The Innocent (18 page)

Read The Innocent Online

Authors: Bertrice Small

Tags: #love_history

BOOK: The Innocent
11.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

She nodded.

He continued. "I knew his queen, the heiress of Eustace, the Count of Bologne, and his wife, Mary of Scotland, King Malcolm’s youngest child. She was called Matilda, and she loved King Stephen with all her heart as he loved her. There were three sons of the union. Baldwin, who died when he was nine. Eustace, and William, who is the Count of Bologne today. There were two daughters. The first died before she was two. The second, Mary, is unwed. Count William and his sister, Mary, are courteous and pleasant people. Eustace is violent, haughty, disdainful, and overbearing. Even his own wife, Constance of Toulouse, does not like him, and they have no children. She is the French king’s sister, and he hoped to regain Normandy through her. He did not, of course, for France didn't wish to engage the lords of Anjou over the matter. They had taken Normandy while Stephen and Matilda fought over England."

He paused, contemplative.

"I believe I understand, Ranulf, except perhaps for the particulars about Eustace."

"There is a slyness about him that troubles me, Elf. He is too quick-tempered. Frankly, petite, I do not trust him. While I love his father, I cannot support the son."

"But what do you know of Duke Henry?"

"Surprisingly, a great deal, for he has been considered Stephen’s rival for several years now since his mother gave up the fight. He is married to your namesake, Alienor, the great heiress of Aquitaine, whose marriage to King Louis VII was annulled on the basis of their consanguinity. She is ten years Duke Henry’s senior, but he is mad for her. His household is constantly on the move. He, himself, seems to need little sleep. It is said he can travel the day long and still remain up half the night drinking. His secretaries complain constantly of overwork. He exhausts everyone around him. He is educated and scholarly like his late grandfather, King Henry I. He loves hunting, feasting, and is said to enjoy the ladies prodigiously. He will be a young king, for he is but twenty, and wed only a year, but sired a son three months after his marriage to Alienor of Aquitaine. Some say she seduced him into marriage.

"Duke Henry is a good soldier. While his temper is said to be fierce-'tis said one of his ancestors wed with a daughter of the devil-he is a fair man, evenhanded in his rule. His kingdom is huge, yet well run. Other than his appetite for women, which has not, despite his love for his wife, abated, I can find no fault in him. He is more kingly than Prince Eustace will ever be. That is why I will support Duke Henry. England will be in better hands, certainly stronger hands, with Duke Henry."

"Perhaps the king will agree to the church’s compromise," Elf suggested hopefully.

Ranulf shook his head. "I doubt it," he said. "King Stephen is a stubborn man, and every bit as ambitious for his son as the Empress Matilda is for hers. At least when the time comes, my good lord will be dead and not know I cannot support his weakling offspring."

***

In the morning Ranulf de Glandeville and his guest walked out in the near meadow where the sheep grazed placidly. Elf watched them go, wishing she might hear the conversation, although she knew what her husband would say.

"You may tell your master, Duke Henry," Ranulf began, "that I will support his claim to England’s throne upon the death of King Stephen,
but not before.
I cannot afford to make enemies of Prince Eustace and his friends. None of them is above setting the Welsh upon me in revenge. Ashlin has had a bounteous crop of lambs and calves this season. My fields are green with healthy new growth. I want to be able to harvest those fields, and take a fine large load of wool to the fair in Hereford come Lammastide. If my manor is attacked in an effort to redress what Eustace considers a wrong done to him by me, I will not be able to feed my people this winter next, and Duke Henry certainly will not."

"Your walls look strong," Sir Garrick noted with a small smile.

"My walls enclose the demesne only. My fields and my meadows are all open and not defendable, particularly with the crop half grown. The Welsh have left Ashlin in peace because they do not believe it to be worth their time and effort. I prefer they continue to believe that. I prefer that no one offer them coin to come here and ravage my lands. Your duke with his vast lands and his castles already lives like a king. There are only great estates on the other side of the channel. Here in England, however, while we have some great lords, there are many more small manors like mine, with little lordlings like me who work side by side with their people in the fields. If we can raise enough wheat, barley, and oats, enough food from our kitchen gardens, a bountiful crop in the orchards, enough livestock and poultry to keep us through a long winter, we consider ourselves blessed. Your duke must understand this is the way in England.

