To The Castle
To The Castle
Joan Wolf
Twelfth-century Normandy–as a fierce battle for the crown erupts, a powerful knight and his innocent bride will discover their destinies are passionately entwined….Just weeks away from taking her holy vows, Nell de Bonvile learns of her elder sister's tragic death. Swept from the convent, she is ordered to take Sybilla's place as bride to Roger de Roche, heir to Britain's most powerful earldom. Lovely, naive and totally unprepared for life outside the convent or the ways of men, Nell bravely faces her uncertain future.Indifferent to marriage for anything other than political gain, Roger is prepared to wait until his innocent bride comes to him willingly. Yet as he watches Nell blossom from timid girl to courageous mistress of his keep, his desire for her grows all-consuming. But war gives no quarter to newfound passion, plunging them both into a battle that will pit father against son, invaders against loyalists, testing every whispered word, and each unspoken promise….
Praise for the novels of JOAN WOLF
“Especially appealing…”
—Booklist on White Horses
“Wolf spins a very entertaining love story.”
—Romantic Times on White Horses
“Romance writing at its very best.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review) on The Guardian
“Wolf…leaps into the contemporary romantic suspense arena with this smart, compelling read.”
—Publishers Weekly on Silverbridge
“A quick-moving, enchanting tale…An excellent choice for readers who want an exciting epic.”
—Booklist on Daughter of the Red Deer
“Captivating…endearing…heartwarming…Wolf’s assured storytelling is simply the best.”
—BookPage on Royal Bride
“Fast paced, highly readable…”
—Library Journal on The Gamble
“An entertaining and thought-provoking read.”
—Washington Post Book World
on The Reindeer Hunters
Also by JOAN WOLF
WHITE HORSES
To the Castle
Joan Wolf
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
For Joe, the bedrock of my existence.
Contents
Chapter One (#uf77102d1-ee65-54d5-9933-fdce4f54b218)
Chapter Two (#u0be3b2dc-f0c8-5f5b-a6b0-53161165f38b)
Chapter Three (#u15089db1-36ea-5ab8-a34c-66bce27fc2f4)
Chapter Four (#u932062de-ac55-5ee9-be54-5c336b8e6998)
Chapter Five (#u8e2b9052-1647-5336-8f8d-afce03e42b86)
Chapter Six (#u96ef51a5-9ea7-5579-9863-f1f319bbedb0)
Chapter Seven (#u4784d884-866d-5594-b7ce-c592560e1ae9)
Chapter Eight (#ua46e00bb-b441-5bcb-a2e4-f5510c67ac34)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Afterword (#litres_trial_promo)
One
The funeral mass for Sybilla de Bonvile was held in the cathedral of Lincoln on a day of high clouds and gusty wind. Nell de Bonvile walked with her parents behind the coffin of her only sister as it was carried by six knights up the aisle to the altar rail. The archbishop himself waited with holy water to sprinkle on it before he turned with majestic slowness to ascend to the altar where he would begin the funeral mass.
Nell knelt next to her mother and listened to the familiar Latin words, her eyes on the coffin that contained the eighteen-year-old remains of Sybilla. She felt immense sorrow engulf her as she thought of her sister’s life, blown out like a candle by a fever and coughing illness.
If only they had called upon Sister Helen, perhaps she might have been saved, Nell thought. But Sister Helen, one of the nuns at the convent where Nell had lived since her eighth year, had not been called upon, and Sybilla had died.
Next to Nell, her mother raised a handkerchief to her face and began to sob softly. Nell wanted to comfort her mother, but hesitated to touch her. She wasn’t sure if her mother would want comfort from her sole remaining child. Nell knew she could never take the place of her beautiful sister or her brilliant brother. Perhaps her mother would be hurt by the reminder that they had gone and all that was left to her was Nell.
She looked beyond her mother to the face of her father. The Earl of Lincoln’s face was like stone. He made no motion to comfort his wife.
Tentatively, Nell reached out and touched her mother’s arm. The countess gave no sign that she felt Nell’s fingers; she continued to sob quietly into her handkerchief. After a minute, Nell removed her hand and folded it in prayer.
Dear God, she prayed, please receive Sybilla into the joy of your presence and help Mama and Papa to find comfort from their grief.
When the mass was over, they left Sybilla’s coffin in the church, where she would be buried alongside her brother, and went out into the windy day.
Nell, her parents and her aunt had stayed overnight in the bishop’s residence, but now that the funeral was over, Nell knew her father was anxious to return to his castle of Bardney, some twenty miles outside of Lincoln. He gave orders to the knights who had accompanied him to bring the horses around and, as Nell stood waiting in front of the cathedral, her eyes took in the unfamiliar part of Lincoln that lay within the outer walls of the castle.
Nell had spent most of her life within the confines of a convent, and this glimpse of the busy outside world was fascinating. People were going about their business, coming and going from the castle, which towered high above them on a rock, or buying and selling from the stalls that lined one of the walls of the Bail. Many cast curious glances at the funeral party—everyone in the town was aware of who was being buried that day.
What different lives people live, Nell thought wonderingly. How different my own life would have been if my parents hadn’t given me to the convent when I was a child.
An old woman passed in front of the cathedral, turning her head to look straight at Nell. Nell could feel the sympathy in her gaze cross the distance between them. She nodded slightly, in acknowledgment, and the old lady nodded back and continued on her way.
The sympathy was kind, but Nell knew it should be directed at her mother and father, not at her. She had hardly known her sister. They had been separated when they were very young and Sybilla had rarely come to visit her in the convent.
“Nell, stop standing there staring and get on your horse.” Her father sounded impatient. She went over to the small mare one of the knights was holding and let him help her into the saddle. She was still a little sore from the ride in yesterday; life in the convent had not included horseback riding.
Her father mounted his big chestnut stallion and the knights who were leading their party started off. Her father’s stallion moved off behind them, followed by her mother, her mother’s sister, Aunt Alida, and Nell. Behind them came another group of knights, to protect their rear.
Nell’s veil blew in the wind and she reached up to anchor it more securely on her head. She would not profess her holy vows until she was eighteen, but the novices at the convent wore wimples and veils like the nuns. Her little mare was very quiet, paying no attention to the people who were staring at them—unlike her father’s stallion, who was dancing and throwing his head around. Her father sat quietly and spoke to him. Nell watched with awe as he controlled the large horse with his voice and gentle hands.
The earl’s cavalcade went down the old Roman road, Ermine Street, through the town with its shops, past the inns that accommodated visitors to Lincoln, past the church of St. Peter ad Placita, across the River Witham and out of the town. Bardney was southeast of Lincoln while Nell’s convent was to the northeast. She had been fetched two days ago by five of her father’s knights and she supposed she would be spending the night at Bardney, then returning to the convent in the morning.
The road to Bardney led through several small villages huddled around their churches, and some fine pastureland where cows grazed peacefully. The castle could be seen from quite a distance, its turreted stone walls rearing up out of the ground with arrogant authority.
Nell had spent the first years of her life at Bardney, but her memories of life in the castle were dim. When she was eight her brother, the much-longed-for male, had been born, and Nell had been sent to the Convent of St. Cecelia in fulfillment of a promise her parents had made to God when they had prayed for a son. The life she knew was life in the convent; she had felt like a stranger when she had dismounted in the inner bailey of the castle two days ago.
She felt like a stranger still as she rode across the bridge, over the moat and under the great iron portcullis that sealed the gate at night and in times of trouble. The cavalcade of horses crossed the huge expanse of the outer bailey, passed through a second gate into the inner bailey, and came to a halt in front of the great stone castle. The knights, who wore mail shirts called hauberks and helmets with the nose guards up, dismounted, and one of them came to lift Nell down from her saddle. Her knees buckled a little when she touched the ground and he reached out quickly to steady her.
“I’m all right,” Nell told the knight, who was young and brown-eyed. “I just have never had the opportunity to do much riding.”
“You did very well, my lady,” he said.
“Come along, Nell,” her mother called. “Don’t stand there dawdling.”
Nell went immediately to her mother and aunt and followed them into the Great Hall, which took up more than half the space of the castle’s ground floor. Nell had been awed by the size of the Great Hall when she had come home two days ago, and she looked around now, still surprised by its immensity and by the colorful painted wall hangings that adorned the high stone walls. At the convent, rooms were small and the stone walls were bare except for a crucifix.
Her father, Lord Raoul, and her mother, Lady Alice, moved toward the chairs that were pulled up in front of the fireplace and Nell and her aunt followed.
“I think we could all use some wine,” Alida said.
“Yes,” the earl said. “Send for some.”
Two young pages sat on a bench along the wall and Lady Alice said peremptorily, “Robin, go and fetch some wine for us.”
The boy jumped up and ran in the direction of the buttery, where the drinks were kept.
Nell looked at her father, who sat in the largest chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. He did not speak and the others respected his silence. Nell looked down at her lap and folded her hands.
The page came back bearing four goblets of wine on a silver tray. He served his lord first, then Lady Alice, Lady Alida and Nell. The earl and countess both took a long drink, but Nell sipped her wine tentatively. The novices in the convent drank ale with their meals; wine was something new to Nell.
“Well,” the earl said, when he had put his drink on the small table next to him. “So that’s that.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Lady Alice said sadly. “I can’t believe that God could be so cruel.”
“God does what He damn well pleases,” the earl said.
Nell looked at her father with horrified eyes.
He caught her look and said harshly, “Despite what you may have heard in your convent, it’s true. There is no making sense of the tragedies in life. No religion can explain to me why I had to lose both my son and my daughter. God does what He damn well pleases and He doesn’t answer any questions.”
Nell tried to think what she could say to answer the earl’s shocking words. “It’s true that we can’t know the mind of God, but we must trust that there is a plan that we can’t understand,” she said, echoing words she had heard more than once in the convent.
“I don’t think I would want to understand a plan that would take my son and my daughter from me,” her father said, turning his grim look on her.
Nell bit her lip. He’s grieving, she thought excusingly. He doesn’t mean it.
Once more silence descended on the small group by the fire. Tears ran from her mother’s eyes and her father looked angry.
I wish I could comfort them, Nell thought with distress. I feel so useless here.
Her mother wiped her eyes and looked at her. “I don’t know what we’re going to do about clothes for you. You’re quite a bit smaller than Sybilla.”
“We can alter some of Sybilla’s gowns,” Alida said. “They will do until we can have her own clothes made.”
Clothes? Nell thought. She looked from her aunt to her mother in puzzlement. “Why should I need clothes, Mama? I have my habit.”
Her mother and father glanced at each other. Then the earl spoke. “You will not be going back to the convent, Nell. You are my only remaining child and you have a duty to your family. You will be remaining here at Bardney for the foreseeable future.”
Nell’s dark blue eyes grew huge. “I’m not going back to the convent? But I was to be professed as a nun in six months’ time!”
“You are not going to become a nun. You are now the heiress to the Earl of Lincoln—a far more important position than a mere nun could ever hope to attain.”
Nell felt as if she had been hit over the head. Her brain was utterly scattered. Not going back to the convent? But the convent had been her life!
The earl continued, “I will write to Mother Superior to tell her of my decision. We were wrong to send you there all those years ago. It’s true that God gave us a son, but then He took him away. I don’t owe God a daughter, as well. From now on you will be staying here, with us.”
Nell sat in her sister’s bedroom, surrounded by her sister’s things. The wooden trunks along the wall held Sybilla’s clothes; the coverings on the bed bore Sybilla’s monogram; the hangings on the stone wall were the product of her sister’s paintbrush. When her mother had put her in Sybilla’s room, Nell had assumed it was because all the other bedrooms were full. Now she realized it was because she had been designated to take Sybilla’s place.
But I’m not Sybilla, she thought rebelliously. My life has taken a different path.
She jumped up and went to the window. The busy outer bailey of Bardney lay spread before her, with men coming and going on castle business. Panic fluttered in her stomach.
I don’t belong here. This is not my home anymore.
Mother Superior won’t let me leave.
The thought took root in Nell’s shocked mind. For the past nine years she had dedicated herself to God. To be ripped so abruptly from her sacred purpose and returned to the secular world had stunned her and destroyed her sense of who she was.
Mother Superior would intercede with her father, convince him to leave Nell in the convent, where she had been so happy and so secure.
I must find a way to see Mother Superior.
But Nell was canny enough to realize that her father would not let her return to the convent if he thought she wanted Mother Superior to intercede for her. She had to think of another reason for wanting to return to St. Cecelia’s.
I’ll tell Father that I want to say goodbye to the nuns. Surely he won’t deny me that opportunity. After all, they have been my family for the last nine years.
Her idea had barely formed when the bedroom door opened and her mother came in.
“I don’t want you to wear that wimple at dinner,” Lady Alice said to Nell. “Take it off and let me see what your hair looks like.”
Reluctantly, Nell slowly removed her veil and wimple. Her brown hair was pulled back tight against her skull and fastened in a braid at the nape of her neck. It fell halfway down her back.
“Thank God they didn’t cut it,” her mother said, relieved.
“It was going to be cut when I took my vows,” Nell said.
“Well, you aren’t going to make your vows, so you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Nell had never once worried about having her hair cut.
She thought she should try to get her mother on her side about visiting Mother Superior.
“Mama,” Nell said, as Lady Alice began to unravel Nell’s hair, “I want to go back to the convent to say goodbye to the nuns. They were very good to me and it would be churlish of me to go away without even a goodbye.”
“Good grief,” her mother said. “How often did you wash your hair? It’s greasy!”
Hair washing had never been of great moment in the convent.
“I don’t know,” Nell said vaguely.
Her mother made sounds of disapproval. “Well, this needs to be washed before you can display it. I had better put the braid back in for now and we can wash it tomorrow.”
“Did you hear me, Mama?” Nell said a little desperately. “I would like to return to the convent to say goodbye.”
Her mother continued to braid Nell’s hair. “Well, I suppose that can be arranged. We’ll have to talk to your father.”
“Can we ask him tonight?”
“We’ll see.”
Lady Alice finished braiding Nell’s hair, then looked into her face. “Your life is going to be very different from what you are used to, Nell, and I realize it may be hard for you at first. I will do my best to help you.”
Nell dropped her eyes. “Thank you, Mama,” she murmured.
“It’s important to you, saying goodbye at the convent?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I will speak to your father.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Nell said again. “Do you think I can go tomorrow?”
“That will depend upon your father.”
“But you’ll ask him?”
“I said I would,” her mother replied impatiently. She looked at Nell, her head tilted to one side. “I suppose you will have to wear that habit downstairs to supper. I’ll have my ladies alter a few of Sybilla’s tunics tomorrow. At least if we get the hems up you can wear them.”
I don’t want to wear Sybilla’s clothes, Nell thought stubbornly.
“Come along,” her mother said. “It’s time to go downstairs to supper.”
Two
Supper was served for the entire household in the Great Hall. Trestle tables had been set up in the main body of the hall with the high table set close to the fireplace, where in winter it was warmest. At the high table sat the lord and lady of the house, Nell, Lady Alida, Father Clement, the chaplain, and Martin Demas, who was the steward of Bardney Castle. Two squires stood behind the table to serve the great folk dining there.
Nell looked at the roast venison that was reposing upon her trencher of fine white bread and felt her stomach heave. She was far too upset to eat. Her mouth felt dry so she took a small sip of wine. She looked enviously at the lesser folk sitting at the trestle tables who were being served ale.
“Eat something,” her aunt Alida said. “The food is good at Bardney. You should enjoy it.”
Aunt Alida looked as if she enjoyed the food. She was a small plump woman who reminded Nell of a pigeon. Alida had been one of too many girls and her family hadn’t known what to do with her until Alice had said she could come and live with her.
It was not always easy these days for a noble family to find a suitable match for a daughter. Because of the Norman custom that decreed that all of a family’s holdings be passed down to the eldest son, it was only the eldest son in a family who was eligible to marry. Penniless younger sons usually remained bachelors. This left a limited number of potential husbands for the daughters of the nobility, and competition was fierce. There had been several girls in Nell’s convent whose families had not been able to give them a good enough dowry to purchase a husband.
Alida had been fortunate to have a sister who had married well enough to be able to offer her a home. Nell had only a dim memory of Alida from the time that she had lived at home, but her aunt’s smile was friendly and she smiled back.
“I’m just not very hungry, I’m afraid,” she said. “Too much has happened in the last few days. My stomach’s all in a whirl.”
Her mother turned to her. “Aren’t you eating, Nell?”
Nell took a bite of venison and forced it down. “I’m eating, Mama.”
Alice spoke to her sister across Nell. “Do you really think we can alter Sybilla’s clothes to fit Nell? It isn’t just the length that will have to come up; they will have to be taken in all over.”
“We can do it,” Alida replied. “We’ll get started on it right away.”
“We’ll have to,” Alice said. “She has to have something to wear besides this black robe.”
Alida patted Nell on the arm. “Don’t you worry. You’re a pretty girl and we’ll soon have you fitted out properly.”
I hope not, Nell thought. She turned to her mother. “Mama,” she said, “don’t forget to talk to my father about my going back to St. Cecelia’s.”
Alice looked exasperated. “I told you I would talk to him and I will—in good time.”
“Talk about what?” Alida asked her sister with all the confidence of a close companion.
“Nell wants to go back to the convent to say goodbye to the sisters,” Alice said.
Alida nodded approvingly. “And so she should. It is the mannerly thing to do.”
Nell gave her aunt a tremulous smile of gratitude.
Nell waited all through dinner for her mother to have a chance to talk to her father, but he was deep in conversation with Martin Demas and didn’t look at his wife. Finally, when the main dishes had been removed and the sweet was being served, he turned to the three women who sat to his right.
“Did you enjoy your food, Nell?” he asked.
“Yes, Father, I did,” Nell lied.
“Good. I imagine you did not dine like this in the convent.”
“No, Father.”
“My lord,” Alice began, “Nell wishes to return to the convent so she may say goodbye to the nuns. I think it would be the mannerly thing for her to do—after all, she resided there for nine years.”
He frowned and Nell held her breath.
“I don’t think it’s necessary,” he said.
“Not necessary, but mannerly,” Lady Alice said.
His frown smoothed out. “Oh, all right. I suppose I can spare a few knights to take her.” He spoke briefly with Martin Demas, then turned back to Nell. “All right,” he said, returning his gaze to the women. “You might as well go tomorrow and get it over with. I can send five men with you.”
“Surely I don’t need five men, Father,” Nell said.
“Yes, you do,” he returned. “The country is teetering on the brink of civil war and lawless men are taking advantage of the unsettled state of affairs.” He looked at her grimly. “You are all I have left to me, Nell. I don’t want to lose you, too.”
For the briefest of moments pain flashed in her father’s dark blue eyes, then it was gone. Nell felt a stab of guilt that she was working to circumvent him.
After dinner was over, the servants began the work of taking up the trestle tables and storing them against one wall of the Great Hall. They left a few benches in front of the fire and a number of knights gravitated to them and sat down. Someone took out a pair of dice. The earl went to join his men by the fire and Alice said to her sister, “Let us go upstairs to the solar. I have no heart for company tonight.”
Nell followed her mother and her aunt up the stairs to the living room used solely by the family, her mind forming thoughts of what she would say to Mother Superior when she saw her on the morrow. Surely Mother Superior would be on her side. She had always liked Nell. She prayed she would tell her father that it was God’s will that Nell remain in the convent.
It was late in the afternoon when Nell and her retinue arrived at the gatehouse of the Convent of St. Cecelia. The portress greeted Nell, then summoned grooms to take the horses.
The stones of the convent buildings looked so familiar to Nell, so comforting. There was the church, where the nuns heard mass from behind a beautifully carved screen; there was Mother Superior’s house; there was the main residence where Nell had lived along with the nuns and the rest of the novices; and there was the guesthouse, where the Bardney knights would spend the night. Unseen from the courtyard was the herb garden, where Nell had spent so many happy hours learning from the convent’s healer, Sister Helen.
Sister Helen had been like a mother to her. How could she bear to leave her?
Nell pointed out the guesthouse to the knights and told them to make themselves comfortable. Then she crossed the courtyard in the direction of Mother Superior’s tall, narrow, stone house. Her heart was thudding.
A lay sister answered Nell’s knock. Nell asked a little breathlessly, “Will you be so kind as to tell Mother that I wish to see her?”
“Of course,” the lay sister replied and disappeared up the stairs. She returned a few minutes later and told Nell that Mother Superior would receive her in her sitting room. By now Nell’s heart was hammering and she drew a deep breath to steady herself before she went up the stairs.
St. Cecelia’s was a well-endowed convent and the Mother Superior could have afforded a decent degree of luxury, but Mother Margaret de Ligne made do with only the bare essentials: several carved wooden chairs, two chests and a wall hanging depicting St. George on a white horse. The stone floor was bare of rushes.
Mother Margaret herself was almost as austere-looking as the room she sat in, but her face softened as Nell came in. “So,” she said. “You have returned from burying your sister.”
“Yes, Mother. And something has happened that I must discuss with you.”
“Come and sit down,” Mother Margaret said. “How are your mother and your father? Such a terrible thing for them, to lose your sister at so young an age. I am praying for them.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Nell replied.
“I see you are not wearing your wimple.”
Nell clutched her hands tightly together in her lap. “My mother made me take it off. Mother, something terrible has happened. My father has said that I can’t remain at the convent, that I must stay at home and take Sybilla’s place!”
There was a little silence, then Mother Margaret said softly, “I thought this might happen.”
Nell stared at her in shocked surprise.
Mother Margaret went on. “Your father is a very important man, Nell. He owns extensive lands, castles and manors. He has lost a son and a daughter and he needs an heir to carry on the family’s holdings and its bloodline. So I am not surprised that he wants you to come home.”
Nell found her voice. “But I was dedicated to God, Mother! Surely I ought not turn my back upon Him!”
Mother Margaret said gently, “When you were dedicated, your father had a son and another daughter. Now he has only you.”
Nell was stunned. Mother was sounding as if she approved of this change in Nell’s status! She said tensely, “I was hoping that you would speak to my father. I was hoping you would tell him that the ways of God come before the ways of men.”
Mother Margaret leaned a little forward. “My dear child,” she said. “we will miss you very much. You have given much joy to this convent. But you must obey your father, Nell. The Commandments tell us, honor thy father and thy mother.”
Nell felt betrayed. She had been so sure that Mother Superior would fight for her. “If you could just talk to him, perhaps he will change his mind,” she pleaded.
Mother Margaret shook her head decisively. Her light blue eyes held sympathy for Nell, but her words were adamant. “I will not interfere. You can continue to serve God, no matter what your station in life, Nell. You will be in a high position, a position where you can affect many lives—many more lives than you would affect in this convent. Perhaps God has had this plan for you all along. You learned here how to be a religious woman. Now it is time for you to take what you have learned and apply it to the life you will lead as mistress of many people.”
