‘Or else you might have died with her,’ Beatrice said.
‘No,’ I said, though of course she was right. If the enemy had come upon them suddenly, as Mauger had said, there was probably little I could have done. Yet what did it matter to Beatrice what had happened to Oswynn?
Discomfited all of a sudden, I got to my feet. ‘We should get back. The others will be wondering where we are.’
I held out my hand to help her up; she took it in her own. Her fingers were long and delicate, her palm cold but soft. She rose, smoothing down her skirt, brushing off the leaves and twigs. There were patches of mud where she had been kneeling, but that could not be helped. She pulled her hood back over her hair, while I gathered up the wood for the fire, and together we returned in the direction of the camp. Eudo had finished playing, for the meantime at least, and the knights were laughing amongst themselves as they took draughts from a wineskin that they passed around.
We arrived at the edge of the clearing, where I bade her a good night and watched her make her way back to her tent. For the first time in weeks, I realised I felt free, as if merely by talking about Robert and Oswynn a weight had been lifted from my heart.
I was going to join the others by the fire, when I glimpsed ?lfwold standing in the shadows beside his tent. How long had he been there? I made to walk away, ignoring him, but hardly had I gone five paces when he called my name. For a moment I considered pretending that I had not heard, had not seen him, but then he called a second time and I turned to see him marching towards me.
‘What were you doing?’ he demanded.
I stared back at him, surprised. I had known the chaplain only a few weeks, but never before had I seen him provoked to such anger. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean,’ he answered, and gestured towards the ladies’ tent.
I realised then that he must have seen me with Beatrice. Indeed, how must it have looked, the two of us emerging together from the trees?
‘She was upset,’ I said, feeling the blood rising up my cheeks. Yet I had no reason to be ashamed, and if the priest thought I did, then he was mistaken. ‘I was comforting her.’
‘Comforting her?’
‘What sort of a man do you think I am?’ I asked, trying to restrain my temper. I looked him up and down, disgusted that he would so much as imply such a thing. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I know exactly—’
I did not let him finish, as I pointed my finger towards his face. ‘You should hold your tongue, priest, in case you say something you might regret.’
He froze, blinking at me, but heeded my warning and stayed quiet.
‘I would never besmirch the lady Beatrice’s honour,’ I said as I drew away. ‘And if you doubt my word, you can ask her in person.’
I half expected him to offer some retort, but instead he turned his back and disappeared into his tent, leaving me standing there, alone and confused. How could he think so little of me, when all I had done was try to follow his advice?
I heard the fire crackling, the other knights laughing. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and went to join them.
Eighteen
I KEPT MY distance from ?lfwold the next morning, and from Beatrice as well: I didn’t want to give the priest any reason to think that his suspicions might be founded. Once or twice I exchanged a glance with him, but most of the time he rode on in front, never so far that he was out of sight or hearing, but always apart from the rest of us.
It was only when we stopped to eat at noon that the Englishman approached me again. His temper had cooled, for he came with head bowed and hands clasped sombrely in front of him.
He sat down beside me. ‘I’ve been meaning to apologise for last night,’ he said. ‘It was wrong for me to imply that anything’ – he hesitated, as if searching for the right word – ‘anything untoward might have taken place.’
I did not reply, nor even look at him as I took another bite of bread.
‘I fear I may have been too hasty in my presumptions,’ the chaplain went on. ‘I was merely concerned, for Beatrice’s sake. I have known her since she was very young, and she is dear to me. I hope you understand.’
‘I thought nothing of it,’ I lied. In fact I had spent a great deal of time turning it over in my mind. I hadn’t thought the chaplain the kind of man to anger so easily – not, at least, until last night.
‘That is good,’ ?lfwold said, nodding, and once more produced that gentle smile I had grown used to seeing.
Still, I could not help but feel uneasy, and I kept a close watch over him over the next couple of days, though exactly what I was looking for I was not sure.