"I wonder if he does? He is surrounded by those who would please him, who say what he would have them say. They have power and wealth, and they seek to gain even more. I am a simple knight with a small manor. It is all I desire. Duke Henry will have my undying loyalty when he comes into power. I give you my bond, Sir Garrick, and my word has always been known to be good."

"Your reputation precedes you, Ranulf de Glandeville. I will tell Duke Henry what you have told me. They are truly the first honest words I have heard in months. The lords in this land blow with the wind. Few are as pure of heart as you have shown me you are. Neither you and your fair wife, nor your people will suffer for your words. Continue in your loyalty to King Stephen until the day he dies. After that you will be expected to come to Westminster to swear your fealty to your new king, Henry of Anjou."

"It is agreed," Ranulf said, and the two men clasped forearms in acknowledgment of the pledge given by Ashlin’s lord, and accepted by Duke Henry’s representative.

Several days later, given directions to Baron Hugh de Warenne and supphed with a few provisions, Sir Garrick Taliferro departed Ashlin.

"What will happen to the king’s son?" Elf asked Ranulf. "Surely he will not simply give way to Duke Henry."

"Nay, he will not," Ranulf said. "He will fight, but he is no soldier as his father is. The duke will overcome him by force of arms. Then and only then will England have a king who has no rivals to breed up strife and warfare. Henry of Anjou will rule with an iron hand, petite, but we will finally have peace again in this land."

***

Shortly after Michaelmas came word that Prince Eustace had died suddenly-and quite unexpectedly. The word was brought to them by Hugh de Warenne himself, who rode over from his manor to tell Ranulf. Baron Hugh, a gossipy man, had heard the news from a passing peddler and hurried to inform his daughter’s former in-laws. The peddler didn't know the date, but Eustace had died in August. The king, preparing to fight Duke Henry at that time, was a broken man. He agreed to the church’s compromise. Henry of Anjou would be England’s next king.

"And how is Isleen?" Elf asked sweetly.

"The bitch has run off," Baron Hugh said sourly. "We were hard-pressed to find a convent for her, but we finally had located one in York that would take her, although the fee was outrageous. Still, the king had commanded it. We told her it would not be forever, that when Duke Henry became king she would be released, but you know how impetuous Isleen can be. The day we were to leave for York, she was found to be missing."

"Poor Isleen," Elf said with false sweetness.

Baron Hugh ignored the remark and turned to Ranulf. "Sir Garrick visited you first, he said. You have, of course, pledged yourself to Duke Henry."

"My loyalty is always with England’s king," Ranulf answered.

"But which king?" Hugh de Warenne pressed.

"God’s own anointed king, my lord," Ranulf replied.

Annoyed he would get nothing of value or interest from the lord of Ashlin, Baron Hugh’s gaze swung back to Elf. "You are not with child yet?" he asked boldly.

"I am young," Elf told him. "My children will come as God wills it, not a moment before."

"Still pious, I see," the baron said sneeringly.

"You will remember us to your good wife," Elf responded.

Dismissed, and with no further excuse to remain, Hugh de Warenne left.

"He is the most hateful man!" Elf said angrily the moment he rode through the gate.

Ranulf took her in his arms comfortingly. "The children will come, petite, and as you said, in God’s own time. We have not even been wed a full year yet." He smoothed her hair. "And we are certainly trying hard to fulfill God’s will of us, eh?"

She laughed weakly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. " I never thought of children while I was in the convent. There was no point to such thoughts, but now I am a wife, and it is a wife’s duty to conceive and bear young. Our pleasure in each other is so great that I sometimes feel guilty there is no fruit of our efforts. What if I am like Isleen, barren stock?"

"You are nothing like your brother’s selfish wife, Eleanore," he soothed her.

"Do you want a son, Ranulf?"

"Every man wants a son… and a daughter just like her sweet mother, petite," he said honestly. "But if God does not bless us, then I am content to spend the rest of my life with you alone."

Elf burst into tears. "Living with you is a thousand times better than living as a nun!" She sobbed, then turned and fled him.

What had he said to make her cry, he wondered, puzzled. He shrugged with his inability to solve the conundrum and took himself out into the fields to help with the threshing.