“But I don’t want to leave here,” Nell cried in deep distress. “I have been happy here!”
Mother folded her hands in her lap. “I am glad about that, but now your duty lies elsewhere, Nell. Your family needs you more than we do.”
There was a little silence. Nell hunched her shoulders and stared into her lap. “I thought you would take my side.”
“Look at me,” Mother Superior said.
Reluctantly, Nell lifted her eyes.
“Your job will be to work good in the world,” Mother said.
“That is a much harder task than praying from within the shelter of a convent, but I’m sure you’re equal to it.”
No, I’m not, Nell thought. I don’t want to go into the world.
Mother Superior continued. “One thing you can do is bring healing to those who need it. Sister Helen tells me that you are almost as accomplished an herb woman as she is. We have Sister Helen—we don’t need another healer. But many people in the world need the skill you have, Nell. That will be something you can do for God.”
Nell stared into Mother’s light eyes. She truly thought that Nell should go. She’s wrong, Nell thought rebelliously. I’m sure God wants me to stay here.
“Be a good daughter to your parents,” Mother Superior said. “They have need of you now.”
Nell’s chin set stubbornly and she did not answer. Mother Margaret stood up and Nell followed. Mother Margaret was half a head taller than the girl. “I am sure you will want to say goodbye to all your friends. Come, have dinner with us in the refectory and I will relax the order for silence so you may converse.”
There was nothing more that Nell could say. Mother Margaret’s mind was clearly made up. Tears stung behind Nell’s eyes. She was going to have to leave the convent.
Mother Superior said, “I am sure you will want to give your news to Sister Helen. I believe at this hour she is in the herb garden. Go and find her.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Nell pushed the words through the choking feeling in her throat.
She went back down the stairs and let herself out through the thick wooden door. This is terrible, she thought in panic as she crossed the courtyard and took the path that led between the convent and the squat storage building. How can I bear to leave here? How can I bear to leave Sister Helen?
The path descended gently to the convent’s large kitchen garden. At the far end of the garden was a fenced-off area and a small hut with smoke coming out of the smoke hole. Nell crossed the kitchen garden, went through the fence and into the hut.
A nun was standing with her back to the door, watching a glass pot as it cooked on a small stove. At the sight of the familiar figure, tears flooded Nell’s eyes.
“Sister Helen,” she said.
The nun turned. “Nell! You’re back. How are you? How are your parents?” She left the burner and came to stand beside Nell and look into her face.
Sister Helen was small, like Nell, and their eyes met easily. Nell looked into the pretty, unlined face of the person she loved best in the world and felt her stomach clench. The tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Oh, Sister Helen,” she cried. “Something terrible has happened. My father has said I must leave the convent and go to live with him and my mother. They want me to take my sister’s place!”
There was a moment of silence. The mixture of herbs gave off a pungent smell that filled the hut.
“Oh, my dear,” Sister Helen said, her voice full of aching sympathy.
Nell’s sobs broke loose. “I asked Mother Margaret to intercede with my father, but she won’t! She says I must obey my parents and leave the convent.”
Sister Helen took Nell’s hands into her own small work-worn ones. She spoke soberly, “Mother Margaret has no say in your future, Nell. You are the daughter of a powerful man. If the earl wants you home, then home you must go.”
“But he gave me away!” Nell cried through her tears. “He and my mother. They didn’t want me, Sister Helen. They still don’t want me. They need a daughter, that’s all. It isn’t fair that my life should be turned upside down because they have changed their minds.”
Nell flung herself forward and Sister Helen’s arms closed around her. There was a long silence where the only sounds were the pot boiling on the burner and Nell crying. Then Sister Helen said quietly, “Listen to me, Nell. It may very well be that God has other plans for you than the convent. You will join the world of the great. You may be in a position to do much good. Perhaps that is God’s plan for you.”
Nell said into her shoulder, “That is what Mother Margaret said. But I don’t think it’s true. I think I was meant to be a nun.”
Sister Helen patted Nell’s back between her shoulder blades. “I think you should listen to Mother. She is a very wise woman, Nell.”
“I don’t want to leave you!” Nell cried passionately. “You have always been my best friend. You have been more my mother than my real mother ever was.”
Sister Helen put her hands on Nell’s shoulders and held her away. She looked into her streaming eyes. “God knows, I will miss you very much. Very much. But we must bow to His will, my dear. That is what we are put on this earth to do.”
“It is the will of my father,” Nell retorted through her tears. “I’m not so sure it is the will of God.”
Sister Helen tightened her grasp on Nell’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Nell. I know this is hard for you. Your life is going to be very different from the life you have known. But it’s important that you feel you are doing God’s work in your new life. It is easy to be religious in the convent—much harder in the world. But that is now your calling and you must embrace it, however hard it may be. Are you listening to me?”
Nell said in a trembling voice, “I am listening, Sister.”
“Good. Take pity on your father instead of blaming him. He is a man who has lost two children. And your mother, too. Show yourself to be a good daughter to them—they need you now.”
They never needed me before.
“Have you heard me, Nell?” Sister Helen asked gently.
Nell tried hard to stop crying. “I heard you, Sister. But I still think this is the wrong thing to do.”
“It is important that you make the best of the life that has been chosen for you,” Sister Helen said soberly. “Promise me you will think about what Mother Margaret and I have said.”
Nell didn’t answer.
“Nell?”
“I promise,” Nell said in a low voice.
Sister Helen squeezed Nell’s shoulders then dropped her hands. “I will miss you,” she said painfully.
“Oh, and I will miss you!”
At that, Sister Helen held out her arms once again and Nell went into them. Sister Helen held her tight. Nell could smell the faint aroma of herbs that always clung to Sister Helen’s clothes. “Can I come and visit you?” she asked.
“You will always be welcome.”
Finally Sister Helen relaxed her arms and Nell stepped back. The nun said briskly, “It is time for dinner. Let me take this pot off the fire and we can go up to the refectory.”
Nell sniffed and nodded and waited while Sister Helen turned off the stove and removed the pot. Then the two women walked up the hill together.
Three
It was late in the afternoon and the Earl of Wiltshire and his grandson were returning from inspecting the defenses of the many castles and manors whose lords owed fealty to the earl. The Earl of Wiltshire was one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, the overlord of demesnes in Wiltshire, Dorset, Somerset, Hampshire, Surrey, Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire and Oxfordshire. As the country was braced for a civil war to break out between King Stephen and his cousin, the Empress Mathilda, the earl had thought it important to visit the lords who owed their feudal duty to him and to remind them that the earl had pledged his loyalty to King Stephen.
As the contingent of knights crossed Salisbury plain on their return to the earl’s main castle of Wilton, the sun shone on polished helmets and hauberks and shields, and the sheen of the horses’ coats almost equaled the brightness of the men’s armor. The summer day was breezy and the flag carried by the leading knight flew bravely. The jingle of the knights’ spurs and armor could be heard all along the road as they passed. Behind them came the pack horses carrying the household goods the earl considered necessary when he traveled: one horse was loaded with his dismantled bed, sheets, blankets and mattress, another with his wardrobe, another with the wine he favored and others still with the various items that contributed to his comfort.
The old man turned to his twenty-two-year-old grandson and said, “It will be good to get home. We’ve been away a long time.”
“It was early spring when we left and now it’s deep summer,” Roger replied. “But we had a good tour, I think.”
“It is wise to show your face once in a while,” the earl advised. “Remember that, my boy. There’s nothing like a little inspection to keep a man honest.”
“Yes, sir,” Roger said.
“I’m looking forward to sitting in my own hall, though,” the earl said. “I’m getting too old to be putting in so many hours in the saddle.”
Roger grinned. “You have more stamina than half of the knights, sir.”
“I put up a good front,” the earl grunted. “When we get home we can turn our thoughts to your wedding.”
Roger shifted his grip on the reins. “Ah, yes. The wedding. I still can’t believe you got the king to agree to it.”
“It was an enticement. He knows he needs to keep me loyal. If Wiltshire should go over to the empress it would be a catastrophe for Stephen. We hold sway over too much land for him to lose us.”
Roger shook his head in amazement. “But to join the earldoms of Wiltshire and Lincoln! The de Roches will be the most powerful family in the kingdom.”
The earl gave his grandson a sly smile. “I know. We will control all of Lincoln, as well as Wiltshire. We will sit astride the kingdom, Roger, as powerful as the king, and the Earl of Chester will be furious.”
“The present Earl of Lincoln is still very much alive, sir,” Roger pointed out. “The union of the two lordships won’t happen until he is dead. Only then will his daughter inherit.”
“Raoul de Bonvile wants what we want. He wants his blood to be foremost in the kingdom. That’s why he agreed to the marriage.”
They rode for a little way in silence, Roger’s thoughts on his upcoming union to this unknown girl. At last he said, “I hope Sybilla is pretty.”
“It doesn’t matter what she looks like,” the earl said. “What matters is what she brings to us. Earls do not marry for a pretty face, my boy, and you are the future earl.”
There was a little silence. Then Roger replied, “Yes, sir, I know. But it would help if she was pretty.”
“There’s no reason why she shouldn’t be pretty. Her mother is a very good-looking woman.”
They rode in more silence until the earl said with satisfaction, “There is Wilton.”
Roger looked up from his thoughts to the castle that had just come into sight. The first thing one saw upon approaching Wilton was the massive stone battlemented curtain wall, with its twin gate towers. Four other towers were set at the corners of each of the outer walls, and from the crenelated crests of each of these towers flew a crimson flag displaying the de Roche signature of a leopard.
“It’s impregnable,” the earl said with great satisfaction. It was a remark he made rather frequently. “The walls are fifteen feet thick. No siege artillery can breach them. Of all the castles we have seen in the past two months, nothing can match Wilton.”
Roger nodded, sharing his pride. The home of the Earl of Wiltshire was the greatest castle, outside the royal castles, in the country. It was one of the reasons why his grandfather was so powerful.
Within a few minutes the earl’s party passed over the moat, between the gate towers, under the raised portcullis and into the outer bailey. This courtyard contained stabling for the knights’ horses, as well as the usual storehouses and buildings for workmen and castle defenders. There was even enough room in the huge bailey to house additional troops, should they be necessary for the castle’s defense.
While the knights dismounted in the outer bailey, Roger and his grandfather continued on horseback toward the inner wall, which was also built of thick stone, with a second gate barred by another iron portcullis. A square tower stood at each of the four corners of these inner walls.
The knight on guard called out, “Welcome home, my lord,” as the earl and his grandson rode through the gate and into the inner bailey. This courtyard surrounded the keep, a square stone edifice, four stories high, with four towers that rose another two stories above the main building.
Grooms came running to take the earl’s and Roger’s horses and the two men went up the steep stone ramp that led to the main door of the keep.
The first floor of the castle was given over to store-rooms, the second floor to guardrooms, where the knights lived, and the third floor to the Great Hall. Roger and his grandfather climbed one set of narrow stairs and entered into the hall where most of the activity in the castle took place.
The room was empty now, and no fire burned in the immense stone fireplace that was set on the far wall. The three other walls were hung with large wall hangings to keep out the damp and the floor was strewn with rushes and herbs. Two heavily carved chairs were placed on either side of the fireplace and in front of one of them a dog was sleeping.
“Gawain!” Roger cried, and the dog lifted his head. “It’s me, fellow,” Roger said. “I’m back.”
As he recognized the beloved voice, the dog stood up and raced across the floor to his master, barking excitedly as he ran. Roger squatted on his heels and the rush of the dog almost knocked him over. Roger laughed and tried to pat the dog, but Gawain was too excited to stand still. He circled Roger, still barking excitedly.
The earl said indulgently, “You would never know he was eleven years old.”
Roger laughed. “He’s like you, sir. He wears his age lightly.”
Finally the dog calmed down enough to stand and let Roger pet him. “I’m sorry I had to leave you for so long,” Roger said into the adoring brown eyes of the black-and-white mongrel. “But you’re too old to come anymore. You couldn’t keep up, fellow.”
“It’s just as well he doesn’t come,” the earl said. “I can imagine what my vassals would think when they saw that my grandson’s dog is a notched-ear mongrel.”
“He’s the best dog in the world,” Roger said without heat.
“He is a good dog,” the earl agreed. “He’s certainly devoted to you.”
“He knows who loves him.” Roger stood up and pulled off his helmet, revealing his dark gold hair. “It’s still two hours before supper. Would you like a drink of wine, Grandfather?”
“That sounds like a very good idea. My poor old bones are sore from so many hours in the saddle.”
The two men moved toward the chairs in front of the empty fireplace. The shutters were pushed back on the high, narrow windows to let in the afternoon sunlight. The door to the hall opened again to admit two pages.
“Come over here, lads, and disarm us,” the earl called, and the two pages hurried over to them. Both men stood patiently while the boys undid the laces on their mail hauberks and pulled them over their heads. Each hauberk was made of leather, with more than two hundred thousand overlapping metal rings sewn on it for protection. Neither man was wearing the long-sleeved mail shirt or mail leggings that made up full armor.
When they had been stripped to the comfort and the coolness of their tunics, the earl and his grandson relaxed with their wine and enjoyed the comfort of their own hall. The door opened again and an elderly man came in.
“Simon,” the earl called. “Come over here and tell us what has been happening in our absence.”
Simon, who had been the earl’s squire when he was a youngster and was now his steward, crossed the floor, a smile on his face. “My lord, how happy I am to see you safely returned.”
“Thank you, it is good to be home.”
Simon turned to Roger. “It is good to see you, also, my lord.”
“How are you, Simon?” Roger returned. “How have your joints been holding up?”
“I am well, my lord. The sore joints, well, God has seen fit to burden me thusly and I must live with it.”
The earl said, “Has anything happened in my absence that I should know about?”
“You received a missive from the Earl of Lincoln, my lord. It came last week. I knew you were coming home soon, so I didn’t try to send it on to you. Shall I get it for you?”
“The Earl of Lincoln.” The earl glanced at his grandson. “I wonder what this can be about.”
“Perhaps it’s something about the marriage,” Roger said.
“Get the letter, Simon,” the earl said.
“I have it in my own room, for safekeeping.” The man began to move stiffly in the direction of one of the towers and Roger and the earl fell into conversation.
“The wedding must take place soon,” the earl said. “Everyone will want it done before the empress Mathilda and her half brother, Robert of Gloucester, land in England to take up arms against King Stephen.”
Roger agreed with his grandfather, agreed that the marriage was a great coup for the family, and was faintly ashamed that the idea of it made him so nervous. He was more comfortable talking about the political situation. “If the empress and her troops can land,” he said. “Stephen is having all the major ports watched.”
“England has too long a coastline to watch all the places where a ship might land,” the earl said. “They will make the crossing from Normandy and land somewhere that Stephen isn’t watching. Then they will make their way to Bristol, which is Robert’s stronghold. From there they will send out their summons to those they hope will support them.”
“Who do you think will answer that call, sir?”
“Brian fitz Count will probably join them, but most of the earls will play a waiting game. Men like Rannulf of Chester will want to see which side can offer him the most. They have no honor, men like that. They all swore an oath to uphold Stephen and now they are only looking out for themselves.”
Didn’t you do that, Roger thought, when you forced the king to give the heiress of Lincoln to me in marriage to keep you loyal?
But Roger would never say that to his grandfather.
The earl was going on. “Rannulf of Chester owns a quarter of the kingdom already, and he will be looking to increase his holdings. He will be furious when he learns that Stephen is giving us the earldom of Lincoln. Rannulf was hoping the prize of Lincoln would go to his half brother, William of Roumare. William has a number of castles in Lincolnshire.”
Roger said, “You are supporting Stephen because you think he will be the best king for England, isn’t that so, Grandfather?”
“Certainly,” the earl replied. “Stephen is a man and a warrior and as direct a descendant of the Conqueror as Mathilda is. Mathilda may be the daughter of the old king, and Stephen just the nephew, but undoubtedly Stephen is the best man for England. The empress has never lived in England—the old king sent her to Germany to marry the emperor when she was a young child, and she has lived in Normandy ever since the emperor died. Her second husband, Geoffrey Plantagenet, is fighting for the rule of Normandy—he has little interest in England. It is Mathilda who wants England for her son.”
At this point, Simon exited from the tower staircase and hurried toward them, a rolled piece of parchment in his hands. The earl gestured for him to give it to Roger.
“My old eyes can’t see to read these days,” he said. “Read it to me, my boy.”
Roger read aloud: “Greetings to the Earl of Wiltshire from his brother, the Earl of Lincoln. I bring you sad news. My daughter Sybilla went home to God on the third of June of this year.”
My God, she’s dead! Shocked, Roger looked up from the letter and over to his grandfather.
The earl glowered. “Hell and damnation,” he said. “This will spoil all our plans.”
Roger shook his head as if to clear it, then looked back down at the paper. “There is more,” he said, and began to read again. “Fortunately, this tragic news will not force us to cancel our plans. My other daughter Eleanor will take Sybilla’s place. The marriage between Lincoln and Wiltshire can go forward as planned.”
Roger looked up once more in bewilderment. “Another daughter? I thought the earl had only one.”
His grandfather raised his thick gray brows. “So did I. I wonder where this Eleanor came from.”
Roger felt a pang of uneasiness. There was something strange here. “Do you think there might be something the matter with her? That they kept her hidden for a reason?”
“I don’t know,” the earl said. “But I’m damned glad they had an extra daughter! This marriage will be the making of our family. I would be loath to give it up.”
Roger wasn’t listening. “I don’t want to marry someone who is not right in the head! Or is deformed!”
The earl said crisply, “I don’t care what is wrong with this girl, you will marry her because it is your duty to your family. All you have to do is get children on her. You can continue to pursue your other interests—like the silversmith’s widow that you see in town. But marry the heiress to all of Lincoln you will.”
“How do you know about Tordis?” Roger asked in surprise. “I never told you.”
“I know everything,” the earl said complacently. “Knowledge is power, my boy. That is another thing for you to remember.
“I will reply to Earl Raoul and tell him that we shall be happy to accept this other daughter,” he continued. “I will also suggest that we get the two of you wed as soon as possible.” The earl shuddered. “God, after all our careful plans, the whole scheme might have been lost because the girl died. How fortunate that they had this other daughter to bring forth.”
Roger was having a hard time sharing his grandfather’s enthusiasm. The thought of wedding a girl who had something wrong with her repulsed him. “Yes,” he said glumly. “Very fortunate.”
“Drink up, my boy, and don’t look so disheartened,” the earl recommended. “I married, like you, to advance the family, and the marriage turned out very well.”
“What about my parents?” Roger asked. “Did my father marry for the sake of the family?”
“Your father never did anything but thwart me in every way he possibly could. We won’t discuss him. You are the son of my heart, Roger. You are the child who will carry our name into the future.” The earl lifted his cup. “God bless you, my boy.”
It was the usual dismissive reply Earl William gave whenever Roger asked about his father. After so many years of being rebuffed, he knew enough not to pursue the subject.
Four
The first thing Lady Alice did to reclaim her daughter was to give her a bath and wash her hair. Nell had never been so embarrassed in her life. In the convent they had worn bath sheets, which went over the head and covered the sides of the tub like a tent, so that they could not see themselves naked. Lady Alice scorned the bath sheet. She had the servants set the big wooden bathtub up in a splash of sunshine from the window, and she herself set to work on her daughter. It was as if she thought she could scour all the years in the convent away from Nell if she scrubbed hard enough. Her hair was washed and rinsed three times before Lady Alice was satisfied.
The castle ladies had done a hasty job of taking up and taking in one of Sybilla’s gowns, and Lady Alice dressed Nell in it once she had come out of the bath. Then her hair was toweled briskly and braided into two long plaits that would fall over her shoulders when they had completely dried.
“Take a look,” Lady Alice said, handing Nell the first mirror she had ever seen. Nell peered in it cautiously, a little afraid of what she was going to find.
A girl with large, wary, dark blue eyes looked back at her. She had delicate eyebrows and a small, straight nose. There was color from the bath in her cheeks and her lips.
I’m pretty, Nell thought, and tried to squash the pleasure she felt at this discovery. Mother Margaret would say that worldly looks were not important and certainly were no measure of the worth of a person.
“You’re a very pretty girl, my dear,” Lady Alida said.
“Yes, you are,” Lady Alice agreed. “You don’t look like Sybilla, you look more like your grandmother—my mother. She was small and delicate, like you. But she ran a great household and raised a family at the same time, and so will you, Nell.”
I’m not Sybilla, even though I am wearing her dress, Nell thought, clenching her teeth. I’m Nell. I was brought up in a convent. I know nothing of how to run a great household. I don’t want to be married. I don’t want to run a great household. I want to go home.
But the convent was closed to her. As miserable as it made her, she was going to have to remain here at Bardney.
Over the next week, Nell attended meals and helped her mother and the ladies sew her new wardrobe. In the evenings she sat in front of the fire and listened to one of the squires play the lute. Outwardly she was docile and obedient to her parents, but inside she was grieving for the loss of her old life, for the loss of Sister Helen. At night she would kneel on the wooden floor of her room to say her prayers and ask the Lord to send her back to St. Cecelia’s. Then, almost as an afterthought, she would pray dutifully, If it is your will that I stay here, Lord, help me to learn to love my mother and my father. Help me to be a good daughter and to do good works in this strange place.
Then she would get into bed, loneliness engulfing her heart, and cry herself to sleep.
Ten days after Nell’s arrival at Bardney, the Earl of Lincoln’s usher approached the high table to tell the earl that his messenger had returned from Wiltshire with a reply.
“Send him to me,” the earl said, returning the piece of meat he had been about to eat back to his trencher. Nell, who was sitting between her mother and her aunt, heard the usher’s announcement but didn’t think much of it. She chewed slowly on her beef and didn’t notice the way her mother had stiffened.
The messenger came into the hall still wearing his spurs and carrying his helmet under one arm. He threaded his way between the trestle tables where the household was dining until he stood in front of Lord Raoul. He bowed his head. “My lord,” he said, “I bring you the reply to your missive. The Earl of Wiltshire bade me give it directly into your hand.”
“Thank you, Waldo,” the earl replied and took the rolled parchment from his messenger’s hand. “Sit you down and have some dinner.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Nell watched as the messenger found an empty place at one of the tables. He was greeted genially by his fellow diners, and a servant came scurrying with a trencher for him to put his meat upon. Another servant poured him some ale.
Nell looked back at her plate. There was so much meat served in her father’s house! In the convent, meat had been a luxury. Fish had been the food of choice, either caught fresh from the river or salted and dried.
Conversation at the high table was suspended while the earl read his letter. Then he rolled it up again and put it on the table next to his wineglass. He turned to his wife.
“All is well,” he said. “They want to proceed as quickly as possible.”
Lady Alice glanced at Nell. “It might be wise to wait a little, my lord.”
