Encounters With a Medusa
10
Cromwell spotted Lady Eleanor walking in the palace gardens, and hurried to intercept her path.
"Thomas."
"My lady. Your aunt tells me you are quite recovered from your illness?"
"Yes, and have been for a while now. And I'm not your lady."
"I'm glad I caught you alone." Cromwell said. "I wanted to give you something for your birthday."
"How did you know?" Eleanor asked, taking the package he held out.
"I have my methods." Cromwell watched as she unwrapped the cloth covering of the present, revealing a small book bound in white leather. She turned it over, puzzled.
"It's an English version of the four gospels." Cromwell explained.
Eleanor gaped at him, looking down at the book quickly, and then back up at him, green eyes wide.
She lowered her head. "Thomas, I… I do not believe I am worthy to be given God's word. It is such a precious thing."
Cromwell lifter her chin. "And I say you are. God created you with his words, just as you are. Can you dispute with God? Hmm?"
Eleanor gave a small smile. "Of course. As you well know, I dispute with everyone. I make it a point not to discriminate."
Cromwell tilted his head consideringly. "Of course there are certain things he could have improved."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow.
"There is the matter of your temper, and manner. And what colour is you hair, exactly? It's neither red nor brown. God could at least have made that clear. And then your imagination! Well! What I cou-"
Slap!
Eleanor was frowning, but a smile tugged at her lips.
Her face was so close, and her smile was no longer puzzling to him. Cromwell couldn't help it. The sting of her hand still on his face, he grasped a handful of her auburn hair and pulled her close, covering her mouth with his own, matching her ferocity blow for blow. Surprised, but not really shocked, Eleanor's eyes closed and she gave in, returning his kiss and clutching the front of his doublet. Several long moments passed, and then the lady's eyes flew open, and she struggled against Cromwell, ending the kiss, but not pushing him away. Cromwell let out a shuddering breath, leaning his head against hers, his eyes still closed.
"Thomas?" Eleanor said with a tremor in her voice.
"Hmm?"
"Thomas, what… what does this mean? For us?"
Cromwell opened his eyes and drew back, frowning in puzzlement. "I thought you would know what it means, my lady."
Eleanor drew herself up, anger in her green eyes. "I'm not your lady! I'm not anyone's lady!"
Cromwell was utterly confused now. "Eleanor?"
"I am not a whore!" She was sobbing now, and beat her fist against his chest, just once, and then turned, almost running back to the palace.
Cromwell stood stunned, and then noticed the white bible lying in the grass. How could a moment have gone from so wonderful, to so miserable, in so short a time?