Their harvest had been good. The grain storehouses were filled to capacity. The entire manor picked the orchard clean of apples and pears to be put away for the winter. The serfs' huts were all repaired where needed, and fresh thatch put upon the roofs. Arthur and his master, the miller, were kept busy grinding flour for several weeks. The slaughtering was done, the meat salted for future use. Wood was chopped and piled high. Ranulf declared that twice a month, on a day to be named, his serfs could hunt for rabbits and fish in his streams. A deer hunt was planned, and everyone on the estate anticipated the merry feast it would provide Christmas tide.

In the manor court over which both the lord and lady presided each month, disputes were settled, fines levied, justice served. Ashlin prospered as it had never prospered before. There was even a stack of coins hidden in a sack behind a stone in the solar wall, for the Lammastide fair in Hereford had indeed proved profitable. The wool crop had been an excellent one.

Elf spent a good deal of time in her little herbarium making salves, lotions, ointments, and unguents for her infirmary. She dried flowers, bark, leaves, and roots that could later be brewed into healing teas, physics, and remedies for coughs and complaints of every nature. She harvested moss to dry and store for dressing wounds. Of late she had not felt particularly well herself. Everything the cook prepared seemed to disagree with her. She gained relief only by brewing up a mint tea, which she would sometimes sweeten with honey. She had six fine hives next to her herbarium, for honey was a wonderful healer when used in certain poultices and remedies.

Finally one rainy afternoon in October as Elf sat in the hall at her tapestry loom, Ida said sharply, "And just when do you intend to tell the master, lady?"

Elf looked up, her needle poised in midair. "Tell my lord what, old Ida?"

"Lady!" Ida was exasperated. "You are with child!"

“I am with child?
Ida, how do you know this?" Her hand holding the needle fell on the tapestry.

"You have had no show of blood for two cycles now, lady. Have you not realized that? Certainly you are with child. A June baby, if I am not mistaken." The old woman cackled, delighted.

"Are you certain? This was not something that was spoken of at St. Frideswide's. The girls who were to wed were naturally instructed by their mothers before marriage. Ouch!" Elf popped a finger into her mouth, and sucked it for a moment. Innocence had its place in this world certainly, but hers was becoming a distinct and great disadvantage. How long would it have taken her to figure it out, she wondered, irritated. "Is there any other reason for my moon link to be unbroken?"

"Nay" came the answer. "Not until you are an old woman like me, and your flow ceases to be because you are no longer fertile. Such things do not happen to young girls like yourself, lady. Now, when will you tell the lord of this happy fortune?"

"Let us wait until a third cycle has passed me by," Elf said thoughtfully. "You will say nothing, old Ida. No broad hints, or knowing suggestive looks, either. I need more education in the matter."

"Then, speak with John’s wife, Orva, lady. She is a mother, and a grandmother several times over. It is she who delivers all the babies born on the manor. She will deliver yours."

The very next day Elf carried a basket of apples and pears to her bailiff’s cottage, which was a larger and better-built dwelling than an ordinary serf's. Seated outside her cottage sewing, Orva arose and curtsied.

"Good day, Orva," Elf said. "I have brought you a basket of fruit. I would speak with you."

"Come in, lady," the bailiff’s wife invited, and when her guest had entered the cottage, Orva led her to a stool by the fire. "How may I help you, lady?"

"Having spent most of my life at St. Frideswide's, I know very little of the things ordinary women know," Elf began.

"You think you are with child," Orva said quietly.

"I thought nothing," Elf admitted. "It was old Ida who brought it to my attention. I feel very foolish, I must tell you."

"Nay, lady, you must not. Your upbringing, and the vocation planned for you would hardly include knowledge of this kind. Besides, most young women are never certain the first time they bear young," Orva said in motherly tones. "Now, tell me, lady, when was your last flow of blood?"

"Two weeks after Lammastide," Elf said. "There has been nothing at all since."

"Has your flow ever ceased.since you began having a moon link?"

Elf shook her head in the negative.

"Have you noticed that perhaps your breasts are growing larger? Or that you suffer from nausea of late? Do certain foods repel you?"

Other books

Miss Dimple Suspects by Mignon F. Ballard
Crazy Beautiful Love by J.S. Cooper
Getting Higher by Robert T. Jeschonek
A Million Wishes by DeAnna Felthauser
Sweet Little Lies by Michele Grant
Music From Standing Waves by Johanna Craven
Leapholes (2006) by Grippando, James
Shadows of Moth by Daniel Arenson
Truth and Bright Water by Thomas King