The earl shook his head. “This is a great matter, not something to be delayed because of a girl’s sensibilities. I will write to Lord William that we will be ready to receive him in two weeks’ time.”
Lady Alice did not reply.
“You haven’t seen the falcons yet, Nell,” Alida said brightly to Nell. “After dinner why don’t you come with me to look at them?”
Nell looked at her aunt. “That would be nice, Aunt Alida. Thank you.”
There was a smile on Lord Raoul’s lips. “A little more wine here, if you please,” he called heartily. One of the squires who was standing behind the table hastened forward with the wine for his lord.
Lord Raoul took a deep swallow, then he turned to Nell. “Never mind the falcons. Your mother and I want to talk to you after dinner, Nell. You will attend us in the family solar.”
“Yes, Father,” Nell said with some surprise. Her father had paid very little attention to her since she had come home.
When dinner was finished, mother, father and daughter climbed the stairs to the tower room that was the private family solar. The room was well furnished and comfortable, with a charcoal brazier for heat in the winter. The earl sat in a wide, carved, high-backed chair and his wife sat beside him. Her father waved Nell to a third chair that faced his. The chair was so high that Nell’s feet would not reach the ground, so she placed them on the embroidered footstool that was in front of it.
The earl began. “Nell, have you heard that your sister was betrothed to the grandson and heir of the Earl of Wiltshire?”
Nell clasped her hands tensely in her lap. She sensed that something big was forthcoming. “No, my lord,” she replied. “I did not know that.”
“The earldom of Wiltshire is very large,” her father explained. “And once the holdings of Wiltshire are combined with the holdings of Lincoln…Well, the man who holds that combined title will be almost as powerful as the king. So you can see that this marriage is a great thing for our house.”
Nell’s heart had begun to thud. She glanced at her mother. The countess was looking at her with an expression of pity in her eyes. Terror struck Nell’s heart. She thought she knew what was coming.
The earl continued on. “Sybilla’s death was a blow to my hopes, but fortunately I have another daughter. I wrote to the Earl of Wiltshire and today I have had his response. He is willing to see you wed to his grandson in place of Sybilla.”
Nell felt herself grow icy cold. She tried to speak and found she could not.
Her father said, “Earl William wants to see this marriage accomplished as soon as possible. I am going to write to tell him that we will be ready to receive him in two weeks’ time, on the date we set for the original wedding.”
“Her wardrobe will not be ready, my lord,” her mother interjected. “Surely we can put it off for a month at least.”
“That is not possible,” the earl said. “You were making clothes for Sybilla. Nell can wear those.”
Nell turned to her mother. “Mama, I am not ready to get married!”
Her mother said softly, “I am sorry this must come upon you so quickly, Nell. But you are the daughter of a great house. You must do your duty, I’m afraid.”
Nell could feel herself trembling. “You didn’t care about me when I was a child—you sent me away to the convent and forgot about me.” Her voice shook with anger. “And now you talk to me about my duty to my house? My duty is to God.”
The earl’s face darkened with anger. “Your duty is to obey your parents. I believe the Commandments—God’s Commandments—are very clear about that. And I tell you that you will marry Roger de Roche in two weeks’ time. That is all I have to say on this matter.” The earl stood up. His dark blue eyes looked very cold.
“Talk to your daughter,” he said to his wife.
Both women sat in silence as the earl exited from the room. Then Nell turned white-faced to her mother. “I don’t want to get married so soon, Mama! I don’t know anything about men. I have scarcely left the convent.”
Lady Alice leaned over and patted Nell’s clasped hands. “I know, my dear. But your father is set upon this great dynastic match and he won’t risk something happening to stop it. There is nothing I can say or do that will make him change his mind.”
Nell started to tremble all over. “I still feel a stranger at Bardney, and I have you and Aunt Alida. It will be terrible going to another castle, where I won’t know anyone.”
“Girls do it all the time, my dear. Perhaps Alida would go to stay with you for a few months.”
Nell didn’t say anything, she just continued to tremble.
“Sybilla was looking forward to this marriage,” Alice said brightly. “You will be a very great lady, Nell. You will have brought Lincoln, with all its castles and manors, into your husband’s keeping. He will reverence you for that.”
This can’t be happening, Nell thought with terror. She looked imploringly at her mother. “I’m just not ready for this, Mama,” she whispered.
Lady Alice came to sit on the arm of Nell’s chair and hugged her. “I will help you get ready,” she promised. “And, Nell, you must know it was very painful for me to send my little girl off to the convent. If I hadn’t thought that it was God’s will I could never have done it. And I missed you. Sybilla and Geoffrey could never fill the gap that you left.”
Nell turned her head and looked into her mother’s eyes. “Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“You used to come to visit me, but then you stopped.”
“Your father thought that I should leave you to the convent and not keep reasserting other ties. I could see that you were happy where you were, so I left you to immerse yourself in convent life. It was hard for me to do that, Nell. You may not believe that, but it was. Just as it was hard for me to send Geoffrey to be a squire in the Earl of Hertford’s castle. But that is the fate of a mother. You will find that out for yourself one day. We bear children, we love them, and then we must send them away to be brought up by other people. That is the way of the world, my dear. There is no use in railing against it.”
Nell thought it sounded like a dismal life. The convent, with its structured life, its warm, continuing friendships, was much more desirable.
“I don’t think I like the world, Mama,” she said in a little voice.
Her mother smiled. “You know nothing about the world, my dear. It may not be as safe as your convent, but it is brimming with life and love. Open yourself to life, Nell. Embrace it. Don’t look backwards. Don’t be afraid. Your future is an adventure where you might find happiness you never dreamed of. Give it a chance. Will you do that for me, sweeting?”
They’re making me marry a stranger, they’re sending me away again, and they want me to be happy?
Nell stared at her lap and didn’t answer.
Lady Alice started toward the door and after a moment Nell followed. I don’t want to get married, she thought desperately. I don’t want to get married.
But it was clear that her thoughts and feelings were of no matter to her father. It would serve him right if I died, too, she thought.
She fought back tears as she went with her mother down the stairs to the Great Hall. In her mind she turned for solace to the only friend she had. Dear God, she prayed, if it is your will that I marry this man, please give me the courage to face what must be faced. I beg you to help me, Father. I don’t know how I will be able to get through this alone.
Five
For Nell, the time until the date set for her marriage went by far too quickly. Every morning she woke up thinking, I’m another day closer to my wedding. And her stomach would churn and wouldn’t stop churning until she finally fell asleep again at night. She had no appetite and she lost weight, to the dismay of the ladies who were altering Sybilla’s clothes to fit her.
“You must eat,” her mother scolded her one afternoon as they sat at the table for dinner.
Nell looked at the food on her plate and her stomach heaved. “I’m not hungry, Mama,” she said.
Her mother said worriedly, “You didn’t have any weight to spare when you first arrived here, and this refusal to eat is making you look like the daughter of a poverty-stricken house.”
The earl, who had been in conversation with his chaplain, turned his head. “What is the matter here?” he asked his wife.
Lady Alice hesitated, then she said, “Nell is not eating properly, my lord. She grows too thin.”
The earl frowned at Nell. “What is the matter with you? The food at Bardney is of the best.”
“The food here is wonderful, Father,” Nell said quickly. “It’s just that I am not hungry.”
“If you are fasting, I am here to tell you that this is not the time. You are not a religious any longer, Nell. You are my daughter and I want you to eat.”
He turned to the chaplain. “Tell her, Father, that it is not appropriate for her to fast.”
Before the priest could speak, Nell said quickly, “I’m not fasting, Father. I’m just not hungry.”
“I don’t care if you are hungry or not. You will eat,” the earl said.
Nell’s stomach heaved at the thought. “I don’t think I can,” she said.
“Nonsense.” The earl scowled at her. “Pick up a piece of pork and eat it.”
Nell picked up the pork with her fingers. She looked at her mother. “It won’t harm you,” Lady Alice said. “Go ahead and eat it.”
Nell put the meat into her mouth. She chewed twice. Her stomach heaved and she shoved back her bench, got up and ran for the stairs. She threw up in the rushes before she was halfway there.
She heard her father curse.
Nell wrapped her arms around herself and stayed where she was. She had never felt so humiliated in her entire life. She had vomited in front of everyone! She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to look at the disgusting mess on the floor.
“It’s all right, Nell.” It was Aunt Alida’s voice close to her shoulder. “Martin will have someone clean it up. Come along with me and we’ll go upstairs.”
“You will both stay right here.” It was her father’s voice. “Nell may have gotten away with such behavior in the convent, but it won’t work here. If she doesn’t want to eat, that’s her choice. But she will sit with her family at dinner regardless of what she eats herself.”
Aunt Alida took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Come and have something to drink,” she said in a low voice. “Your mouth must taste terrible.”
I hate him, Nell thought. He doesn’t care about me at all. All he cares about is getting the earldom of Wiltshire.
She dropped her head so she would not have to look at anyone and let her aunt turn her and lead her back to the table.
The wedding party arrived at Bardney two afternoons before the wedding was to take place. Nell was in the ladies’ solar when a page came to inform them of her bridegroom’s arrival and to summon Lady Alice and Nell to the Great Hall. Nell was already dressed in her new finery, a fine white linen undertunic with embroidery at the cuffs and neck, and over it a dark blue overtunic, fitted closely to the waist from which it flowed out freely. Wrapped twice around her narrow waist she wore a jeweled belt and her two long brown plaits fell across her shoulders and almost touched the belt.
Nell felt numb as she walked with her mother down the main staircase that led into the Great Hall. She could scarcely even pray; all she could think was Please God, please God, please God…
The visitors were standing with her father in front of the fireplace. One of the men was tall; the other was of medium height. And slim.
That must be Roger, Nell thought.
With her eyes on the floor, she walked with her mother across the hall. When they had almost reached the fireplace her father stepped forward and offered her his arm. Thus supported, she was brought to meet her bridegroom.
“Earl William and Lord Roger,” her father said. “I am pleased to introduce to you my daughter, Eleanor.”
Nell curtsied to the earl, then turned to Roger. For the first time she lifted her eyes.
He was very handsome. His hair was dark gold and his eyes were golden, as well. She thought they bore an expression of relief.
“My lord,” she managed to say. “You are welcome to Bardney.”
“I am pleased to be here, my lady,” he replied, and smiled at her. He had a nice smile; his teeth were white and even.
Nell tried and failed to smile back.
Everyone, including the pages who sat on a bench along the wall, watched the two of them. Nell turned to her mother for help.
“Nell, why don’t you show Lord Roger around the bailey?” Lady Alice suggested. “I’m sure you two young people would like to spend some time together.”
The last thing Nell wanted was to be alone with her future husband. She gave her mother a reproachful look, but it was too late. The words had been spoken.
“Would you like to see the bailey, my lord?” she asked Roger. Her eyes were on a level with his mouth. At least he didn’t tower over her, like her father did.
“I would like that very much,” he said. He sounded courteous and she peeked a look upward. His eyes were grave.
“Go along, Nell,” her father said. “Be sure to show Roger my horses.”
“Yes, Father,” Nell said. Then to Roger, “Will you come with me?”
He fell in beside her and together they crossed the wide expanse of the Great Hall. Nell could feel everyone watch them as they went.
“I’m afraid I’m not overly acquainted with the bailey, my lord,” Nell said as they approached the door, “but I’ll do my best to show you around.”
“Are you called Nell?” he asked.
“Yes. My given name is Eleanor, but I have always been called Nell.”
He nodded. “Well then, Nell, why are you not acquainted with the bailey of your own castle?”
Her name sounded strange on this strange man’s lips. She said, “I have only been home for a month, my lord, and we have been busy making wedding clothes the whole time.”
They had arrived at the front door of the castle, which was open to let in the air. He looked at her curiously. “If you were not at Bardney all this time, then where were you?”
They walked through the door and started across the inner bailey, toward the portcullis gate. She shot him a swift, upward look. “They haven’t told you?”
He shook his head. Gold glinted from his hair in the sunlight. “They have told me nothing,” he said. “It seemed as if your father produced you out of nowhere, like a magician. My grandfather and I had always thought that Sybilla was an only daughter.”
Nell drew in a deep, steadying breath. “I was in the convent,” she said. “My parents sent me there when my brother was born. Then, when Sybilla died, they changed their minds.”
Roger was silent as they passed under the lifted portcullis gate. As they emerged into the large enclosure that was the outer bailey, he said slowly, “So that was the mystery. We wondered where this other daughter had come from.”
“I can’t imagine why they didn’t tell you,” Nell said.
He looked down at her. “I suppose your parents didn’t think it was important and my grandfather didn’t care. All that mattered to him was that there was another daughter.” He gave her a fleeting grin. “But I wondered where you had come from. I had a few unpleasant ideas, I can tell you that.”
He had a very nice speaking voice, very clear but not harsh. Not like her father’s.
He continued to look down at her. “Were you a nun?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I was due to be professed at the end of this year.”
The August sun shone brightly on the packed-dirt ground of the bailey. The blue flags flying from the towers fluttered in the afternoon breeze. The men guarding the main gate watched them as they turned left to follow the line of the wall. “How old were you when you were sent to the convent?” Roger asked.
“Eight,” she replied.
“You were there a long time,” he said, sounding surprised.
“Yes. It is the only life I ever knew until I came to Bardney a few weeks ago.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “Did you want to leave?” She returned his gaze straightly. “No, I did not.”
Wonderful, Roger thought ironically. They are marrying me to a girl who wants to be a nun.
Nell looked around. “My father wants me to take you to the stable, but I’ve never been out of this front part of the bailey. I don’t know where the stable is.”
Roger looked around at the storage sheds and craftsmen’s workshops that lined the stone walls in this part of the bailey. He said, “Let’s walk around the whole bailey and we’re certain to find it.”
They began walking toward the east side of the bailey, with Roger accommodating his stride to Nell’s shorter step.
Roger said, “Have they explained to you the reason for this marriage?”
“Yes,” Nell said shortly. “It is political.”
“It’s more than political,” he explained. “It’s dynastic. One day your son will be the Earl of Wiltshire and the Earl of Lincoln. It will be a position of unparalleled power in the kingdom. When Sybilla died, I imagine your father could not give it up.”
“No, he couldn’t,” Nell said bitterly. “And I don’t care much about dynasties.” She glanced up at him. He was looking straight ahead. His profile was cleanly cut, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He really was extraordinarily good looking.
“You would care if you had lived in the world,” he said. They passed the mews, where the earl’s falcons were housed. The head falconer was standing in front of it with a bird perched on his wrist. He tugged at his fore-lock as Nell and Roger went by.
“Do you want this marriage?” she asked directly.
“Yes,” he replied quietly. “My grandfather says it is a great opportunity for our house, and I agree. It is a great opportunity for both our houses, Nell.”
They walked in silence for a few paces.
In two days time I will be married to this man, Nell thought. A panicky feeling tightened her chest and her stomach. I will have to go with him back to his castle.
They turned the corner of the inner wall and saw several small fenced-in enclosures where horses were turned out. “Here are the stables,” Roger said, sounding relieved.
They walked up to the wooden building that was built against the stone outer wall of the bailey. It was a large structure that held the horses of forty knights. The smell of manure hung in the warm summer air. Two grooms were carrying water buckets from the well and Roger called to them, “Find me the head groom. We are here to see Earl Raoul’s horses.”
“Yes, my lord.” The grooms carried the water into the stable building and shortly thereafter a thin, red-haired man dressed in a plain brown tunic and cross-gartered leggings came out and hastened to join them.
Roger said, “I am Lord Roger de Roche and Earl Raoul has sent me to see his horses.” His voice was pleasant, not demanding.
“Yes, my lord.” The red-haired man beamed. “Lord Raoul’s mount is the finest stallion you’ll ever have seen, my lord. And he has a colt out of him by a splendid mare. Those are the horses you’ll be wanting to see.”
The horses were brought, the big chestnut stallion immediately intimidating Nell by rearing, and a bay mare with a chestnut colt at her side that was the image of his sire.
Nell kept her distance from the horses, making sure not to come too close to those iron-shod hooves. Roger walked right up to the stallion however, and got him to stand by simply telling him to do so. Nell couldn’t help being impressed. He then went over the entire animal, even running his hand down each hard leg. He checked over the mare and the colt in the same fashion.
“You’re right,” he said to the head groom. “These are superior horses. No wonder Earl Raoul is proud of them.”
The redhead grinned.
“Thank you for showing them to us,” Roger said.
Nell looked at him. She liked it that Roger had thanked the head groom. Her father never thanked the people who worked for him, but Mother Superior always did. She had said that everyone is loved by God, and we should never forget to give people the respect that they deserve.
They continued their walk around the bailey, past the archery butts where the knights were practicing, past the kitchen garden where the vegetables for the household were grown, past the lines of laundered clothes that were hung out to dry.
As they walked, Roger’s mind grappled with the situation that faced him. He was to wed a girl who might not be willing. This was not a possibility that had ever occurred to him. In its own way, it presented as many difficulties as if she had turned out to be strange in the head.
He had to address it. She was very pretty and he would like to marry her, but something in him recoiled from taking a woman against her will.
He put his hand on her arm and stopped her. They turned to face each other in the sunshine. “Nell,” he began carefully, “I don’t know if you know this, but the Pope has ruled that a woman cannot be forced to marry against her will. You can appeal to the church if that is the case. So let me ask you now, are you making this marriage willingly?”
No, I’m not, was her immediate reaction.
But she couldn’t answer him that way. The convent was closed to her; there was no place else for her to go. She shuddered at the thought of confronting her father with the news that she had told this man she wouldn’t marry him. She couldn’t defy her father. She didn’t have it in her.
She looked at her hands, which were clasped over her gold belt. “Yes,” she said in such a low voice that he had to bend his head to hear her. “I am marrying you willingly, my lord.”
“Are you sure?”
Tears stung behind her eyes. It occurred to her that he was the only person so far who had cared how she felt. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m sure.”
“All right,” he said. He lifted her chin with his thumb, so she had to look up into his face. He smiled at her. “I’m not such a bad fellow, Nell. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t get along.”
Her lips trembled and she blinked away her tears. “I will try to be a good wife to you, my lord.”
“And I will try to be a good husband to you.” He bent from his superior height and touched his lips to her cheek. “You’re a beautiful girl,” he said. “I consider myself a lucky man.”
Nell didn’t feel lucky, but it occurred to her that things could be worse. At least Roger seemed kind.
She said in a low voice, “You will have to be patient with me. I know very little of the ways of the world.”
He took her hand into his. “Don’t worry, little Nell,” he said. “I will take care of you. Everything is going to be all right.”
Six
Nell retired to her bedroom that evening with a hard knot of tension in her stomach. What had once been marriage in the abstract had suddenly become very real.
Gertrude, the handmaid who had been serving her since she’d come home, helped her to disrobe. Most of the Norman upper class slept naked, but Nell had worn a nightgown in the convent, and she continued to cling to this custom.
Gertrude was brushing her hair when her mother came into the room. “I want to talk to you, Nell,” Lady Alice said.
Gertrude curtsied to Lady Alice and left mother and daughter alone.
Lady Alice went to sit beside Nell on the bed. She picked up her daughter’s hand. “Roger is a very handsome lad,” she said. “I foresee a happy future for you, Nell.”
“He seems nice,” Nell said woodenly.
“Tomorrow we will go into Lincoln and the day after that you will be married. This may be the last time I have a chance to speak to you privately.” She squeezed Nell’s hand gently. “I think I should tell you about what happens between a man and a woman when they are wed. I have a feeling that you are completely innocent of this matter and I don’t want you to be shocked on your wedding night.”
Nell looked at the flowing white linen that was draped over her knees and didn’t answer.
Lady Alice said, “Do you know how a man and a woman make a baby?”
Nell shook her head and continued to look at her lap.
Her mother then described the act of lovemaking, and what Nell was to expect on her wedding night. Nell was speechless, unable to comprehend what she was hearing.
“It’s not so bad,” her mother said. “I know it probably sounds frightening to you, but it can be pleasurable, Nell.”
Nell thought it sounded terrible. This man, whom she scarcely knew, was going to do this to her? She looked at her mother. “Mama,” she said hoarsely, “I’m not ready to do that yet.”
Lady Alice shook her head. “I wish we could have waited for a while to have this wedding. You are too new from the convent to appreciate how lucky you are to be marrying a fine young man like Roger. But the men wouldn’t wait and you are just going to have to resign yourself, my dear. You are going to have to let Roger do what he wants—that is the nature of marriage, I’m afraid.”
Nell’s stomach heaved. “The basin,” she said. “Mama…”
Lady Alice grabbed the washbasin that reposed on Nell’s side table and Nell vomited into it.
“You can’t do this tomorrow, Nell,” she said sharply. “I sympathize with you, but you are going to have to do your duty. At least you are not going to an old man with sour breath and no hair. Your bridegroom is the kind of young man that most girls would give anything to marry. Show some backbone.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Nell said miserably.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have spoken to you tonight. Perhaps I should have let you find out for yourself.”
Nell shook her head. “No. I’m glad you told me. At least I can prepare myself now.”
“That’s my good girl.” Lady Alice stood up. “Now let’s get Gertrude to clean up this mess.”
After Lady Alice had left and the washbasin had been removed, Nell crawled into bed and curled up into a tight little ball. Roger’s words from this afternoon kept going through her mind. The Pope has decreed that no one can force a woman to marry against her will.
What if she cited this proclamation by the Pope? What if she refused to make this marriage?
She thought of how angry her father would be.
She thought of what Mother Superior and Sister Helen had said to her.
She thought of her mother.
Show some backbone, her mother had said.
She shut her eyes tightly. She would have to go through with it. There was really no choice.
Roger awoke with the sun the following morning. Today he, his grandfather and their retainers would process into Lincoln to spend the night at the sheriff’s quarters in the castle. They would be followed an hour later by Nell and her wedding party, who would spend the night in the bishop’s lodging. On the morrow the bishop would perform the ceremony that would wed him to Nell de Bonvile.
She’s so pretty, Roger thought as he stretched his arms comfortably above his head. Her eyes were beautiful—so dark and yet so blue. And she was shy.
I can handle shyness, he thought. I’ll get Lady Mabel to take her under her wing and show her what her duties will be as my wife. Lady Mabel was married to Simon Everard, the earl’s steward, and she was in charge of the few ladies who currently resided at Wilton castle.
Roger was placed next to Nell at the high table for breakfast. He smiled down into her pale face. “Just think, tomorrow at this time we will be getting married.”
Nell went even paler. “Yes,” she said faintly.
His smile faded. “Are you ill? You don’t look well.”
“I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well, that is all.”
Roger had slept soundly; he usually did, no matter where his bed might be. “We’re leaving right after breakfast,” he said now. “I won’t see you again until we meet at the church.”
Nell nodded. She had taken scarcely a bite of the fresh white bread that was in front of her. “Are you nervous?” Roger asked.
