what a hard man his father was, how he had beaten those two men in the weeks before the uprising before they killed him.”
“John is still angry about his father’s murder. He has found someone to blame in you and me. I am still not convinced John tried to kill you, but if he did, he will probably try again. I don’t want you going anywhere alone, and the same for this servant girl. From now on I want her to work and sleep here at the castle. You will probably regain your memory, and when you do, if Eva was telling the truth, we will need to send for the hundred bailiff.”