The Innocent (12 page)

The abbess took up a small hairbrush, and began to brush Elf’s long hair, which had never been cut, and now extended to her knees. When the lovely pale red-gold hair was shining, it was left loose in tribute to her virtue. A sheer golden silk veil was set atop her head, and held in place with a green ribbon. "There," the abbess said with a small smile. "You are ready, my daughter."

"Oh, Elf, you are really beautiful!" her best friend said.

"I feel so strange. I have never worn anything but my simple convent garb. This garment is so rich. I fear I am most out of place in it.

"Nay," the abbess responded. "It is a costume for a special occasion. For a wedding, or a festival, or if you should go to court. It is perfectly suitable for your station. But come, now. We are expected in the bishop’s private chapel before the Mass. It is almost time, and we must hurry."

Escorted by the three nuns, the bride was brought to the place of worship where the Bishop of Worcester made his personal devotions. It was a small chamber. A simple oak altar, a fine white linen cloth covering it, bore a beautiful gold cross with matching candlesticks burning pure beeswax candles. There were no windows in the room, but hung about the walls were the stations of the cross, represented in simple paintings in arched frames. The bishop in his fine robes was awaiting them, as was the bridegroom.

For the first time since they had met, Elf studied this man she was about to wed. He was at least a foot taller than she was. His chestnut brown hair was cropped short in defiance of fashion, and he was clean-shaven unlike many of his peers. His face was long rather than round, and he had a squared chin. His nose was prominent, although not out of proportion with the rest of his face; his hazel eyes oval in shape; his mouth big; his cheekbones chiseled. His brows were thick and dark, and Elf could not help but notice he had very long eyelashes. His skin tone seemed fair, but weathered. He did not appear too old.

Ranulf de Glandeville was aware of Lady Eleanore’s close scrutiny. He was garbed in his finest dalmatica, a rather extravagant scarlet silk with bands of embroidery on the sleeves, and about the neckline. His dark blue chausses-long, tight-fitting hose-showed in the area between the hem of his dalmatica, and his cuffed, soft leather boots. An embroidered blue and gold girdle encased his body. He wore no sword within the holy place, and his head was bare.

The bishop looked for a moment on the couple before him. How suited to marriage was the girl, he decided. Her face, even surrounded by the simple wimple of a nun, was so lovely it would tempt a man far more chivalrous than Saer de Bude. Aye, the girl was not meant for the cloister. This faithful knight of the king's, Ranulf de Glandeville, would master her, and keep both her and her lands safe. His conscience quite clear, he began the marriage ceremony.

Elf listened to the drone of the bishop’s Latin. Her fate was sealed. She had been taught all these years to be obedient, yet she felt the flames of rebellion within her heart. She almost jumped with surprise as Ranulf de Grandeville reached out to take her little hand in his big paw. She glanced quickly up at him, but his eyes were focused straight ahead upon the bishop even as he gave her fingers a little squeeze. A terrifying thought leapt into her brain. Could he read her mind? Did he know what she had been thinking? No! He could not have known-
or could he?

Gently prompted by the abbess, who stood by her side, Elf made her responses, agreeing to her marriage vows before God and this small company of witnesses. To her surprise her bridegroom placed a small, delicately made gold ring studded with rubies upon her finger… and it fit perfectly! When the bishop finally pronounced them husband and wife, she turned with Ranulf de Glandeville to find that King Stephen had slipped quietly into the bishop’s chapel to observe the ceremony. Now he came forward, and Elf knelt before him, placing her hand in his to give him her fealty, for she had not previously done so.

The king raised the bride up, and smilingly claimed his right as monarch to kiss the bride on both her blushing cheeks.

"I have brought you a wedding gift, Lady Eleanore," the king said. Then he handed her a lovely brooch with a fine green stone in its center. "This belonged to my late wife, Queen Matilda, who like you was the heiress to her family’s lands. If she were with us now, may God assoil her good soul, she would give you this gift herself, for my Tilda loved nothing better than giving presents. Wear it in memory of her." He pinned the brooch to the neckline of Elf’s dress, and she kissed his hand.