She produced a faint smile. “Yes. I’m not used to being the center of attention.”
He gave her a reassuring smile in return. “Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”
“I’m sure it will be,” she said in a low voice.
She was as pretty this morning as he’d remembered, he thought. Her skin was flawless in the sunlight coming in through the high windows of the hall. She’s frightened, he thought. I’ll have to be very careful with her.
The bridegroom’s party left Bardney directly after breakfast. Nell looked out the window as the wedding party lined up in the outer bailey. The knights leading the party wore armor, but Roger and his grandfather were dressed in fine tunics, flowing mantles and low, soft boots. Their heads were bare and Roger carried a bag of coins to fling to any bystanders they might pass along the way.
The sun reflected off Roger’s hair, making it shine like one of the golden coins he carried.
“He’s so handsome.” Marie, one of the ladies, came up behind her. “You’re so lucky, Nell.”
She sounded wistful. Nell realized that Marie wished she was the one marrying Roger tomorrow. Well, Nell wished that, too. “Yes,” she replied quietly. “He is very handsome.”
Lady Alice came into the room. “Come along, Nell, and get dressed. We have to make a show for the common folk. They will be lining the road to see you.”
“Yes, Mama,” Nell said dully, and turned to follow her mother out of the room.
Nell’s wedding day dawned overcast and damp.
“At least it isn’t raining,” Lady Alice said brightly as she and Lord Raoul walked beside Nell to the cathedral. They were all dressed in their best finery, with Nell wearing a deep blue overtunic over a red undertunic. It was Sybilla’s dress, redone to fit Nell. Lord Raoul and Lady Alice also looked richly colored and sumptuous. They all wore mantles suspended around their shoulders by gold chains, and Nell’s braids were entwined with gold thread and fastened with golden balls. She was bareheaded while Lady Alice wore a small veil anchored by a thin gold circle.
Lord Raoul looked down upon his daughter with approval. “You look very nice, Nell,” he said. “Roger will think himself a lucky man to be getting such a pretty bride along with an earldom.”
“Thank you, Father,” Nell said in a voice that was scarcely audible.
“You need some color in your cheeks, though,” he said. “Here.” Lady Alice stepped in front of Nell so she had to stop, then she pinched her daughter’s cheeks. “There,” she said. “That’s better.”
The Bail of the castle was filled with people waiting to catch a glimpse of the bride. Thank goodness the bishop’s residence is right next to the cathedral, Nell thought. She didn’t feel prepared to run the gamut of a large, noisy crowd.
“Ah, isn’t she lovely,” a woman’s voice called out. “Good luck to you, dearie.”
The crowd murmured agreement.
Then they were walking up the steps of the cathedral and into the large stone building. Martin Demas, Bardney’s steward, was standing in the vestibule waiting for them. Lord Raoul cracked the door into the church and peered in.
“It’s full,” he reported proudly. “Looks like all of our and Wilton’s vassals in the area came.”
“That they did, my lord,” Martin said.
Nell shivered a little and crossed her arms over her blue tunic.
This can’t be happening to me. I can’t be standing here, waiting to get married. Oh, God, why did Sybilla have to die?
Nell wet her lips with her tongue. “Where is Roger?” she asked.
Her father looked through the door again. “He just came out to stand beside the altar.”
Lady Alice said, “I should take my place.”
The steward came to her. “I will escort you down the aisle, my lady.”
“Thank you,” Lady Alice said.
Nell stood, her arms crossed over her chest, as her mother left the vestibule to walk down the church aisle. Lord Raoul watched through the partially open door. When Lady Alice was finally seated, the cathedral choir began to sing an unaccompanied Gregorian chant.
“That’s our signal,” the earl said. He offered Nell his arm. She put her small hand on it and together they entered the church and began to proceed down the aisle.
Nell felt like a helpless animal being led to the slaughter. She could feel the people looking at her from either side, but she stared ahead at the bishop, who was waiting for her at the top of the aisle. He was magnificently dressed in gold vestments, with his white miter hat making him look very tall. He was flanked by six altar servers who were dressed in crisp white cassocks.
What if I told the bishop that I was being coerced into this marriage? What would he do?
Nell and her father stopped before the bishop and Roger came to join them.
The bishop raised his hands and the singing stopped. He spoke clearly, so he could be heard throughout the church. “We are gathered here today to join these two young people in a yoke of concord and an indissoluble chain of peace. This union is blessed by God and is as holy and sacred as is Christ’s love for his bride, the church. It is not to be taken lightly or unadvisedly.” He looked from Roger to Nell. “Do you understand this?” he asked, his face stern.
“We do,” Roger said and, after a brief moment, Nell echoed his words.
The bishop next looked at Lord Raoul. “Who is it who gives this woman in marriage to this man?”
“I do,” Lord Raoul said firmly.
“Do you swear that there is no known reason why this couple may not be joined in holy matrimony?”
I could speak up now, Nell thought wildly. I could tell the bishop I am not willing….
She almost opened her mouth, but then her father said, “I swear that there is no reason why this couple may not be joined in holy matrimony.”
The words of denial just wouldn’t come.
The bishop looked to Roger. “You may take the bride’s hand.”
I am being handed over from one to the other, just like a piece of chattel, Nell thought despairingly.
Roger reached out and took Nell’s hand into his. His large grasp felt warm around her frozen fingers.
She stood next to Roger and they listened as the bishop read to the church the Old Testament passage about the creation of the world: “God created man in His image, in the divine image He created him, male and female He created them. God blessed them, saying, ‘Be fertile and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it.’”
The bishop made the sign of the cross over them, and Roger and Nell turned to take their places at the kneelers on the altar. The bishop started the mass.
The familiar Latin words rolled over Nell, but her mind was on the reading the bishop had just given. The purpose of marriage was procreation. She remembered what her mother had told her about how babies were conceived, and she shuddered. How could she endure such a violation of her modesty?
Her attention went back to the mass when the bishop mounted the pulpit.
The bishop began reading from the book of Matthew: “When Jesus finished these words, he left Galilee and went to the district of Judea across the Jordan. Great crowds followed him, and he cured them there. Some Pharisees approached him, and tested him, saying, ‘Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any cause whatever?’ He said in reply, ‘Have you not read that from the beginning the Creator made them male and female and said, “For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh?”’ So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, no human being must separate.”
Marriage is a sacrament blessed by God, Nell told herself. This is a holy thing I am doing.
But I always thought I would be a bride of Christ, not of a man! Sybilla should be making this marriage, not me. I should be back in the convent, where I belong, not here, being wed to this stranger.
Now the bishop was coming to the center of the altar to stand in front of them. “My brother and sister in Christ,” he said. “You have come here today to ask the church’s blessing on your marriage. Marriage was ordained by God for the procreation of children, to avoid fornication and for the mutual help and comfort that one might have of the other. Therefore I must ask of you, do you Roger de Roche, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”
“I do,” Roger answered firmly.
“Do you pledge to care for her, to comfort her, to be faithful to her all the days of your life?”
“I do,” Roger answered again.
The bishop turned to Nell. “Do you, Eleanor de Bonvile, take this man to be your wedded husband?”
There was a pause. I could say no, she thought. But she didn’t have the nerve. “I do,” she said in a voice that was scarcely audible.
“Do you pledge to care for him, to comfort him, to be faithful to him all the days of your life?”
“I do,” Nell said.
“Do you have the ring?” the bishop asked Roger, who took a plain gold band from a pouch on his belt.
“You may put it on her finger,” the bishop said.
Roger took Nell’s small, cold hand into his and slid the ring on her finger. It was too big and she had to close her fist to keep it on.
The bishop then spoke to the assembly in the church. “In as much as Roger and Eleanor have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed to it before God and this company, and have given and pledged their lives to each other, and have declared the same by the giving and receiving of a ring, I pronounce that they be man and wife. In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Roger turned his head and smiled down at Nell. She did not smile back.
It’s done, she thought bleakly. It’s been sealed by the bishop in front of all these people. I’m married to Roger de Roche.
Nell listened to the familiar prayers, but she felt detached from it all. She felt numb. It was as though all of this were happening to someone else and all she was doing was looking on. Even when she received the host upon her tongue and bent her head to pray, she felt a distance. This had always been one of her favorite moments of the day; she had felt so close to Christ when she received Him into her own body. But now her words seemed perfunctory, not deeply felt as they usually were. “Help me, Jesus,” she prayed automatically. “Please help me.”
Finally the mass was over and the bishop was coming to stand before them once more. It was time for the last blessing. He raised his hands and began to pray.
The spectator that was Nell bowed her head. Then the six altar servers lined up to process out, and the bishop fell in behind them. Roger gave Nell his arm and they took their places behind the bishop. The choir once more began to chant as the procession moved down the center aisle of the cathedral.
The wedding was over. They joined their families in the vestibule and, after much congratulations, they walked over to the bishop’s residence where the wedding supper was to be held. Nell’s hand rested on the fine linen of Roger’s sleeve. It’s done, she thought sadly. I’m married. She walked beside Roger like an animated doll. I’ve been handed over from my father to Roger. The life I knew is gone for good.
Seven
The wedding supper was held in the bishop’s private dining room and was attended by the bishop, Nell and Roger, Earl Raoul, Lady Alice, and Roger’s grandfather, Earl William. The rest of the congregation was being fed in the sheriff’s quarters in the castle. Behind each of the guests was a squire from Bardney, ready to serve each course as it came out of the kitchen, to fetch more wine, and to bring ewers and basins so they could wash their hands. The Norman aristocracy was fastidious about cleanliness, and since they ate with their hands and shared dishes, etiquette decreed that hands and nails must be kept scrupulously clean at table.
The men carried on the conversation and the talk was about the expected landing of the Empress Mathilda on English soil.
“Stephen has men in position at all the main ports,” the bishop said. “If she tries to land, she will be turned back.”
“There are dozens of small ports along the English coast where she may come in,” Lord Raoul said. “I doubt she’ll try to land at some place like Dover.”
“Robert of Gloucester is too smart to try to come in at a main port,” Lord William agreed. Robert, Earl of Gloucester, was the empress’s powerful bastard half brother. He was the chief English champion of her cause and her main adviser.
“How many men do you think will come with her?” Roger asked.
“I don’t know,” Lord Raoul said. “I don’t think her husband will want to give up any of his men, not while he is engaged in the conquest of Normandy. It’s Mathilda who wants England, not Geoffrey Plantagenet.”
“She wants the crown of England for her son,” Lord William said.
“Aye,” Lord Raoul agreed. “Just as Stephen wants to keep it for his own son.”
Roger dipped his meat into the dish of sauce that was between him and Nell. “What do you think will happen when she does land?” he asked.
“We’ll have to wait and see how many barons go over to her side,” Lord Raoul replied.
Roger brought the piece of meat back to his trencher. “Brian fitz Count has always been one of her supporters.”
“Yes,” Lord Raoul said. “And a few men from the west may go over to support Gloucester. That’s where she’s going to find her chief support—in the west.”
Nell listened to the men talk, but the reality of what they were saying didn’t penetrate her tense self-absorption. All she could think of was what was going to happen between her and Roger when the feast was over.
“Civil war is an ugly thing,” Roger said somberly.
“We have the power to protect our own,” Lord William said.
“Yes, there will be few who will want to antagonize us, not with this alliance we have forged.” Lord Raoul sounded very satisfied.
The bishop had been largely silent while the earls spoke, but now he said, “The Bishop of Winchester is Stephen’s brother. That will help him with the church.”
The conversation continued as the meal was served: soup, roasted pork and mutton with various sauces, green beans and green leaves for a salad, all served on fresh white-bread trenchers and washed down with red wine.
Nell could barely eat. Her mother looked at Nell’s almost-full plate and started to urge her to eat more, then fell silent. Instead, she reached over and squeezed Nell’s hand, where it lay loosely in her lap. Nell turned to her mother in surprise and Lady Alice gave her an encouraging smile.
The meal was finally finished and all the men turned to look at the two women who were seated side by side.
“I believe it is time for you and your daughter to go upstairs,” Lord Raoul said to his wife.
“Yes,” Lady Alice said. She stood up. “Come along, Nell.”
Nell stood up, as well. Lady Alice took her hand in a warm, reassuring grip, and Nell followed her to the door and up the stairs to the bedroom where she had slept alone last night. Gertrude was there, waiting for her.
“You must disrobe,” Lady Alice said. “Then the bishop will come to bless your bed.”
Nell stared at her mother out of enormous dark blue eyes. “I can’t do this, Mama. Please don’t make me do this.”
“This is something that all women of your class must do,” Lady Alice said briskly. “Believe me, Nell, having a husband is far better than not having one. Every one of my ladies would give the world if they could change places with you.”
“I would change places with them happily,” Nell said despairingly.
Lady Alice’s voice sharpened. “Remember who you are, Nell. You are the daughter of the Earl of Lincoln. Don’t shame your father and me by playing the coward. You are wed to a fine young man. You should appreciate that.”
Nell was silent. It was clear that she wouldn’t get any sympathy from her mother. Her mother thought she should be happy about this wedding.
I have to do this, she thought. Please, Lord, please help me to be brave.
Lady Alice and Gertrude stripped Nell down to her chemise and her drawers. They would have gone further, but Nell wrapped her arms around herself. “Can’t I wear my nightgown?” she pleaded.
“No,” Lady Alice replied. “But I have brought a night robe with me. Put it on and you can finish undressing underneath it.”
She handed Nell a rich blue velvet robe that was open in the front and tied around the waist with a matching velvet belt. Nell put it on, turning her back on her mother and her maid, and slipped off her chemise and her drawers and drew the robe close around herself.
The velvet was very warm. Too warm for the bedroom, but Nell didn’t care. It covered her up; that was all that was important to her.
There was a silver pitcher of wine on the table under the window and Lady Alice poured Nell a glass. “Here, drink it. It will help.”
Nell still wasn’t used to wine, but she took the glass and swallowed a sip. Her eyes watered and she handed the silver goblet back to her mother. “It tastes terrible,” she said.
“You will learn to like it,” Lady Alice said.
I don’t think so, Nell thought rebelliously. I don’t think I’ll learn to like anything about what is happening to me tonight.
The sound of men’s voices floated through the thick wooden bedroom door. Involuntarily, Nell tightened the robe about herself. There was a knock on the door. Lady Alice called, “Come,” and the men entered the room.
The first thing Roger thought when he saw Nell was how lovely she looked. Her hair had been taken out of its braids and it flowed in a loose silken stream down her back. She was wearing a blue velvet robe, like the light woolen robe that covered his own nakedness. She looked so small and delicate as she stood next to her mother. She wasn’t looking at him.
The bishop stepped forward. He was carrying holy water in a small gold bucket and he dipped the shaker into it and sprinkled the bed. “I bless this bed and this marriage,” he said as he sprinkled. “May Roger and Eleanor follow your will, O Lord, and be fruitful and multiply. May they see their children like olive plants around their table. May the Lord so fill them with all spiritual benediction and grace, that they may so live together in this life, that in the world to come they may have life everlasting. Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone in the room with the exception of Nell echoed.
“It is time for us to leave,” Lady Alice said firmly.
Roger watched Nell as the room cleared. Her long brown hair was tucked behind her small ears and spread in a smooth fan to her waist. The pure oval of her face was regarding the floor with grave absorption.
Then they were alone.
He crossed the floor to where she stood. “You are so beautiful, Nell,” he said.
She cast a quick upward glance at him, then looked away.
A shy one, he thought.
“Everything will be all right,” he said reassuringly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She nodded slightly.
He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face up, so she would have to look at him. Then he bent his head and kissed her.
She gave him no response. He deepened the kiss and she hung like a doll in his arms. He could feel her trembling.
He lifted his head. “What is wrong?”
She didn’t answer, but a tear crept its way down the ivory of her face.
Roger muttered a curse word to himself.
“What is wrong?” he repeated, more strongly than before.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” she said. She spoke so low that he had to bend his head to hear her. “I know I should be brave but I just can’t seem to be.”
“Brave?” he said. “You said you entered this marriage willingly.”
She stared at his chest. “Everyone told me I had to do it. Even Mother Superior told me it was an opportunity for me to do good in the world. There was no place else for me to go….” Her voice ran out.
“I see,” he said quietly. And suddenly he did. They had all pushed her into this marriage for their political ends and no one had cared that she was a convent-raised girl who knew nothing of the world, nothing of men. Even he—he had asked her if she was willing and he had been very happy to accept her weak assurance that she was.
“Come sit beside me,” he said, and moved to sit on the side of the bed. Slowly she came to join him. The bed was so high that her feet didn’t touch the floor. He picked up one of her icy hands and held it between his two.
“What do you know about human coupling?” he asked bluntly.
He felt her hand grow rigid. “My mother told me last night,” she said tersely.
He sat there, thinking about what he should do next. He was a young man, with all a young man’s passions, but it occurred to him that if he took her tonight it would be nothing less than an act of rape. She was so frightened, this little girl from the convent. And he was a perfect stranger to her.
He inhaled deeply. “Would it be easier for you if we waited for a while?” he asked. “Perhaps, after you get a chance to know me better, all of this won’t seem so terrifying.”
She turned to look at him. “Do you mean that?” she asked breathlessly.
“I don’t want a wife who has to be brave to make love with me,” he said wryly. “I want a willing partner. The act of love can be a very beautiful thing, Nell, but I don’t think you’re ready to find that out yet. Get to know me. Get to be my friend. Then we will accomplish the marriage act and get to work on all of those olive plants around our table.”
For the first time that day color flushed into her cheeks. “Oh, my lord, that would be wonderful!”
“Call me Roger,” he said.
Her lips parted a little. She was really very lovely. “Roger,” she said shyly.
He smiled at her. “Nell. I am not such a bad fellow, but I will let you find that out for yourself. In the meantime, I think we should keep our little arrangement to ourselves. I have a feeling that our elders would not approve.”
“My mother would, I think, but not my father,” Nell said, her voice stronger now. “Mother wanted the marriage to be delayed to give me a chance to adjust to life outside the convent, but Father wouldn’t hear of it.”
“My grandfather also wanted the marriage to take place quickly.” He grinned at her. “I was nervous, too, you know.”
“You were?” she looked at him wonderingly.
He nodded. “I was afraid you were going to be ugly and that I wouldn’t be attracted to you at all. I was much relieved when I saw how pretty you are.”
A little more color came to her face. “It is vain of me, I know, but when I saw my face in the mirror I was happy that I looked nice,” she confessed.
He stared at her in astonishment. “You sound as if this was a recent occurrence.”
“Since I came home, a few weeks ago. There were no mirrors in the convent.”
“You really didn’t see yourself until a few weeks ago?” She nodded. Then she offered, “My mother’s ladies were all agog about how handsome you are. They all of them wished that they were marrying you.”
“But my looks didn’t sway you.”
“I prayed that you would have a kind heart,” Nell said. She actually smiled at him. “And you do. I thank you, my lord, for your consideration of my feelings.”
“Roger,” he said.
Her smile stayed in place. “Roger.” Her hand loosened its clutch on her robe and the top of it opened a little, giving him a glimpse of her long, delicate throat. She said, “I hope I am not going to be a disappointment to you. My mother has been trying to teach me how to run a castle, and I have learned somewhat, but much of it is still unknown to me.”
“You will do fine,” he said cheerfully. “My grandfather’s steward, Simon Everard, is in charge of all the domestic staff in the castle, and things run like clockwork. Lady Mabel, Simon’s wife, is in charge of the women. Will you be bringing ladies with you?”
“My aunt, Lady Alida, will come with me and stay a few months until I am settled in. How many ladies do you have in residence?”
“Not very many, I’m afraid. We are very much a bachelor household. My grandfather has been a widower for many years.”
“How old is he?” Nell asked.
“Seventy,” Roger replied.
“He seems very young for his age,” Nell said.
“He is. This year he insisted on going on a tour of his vassals that took us almost two months. He bore up wonderfully.”
“You sound as if you love him very much,” Nell said softly.
“My own father died when I was an infant and he is the only father I have ever known,” Roger replied matter-of-factly.
“What about your mother? She doesn’t reside at Wilton?”
“No. After my father died, my mother went to live at the convent in Cirencester.”
“Is she a nun?”
“No, she is still a laywoman, but she chooses to live there instead of at Wilton.”
Nell gave him a shy smile. “You seem to be surrounded by convent-dwelling women—first your mother and now your wife.”
“Yes.” He returned her smile. “It is odd.”
Her eyes slid away from his and her fingers once more clutched the front of her robe. “I have always slept in a nightgown,” she said. “Do you think I can sleep in this robe tonight?”
“I think you will be very uncomfortable if you do,” Roger said. “Velvet on a summer night, no matter if it is a bit chilly, is too warm. Besides, they will think it odd in the morning when the servants come in. I won’t look if that’s what you want.”
“That would be…good,” she said, relieved. “Should I get into bed now?”
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll just wait here.”
She slid off the bed and went to the other side. The cover had already been turned back and she quickly folded her robe at the bottom of the bed and slipped in between the sheets, pulling them up to her chin.
“It’s all right, I’m in bed,” she said to Roger.
He turned to look at her and smiled. I have a long way to go here, he told himself. Then, unselfconsciously, he shed his own robe and walked to the opposite side of the bed. He slipped in under the covers and pulled them up to his waist. Then he turned to Nell. She was staring resolutely at the ceiling.
“You can look at me,” he said softly.
She shot a swift look in his direction, then returned her stare to the ceiling.
“Will it be all right if I kiss your forehead?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said on a soft breath.
He moved closer to her, pushed himself up on his elbow and leaned over her. He bent lower and touched his lips to her forehead. Her skin was soft as silk and her hair smelled like lavender. He inhaled. “Your hair smells nice,” he said.
“Mama washed it in lavender soap,” she said.
“I like it.”
“I’m sure I can make some myself if you really like it,” she said.
He flopped on his back. “I like it on you. I’d lose all my status with my knights if I showed up smelling like lavender.”
She chuckled.
It was a charming sound, he thought. He was relieved to find she had a sense of humor.
“Good night, Nell,” he said.
“Good night, Roger,” she replied softly. With a wry smile, he settled himself to sleep.
Eight
Nell, who had scarcely slept at all the night before, slept deeply and was surprised when it was a male voice that called her back to the world.
“Nell, wake up,” Roger was saying. “Your maid is here to help you dress.”
She opened her eyes and looked into the dark gold eyes of her husband. He smiled at her. “Wake up,” he said again. “We are going to be late for mass.”
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Joan Wolf
Twelfth-century Normandy–as a fierce battle for the crown erupts, a powerful knight and his innocent bride will discover their destinies are passionately entwined….Just weeks away from taking her holy vows, Nell de Bonvile learns of her elder sister's tragic death. Swept from the convent, she is ordered to take Sybilla's place as bride to Roger de Roche, heir to Britain's most powerful earldom. Lovely, naive and totally unprepared for life outside the convent or the ways of men, Nell bravely faces her uncertain future.Indifferent to marriage for anything other than political gain, Roger is prepared to wait until his innocent bride comes to him willingly. Yet as he watches Nell blossom from timid girl to courageous mistress of his keep, his desire for her grows all-consuming. But war gives no quarter to newfound passion, plunging them both into a battle that will pit father against son, invaders against loyalists, testing every whispered word, and each unspoken promise….
Praise for the novels of JOAN WOLF
“Especially appealing…”
—Booklist on White Horses
“Wolf spins a very entertaining love story.”
—Romantic Times on White Horses
“Romance writing at its very best.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review) on The Guardian
“Wolf…leaps into the contemporary romantic suspense arena with this smart, compelling read.”
—Publishers Weekly on Silverbridge
“A quick-moving, enchanting tale…An excellent choice for readers who want an exciting epic.”
—Booklist on Daughter of the Red Deer
“Captivating…endearing…heartwarming…Wolf’s assured storytelling is simply the best.”
—BookPage on Royal Bride
“Fast paced, highly readable…”
—Library Journal on The Gamble
“An entertaining and thought-provoking read.”
—Washington Post Book World
on The Reindeer Hunters
Also by JOAN WOLF
WHITE HORSES
To the Castle
Joan Wolf
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
For Joe, the bedrock of my existence.
Contents
Chapter One (#uf77102d1-ee65-54d5-9933-fdce4f54b218)
Chapter Two (#u0be3b2dc-f0c8-5f5b-a6b0-53161165f38b)
Chapter Three (#u15089db1-36ea-5ab8-a34c-66bce27fc2f4)
Chapter Four (#u932062de-ac55-5ee9-be54-5c336b8e6998)
Chapter Five (#u8e2b9052-1647-5336-8f8d-afce03e42b86)
Chapter Six (#u96ef51a5-9ea7-5579-9863-f1f319bbedb0)
Chapter Seven (#u4784d884-866d-5594-b7ce-c592560e1ae9)
Chapter Eight (#ua46e00bb-b441-5bcb-a2e4-f5510c67ac34)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Afterword (#litres_trial_promo)
One
The funeral mass for Sybilla de Bonvile was held in the cathedral of Lincoln on a day of high clouds and gusty wind. Nell de Bonvile walked with her parents behind the coffin of her only sister as it was carried by six knights up the aisle to the altar rail. The archbishop himself waited with holy water to sprinkle on it before he turned with majestic slowness to ascend to the altar where he would begin the funeral mass.
Nell knelt next to her mother and listened to the familiar Latin words, her eyes on the coffin that contained the eighteen-year-old remains of Sybilla. She felt immense sorrow engulf her as she thought of her sister’s life, blown out like a candle by a fever and coughing illness.
If only they had called upon Sister Helen, perhaps she might have been saved, Nell thought. But Sister Helen, one of the nuns at the convent where Nell had lived since her eighth year, had not been called upon, and Sybilla had died.
Next to Nell, her mother raised a handkerchief to her face and began to sob softly. Nell wanted to comfort her mother, but hesitated to touch her. She wasn’t sure if her mother would want comfort from her sole remaining child. Nell knew she could never take the place of her beautiful sister or her brilliant brother. Perhaps her mother would be hurt by the reminder that they had gone and all that was left to her was Nell.
She looked beyond her mother to the face of her father. The Earl of Lincoln’s face was like stone. He made no motion to comfort his wife.
Tentatively, Nell reached out and touched her mother’s arm. The countess gave no sign that she felt Nell’s fingers; she continued to sob quietly into her handkerchief. After a minute, Nell removed her hand and folded it in prayer.
Dear God, she prayed, please receive Sybilla into the joy of your presence and help Mama and Papa to find comfort from their grief.
When the mass was over, they left Sybilla’s coffin in the church, where she would be buried alongside her brother, and went out into the windy day.
Nell, her parents and her aunt had stayed overnight in the bishop’s residence, but now that the funeral was over, Nell knew her father was anxious to return to his castle of Bardney, some twenty miles outside of Lincoln. He gave orders to the knights who had accompanied him to bring the horses around and, as Nell stood waiting in front of the cathedral, her eyes took in the unfamiliar part of Lincoln that lay within the outer walls of the castle.
Nell had spent most of her life within the confines of a convent, and this glimpse of the busy outside world was fascinating. People were going about their business, coming and going from the castle, which towered high above them on a rock, or buying and selling from the stalls that lined one of the walls of the Bail. Many cast curious glances at the funeral party—everyone in the town was aware of who was being buried that day.
What different lives people live, Nell thought wonderingly. How different my own life would have been if my parents hadn’t given me to the convent when I was a child.
An old woman passed in front of the cathedral, turning her head to look straight at Nell. Nell could feel the sympathy in her gaze cross the distance between them. She nodded slightly, in acknowledgment, and the old lady nodded back and continued on her way.
The sympathy was kind, but Nell knew it should be directed at her mother and father, not at her. She had hardly known her sister. They had been separated when they were very young and Sybilla had rarely come to visit her in the convent.
“Nell, stop standing there staring and get on your horse.” Her father sounded impatient. She went over to the small mare one of the knights was holding and let him help her into the saddle. She was still a little sore from the ride in yesterday; life in the convent had not included horseback riding.
Her father mounted his big chestnut stallion and the knights who were leading their party started off. Her father’s stallion moved off behind them, followed by her mother, her mother’s sister, Aunt Alida, and Nell. Behind them came another group of knights, to protect their rear.
Nell’s veil blew in the wind and she reached up to anchor it more securely on her head. She would not profess her holy vows until she was eighteen, but the novices at the convent wore wimples and veils like the nuns. Her little mare was very quiet, paying no attention to the people who were staring at them—unlike her father’s stallion, who was dancing and throwing his head around. Her father sat quietly and spoke to him. Nell watched with awe as he controlled the large horse with his voice and gentle hands.
The earl’s cavalcade went down the old Roman road, Ermine Street, through the town with its shops, past the inns that accommodated visitors to Lincoln, past the church of St. Peter ad Placita, across the River Witham and out of the town. Bardney was southeast of Lincoln while Nell’s convent was to the northeast. She had been fetched two days ago by five of her father’s knights and she supposed she would be spending the night at Bardney, then returning to the convent in the morning.
The road to Bardney led through several small villages huddled around their churches, and some fine pastureland where cows grazed peacefully. The castle could be seen from quite a distance, its turreted stone walls rearing up out of the ground with arrogant authority.
Nell had spent the first years of her life at Bardney, but her memories of life in the castle were dim. When she was eight her brother, the much-longed-for male, had been born, and Nell had been sent to the Convent of St. Cecelia in fulfillment of a promise her parents had made to God when they had prayed for a son. The life she knew was life in the convent; she had felt like a stranger when she had dismounted in the inner bailey of the castle two days ago.
She felt like a stranger still as she rode across the bridge, over the moat and under the great iron portcullis that sealed the gate at night and in times of trouble. The cavalcade of horses crossed the huge expanse of the outer bailey, passed through a second gate into the inner bailey, and came to a halt in front of the great stone castle. The knights, who wore mail shirts called hauberks and helmets with the nose guards up, dismounted, and one of them came to lift Nell down from her saddle. Her knees buckled a little when she touched the ground and he reached out quickly to steady her.
“I’m all right,” Nell told the knight, who was young and brown-eyed. “I just have never had the opportunity to do much riding.”
“You did very well, my lady,” he said.
“Come along, Nell,” her mother called. “Don’t stand there dawdling.”
Nell went immediately to her mother and aunt and followed them into the Great Hall, which took up more than half the space of the castle’s ground floor. Nell had been awed by the size of the Great Hall when she had come home two days ago, and she looked around now, still surprised by its immensity and by the colorful painted wall hangings that adorned the high stone walls. At the convent, rooms were small and the stone walls were bare except for a crucifix.
Her father, Lord Raoul, and her mother, Lady Alice, moved toward the chairs that were pulled up in front of the fireplace and Nell and her aunt followed.
“I think we could all use some wine,” Alida said.
“Yes,” the earl said. “Send for some.”
Two young pages sat on a bench along the wall and Lady Alice said peremptorily, “Robin, go and fetch some wine for us.”
The boy jumped up and ran in the direction of the buttery, where the drinks were kept.
Nell looked at her father, who sat in the largest chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. He did not speak and the others respected his silence. Nell looked down at her lap and folded her hands.
The page came back bearing four goblets of wine on a silver tray. He served his lord first, then Lady Alice, Lady Alida and Nell. The earl and countess both took a long drink, but Nell sipped her wine tentatively. The novices in the convent drank ale with their meals; wine was something new to Nell.
“Well,” the earl said, when he had put his drink on the small table next to him. “So that’s that.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Lady Alice said sadly. “I can’t believe that God could be so cruel.”
“God does what He damn well pleases,” the earl said.
Nell looked at her father with horrified eyes.
He caught her look and said harshly, “Despite what you may have heard in your convent, it’s true. There is no making sense of the tragedies in life. No religion can explain to me why I had to lose both my son and my daughter. God does what He damn well pleases and He doesn’t answer any questions.”
Nell tried to think what she could say to answer the earl’s shocking words. “It’s true that we can’t know the mind of God, but we must trust that there is a plan that we can’t understand,” she said, echoing words she had heard more than once in the convent.
“I don’t think I would want to understand a plan that would take my son and my daughter from me,” her father said, turning his grim look on her.
Nell bit her lip. He’s grieving, she thought excusingly. He doesn’t mean it.
Once more silence descended on the small group by the fire. Tears ran from her mother’s eyes and her father looked angry.
I wish I could comfort them, Nell thought with distress. I feel so useless here.
Her mother wiped her eyes and looked at her. “I don’t know what we’re going to do about clothes for you. You’re quite a bit smaller than Sybilla.”
“We can alter some of Sybilla’s gowns,” Alida said. “They will do until we can have her own clothes made.”
Clothes? Nell thought. She looked from her aunt to her mother in puzzlement. “Why should I need clothes, Mama? I have my habit.”
Her mother and father glanced at each other. Then the earl spoke. “You will not be going back to the convent, Nell. You are my only remaining child and you have a duty to your family. You will be remaining here at Bardney for the foreseeable future.”
Nell’s dark blue eyes grew huge. “I’m not going back to the convent? But I was to be professed as a nun in six months’ time!”
“You are not going to become a nun. You are now the heiress to the Earl of Lincoln—a far more important position than a mere nun could ever hope to attain.”
Nell felt as if she had been hit over the head. Her brain was utterly scattered. Not going back to the convent? But the convent had been her life!
The earl continued, “I will write to Mother Superior to tell her of my decision. We were wrong to send you there all those years ago. It’s true that God gave us a son, but then He took him away. I don’t owe God a daughter, as well. From now on you will be staying here, with us.”
Nell sat in her sister’s bedroom, surrounded by her sister’s things. The wooden trunks along the wall held Sybilla’s clothes; the coverings on the bed bore Sybilla’s monogram; the hangings on the stone wall were the product of her sister’s paintbrush. When her mother had put her in Sybilla’s room, Nell had assumed it was because all the other bedrooms were full. Now she realized it was because she had been designated to take Sybilla’s place.
But I’m not Sybilla, she thought rebelliously. My life has taken a different path.
She jumped up and went to the window. The busy outer bailey of Bardney lay spread before her, with men coming and going on castle business. Panic fluttered in her stomach.
I don’t belong here. This is not my home anymore.
Mother Superior won’t let me leave.
The thought took root in Nell’s shocked mind. For the past nine years she had dedicated herself to God. To be ripped so abruptly from her sacred purpose and returned to the secular world had stunned her and destroyed her sense of who she was.
Mother Superior would intercede with her father, convince him to leave Nell in the convent, where she had been so happy and so secure.
I must find a way to see Mother Superior.
But Nell was canny enough to realize that her father would not let her return to the convent if he thought she wanted Mother Superior to intercede for her. She had to think of another reason for wanting to return to St. Cecelia’s.
I’ll tell Father that I want to say goodbye to the nuns. Surely he won’t deny me that opportunity. After all, they have been my family for the last nine years.
Her idea had barely formed when the bedroom door opened and her mother came in.
“I don’t want you to wear that wimple at dinner,” Lady Alice said to Nell. “Take it off and let me see what your hair looks like.”
Reluctantly, Nell slowly removed her veil and wimple. Her brown hair was pulled back tight against her skull and fastened in a braid at the nape of her neck. It fell halfway down her back.
“Thank God they didn’t cut it,” her mother said, relieved.
“It was going to be cut when I took my vows,” Nell said.
“Well, you aren’t going to make your vows, so you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Nell had never once worried about having her hair cut.
She thought she should try to get her mother on her side about visiting Mother Superior.
“Mama,” Nell said, as Lady Alice began to unravel Nell’s hair, “I want to go back to the convent to say goodbye to the nuns. They were very good to me and it would be churlish of me to go away without even a goodbye.”
“Good grief,” her mother said. “How often did you wash your hair? It’s greasy!”
Hair washing had never been of great moment in the convent.
“I don’t know,” Nell said vaguely.
Her mother made sounds of disapproval. “Well, this needs to be washed before you can display it. I had better put the braid back in for now and we can wash it tomorrow.”
“Did you hear me, Mama?” Nell said a little desperately. “I would like to return to the convent to say goodbye.”
Her mother continued to braid Nell’s hair. “Well, I suppose that can be arranged. We’ll have to talk to your father.”
“Can we ask him tonight?”
“We’ll see.”
Lady Alice finished braiding Nell’s hair, then looked into her face. “Your life is going to be very different from what you are used to, Nell, and I realize it may be hard for you at first. I will do my best to help you.”
Nell dropped her eyes. “Thank you, Mama,” she murmured.
“It’s important to you, saying goodbye at the convent?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I will speak to your father.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Nell said again. “Do you think I can go tomorrow?”
“That will depend upon your father.”
“But you’ll ask him?”
“I said I would,” her mother replied impatiently. She looked at Nell, her head tilted to one side. “I suppose you will have to wear that habit downstairs to supper. I’ll have my ladies alter a few of Sybilla’s tunics tomorrow. At least if we get the hems up you can wear them.”
I don’t want to wear Sybilla’s clothes, Nell thought stubbornly.
“Come along,” her mother said. “It’s time to go downstairs to supper.”
Two
Supper was served for the entire household in the Great Hall. Trestle tables had been set up in the main body of the hall with the high table set close to the fireplace, where in winter it was warmest. At the high table sat the lord and lady of the house, Nell, Lady Alida, Father Clement, the chaplain, and Martin Demas, who was the steward of Bardney Castle. Two squires stood behind the table to serve the great folk dining there.
Nell looked at the roast venison that was reposing upon her trencher of fine white bread and felt her stomach heave. She was far too upset to eat. Her mouth felt dry so she took a small sip of wine. She looked enviously at the lesser folk sitting at the trestle tables who were being served ale.
“Eat something,” her aunt Alida said. “The food is good at Bardney. You should enjoy it.”
Aunt Alida looked as if she enjoyed the food. She was a small plump woman who reminded Nell of a pigeon. Alida had been one of too many girls and her family hadn’t known what to do with her until Alice had said she could come and live with her.
It was not always easy these days for a noble family to find a suitable match for a daughter. Because of the Norman custom that decreed that all of a family’s holdings be passed down to the eldest son, it was only the eldest son in a family who was eligible to marry. Penniless younger sons usually remained bachelors. This left a limited number of potential husbands for the daughters of the nobility, and competition was fierce. There had been several girls in Nell’s convent whose families had not been able to give them a good enough dowry to purchase a husband.
Alida had been fortunate to have a sister who had married well enough to be able to offer her a home. Nell had only a dim memory of Alida from the time that she had lived at home, but her aunt’s smile was friendly and she smiled back.
“I’m just not very hungry, I’m afraid,” she said. “Too much has happened in the last few days. My stomach’s all in a whirl.”
Her mother turned to her. “Aren’t you eating, Nell?”
Nell took a bite of venison and forced it down. “I’m eating, Mama.”
Alice spoke to her sister across Nell. “Do you really think we can alter Sybilla’s clothes to fit Nell? It isn’t just the length that will have to come up; they will have to be taken in all over.”
“We can do it,” Alida replied. “We’ll get started on it right away.”
“We’ll have to,” Alice said. “She has to have something to wear besides this black robe.”
Alida patted Nell on the arm. “Don’t you worry. You’re a pretty girl and we’ll soon have you fitted out properly.”
I hope not, Nell thought. She turned to her mother. “Mama,” she said, “don’t forget to talk to my father about my going back to St. Cecelia’s.”
Alice looked exasperated. “I told you I would talk to him and I will—in good time.”
“Talk about what?” Alida asked her sister with all the confidence of a close companion.
“Nell wants to go back to the convent to say goodbye to the sisters,” Alice said.
Alida nodded approvingly. “And so she should. It is the mannerly thing to do.”
Nell gave her aunt a tremulous smile of gratitude.
Nell waited all through dinner for her mother to have a chance to talk to her father, but he was deep in conversation with Martin Demas and didn’t look at his wife. Finally, when the main dishes had been removed and the sweet was being served, he turned to the three women who sat to his right.
“Did you enjoy your food, Nell?” he asked.
“Yes, Father, I did,” Nell lied.
“Good. I imagine you did not dine like this in the convent.”
“No, Father.”
“My lord,” Alice began, “Nell wishes to return to the convent so she may say goodbye to the nuns. I think it would be the mannerly thing for her to do—after all, she resided there for nine years.”
He frowned and Nell held her breath.
“I don’t think it’s necessary,” he said.
“Not necessary, but mannerly,” Lady Alice said.
His frown smoothed out. “Oh, all right. I suppose I can spare a few knights to take her.” He spoke briefly with Martin Demas, then turned back to Nell. “All right,” he said, returning his gaze to the women. “You might as well go tomorrow and get it over with. I can send five men with you.”
“Surely I don’t need five men, Father,” Nell said.
“Yes, you do,” he returned. “The country is teetering on the brink of civil war and lawless men are taking advantage of the unsettled state of affairs.” He looked at her grimly. “You are all I have left to me, Nell. I don’t want to lose you, too.”
For the briefest of moments pain flashed in her father’s dark blue eyes, then it was gone. Nell felt a stab of guilt that she was working to circumvent him.
After dinner was over, the servants began the work of taking up the trestle tables and storing them against one wall of the Great Hall. They left a few benches in front of the fire and a number of knights gravitated to them and sat down. Someone took out a pair of dice. The earl went to join his men by the fire and Alice said to her sister, “Let us go upstairs to the solar. I have no heart for company tonight.”
Nell followed her mother and her aunt up the stairs to the living room used solely by the family, her mind forming thoughts of what she would say to Mother Superior when she saw her on the morrow. Surely Mother Superior would be on her side. She had always liked Nell. She prayed she would tell her father that it was God’s will that Nell remain in the convent.
It was late in the afternoon when Nell and her retinue arrived at the gatehouse of the Convent of St. Cecelia. The portress greeted Nell, then summoned grooms to take the horses.
The stones of the convent buildings looked so familiar to Nell, so comforting. There was the church, where the nuns heard mass from behind a beautifully carved screen; there was Mother Superior’s house; there was the main residence where Nell had lived along with the nuns and the rest of the novices; and there was the guesthouse, where the Bardney knights would spend the night. Unseen from the courtyard was the herb garden, where Nell had spent so many happy hours learning from the convent’s healer, Sister Helen.
Sister Helen had been like a mother to her. How could she bear to leave her?
Nell pointed out the guesthouse to the knights and told them to make themselves comfortable. Then she crossed the courtyard in the direction of Mother Superior’s tall, narrow, stone house. Her heart was thudding.
A lay sister answered Nell’s knock. Nell asked a little breathlessly, “Will you be so kind as to tell Mother that I wish to see her?”
“Of course,” the lay sister replied and disappeared up the stairs. She returned a few minutes later and told Nell that Mother Superior would receive her in her sitting room. By now Nell’s heart was hammering and she drew a deep breath to steady herself before she went up the stairs.
St. Cecelia’s was a well-endowed convent and the Mother Superior could have afforded a decent degree of luxury, but Mother Margaret de Ligne made do with only the bare essentials: several carved wooden chairs, two chests and a wall hanging depicting St. George on a white horse. The stone floor was bare of rushes.
Mother Margaret herself was almost as austere-looking as the room she sat in, but her face softened as Nell came in. “So,” she said. “You have returned from burying your sister.”
“Yes, Mother. And something has happened that I must discuss with you.”
“Come and sit down,” Mother Margaret said. “How are your mother and your father? Such a terrible thing for them, to lose your sister at so young an age. I am praying for them.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Nell replied.
“I see you are not wearing your wimple.”
Nell clutched her hands tightly together in her lap. “My mother made me take it off. Mother, something terrible has happened. My father has said that I can’t remain at the convent, that I must stay at home and take Sybilla’s place!”
There was a little silence, then Mother Margaret said softly, “I thought this might happen.”
Nell stared at her in shocked surprise.
Mother Margaret went on. “Your father is a very important man, Nell. He owns extensive lands, castles and manors. He has lost a son and a daughter and he needs an heir to carry on the family’s holdings and its bloodline. So I am not surprised that he wants you to come home.”
Nell found her voice. “But I was dedicated to God, Mother! Surely I ought not turn my back upon Him!”
Mother Margaret said gently, “When you were dedicated, your father had a son and another daughter. Now he has only you.”
Nell was stunned. Mother was sounding as if she approved of this change in Nell’s status! She said tensely, “I was hoping that you would speak to my father. I was hoping you would tell him that the ways of God come before the ways of men.”
Mother Margaret leaned a little forward. “My dear child,” she said. “we will miss you very much. You have given much joy to this convent. But you must obey your father, Nell. The Commandments tell us, honor thy father and thy mother.”
Nell felt betrayed. She had been so sure that Mother Superior would fight for her. “If you could just talk to him, perhaps he will change his mind,” she pleaded.
Mother Margaret shook her head decisively. Her light blue eyes held sympathy for Nell, but her words were adamant. “I will not interfere. You can continue to serve God, no matter what your station in life, Nell. You will be in a high position, a position where you can affect many lives—many more lives than you would affect in this convent. Perhaps God has had this plan for you all along. You learned here how to be a religious woman. Now it is time for you to take what you have learned and apply it to the life you will lead as mistress of many people.”
“But I don’t want to leave here,” Nell cried in deep distress. “I have been happy here!”
Mother folded her hands in her lap. “I am glad about that, but now your duty lies elsewhere, Nell. Your family needs you more than we do.”
There was a little silence. Nell hunched her shoulders and stared into her lap. “I thought you would take my side.”
“Look at me,” Mother Superior said.
Reluctantly, Nell lifted her eyes.
“Your job will be to work good in the world,” Mother said.