"I am honored, my liege, by your kindness. Mine is not an important family, and yet you have treated me as if I were one of your own. I shall remember both you and the queen, may God assoil her good soul, always in my prayers," Elf said sincerely.

King Stephen nodded. "We will be late for the Mass if we do not go now, eh, Bishop?" He moved off.

"That was well done, Eleanore," Ranulf said.

"I am not without manners, my lord," she told him a trifle sharply.

"I did not think you were, lady."

As Ranulf led Elf out of the bishop’s chapel, she saw her steward, Cedric, at the very rear of the holy chamber. "Were you here for the ceremony?" she asked him.

"I was, lady," he told her with a broad smile. "Your old Ida would not forgive me if I could not tell her every detail when we return home." He bowed to the man by her side. "Everything stands in readiness for our departure, my lord," Cedric said. It was obvious he already accepted his new master.

"Good!" Ranulf said. "Attend us at the Mass, Cedric." He turned to Elf. "I realize you will not wish to travel in your wedding garments, and neither do I. After the Mass, we will change and depart immediately for Ashlin. We will travel in the company of the good sisters, and their men-at-arms, as far as St. Frideswide's."

"You have no squire?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I could not afford one, Eleanore. While my bloodline is good, I have naught but my horse, my armor, my weapons, my clothing, and a few coins I have managed to set aside over the years. Our marriage is a blessing for me in many ways. I have been given a virtuous woman to wife. I now possess a manor, which means I may have legitimate sons and daughters. I will have a home in which to grow old."

"How old are you?" she ventured, remembering Saer de Bude’s nasty words of the previous evening.

"I am thirty," he said. "It is not too old, I promise you, to father children, lady. How old are you?"

"Fourteen and a half, my lord," Elf answered. Mary’s blood!
He was old!

They entered the church following in the wake of the bishop and the king. The Mass was sung. Afterward they bid the king farewell, and Ranulf de Glandeville escorted his wife back to the bishop’s guest house, where she changed from her bridal finery into her gray skirts and yellow tunica, packing up the green bliaut and its skirts with the rest of her garments in the wooden chest. The bishop’s servants carried the chest to the cart where Sister Winifred was already seated, her hands firmly in control of the reins harnessed to Sister Joseph’s favorite mule.

The little party set off, leaving the town of Worcester quickly behind. The day was cold, for it was December first, but at least it was clear and bright. Ranulf set a quicker pace than the one that had brought them to Worcester. He and Cedric led the way, followed by the two nuns and Elf, the cart, and the four men-at-arms. Even the mule, sensing its direction was toward home, trotted briskly along to the women’s astonishment. Whereas it had taken four days to reach Worcester, it took just three to reach St. Frideswide's, and half the day was yet remaining for their journey to Ashlin.

The first night they had stayed at an abbey guest house, with the men in quarters segregated from the women. The second night they sheltered at a convent, again in separate quarters. When they finally reached St. Frideswide's, Elf found it both difficult and strange to part from the nuns who had been her family since she was five.

"You are welcome to visit whenever you can," the abbess said, and she hugged Elf warmly. "God bless you, my daughter."

"It will not be easy to find another assistant like you, my child," old Sister Winifred said, "but God obviously had other plans for you. I could have wished he had let me know sooner." She, too, hugged Elf. "Come, and visit me, my child."

As Sister Columba looked at her friend, her big blue eyes filled with tears that spilled down her rosy cheeks. "Oh, Elf, I thought we would always be together! I shall miss you so very much."

Elf put comforting arms about her. "Don't weep. I'll visit often, I promise." She hugged the young nun.

"Come now, my sisters," the abbess said, "we must go in, and give God His thanks for a safe journey" She turned to the knight. "Return the mare your lady is riding when you can, sir."

"You may have her now," Ranulf said, and reaching out he lifted his startled wife up onto his saddle. "It is not far, and my lady can ride with me," he told them.

"Go with God, then, Sir Ranulf," the abbess said, and she gave them her blessing. Then she led her little party and the riderless horse through the gates of the convent.

"The mare could have been returned tomorrow," Elf said, somewhat irritated by his actions.