“That is a much harder task than praying from within the shelter of a convent, but I’m sure you’re equal to it.”
No, I’m not, Nell thought. I don’t want to go into the world.
Mother Superior continued. “One thing you can do is bring healing to those who need it. Sister Helen tells me that you are almost as accomplished an herb woman as she is. We have Sister Helen—we don’t need another healer. But many people in the world need the skill you have, Nell. That will be something you can do for God.”
Nell stared into Mother’s light eyes. She truly thought that Nell should go. She’s wrong, Nell thought rebelliously. I’m sure God wants me to stay here.
“Be a good daughter to your parents,” Mother Superior said. “They have need of you now.”
Nell’s chin set stubbornly and she did not answer. Mother Margaret stood up and Nell followed. Mother Margaret was half a head taller than the girl. “I am sure you will want to say goodbye to all your friends. Come, have dinner with us in the refectory and I will relax the order for silence so you may converse.”
There was nothing more that Nell could say. Mother Margaret’s mind was clearly made up. Tears stung behind Nell’s eyes. She was going to have to leave the convent.
Mother Superior said, “I am sure you will want to give your news to Sister Helen. I believe at this hour she is in the herb garden. Go and find her.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Nell pushed the words through the choking feeling in her throat.
She went back down the stairs and let herself out through the thick wooden door. This is terrible, she thought in panic as she crossed the courtyard and took the path that led between the convent and the squat storage building. How can I bear to leave here? How can I bear to leave Sister Helen?
The path descended gently to the convent’s large kitchen garden. At the far end of the garden was a fenced-off area and a small hut with smoke coming out of the smoke hole. Nell crossed the kitchen garden, went through the fence and into the hut.
A nun was standing with her back to the door, watching a glass pot as it cooked on a small stove. At the sight of the familiar figure, tears flooded Nell’s eyes.
“Sister Helen,” she said.
The nun turned. “Nell! You’re back. How are you? How are your parents?” She left the burner and came to stand beside Nell and look into her face.
Sister Helen was small, like Nell, and their eyes met easily. Nell looked into the pretty, unlined face of the person she loved best in the world and felt her stomach clench. The tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Oh, Sister Helen,” she cried. “Something terrible has happened. My father has said I must leave the convent and go to live with him and my mother. They want me to take my sister’s place!”
There was a moment of silence. The mixture of herbs gave off a pungent smell that filled the hut.
“Oh, my dear,” Sister Helen said, her voice full of aching sympathy.
Nell’s sobs broke loose. “I asked Mother Margaret to intercede with my father, but she won’t! She says I must obey my parents and leave the convent.”
Sister Helen took Nell’s hands into her own small work-worn ones. She spoke soberly, “Mother Margaret has no say in your future, Nell. You are the daughter of a powerful man. If the earl wants you home, then home you must go.”
“But he gave me away!” Nell cried through her tears. “He and my mother. They didn’t want me, Sister Helen. They still don’t want me. They need a daughter, that’s all. It isn’t fair that my life should be turned upside down because they have changed their minds.”
Nell flung herself forward and Sister Helen’s arms closed around her. There was a long silence where the only sounds were the pot boiling on the burner and Nell crying. Then Sister Helen said quietly, “Listen to me, Nell. It may very well be that God has other plans for you than the convent. You will join the world of the great. You may be in a position to do much good. Perhaps that is God’s plan for you.”
Nell said into her shoulder, “That is what Mother Margaret said. But I don’t think it’s true. I think I was meant to be a nun.”
Sister Helen patted Nell’s back between her shoulder blades. “I think you should listen to Mother. She is a very wise woman, Nell.”
“I don’t want to leave you!” Nell cried passionately. “You have always been my best friend. You have been more my mother than my real mother ever was.”
Sister Helen put her hands on Nell’s shoulders and held her away. She looked into her streaming eyes. “God knows, I will miss you very much. Very much. But we must bow to His will, my dear. That is what we are put on this earth to do.”
“It is the will of my father,” Nell retorted through her tears. “I’m not so sure it is the will of God.”
Sister Helen tightened her grasp on Nell’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Nell. I know this is hard for you. Your life is going to be very different from the life you have known. But it’s important that you feel you are doing God’s work in your new life. It is easy to be religious in the convent—much harder in the world. But that is now your calling and you must embrace it, however hard it may be. Are you listening to me?”
Nell said in a trembling voice, “I am listening, Sister.”
“Good. Take pity on your father instead of blaming him. He is a man who has lost two children. And your mother, too. Show yourself to be a good daughter to them—they need you now.”
They never needed me before.
“Have you heard me, Nell?” Sister Helen asked gently.
Nell tried hard to stop crying. “I heard you, Sister. But I still think this is the wrong thing to do.”
“It is important that you make the best of the life that has been chosen for you,” Sister Helen said soberly. “Promise me you will think about what Mother Margaret and I have said.”
Nell didn’t answer.
“Nell?”
“I promise,” Nell said in a low voice.
Sister Helen squeezed Nell’s shoulders then dropped her hands. “I will miss you,” she said painfully.
“Oh, and I will miss you!”
At that, Sister Helen held out her arms once again and Nell went into them. Sister Helen held her tight. Nell could smell the faint aroma of herbs that always clung to Sister Helen’s clothes. “Can I come and visit you?” she asked.
“You will always be welcome.”
Finally Sister Helen relaxed her arms and Nell stepped back. The nun said briskly, “It is time for dinner. Let me take this pot off the fire and we can go up to the refectory.”
Nell sniffed and nodded and waited while Sister Helen turned off the stove and removed the pot. Then the two women walked up the hill together.
Three
It was late in the afternoon and the Earl of Wiltshire and his grandson were returning from inspecting the defenses of the many castles and manors whose lords owed fealty to the earl. The Earl of Wiltshire was one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, the overlord of demesnes in Wiltshire, Dorset, Somerset, Hampshire, Surrey, Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire and Oxfordshire. As the country was braced for a civil war to break out between King Stephen and his cousin, the Empress Mathilda, the earl had thought it important to visit the lords who owed their feudal duty to him and to remind them that the earl had pledged his loyalty to King Stephen.
As the contingent of knights crossed Salisbury plain on their return to the earl’s main castle of Wilton, the sun shone on polished helmets and hauberks and shields, and the sheen of the horses’ coats almost equaled the brightness of the men’s armor. The summer day was breezy and the flag carried by the leading knight flew bravely. The jingle of the knights’ spurs and armor could be heard all along the road as they passed. Behind them came the pack horses carrying the household goods the earl considered necessary when he traveled: one horse was loaded with his dismantled bed, sheets, blankets and mattress, another with his wardrobe, another with the wine he favored and others still with the various items that contributed to his comfort.
The old man turned to his twenty-two-year-old grandson and said, “It will be good to get home. We’ve been away a long time.”
“It was early spring when we left and now it’s deep summer,” Roger replied. “But we had a good tour, I think.”
“It is wise to show your face once in a while,” the earl advised. “Remember that, my boy. There’s nothing like a little inspection to keep a man honest.”
“Yes, sir,” Roger said.
“I’m looking forward to sitting in my own hall, though,” the earl said. “I’m getting too old to be putting in so many hours in the saddle.”
Roger grinned. “You have more stamina than half of the knights, sir.”
“I put up a good front,” the earl grunted. “When we get home we can turn our thoughts to your wedding.”
Roger shifted his grip on the reins. “Ah, yes. The wedding. I still can’t believe you got the king to agree to it.”
“It was an enticement. He knows he needs to keep me loyal. If Wiltshire should go over to the empress it would be a catastrophe for Stephen. We hold sway over too much land for him to lose us.”
Roger shook his head in amazement. “But to join the earldoms of Wiltshire and Lincoln! The de Roches will be the most powerful family in the kingdom.”
The earl gave his grandson a sly smile. “I know. We will control all of Lincoln, as well as Wiltshire. We will sit astride the kingdom, Roger, as powerful as the king, and the Earl of Chester will be furious.”
“The present Earl of Lincoln is still very much alive, sir,” Roger pointed out. “The union of the two lordships won’t happen until he is dead. Only then will his daughter inherit.”
“Raoul de Bonvile wants what we want. He wants his blood to be foremost in the kingdom. That’s why he agreed to the marriage.”
They rode for a little way in silence, Roger’s thoughts on his upcoming union to this unknown girl. At last he said, “I hope Sybilla is pretty.”
“It doesn’t matter what she looks like,” the earl said. “What matters is what she brings to us. Earls do not marry for a pretty face, my boy, and you are the future earl.”
There was a little silence. Then Roger replied, “Yes, sir, I know. But it would help if she was pretty.”
“There’s no reason why she shouldn’t be pretty. Her mother is a very good-looking woman.”
They rode in more silence until the earl said with satisfaction, “There is Wilton.”
Roger looked up from his thoughts to the castle that had just come into sight. The first thing one saw upon approaching Wilton was the massive stone battlemented curtain wall, with its twin gate towers. Four other towers were set at the corners of each of the outer walls, and from the crenelated crests of each of these towers flew a crimson flag displaying the de Roche signature of a leopard.
“It’s impregnable,” the earl said with great satisfaction. It was a remark he made rather frequently. “The walls are fifteen feet thick. No siege artillery can breach them. Of all the castles we have seen in the past two months, nothing can match Wilton.”
Roger nodded, sharing his pride. The home of the Earl of Wiltshire was the greatest castle, outside the royal castles, in the country. It was one of the reasons why his grandfather was so powerful.
Within a few minutes the earl’s party passed over the moat, between the gate towers, under the raised portcullis and into the outer bailey. This courtyard contained stabling for the knights’ horses, as well as the usual storehouses and buildings for workmen and castle defenders. There was even enough room in the huge bailey to house additional troops, should they be necessary for the castle’s defense.
While the knights dismounted in the outer bailey, Roger and his grandfather continued on horseback toward the inner wall, which was also built of thick stone, with a second gate barred by another iron portcullis. A square tower stood at each of the four corners of these inner walls.
The knight on guard called out, “Welcome home, my lord,” as the earl and his grandson rode through the gate and into the inner bailey. This courtyard surrounded the keep, a square stone edifice, four stories high, with four towers that rose another two stories above the main building.
Grooms came running to take the earl’s and Roger’s horses and the two men went up the steep stone ramp that led to the main door of the keep.
The first floor of the castle was given over to store-rooms, the second floor to guardrooms, where the knights lived, and the third floor to the Great Hall. Roger and his grandfather climbed one set of narrow stairs and entered into the hall where most of the activity in the castle took place.
The room was empty now, and no fire burned in the immense stone fireplace that was set on the far wall. The three other walls were hung with large wall hangings to keep out the damp and the floor was strewn with rushes and herbs. Two heavily carved chairs were placed on either side of the fireplace and in front of one of them a dog was sleeping.
“Gawain!” Roger cried, and the dog lifted his head. “It’s me, fellow,” Roger said. “I’m back.”
As he recognized the beloved voice, the dog stood up and raced across the floor to his master, barking excitedly as he ran. Roger squatted on his heels and the rush of the dog almost knocked him over. Roger laughed and tried to pat the dog, but Gawain was too excited to stand still. He circled Roger, still barking excitedly.
The earl said indulgently, “You would never know he was eleven years old.”
Roger laughed. “He’s like you, sir. He wears his age lightly.”
Finally the dog calmed down enough to stand and let Roger pet him. “I’m sorry I had to leave you for so long,” Roger said into the adoring brown eyes of the black-and-white mongrel. “But you’re too old to come anymore. You couldn’t keep up, fellow.”
“It’s just as well he doesn’t come,” the earl said. “I can imagine what my vassals would think when they saw that my grandson’s dog is a notched-ear mongrel.”
“He’s the best dog in the world,” Roger said without heat.
“He is a good dog,” the earl agreed. “He’s certainly devoted to you.”
“He knows who loves him.” Roger stood up and pulled off his helmet, revealing his dark gold hair. “It’s still two hours before supper. Would you like a drink of wine, Grandfather?”
“That sounds like a very good idea. My poor old bones are sore from so many hours in the saddle.”
The two men moved toward the chairs in front of the empty fireplace. The shutters were pushed back on the high, narrow windows to let in the afternoon sunlight. The door to the hall opened again to admit two pages.
“Come over here, lads, and disarm us,” the earl called, and the two pages hurried over to them. Both men stood patiently while the boys undid the laces on their mail hauberks and pulled them over their heads. Each hauberk was made of leather, with more than two hundred thousand overlapping metal rings sewn on it for protection. Neither man was wearing the long-sleeved mail shirt or mail leggings that made up full armor.
When they had been stripped to the comfort and the coolness of their tunics, the earl and his grandson relaxed with their wine and enjoyed the comfort of their own hall. The door opened again and an elderly man came in.
“Simon,” the earl called. “Come over here and tell us what has been happening in our absence.”
Simon, who had been the earl’s squire when he was a youngster and was now his steward, crossed the floor, a smile on his face. “My lord, how happy I am to see you safely returned.”
“Thank you, it is good to be home.”
Simon turned to Roger. “It is good to see you, also, my lord.”
“How are you, Simon?” Roger returned. “How have your joints been holding up?”
“I am well, my lord. The sore joints, well, God has seen fit to burden me thusly and I must live with it.”
The earl said, “Has anything happened in my absence that I should know about?”
“You received a missive from the Earl of Lincoln, my lord. It came last week. I knew you were coming home soon, so I didn’t try to send it on to you. Shall I get it for you?”
“The Earl of Lincoln.” The earl glanced at his grandson. “I wonder what this can be about.”
“Perhaps it’s something about the marriage,” Roger said.
“Get the letter, Simon,” the earl said.
“I have it in my own room, for safekeeping.” The man began to move stiffly in the direction of one of the towers and Roger and the earl fell into conversation.
“The wedding must take place soon,” the earl said. “Everyone will want it done before the empress Mathilda and her half brother, Robert of Gloucester, land in England to take up arms against King Stephen.”
Roger agreed with his grandfather, agreed that the marriage was a great coup for the family, and was faintly ashamed that the idea of it made him so nervous. He was more comfortable talking about the political situation. “If the empress and her troops can land,” he said. “Stephen is having all the major ports watched.”
“England has too long a coastline to watch all the places where a ship might land,” the earl said. “They will make the crossing from Normandy and land somewhere that Stephen isn’t watching. Then they will make their way to Bristol, which is Robert’s stronghold. From there they will send out their summons to those they hope will support them.”
“Who do you think will answer that call, sir?”
“Brian fitz Count will probably join them, but most of the earls will play a waiting game. Men like Rannulf of Chester will want to see which side can offer him the most. They have no honor, men like that. They all swore an oath to uphold Stephen and now they are only looking out for themselves.”
Didn’t you do that, Roger thought, when you forced the king to give the heiress of Lincoln to me in marriage to keep you loyal?
But Roger would never say that to his grandfather.
The earl was going on. “Rannulf of Chester owns a quarter of the kingdom already, and he will be looking to increase his holdings. He will be furious when he learns that Stephen is giving us the earldom of Lincoln. Rannulf was hoping the prize of Lincoln would go to his half brother, William of Roumare. William has a number of castles in Lincolnshire.”
Roger said, “You are supporting Stephen because you think he will be the best king for England, isn’t that so, Grandfather?”
“Certainly,” the earl replied. “Stephen is a man and a warrior and as direct a descendant of the Conqueror as Mathilda is. Mathilda may be the daughter of the old king, and Stephen just the nephew, but undoubtedly Stephen is the best man for England. The empress has never lived in England—the old king sent her to Germany to marry the emperor when she was a young child, and she has lived in Normandy ever since the emperor died. Her second husband, Geoffrey Plantagenet, is fighting for the rule of Normandy—he has little interest in England. It is Mathilda who wants England for her son.”
At this point, Simon exited from the tower staircase and hurried toward them, a rolled piece of parchment in his hands. The earl gestured for him to give it to Roger.
“My old eyes can’t see to read these days,” he said. “Read it to me, my boy.”
Roger read aloud: “Greetings to the Earl of Wiltshire from his brother, the Earl of Lincoln. I bring you sad news. My daughter Sybilla went home to God on the third of June of this year.”
My God, she’s dead! Shocked, Roger looked up from the letter and over to his grandfather.
The earl glowered. “Hell and damnation,” he said. “This will spoil all our plans.”
Roger shook his head as if to clear it, then looked back down at the paper. “There is more,” he said, and began to read again. “Fortunately, this tragic news will not force us to cancel our plans. My other daughter Eleanor will take Sybilla’s place. The marriage between Lincoln and Wiltshire can go forward as planned.”
Roger looked up once more in bewilderment. “Another daughter? I thought the earl had only one.”
His grandfather raised his thick gray brows. “So did I. I wonder where this Eleanor came from.”
Roger felt a pang of uneasiness. There was something strange here. “Do you think there might be something the matter with her? That they kept her hidden for a reason?”
“I don’t know,” the earl said. “But I’m damned glad they had an extra daughter! This marriage will be the making of our family. I would be loath to give it up.”
Roger wasn’t listening. “I don’t want to marry someone who is not right in the head! Or is deformed!”
The earl said crisply, “I don’t care what is wrong with this girl, you will marry her because it is your duty to your family. All you have to do is get children on her. You can continue to pursue your other interests—like the silversmith’s widow that you see in town. But marry the heiress to all of Lincoln you will.”
“How do you know about Tordis?” Roger asked in surprise. “I never told you.”
“I know everything,” the earl said complacently. “Knowledge is power, my boy. That is another thing for you to remember.
“I will reply to Earl Raoul and tell him that we shall be happy to accept this other daughter,” he continued. “I will also suggest that we get the two of you wed as soon as possible.” The earl shuddered. “God, after all our careful plans, the whole scheme might have been lost because the girl died. How fortunate that they had this other daughter to bring forth.”
Roger was having a hard time sharing his grandfather’s enthusiasm. The thought of wedding a girl who had something wrong with her repulsed him. “Yes,” he said glumly. “Very fortunate.”
“Drink up, my boy, and don’t look so disheartened,” the earl recommended. “I married, like you, to advance the family, and the marriage turned out very well.”
“What about my parents?” Roger asked. “Did my father marry for the sake of the family?”
“Your father never did anything but thwart me in every way he possibly could. We won’t discuss him. You are the son of my heart, Roger. You are the child who will carry our name into the future.” The earl lifted his cup. “God bless you, my boy.”
It was the usual dismissive reply Earl William gave whenever Roger asked about his father. After so many years of being rebuffed, he knew enough not to pursue the subject.
Four
The first thing Lady Alice did to reclaim her daughter was to give her a bath and wash her hair. Nell had never been so embarrassed in her life. In the convent they had worn bath sheets, which went over the head and covered the sides of the tub like a tent, so that they could not see themselves naked. Lady Alice scorned the bath sheet. She had the servants set the big wooden bathtub up in a splash of sunshine from the window, and she herself set to work on her daughter. It was as if she thought she could scour all the years in the convent away from Nell if she scrubbed hard enough. Her hair was washed and rinsed three times before Lady Alice was satisfied.
The castle ladies had done a hasty job of taking up and taking in one of Sybilla’s gowns, and Lady Alice dressed Nell in it once she had come out of the bath. Then her hair was toweled briskly and braided into two long plaits that would fall over her shoulders when they had completely dried.
“Take a look,” Lady Alice said, handing Nell the first mirror she had ever seen. Nell peered in it cautiously, a little afraid of what she was going to find.
A girl with large, wary, dark blue eyes looked back at her. She had delicate eyebrows and a small, straight nose. There was color from the bath in her cheeks and her lips.
I’m pretty, Nell thought, and tried to squash the pleasure she felt at this discovery. Mother Margaret would say that worldly looks were not important and certainly were no measure of the worth of a person.
“You’re a very pretty girl, my dear,” Lady Alida said.
“Yes, you are,” Lady Alice agreed. “You don’t look like Sybilla, you look more like your grandmother—my mother. She was small and delicate, like you. But she ran a great household and raised a family at the same time, and so will you, Nell.”
I’m not Sybilla, even though I am wearing her dress, Nell thought, clenching her teeth. I’m Nell. I was brought up in a convent. I know nothing of how to run a great household. I don’t want to be married. I don’t want to run a great household. I want to go home.
But the convent was closed to her. As miserable as it made her, she was going to have to remain here at Bardney.
Over the next week, Nell attended meals and helped her mother and the ladies sew her new wardrobe. In the evenings she sat in front of the fire and listened to one of the squires play the lute. Outwardly she was docile and obedient to her parents, but inside she was grieving for the loss of her old life, for the loss of Sister Helen. At night she would kneel on the wooden floor of her room to say her prayers and ask the Lord to send her back to St. Cecelia’s. Then, almost as an afterthought, she would pray dutifully, If it is your will that I stay here, Lord, help me to learn to love my mother and my father. Help me to be a good daughter and to do good works in this strange place.
Then she would get into bed, loneliness engulfing her heart, and cry herself to sleep.
Ten days after Nell’s arrival at Bardney, the Earl of Lincoln’s usher approached the high table to tell the earl that his messenger had returned from Wiltshire with a reply.
“Send him to me,” the earl said, returning the piece of meat he had been about to eat back to his trencher. Nell, who was sitting between her mother and her aunt, heard the usher’s announcement but didn’t think much of it. She chewed slowly on her beef and didn’t notice the way her mother had stiffened.
The messenger came into the hall still wearing his spurs and carrying his helmet under one arm. He threaded his way between the trestle tables where the household was dining until he stood in front of Lord Raoul. He bowed his head. “My lord,” he said, “I bring you the reply to your missive. The Earl of Wiltshire bade me give it directly into your hand.”
“Thank you, Waldo,” the earl replied and took the rolled parchment from his messenger’s hand. “Sit you down and have some dinner.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Nell watched as the messenger found an empty place at one of the tables. He was greeted genially by his fellow diners, and a servant came scurrying with a trencher for him to put his meat upon. Another servant poured him some ale.
Nell looked back at her plate. There was so much meat served in her father’s house! In the convent, meat had been a luxury. Fish had been the food of choice, either caught fresh from the river or salted and dried.
Conversation at the high table was suspended while the earl read his letter. Then he rolled it up again and put it on the table next to his wineglass. He turned to his wife.
“All is well,” he said. “They want to proceed as quickly as possible.”
Lady Alice glanced at Nell. “It might be wise to wait a little, my lord.”
The earl shook his head. “This is a great matter, not something to be delayed because of a girl’s sensibilities. I will write to Lord William that we will be ready to receive him in two weeks’ time.”
Lady Alice did not reply.
“You haven’t seen the falcons yet, Nell,” Alida said brightly to Nell. “After dinner why don’t you come with me to look at them?”
Nell looked at her aunt. “That would be nice, Aunt Alida. Thank you.”
There was a smile on Lord Raoul’s lips. “A little more wine here, if you please,” he called heartily. One of the squires who was standing behind the table hastened forward with the wine for his lord.
Lord Raoul took a deep swallow, then he turned to Nell. “Never mind the falcons. Your mother and I want to talk to you after dinner, Nell. You will attend us in the family solar.”
“Yes, Father,” Nell said with some surprise. Her father had paid very little attention to her since she had come home.
When dinner was finished, mother, father and daughter climbed the stairs to the tower room that was the private family solar. The room was well furnished and comfortable, with a charcoal brazier for heat in the winter. The earl sat in a wide, carved, high-backed chair and his wife sat beside him. Her father waved Nell to a third chair that faced his. The chair was so high that Nell’s feet would not reach the ground, so she placed them on the embroidered footstool that was in front of it.
The earl began. “Nell, have you heard that your sister was betrothed to the grandson and heir of the Earl of Wiltshire?”
Nell clasped her hands tensely in her lap. She sensed that something big was forthcoming. “No, my lord,” she replied. “I did not know that.”
“The earldom of Wiltshire is very large,” her father explained. “And once the holdings of Wiltshire are combined with the holdings of Lincoln…Well, the man who holds that combined title will be almost as powerful as the king. So you can see that this marriage is a great thing for our house.”
Nell’s heart had begun to thud. She glanced at her mother. The countess was looking at her with an expression of pity in her eyes. Terror struck Nell’s heart. She thought she knew what was coming.
The earl continued on. “Sybilla’s death was a blow to my hopes, but fortunately I have another daughter. I wrote to the Earl of Wiltshire and today I have had his response. He is willing to see you wed to his grandson in place of Sybilla.”
Nell felt herself grow icy cold. She tried to speak and found she could not.
Her father said, “Earl William wants to see this marriage accomplished as soon as possible. I am going to write to tell him that we will be ready to receive him in two weeks’ time, on the date we set for the original wedding.”
“Her wardrobe will not be ready, my lord,” her mother interjected. “Surely we can put it off for a month at least.”
“That is not possible,” the earl said. “You were making clothes for Sybilla. Nell can wear those.”
Nell turned to her mother. “Mama, I am not ready to get married!”
Her mother said softly, “I am sorry this must come upon you so quickly, Nell. But you are the daughter of a great house. You must do your duty, I’m afraid.”
Nell could feel herself trembling. “You didn’t care about me when I was a child—you sent me away to the convent and forgot about me.” Her voice shook with anger. “And now you talk to me about my duty to my house? My duty is to God.”
The earl’s face darkened with anger. “Your duty is to obey your parents. I believe the Commandments—God’s Commandments—are very clear about that. And I tell you that you will marry Roger de Roche in two weeks’ time. That is all I have to say on this matter.” The earl stood up. His dark blue eyes looked very cold.
“Talk to your daughter,” he said to his wife.
Both women sat in silence as the earl exited from the room. Then Nell turned white-faced to her mother. “I don’t want to get married so soon, Mama! I don’t know anything about men. I have scarcely left the convent.”
Lady Alice leaned over and patted Nell’s clasped hands. “I know, my dear. But your father is set upon this great dynastic match and he won’t risk something happening to stop it. There is nothing I can say or do that will make him change his mind.”
Nell started to tremble all over. “I still feel a stranger at Bardney, and I have you and Aunt Alida. It will be terrible going to another castle, where I won’t know anyone.”
“Girls do it all the time, my dear. Perhaps Alida would go to stay with you for a few months.”
Nell didn’t say anything, she just continued to tremble.
“Sybilla was looking forward to this marriage,” Alice said brightly. “You will be a very great lady, Nell. You will have brought Lincoln, with all its castles and manors, into your husband’s keeping. He will reverence you for that.”
This can’t be happening, Nell thought with terror. She looked imploringly at her mother. “I’m just not ready for this, Mama,” she whispered.
Lady Alice came to sit on the arm of Nell’s chair and hugged her. “I will help you get ready,” she promised. “And, Nell, you must know it was very painful for me to send my little girl off to the convent. If I hadn’t thought that it was God’s will I could never have done it. And I missed you. Sybilla and Geoffrey could never fill the gap that you left.”
Nell turned her head and looked into her mother’s eyes. “Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“You used to come to visit me, but then you stopped.”
“Your father thought that I should leave you to the convent and not keep reasserting other ties. I could see that you were happy where you were, so I left you to immerse yourself in convent life. It was hard for me to do that, Nell. You may not believe that, but it was. Just as it was hard for me to send Geoffrey to be a squire in the Earl of Hertford’s castle. But that is the fate of a mother. You will find that out for yourself one day. We bear children, we love them, and then we must send them away to be brought up by other people. That is the way of the world, my dear. There is no use in railing against it.”
Nell thought it sounded like a dismal life. The convent, with its structured life, its warm, continuing friendships, was much more desirable.
“I don’t think I like the world, Mama,” she said in a little voice.
Her mother smiled. “You know nothing about the world, my dear. It may not be as safe as your convent, but it is brimming with life and love. Open yourself to life, Nell. Embrace it. Don’t look backwards. Don’t be afraid. Your future is an adventure where you might find happiness you never dreamed of. Give it a chance. Will you do that for me, sweeting?”
They’re making me marry a stranger, they’re sending me away again, and they want me to be happy?
Nell stared at her lap and didn’t answer.
Lady Alice started toward the door and after a moment Nell followed. I don’t want to get married, she thought desperately. I don’t want to get married.
But it was clear that her thoughts and feelings were of no matter to her father. It would serve him right if I died, too, she thought.
She fought back tears as she went with her mother down the stairs to the Great Hall. In her mind she turned for solace to the only friend she had. Dear God, she prayed, if it is your will that I marry this man, please give me the courage to face what must be faced. I beg you to help me, Father. I don’t know how I will be able to get through this alone.
Five
For Nell, the time until the date set for her marriage went by far too quickly. Every morning she woke up thinking, I’m another day closer to my wedding. And her stomach would churn and wouldn’t stop churning until she finally fell asleep again at night. She had no appetite and she lost weight, to the dismay of the ladies who were altering Sybilla’s clothes to fit her.
“You must eat,” her mother scolded her one afternoon as they sat at the table for dinner.
Nell looked at the food on her plate and her stomach heaved. “I’m not hungry, Mama,” she said.
Her mother said worriedly, “You didn’t have any weight to spare when you first arrived here, and this refusal to eat is making you look like the daughter of a poverty-stricken house.”
The earl, who had been in conversation with his chaplain, turned his head. “What is the matter here?” he asked his wife.
Lady Alice hesitated, then she said, “Nell is not eating properly, my lord. She grows too thin.”
The earl frowned at Nell. “What is the matter with you? The food at Bardney is of the best.”
“The food here is wonderful, Father,” Nell said quickly. “It’s just that I am not hungry.”
“If you are fasting, I am here to tell you that this is not the time. You are not a religious any longer, Nell. You are my daughter and I want you to eat.”
He turned to the chaplain. “Tell her, Father, that it is not appropriate for her to fast.”
Before the priest could speak, Nell said quickly, “I’m not fasting, Father. I’m just not hungry.”
“I don’t care if you are hungry or not. You will eat,” the earl said.
Nell’s stomach heaved at the thought. “I don’t think I can,” she said.
“Nonsense.” The earl scowled at her. “Pick up a piece of pork and eat it.”
Nell picked up the pork with her fingers. She looked at her mother. “It won’t harm you,” Lady Alice said. “Go ahead and eat it.”
Nell put the meat into her mouth. She chewed twice. Her stomach heaved and she shoved back her bench, got up and ran for the stairs. She threw up in the rushes before she was halfway there.
She heard her father curse.
Nell wrapped her arms around herself and stayed where she was. She had never felt so humiliated in her entire life. She had vomited in front of everyone! She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to look at the disgusting mess on the floor.
“It’s all right, Nell.” It was Aunt Alida’s voice close to her shoulder. “Martin will have someone clean it up. Come along with me and we’ll go upstairs.”
“You will both stay right here.” It was her father’s voice. “Nell may have gotten away with such behavior in the convent, but it won’t work here. If she doesn’t want to eat, that’s her choice. But she will sit with her family at dinner regardless of what she eats herself.”
Aunt Alida took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Come and have something to drink,” she said in a low voice. “Your mouth must taste terrible.”
I hate him, Nell thought. He doesn’t care about me at all. All he cares about is getting the earldom of Wiltshire.
She dropped her head so she would not have to look at anyone and let her aunt turn her and lead her back to the table.
The wedding party arrived at Bardney two afternoons before the wedding was to take place. Nell was in the ladies’ solar when a page came to inform them of her bridegroom’s arrival and to summon Lady Alice and Nell to the Great Hall. Nell was already dressed in her new finery, a fine white linen undertunic with embroidery at the cuffs and neck, and over it a dark blue overtunic, fitted closely to the waist from which it flowed out freely. Wrapped twice around her narrow waist she wore a jeweled belt and her two long brown plaits fell across her shoulders and almost touched the belt.
Nell felt numb as she walked with her mother down the main staircase that led into the Great Hall. She could scarcely even pray; all she could think was Please God, please God, please God…
The visitors were standing with her father in front of the fireplace. One of the men was tall; the other was of medium height. And slim.
That must be Roger, Nell thought.
With her eyes on the floor, she walked with her mother across the hall. When they had almost reached the fireplace her father stepped forward and offered her his arm. Thus supported, she was brought to meet her bridegroom.
“Earl William and Lord Roger,” her father said. “I am pleased to introduce to you my daughter, Eleanor.”
Nell curtsied to the earl, then turned to Roger. For the first time she lifted her eyes.
He was very handsome. His hair was dark gold and his eyes were golden, as well. She thought they bore an expression of relief.
“My lord,” she managed to say. “You are welcome to Bardney.”
“I am pleased to be here, my lady,” he replied, and smiled at her. He had a nice smile; his teeth were white and even.
Nell tried and failed to smile back.
Everyone, including the pages who sat on a bench along the wall, watched the two of them. Nell turned to her mother for help.
“Nell, why don’t you show Lord Roger around the bailey?” Lady Alice suggested. “I’m sure you two young people would like to spend some time together.”
The last thing Nell wanted was to be alone with her future husband. She gave her mother a reproachful look, but it was too late. The words had been spoken.
“Would you like to see the bailey, my lord?” she asked Roger. Her eyes were on a level with his mouth. At least he didn’t tower over her, like her father did.
“I would like that very much,” he said. He sounded courteous and she peeked a look upward. His eyes were grave.
“Go along, Nell,” her father said. “Be sure to show Roger my horses.”
“Yes, Father,” Nell said. Then to Roger, “Will you come with me?”
He fell in beside her and together they crossed the wide expanse of the Great Hall. Nell could feel everyone watch them as they went.
“I’m afraid I’m not overly acquainted with the bailey, my lord,” Nell said as they approached the door, “but I’ll do my best to show you around.”
“Are you called Nell?” he asked.
“Yes. My given name is Eleanor, but I have always been called Nell.”
He nodded. “Well then, Nell, why are you not acquainted with the bailey of your own castle?”
Her name sounded strange on this strange man’s lips. She said, “I have only been home for a month, my lord, and we have been busy making wedding clothes the whole time.”
They had arrived at the front door of the castle, which was open to let in the air. He looked at her curiously. “If you were not at Bardney all this time, then where were you?”
They walked through the door and started across the inner bailey, toward the portcullis gate. She shot him a swift, upward look. “They haven’t told you?”
He shook his head. Gold glinted from his hair in the sunlight. “They have told me nothing,” he said. “It seemed as if your father produced you out of nowhere, like a magician. My grandfather and I had always thought that Sybilla was an only daughter.”
Nell drew in a deep, steadying breath. “I was in the convent,” she said. “My parents sent me there when my brother was born. Then, when Sybilla died, they changed their minds.”
Roger was silent as they passed under the lifted portcullis gate. As they emerged into the large enclosure that was the outer bailey, he said slowly, “So that was the mystery. We wondered where this other daughter had come from.”
“I can’t imagine why they didn’t tell you,” Nell said.
He looked down at her. “I suppose your parents didn’t think it was important and my grandfather didn’t care. All that mattered to him was that there was another daughter.” He gave her a fleeting grin. “But I wondered where you had come from. I had a few unpleasant ideas, I can tell you that.”
He had a very nice speaking voice, very clear but not harsh. Not like her father’s.
He continued to look down at her. “Were you a nun?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I was due to be professed at the end of this year.”
The August sun shone brightly on the packed-dirt ground of the bailey. The blue flags flying from the towers fluttered in the afternoon breeze. The men guarding the main gate watched them as they turned left to follow the line of the wall. “How old were you when you were sent to the convent?” Roger asked.
“Eight,” she replied.
“You were there a long time,” he said, sounding surprised.
“Yes. It is the only life I ever knew until I came to Bardney a few weeks ago.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “Did you want to leave?” She returned his gaze straightly. “No, I did not.”
Wonderful, Roger thought ironically. They are marrying me to a girl who wants to be a nun.
Nell looked around. “My father wants me to take you to the stable, but I’ve never been out of this front part of the bailey. I don’t know where the stable is.”
Roger looked around at the storage sheds and craftsmen’s workshops that lined the stone walls in this part of the bailey. He said, “Let’s walk around the whole bailey and we’re certain to find it.”
They began walking toward the east side of the bailey, with Roger accommodating his stride to Nell’s shorter step.
Roger said, “Have they explained to you the reason for this marriage?”
“Yes,” Nell said shortly. “It is political.”
“It’s more than political,” he explained. “It’s dynastic. One day your son will be the Earl of Wiltshire and the Earl of Lincoln. It will be a position of unparalleled power in the kingdom. When Sybilla died, I imagine your father could not give it up.”
“No, he couldn’t,” Nell said bitterly. “And I don’t care much about dynasties.” She glanced up at him. He was looking straight ahead. His profile was cleanly cut, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He really was extraordinarily good looking.
“You would care if you had lived in the world,” he said. They passed the mews, where the earl’s falcons were housed. The head falconer was standing in front of it with a bird perched on his wrist. He tugged at his fore-lock as Nell and Roger went by.
“Do you want this marriage?” she asked directly.
“Yes,” he replied quietly. “My grandfather says it is a great opportunity for our house, and I agree. It is a great opportunity for both our houses, Nell.”
They walked in silence for a few paces.
In two days time I will be married to this man, Nell thought. A panicky feeling tightened her chest and her stomach. I will have to go with him back to his castle.
They turned the corner of the inner wall and saw several small fenced-in enclosures where horses were turned out. “Here are the stables,” Roger said, sounding relieved.
They walked up to the wooden building that was built against the stone outer wall of the bailey. It was a large structure that held the horses of forty knights. The smell of manure hung in the warm summer air. Two grooms were carrying water buckets from the well and Roger called to them, “Find me the head groom. We are here to see Earl Raoul’s horses.”
“Yes, my lord.” The grooms carried the water into the stable building and shortly thereafter a thin, red-haired man dressed in a plain brown tunic and cross-gartered leggings came out and hastened to join them.
Roger said, “I am Lord Roger de Roche and Earl Raoul has sent me to see his horses.” His voice was pleasant, not demanding.
“Yes, my lord.” The red-haired man beamed. “Lord Raoul’s mount is the finest stallion you’ll ever have seen, my lord. And he has a colt out of him by a splendid mare. Those are the horses you’ll be wanting to see.”
The horses were brought, the big chestnut stallion immediately intimidating Nell by rearing, and a bay mare with a chestnut colt at her side that was the image of his sire.
Nell kept her distance from the horses, making sure not to come too close to those iron-shod hooves. Roger walked right up to the stallion however, and got him to stand by simply telling him to do so. Nell couldn’t help being impressed. He then went over the entire animal, even running his hand down each hard leg. He checked over the mare and the colt in the same fashion.
“You’re right,” he said to the head groom. “These are superior horses. No wonder Earl Raoul is proud of them.”
The redhead grinned.
“Thank you for showing them to us,” Roger said.
Nell looked at him. She liked it that Roger had thanked the head groom. Her father never thanked the people who worked for him, but Mother Superior always did. She had said that everyone is loved by God, and we should never forget to give people the respect that they deserve.
They continued their walk around the bailey, past the archery butts where the knights were practicing, past the kitchen garden where the vegetables for the household were grown, past the lines of laundered clothes that were hung out to dry.
As they walked, Roger’s mind grappled with the situation that faced him. He was to wed a girl who might not be willing. This was not a possibility that had ever occurred to him. In its own way, it presented as many difficulties as if she had turned out to be strange in the head.
He had to address it. She was very pretty and he would like to marry her, but something in him recoiled from taking a woman against her will.
He put his hand on her arm and stopped her. They turned to face each other in the sunshine. “Nell,” he began carefully, “I don’t know if you know this, but the Pope has ruled that a woman cannot be forced to marry against her will. You can appeal to the church if that is the case. So let me ask you now, are you making this marriage willingly?”
No, I’m not, was her immediate reaction.
But she couldn’t answer him that way. The convent was closed to her; there was no place else for her to go. She shuddered at the thought of confronting her father with the news that she had told this man she wouldn’t marry him. She couldn’t defy her father. She didn’t have it in her.
She looked at her hands, which were clasped over her gold belt. “Yes,” she said in such a low voice that he had to bend his head to hear her. “I am marrying you willingly, my lord.”
“Are you sure?”
Tears stung behind her eyes. It occurred to her that he was the only person so far who had cared how she felt. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m sure.”
“All right,” he said. He lifted her chin with his thumb, so she had to look up into his face. He smiled at her. “I’m not such a bad fellow, Nell. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t get along.”
Her lips trembled and she blinked away her tears. “I will try to be a good wife to you, my lord.”
“And I will try to be a good husband to you.” He bent from his superior height and touched his lips to her cheek. “You’re a beautiful girl,” he said. “I consider myself a lucky man.”
Nell didn’t feel lucky, but it occurred to her that things could be worse. At least Roger seemed kind.
She said in a low voice, “You will have to be patient with me. I know very little of the ways of the world.”
He took her hand into his. “Don’t worry, little Nell,” he said. “I will take care of you. Everything is going to be all right.”
Six
Nell retired to her bedroom that evening with a hard knot of tension in her stomach. What had once been marriage in the abstract had suddenly become very real.
Gertrude, the handmaid who had been serving her since she’d come home, helped her to disrobe. Most of the Norman upper class slept naked, but Nell had worn a nightgown in the convent, and she continued to cling to this custom.
Gertrude was brushing her hair when her mother came into the room. “I want to talk to you, Nell,” Lady Alice said.
Gertrude curtsied to Lady Alice and left mother and daughter alone.
Lady Alice went to sit beside Nell on the bed. She picked up her daughter’s hand. “Roger is a very handsome lad,” she said. “I foresee a happy future for you, Nell.”
“He seems nice,” Nell said woodenly.
“Tomorrow we will go into Lincoln and the day after that you will be married. This may be the last time I have a chance to speak to you privately.” She squeezed Nell’s hand gently. “I think I should tell you about what happens between a man and a woman when they are wed. I have a feeling that you are completely innocent of this matter and I don’t want you to be shocked on your wedding night.”
Nell looked at the flowing white linen that was draped over her knees and didn’t answer.
Lady Alice said, “Do you know how a man and a woman make a baby?”
Nell shook her head and continued to look at her lap.
Her mother then described the act of lovemaking, and what Nell was to expect on her wedding night. Nell was speechless, unable to comprehend what she was hearing.
“It’s not so bad,” her mother said. “I know it probably sounds frightening to you, but it can be pleasurable, Nell.”
Nell thought it sounded terrible. This man, whom she scarcely knew, was going to do this to her? She looked at her mother. “Mama,” she said hoarsely, “I’m not ready to do that yet.”
Lady Alice shook her head. “I wish we could have waited for a while to have this wedding. You are too new from the convent to appreciate how lucky you are to be marrying a fine young man like Roger. But the men wouldn’t wait and you are just going to have to resign yourself, my dear. You are going to have to let Roger do what he wants—that is the nature of marriage, I’m afraid.”
Nell’s stomach heaved. “The basin,” she said. “Mama…”
Lady Alice grabbed the washbasin that reposed on Nell’s side table and Nell vomited into it.
“You can’t do this tomorrow, Nell,” she said sharply. “I sympathize with you, but you are going to have to do your duty. At least you are not going to an old man with sour breath and no hair. Your bridegroom is the kind of young man that most girls would give anything to marry. Show some backbone.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Nell said miserably.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have spoken to you tonight. Perhaps I should have let you find out for yourself.”
Nell shook her head. “No. I’m glad you told me. At least I can prepare myself now.”
“That’s my good girl.” Lady Alice stood up. “Now let’s get Gertrude to clean up this mess.”
After Lady Alice had left and the washbasin had been removed, Nell crawled into bed and curled up into a tight little ball. Roger’s words from this afternoon kept going through her mind. The Pope has decreed that no one can force a woman to marry against her will.
What if she cited this proclamation by the Pope? What if she refused to make this marriage?
She thought of how angry her father would be.
She thought of what Mother Superior and Sister Helen had said to her.
She thought of her mother.
Show some backbone, her mother had said.
She shut her eyes tightly. She would have to go through with it. There was really no choice.
Roger awoke with the sun the following morning. Today he, his grandfather and their retainers would process into Lincoln to spend the night at the sheriff’s quarters in the castle. They would be followed an hour later by Nell and her wedding party, who would spend the night in the bishop’s lodging. On the morrow the bishop would perform the ceremony that would wed him to Nell de Bonvile.
She’s so pretty, Roger thought as he stretched his arms comfortably above his head. Her eyes were beautiful—so dark and yet so blue. And she was shy.
I can handle shyness, he thought. I’ll get Lady Mabel to take her under her wing and show her what her duties will be as my wife. Lady Mabel was married to Simon Everard, the earl’s steward, and she was in charge of the few ladies who currently resided at Wilton castle.
Roger was placed next to Nell at the high table for breakfast. He smiled down into her pale face. “Just think, tomorrow at this time we will be getting married.”
Nell went even paler. “Yes,” she said faintly.
His smile faded. “Are you ill? You don’t look well.”
“I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well, that is all.”
Roger had slept soundly; he usually did, no matter where his bed might be. “We’re leaving right after breakfast,” he said now. “I won’t see you again until we meet at the church.”
Nell nodded. She had taken scarcely a bite of the fresh white bread that was in front of her. “Are you nervous?” Roger asked.
She produced a faint smile. “Yes. I’m not used to being the center of attention.”
He gave her a reassuring smile in return. “Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”
“I’m sure it will be,” she said in a low voice.
She was as pretty this morning as he’d remembered, he thought. Her skin was flawless in the sunlight coming in through the high windows of the hall. She’s frightened, he thought. I’ll have to be very careful with her.