"There is a storm coming, lady," he told her. "Surely you can feel it in the air. It is December. If you are truly that uncomfortable riding with me, Cedric can walk, and you may have his mount."

"I would certainly not ask a man of Cedric’s years to walk the distance from here back to Ashlin on a cold day," Elf spat at him. "How can you even consider such a thing?"

"Then, you are content to ride with me?"

"It would seem I have no other choice," she grumbled.

"You could walk,"
he suggested. Unable to stop himself, he chuckled at the outraged look upon her face. "It would seem, my lady wife, that your convent modesty is fast wearing away, and you are quickly becoming a mere woman. I can see you have a red-haired temper," he teased.

Ave Maria, gratia plenia,
Elf began silently. She had indeed allowed her temper to get the best of her. She would silence her voice, and pray all the way back to Ashlin. While no longer a member of a religious order, she nonetheless must behave with gentle decorum. There was no excuse for shrewish behavior, but were all men so irritating? Did all behave in such wretchedly superior fashion? Elf was suddenly very aware of his great masculine presence. His heavy woolen cloak was the same one he had worn when he had first come to Ashlin. It looked as if it had not been properly brushed since then. It felt rough against her cheek. His arm encircled her, provoking an odd feeling in her.

She sneaked a look up at his face. His was a pleasant face, a very masculine face. There were tiny lines at the edges of his eyes. And in his favor was the fact that he smelled quite clean. A snowflake caught in his thick, dark eyelashes, and Elf realized her husband had been right. There was a storm brewing, and it had already begun. "You were correct about my temper," she told him. "How far do you think we are from Ashlin?"

Cedric, riding next to them, replied, "We are halfway there, my lady. May I ride ahead, my lord, and tell them we are coming? The cook will need to know you are arriving."

"Go," Ranulf instructed. "The path is clearly marked for me to see. Have a hot bath ready for my lady. She is cold and will need its warmth."

Cedric rode off.

"How did you know I was cold?" Elf asked him. "I have not complained, my lord."

"Nay, you have not, but I can feel you trembling against me, Eleanore."

Here was another side of his character, she thought. He was observant of her needs. Interesting. Her brother had loved her as a brother should, but he had given no thought to her at all once she was safely at St. Frideswide's. Father Anselm, while a good priest, was nonetheless a lustful man eager for a quick tumble with the more-than-willing dairymaid, or any other servant girl, if Matti and Isa were to be believed. She had never had any reason to doubt either of them. Her serfs were deferential and kind to her as Cedric, Arthur, and his father, John, had demonstrated, but they belonged to her as lady of Ashlin. The king and the bishop, both figures of power and authority, had rearranged her life without so much as a by your leave, but that was their right, she realized.

So that was all she knew of men until Ranulf de Glandeville.
Her husband. Her lord.
She remembered back to several months ago when he passed through Ashlin and stayed the night. He had been quiet-spoken and grateful for her hospitality, unlike others who had come, accepted the best bed space as their right and gone on their way without so much as a
merci.
On their wedding day he had been aware that she would not want to travel in her best clothing, and had given her time to change without impatience. On the road he had been thoughtful of the nuns, hurrying them, while not driving them, for he knew that winter weather could turn dangerous on a moment’s notice even as it was doing now. And she had yet to hear him raise his voice in anger, although she thought him capable of it.

She had heard the girls at the convent speak of the men they knew. Men were figures of authority, sometimes kind, mostly to be feared, they had always said. One girl they knew had voiced the opinion that she would rather be a simple free woman who might be apprenticed, and follow a trade, or craft, than be the daughter of a baron. Several of the guilds were female dominated: the spinners, the weavers, and the brewers, in particular. At least, the girl, had continued, an apprenticed girl was able to follow her trade after serving seven years and could hope to become a master crafts-woman. Most of the other girls had laughed, saying that even the female guilds were headed by men. There was no escaping male authority and domination. Even the final authority in certain convent matters had to be referred to the bishop for his decision. Men ruled. Women obeyed.

She was the heiress to Ashlin, but it was now her husband who was in charge. But did she still have any control, or influence, over her lands and her people? Or had her value been only in her lands? How was she to learn these things? Who could tell her?
Mary’s blood!