The bridegroom’s party left Bardney directly after breakfast. Nell looked out the window as the wedding party lined up in the outer bailey. The knights leading the party wore armor, but Roger and his grandfather were dressed in fine tunics, flowing mantles and low, soft boots. Their heads were bare and Roger carried a bag of coins to fling to any bystanders they might pass along the way.
The sun reflected off Roger’s hair, making it shine like one of the golden coins he carried.
“He’s so handsome.” Marie, one of the ladies, came up behind her. “You’re so lucky, Nell.”
She sounded wistful. Nell realized that Marie wished she was the one marrying Roger tomorrow. Well, Nell wished that, too. “Yes,” she replied quietly. “He is very handsome.”
Lady Alice came into the room. “Come along, Nell, and get dressed. We have to make a show for the common folk. They will be lining the road to see you.”
“Yes, Mama,” Nell said dully, and turned to follow her mother out of the room.
Nell’s wedding day dawned overcast and damp.
“At least it isn’t raining,” Lady Alice said brightly as she and Lord Raoul walked beside Nell to the cathedral. They were all dressed in their best finery, with Nell wearing a deep blue overtunic over a red undertunic. It was Sybilla’s dress, redone to fit Nell. Lord Raoul and Lady Alice also looked richly colored and sumptuous. They all wore mantles suspended around their shoulders by gold chains, and Nell’s braids were entwined with gold thread and fastened with golden balls. She was bareheaded while Lady Alice wore a small veil anchored by a thin gold circle.
Lord Raoul looked down upon his daughter with approval. “You look very nice, Nell,” he said. “Roger will think himself a lucky man to be getting such a pretty bride along with an earldom.”
“Thank you, Father,” Nell said in a voice that was scarcely audible.
“You need some color in your cheeks, though,” he said. “Here.” Lady Alice stepped in front of Nell so she had to stop, then she pinched her daughter’s cheeks. “There,” she said. “That’s better.”
The Bail of the castle was filled with people waiting to catch a glimpse of the bride. Thank goodness the bishop’s residence is right next to the cathedral, Nell thought. She didn’t feel prepared to run the gamut of a large, noisy crowd.
“Ah, isn’t she lovely,” a woman’s voice called out. “Good luck to you, dearie.”
The crowd murmured agreement.
Then they were walking up the steps of the cathedral and into the large stone building. Martin Demas, Bardney’s steward, was standing in the vestibule waiting for them. Lord Raoul cracked the door into the church and peered in.
“It’s full,” he reported proudly. “Looks like all of our and Wilton’s vassals in the area came.”
“That they did, my lord,” Martin said.
Nell shivered a little and crossed her arms over her blue tunic.
This can’t be happening to me. I can’t be standing here, waiting to get married. Oh, God, why did Sybilla have to die?
Nell wet her lips with her tongue. “Where is Roger?” she asked.
Her father looked through the door again. “He just came out to stand beside the altar.”
Lady Alice said, “I should take my place.”
The steward came to her. “I will escort you down the aisle, my lady.”
“Thank you,” Lady Alice said.
Nell stood, her arms crossed over her chest, as her mother left the vestibule to walk down the church aisle. Lord Raoul watched through the partially open door. When Lady Alice was finally seated, the cathedral choir began to sing an unaccompanied Gregorian chant.
“That’s our signal,” the earl said. He offered Nell his arm. She put her small hand on it and together they entered the church and began to proceed down the aisle.
Nell felt like a helpless animal being led to the slaughter. She could feel the people looking at her from either side, but she stared ahead at the bishop, who was waiting for her at the top of the aisle. He was magnificently dressed in gold vestments, with his white miter hat making him look very tall. He was flanked by six altar servers who were dressed in crisp white cassocks.
What if I told the bishop that I was being coerced into this marriage? What would he do?
Nell and her father stopped before the bishop and Roger came to join them.
The bishop raised his hands and the singing stopped. He spoke clearly, so he could be heard throughout the church. “We are gathered here today to join these two young people in a yoke of concord and an indissoluble chain of peace. This union is blessed by God and is as holy and sacred as is Christ’s love for his bride, the church. It is not to be taken lightly or unadvisedly.” He looked from Roger to Nell. “Do you understand this?” he asked, his face stern.
“We do,” Roger said and, after a brief moment, Nell echoed his words.
The bishop next looked at Lord Raoul. “Who is it who gives this woman in marriage to this man?”
“I do,” Lord Raoul said firmly.
“Do you swear that there is no known reason why this couple may not be joined in holy matrimony?”
I could speak up now, Nell thought wildly. I could tell the bishop I am not willing….
She almost opened her mouth, but then her father said, “I swear that there is no reason why this couple may not be joined in holy matrimony.”
The words of denial just wouldn’t come.
The bishop looked to Roger. “You may take the bride’s hand.”
I am being handed over from one to the other, just like a piece of chattel, Nell thought despairingly.
Roger reached out and took Nell’s hand into his. His large grasp felt warm around her frozen fingers.
She stood next to Roger and they listened as the bishop read to the church the Old Testament passage about the creation of the world: “God created man in His image, in the divine image He created him, male and female He created them. God blessed them, saying, ‘Be fertile and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it.’”
The bishop made the sign of the cross over them, and Roger and Nell turned to take their places at the kneelers on the altar. The bishop started the mass.
The familiar Latin words rolled over Nell, but her mind was on the reading the bishop had just given. The purpose of marriage was procreation. She remembered what her mother had told her about how babies were conceived, and she shuddered. How could she endure such a violation of her modesty?
Her attention went back to the mass when the bishop mounted the pulpit.
The bishop began reading from the book of Matthew: “When Jesus finished these words, he left Galilee and went to the district of Judea across the Jordan. Great crowds followed him, and he cured them there. Some Pharisees approached him, and tested him, saying, ‘Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any cause whatever?’ He said in reply, ‘Have you not read that from the beginning the Creator made them male and female and said, “For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh?”’ So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, no human being must separate.”
Marriage is a sacrament blessed by God, Nell told herself. This is a holy thing I am doing.
But I always thought I would be a bride of Christ, not of a man! Sybilla should be making this marriage, not me. I should be back in the convent, where I belong, not here, being wed to this stranger.
Now the bishop was coming to the center of the altar to stand in front of them. “My brother and sister in Christ,” he said. “You have come here today to ask the church’s blessing on your marriage. Marriage was ordained by God for the procreation of children, to avoid fornication and for the mutual help and comfort that one might have of the other. Therefore I must ask of you, do you Roger de Roche, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”
“I do,” Roger answered firmly.
“Do you pledge to care for her, to comfort her, to be faithful to her all the days of your life?”
“I do,” Roger answered again.
The bishop turned to Nell. “Do you, Eleanor de Bonvile, take this man to be your wedded husband?”
There was a pause. I could say no, she thought. But she didn’t have the nerve. “I do,” she said in a voice that was scarcely audible.
“Do you pledge to care for him, to comfort him, to be faithful to him all the days of your life?”
“I do,” Nell said.
“Do you have the ring?” the bishop asked Roger, who took a plain gold band from a pouch on his belt.
“You may put it on her finger,” the bishop said.
Roger took Nell’s small, cold hand into his and slid the ring on her finger. It was too big and she had to close her fist to keep it on.
The bishop then spoke to the assembly in the church. “In as much as Roger and Eleanor have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed to it before God and this company, and have given and pledged their lives to each other, and have declared the same by the giving and receiving of a ring, I pronounce that they be man and wife. In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Roger turned his head and smiled down at Nell. She did not smile back.
It’s done, she thought bleakly. It’s been sealed by the bishop in front of all these people. I’m married to Roger de Roche.
Nell listened to the familiar prayers, but she felt detached from it all. She felt numb. It was as though all of this were happening to someone else and all she was doing was looking on. Even when she received the host upon her tongue and bent her head to pray, she felt a distance. This had always been one of her favorite moments of the day; she had felt so close to Christ when she received Him into her own body. But now her words seemed perfunctory, not deeply felt as they usually were. “Help me, Jesus,” she prayed automatically. “Please help me.”
Finally the mass was over and the bishop was coming to stand before them once more. It was time for the last blessing. He raised his hands and began to pray.
The spectator that was Nell bowed her head. Then the six altar servers lined up to process out, and the bishop fell in behind them. Roger gave Nell his arm and they took their places behind the bishop. The choir once more began to chant as the procession moved down the center aisle of the cathedral.
The wedding was over. They joined their families in the vestibule and, after much congratulations, they walked over to the bishop’s residence where the wedding supper was to be held. Nell’s hand rested on the fine linen of Roger’s sleeve. It’s done, she thought sadly. I’m married. She walked beside Roger like an animated doll. I’ve been handed over from my father to Roger. The life I knew is gone for good.
Seven
The wedding supper was held in the bishop’s private dining room and was attended by the bishop, Nell and Roger, Earl Raoul, Lady Alice, and Roger’s grandfather, Earl William. The rest of the congregation was being fed in the sheriff’s quarters in the castle. Behind each of the guests was a squire from Bardney, ready to serve each course as it came out of the kitchen, to fetch more wine, and to bring ewers and basins so they could wash their hands. The Norman aristocracy was fastidious about cleanliness, and since they ate with their hands and shared dishes, etiquette decreed that hands and nails must be kept scrupulously clean at table.
The men carried on the conversation and the talk was about the expected landing of the Empress Mathilda on English soil.
“Stephen has men in position at all the main ports,” the bishop said. “If she tries to land, she will be turned back.”
“There are dozens of small ports along the English coast where she may come in,” Lord Raoul said. “I doubt she’ll try to land at some place like Dover.”
“Robert of Gloucester is too smart to try to come in at a main port,” Lord William agreed. Robert, Earl of Gloucester, was the empress’s powerful bastard half brother. He was the chief English champion of her cause and her main adviser.
“How many men do you think will come with her?” Roger asked.
“I don’t know,” Lord Raoul said. “I don’t think her husband will want to give up any of his men, not while he is engaged in the conquest of Normandy. It’s Mathilda who wants England, not Geoffrey Plantagenet.”
“She wants the crown of England for her son,” Lord William said.
“Aye,” Lord Raoul agreed. “Just as Stephen wants to keep it for his own son.”
Roger dipped his meat into the dish of sauce that was between him and Nell. “What do you think will happen when she does land?” he asked.
“We’ll have to wait and see how many barons go over to her side,” Lord Raoul replied.
Roger brought the piece of meat back to his trencher. “Brian fitz Count has always been one of her supporters.”
“Yes,” Lord Raoul said. “And a few men from the west may go over to support Gloucester. That’s where she’s going to find her chief support—in the west.”
Nell listened to the men talk, but the reality of what they were saying didn’t penetrate her tense self-absorption. All she could think of was what was going to happen between her and Roger when the feast was over.
“Civil war is an ugly thing,” Roger said somberly.
“We have the power to protect our own,” Lord William said.
“Yes, there will be few who will want to antagonize us, not with this alliance we have forged.” Lord Raoul sounded very satisfied.
The bishop had been largely silent while the earls spoke, but now he said, “The Bishop of Winchester is Stephen’s brother. That will help him with the church.”
The conversation continued as the meal was served: soup, roasted pork and mutton with various sauces, green beans and green leaves for a salad, all served on fresh white-bread trenchers and washed down with red wine.
Nell could barely eat. Her mother looked at Nell’s almost-full plate and started to urge her to eat more, then fell silent. Instead, she reached over and squeezed Nell’s hand, where it lay loosely in her lap. Nell turned to her mother in surprise and Lady Alice gave her an encouraging smile.
The meal was finally finished and all the men turned to look at the two women who were seated side by side.
“I believe it is time for you and your daughter to go upstairs,” Lord Raoul said to his wife.
“Yes,” Lady Alice said. She stood up. “Come along, Nell.”
Nell stood up, as well. Lady Alice took her hand in a warm, reassuring grip, and Nell followed her to the door and up the stairs to the bedroom where she had slept alone last night. Gertrude was there, waiting for her.
“You must disrobe,” Lady Alice said. “Then the bishop will come to bless your bed.”
Nell stared at her mother out of enormous dark blue eyes. “I can’t do this, Mama. Please don’t make me do this.”
“This is something that all women of your class must do,” Lady Alice said briskly. “Believe me, Nell, having a husband is far better than not having one. Every one of my ladies would give the world if they could change places with you.”
“I would change places with them happily,” Nell said despairingly.
Lady Alice’s voice sharpened. “Remember who you are, Nell. You are the daughter of the Earl of Lincoln. Don’t shame your father and me by playing the coward. You are wed to a fine young man. You should appreciate that.”
Nell was silent. It was clear that she wouldn’t get any sympathy from her mother. Her mother thought she should be happy about this wedding.
I have to do this, she thought. Please, Lord, please help me to be brave.
Lady Alice and Gertrude stripped Nell down to her chemise and her drawers. They would have gone further, but Nell wrapped her arms around herself. “Can’t I wear my nightgown?” she pleaded.
“No,” Lady Alice replied. “But I have brought a night robe with me. Put it on and you can finish undressing underneath it.”
She handed Nell a rich blue velvet robe that was open in the front and tied around the waist with a matching velvet belt. Nell put it on, turning her back on her mother and her maid, and slipped off her chemise and her drawers and drew the robe close around herself.
The velvet was very warm. Too warm for the bedroom, but Nell didn’t care. It covered her up; that was all that was important to her.
There was a silver pitcher of wine on the table under the window and Lady Alice poured Nell a glass. “Here, drink it. It will help.”
Nell still wasn’t used to wine, but she took the glass and swallowed a sip. Her eyes watered and she handed the silver goblet back to her mother. “It tastes terrible,” she said.
“You will learn to like it,” Lady Alice said.
I don’t think so, Nell thought rebelliously. I don’t think I’ll learn to like anything about what is happening to me tonight.
The sound of men’s voices floated through the thick wooden bedroom door. Involuntarily, Nell tightened the robe about herself. There was a knock on the door. Lady Alice called, “Come,” and the men entered the room.
The first thing Roger thought when he saw Nell was how lovely she looked. Her hair had been taken out of its braids and it flowed in a loose silken stream down her back. She was wearing a blue velvet robe, like the light woolen robe that covered his own nakedness. She looked so small and delicate as she stood next to her mother. She wasn’t looking at him.
The bishop stepped forward. He was carrying holy water in a small gold bucket and he dipped the shaker into it and sprinkled the bed. “I bless this bed and this marriage,” he said as he sprinkled. “May Roger and Eleanor follow your will, O Lord, and be fruitful and multiply. May they see their children like olive plants around their table. May the Lord so fill them with all spiritual benediction and grace, that they may so live together in this life, that in the world to come they may have life everlasting. Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone in the room with the exception of Nell echoed.
“It is time for us to leave,” Lady Alice said firmly.
Roger watched Nell as the room cleared. Her long brown hair was tucked behind her small ears and spread in a smooth fan to her waist. The pure oval of her face was regarding the floor with grave absorption.
Then they were alone.
He crossed the floor to where she stood. “You are so beautiful, Nell,” he said.
She cast a quick upward glance at him, then looked away.
A shy one, he thought.
“Everything will be all right,” he said reassuringly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She nodded slightly.
He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face up, so she would have to look at him. Then he bent his head and kissed her.
She gave him no response. He deepened the kiss and she hung like a doll in his arms. He could feel her trembling.
He lifted his head. “What is wrong?”
She didn’t answer, but a tear crept its way down the ivory of her face.
Roger muttered a curse word to himself.
“What is wrong?” he repeated, more strongly than before.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” she said. She spoke so low that he had to bend his head to hear her. “I know I should be brave but I just can’t seem to be.”
“Brave?” he said. “You said you entered this marriage willingly.”
She stared at his chest. “Everyone told me I had to do it. Even Mother Superior told me it was an opportunity for me to do good in the world. There was no place else for me to go….” Her voice ran out.
“I see,” he said quietly. And suddenly he did. They had all pushed her into this marriage for their political ends and no one had cared that she was a convent-raised girl who knew nothing of the world, nothing of men. Even he—he had asked her if she was willing and he had been very happy to accept her weak assurance that she was.
“Come sit beside me,” he said, and moved to sit on the side of the bed. Slowly she came to join him. The bed was so high that her feet didn’t touch the floor. He picked up one of her icy hands and held it between his two.
“What do you know about human coupling?” he asked bluntly.
He felt her hand grow rigid. “My mother told me last night,” she said tersely.
He sat there, thinking about what he should do next. He was a young man, with all a young man’s passions, but it occurred to him that if he took her tonight it would be nothing less than an act of rape. She was so frightened, this little girl from the convent. And he was a perfect stranger to her.
He inhaled deeply. “Would it be easier for you if we waited for a while?” he asked. “Perhaps, after you get a chance to know me better, all of this won’t seem so terrifying.”
She turned to look at him. “Do you mean that?” she asked breathlessly.
“I don’t want a wife who has to be brave to make love with me,” he said wryly. “I want a willing partner. The act of love can be a very beautiful thing, Nell, but I don’t think you’re ready to find that out yet. Get to know me. Get to be my friend. Then we will accomplish the marriage act and get to work on all of those olive plants around our table.”
For the first time that day color flushed into her cheeks. “Oh, my lord, that would be wonderful!”
“Call me Roger,” he said.
Her lips parted a little. She was really very lovely. “Roger,” she said shyly.
He smiled at her. “Nell. I am not such a bad fellow, but I will let you find that out for yourself. In the meantime, I think we should keep our little arrangement to ourselves. I have a feeling that our elders would not approve.”
“My mother would, I think, but not my father,” Nell said, her voice stronger now. “Mother wanted the marriage to be delayed to give me a chance to adjust to life outside the convent, but Father wouldn’t hear of it.”
“My grandfather also wanted the marriage to take place quickly.” He grinned at her. “I was nervous, too, you know.”
“You were?” she looked at him wonderingly.
He nodded. “I was afraid you were going to be ugly and that I wouldn’t be attracted to you at all. I was much relieved when I saw how pretty you are.”
A little more color came to her face. “It is vain of me, I know, but when I saw my face in the mirror I was happy that I looked nice,” she confessed.
He stared at her in astonishment. “You sound as if this was a recent occurrence.”
“Since I came home, a few weeks ago. There were no mirrors in the convent.”
“You really didn’t see yourself until a few weeks ago?” She nodded. Then she offered, “My mother’s ladies were all agog about how handsome you are. They all of them wished that they were marrying you.”
“But my looks didn’t sway you.”
“I prayed that you would have a kind heart,” Nell said. She actually smiled at him. “And you do. I thank you, my lord, for your consideration of my feelings.”
“Roger,” he said.
Her smile stayed in place. “Roger.” Her hand loosened its clutch on her robe and the top of it opened a little, giving him a glimpse of her long, delicate throat. She said, “I hope I am not going to be a disappointment to you. My mother has been trying to teach me how to run a castle, and I have learned somewhat, but much of it is still unknown to me.”
“You will do fine,” he said cheerfully. “My grandfather’s steward, Simon Everard, is in charge of all the domestic staff in the castle, and things run like clockwork. Lady Mabel, Simon’s wife, is in charge of the women. Will you be bringing ladies with you?”
“My aunt, Lady Alida, will come with me and stay a few months until I am settled in. How many ladies do you have in residence?”
“Not very many, I’m afraid. We are very much a bachelor household. My grandfather has been a widower for many years.”
“How old is he?” Nell asked.
“Seventy,” Roger replied.
“He seems very young for his age,” Nell said.
“He is. This year he insisted on going on a tour of his vassals that took us almost two months. He bore up wonderfully.”
“You sound as if you love him very much,” Nell said softly.
“My own father died when I was an infant and he is the only father I have ever known,” Roger replied matter-of-factly.
“What about your mother? She doesn’t reside at Wilton?”
“No. After my father died, my mother went to live at the convent in Cirencester.”
“Is she a nun?”
“No, she is still a laywoman, but she chooses to live there instead of at Wilton.”
Nell gave him a shy smile. “You seem to be surrounded by convent-dwelling women—first your mother and now your wife.”
“Yes.” He returned her smile. “It is odd.”
Her eyes slid away from his and her fingers once more clutched the front of her robe. “I have always slept in a nightgown,” she said. “Do you think I can sleep in this robe tonight?”
“I think you will be very uncomfortable if you do,” Roger said. “Velvet on a summer night, no matter if it is a bit chilly, is too warm. Besides, they will think it odd in the morning when the servants come in. I won’t look if that’s what you want.”
“That would be…good,” she said, relieved. “Should I get into bed now?”
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll just wait here.”
She slid off the bed and went to the other side. The cover had already been turned back and she quickly folded her robe at the bottom of the bed and slipped in between the sheets, pulling them up to her chin.
“It’s all right, I’m in bed,” she said to Roger.
He turned to look at her and smiled. I have a long way to go here, he told himself. Then, unselfconsciously, he shed his own robe and walked to the opposite side of the bed. He slipped in under the covers and pulled them up to his waist. Then he turned to Nell. She was staring resolutely at the ceiling.
“You can look at me,” he said softly.
She shot a swift look in his direction, then returned her stare to the ceiling.
“Will it be all right if I kiss your forehead?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said on a soft breath.
He moved closer to her, pushed himself up on his elbow and leaned over her. He bent lower and touched his lips to her forehead. Her skin was soft as silk and her hair smelled like lavender. He inhaled. “Your hair smells nice,” he said.
“Mama washed it in lavender soap,” she said.
“I like it.”
“I’m sure I can make some myself if you really like it,” she said.
He flopped on his back. “I like it on you. I’d lose all my status with my knights if I showed up smelling like lavender.”
She chuckled.
It was a charming sound, he thought. He was relieved to find she had a sense of humor.
“Good night, Nell,” he said.
“Good night, Roger,” she replied softly. With a wry smile, he settled himself to sleep.
Eight
Nell, who had scarcely slept at all the night before, slept deeply and was surprised when it was a male voice that called her back to the world.
“Nell, wake up,” Roger was saying. “Your maid is here to help you dress.”
She opened her eyes and looked into the dark gold eyes of her husband. He smiled at her. “Wake up,” he said again. “We are going to be late for mass.”
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Joan Wolf
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Twelfth-century Normandy–as a fierce battle for the crown erupts, a powerful knight and his innocent bride will discover their destinies are passionately entwined….Just weeks away from taking her holy vows, Nell de Bonvile learns of her elder sister′s tragic death. Swept from the convent, she is ordered to take Sybilla′s place as bride to Roger de Roche, heir to Britain′s most powerful earldom. Lovely, naive and totally unprepared for life outside the convent or the ways of men, Nell bravely faces her uncertain future.Indifferent to marriage for anything other than political gain, Roger is prepared to wait until his innocent bride comes to him willingly. Yet as he watches Nell blossom from timid girl to courageous mistress of his keep, his desire for her grows all-consuming. But war gives no quarter to newfound passion, plunging them both into a battle that will pit father against son, invaders against loyalists, testing every whispered word, and each unspoken promise….