The Innocent

When her brother dies and she becomes heir to her family's strategically valuable estate, Eleanore of Ashlin is ordered by King Stephen to marry one of his knights.

©
1999

THE CHILD

ENGLAND 1143

“I want my mama!"
The little girl struggled within the firm clasp of the young nun’s arms.
"Mama! I want my mama!"

"Hush, Elf," her elder brother said gently. He was already having his doubts about this course of action, but the de Warennes were right. He could not raise his five-year-old sister alone, and it was unfair to Isleen to saddle her with Eleanore, although God knew other brides took on greater responsibilities.

"Dickon," the child sobbed piteously,
"I want to go home!
I want Mama and Ida!" Her small heart-shaped face was woebegone. Her fine gray-blue eyes brimmed over with tears that rolled down her rosy cheeks.

Richard de Montfort felt his heart twist within his chest once again, but swallowing back his own emotions he said sternly to his younger sibling, "Now, Elf, you know Mama is dead. There is war all around us, and I cannot raise you myself. We spoke on this, you and I. You will be safe here at St. Frideswide's. This is your home now."

"Say farewell to your brother, Eleanore." Reverend Mother Eunice patted the child. Then, turning to a young nun, she instructed, "Take her to meet her new companions, Sister Cuthbert. Quickly! The longer you linger, the harder it is for the girl."

"Adieu, little sister," Richard de Montfort said, and he kissed the top of her pale red-gold hair.

Elf looked at him just once. She could not speak. Then she burst into a fit of renewed sobbing, and as Sister Cuthbert hurried through the gates of the convent with the weeping child, Elf cried out but once,
"Dickon!"

Richard de Montfort looked as if he would cry himself, and so Mother Eunice put a comforting hand on his arm. "It is always hard for the little ones the first time," she said. "We will take very good care of the demoiselle Eleanore, my lord."

"Elf," he said. "We call her Elf. Perhaps if you could call her that for a short time, it would help her to adjust. With Mother gone, I could not take care of her, Reverend Mother. “
I could not!"

"Of course you could not, my lord. Do not fret yourself. We have several young girls in our care at this time. One is your sister’s age. She came to us when she was three. Another maiden is a year older than Eleanore…
Elf."
She smiled at him. "I understand that congratulations are in order, my lord, and that you will soon take a wife." She had reassured him, and then neatly turned the subject.

"The demoiselle Isleen is not quite fit to be a wife, but her mother assures me it will be within a year at the most," he answered. How anyone could believe that a girl as sensuous as Isleen was not yet ready for marriage baffled him, but he could hardly question Lady de Warenne.

The nun, too, was equally surprised, but her face showed nothing. Isleen de Warenne had been at St. Frideswide’s for a year, and a more carnal girl the Reverend Mother Eunice had never met. The convent had been most relieved her stay was a short one, however it had had its benefits. The de Warennes had been generous, and on their recommendation the convent had little Eleanore de Montfort and her dowry. "I am certain that Lady de Warenne knows what is best for her daughter, my lord de Montfort. Now, however, I must bid you farewell. I would suggest that you wait several months before visiting your sister. It will give her the time she will need to acclimate herself to her new life. Come at Martinmas, if you can. You will be most welcome." Then with a nod the Reverend Mother Eunice turned and glided serenely through the convent gates, which closed slowly behind her with a very firm thunk as the bar was set in place.

Richard de Montfort mounted his dappled gray stallion, and turned the beast’s head to begin the eight-mile ride back to his manor of Ashlin. He was unaccompanied, which was dangerous in these troubled times, but of late the countryside about Ashlin had been quiet, so he had taken the chance of riding alone. He had wanted his last moments with Elf to be between the two of them. How very much he loved his little sister. When their father had died four years ago in the fighting between King Stephen and the late King Henry’s daughter, the Empress Matilda, he had been eleven years of age. Guided by his mother, he had assumed control of their family’s manor. Elf, still at their mother’s breast, had just begun to toddle; she would never know the fine man who had sired her.

Fortunately Ashlin was not a large, important manor, or it might have been taken over by a stronger baron. Their small wealth was in sheep; they had enough serfs, along with a few freedmen, to do the work that needed to be done. Survival was the chief occupation at Ashlin. Their house sat upon a hill. It was stone, and surrounded by a small moat. About it clustered the barns, the outbuildings, and the huts for the serfs. There was a mill by a swiftly flowing stream near the barns. The little stone church, however, lay half ruined. A wall enclosed it all to protect them from the marauding Welsh. The sheep grazed upon the surrounding hills beneath which lay the arable fields, where they grew hay, oats, marrows, barley, and wheat, in rotation.

But his mother had suffered greatly the loss of her husband, for their marriage had been a love match, and without him she was lost. Isolated as Ashlin was, and with England at war with itself, they saw no one but an occasional passing religious brave enough to dare the road in hopes his devout vocation would protect him. Adeliza de Montfort had clung to life as long as she could, teaching her son everything he needed to know about running his manor. His father’s old sergeant at arms, Fulk, had continued his lessons in the art of warfare.
And Elf.
His baby sister had been the joy of his life. She was sweet-natured and extremely intuitive. At the end of the day when he would sit exhausted before the fire in the hall, she would crawl into his lap and stroke his face with her fat baby hand, chattering away in her infant babble at him. How he loved her!

But then last autumn their mother had sickened. By now he was a man, and he had Ashlin under his control. Adeliza de Montfort knew it, and while she worried about the fate of her daughter, she could no longer hold on to her empty place in life. They had found her in her bed one morning, a smile upon her face. By chance a passing friar had taken shelter at Ashlin the night before. He blessed Adeliza de Montfort’s soul, and helped to bury her before going his way. The next house in which he sheltered, two days later, was that of Hugh de Warenne. Baron Hugh was most interested to learn that Richard de Montfort and his sister were now alone in the world.

Hugh de Warenne had quickly approached Richard de Montfort, and proposed a marriage between the two families. The young lord of Ashlin agreed to consider Baron Hugh’s proposal. He was invited to visit the de Warenne manor, and leaving Elf in the charge of her old nurse, Ida, he went. One look at Isleen de Warenne, and he was lost. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, with long silken hair the color of purest gold, and limpid blue eyes. But it was not merely her perfect beauty. There was something about Isleen that aroused savage lust in him. She had a way of moving, of speaking, none of it too obviously suggestive, that made him desire her so much he would have gone to hell and back to possess her.

The match was agreed upon. Richard de Montfort would marry Isleen de Warenne when the bride’s womanhood flowered. In the meantime there were other things to consider. Isleen could hardly come a bride into a house where another and younger female of her station resided, her family said. Nor could she be either asked or expected to raise a tiny girl, not her own child, although such a thing was hardly unusual. Richard de Montfort explained that his sister would be little trouble, being cared for by her nursemaid, Ida. But the de Warennes were adamant that another home be found for Elf, although they did not offer to foster her themselves to facilitate their daughter’s marriage. Richard suggested a match between his little sister and one of the de Warenne sons, but, according to Baron Hugh, his sons were all spoken for, alas.

It was Maude de Warenne who suggested Elf be placed at the convent of St. Frideswide's. "You cannot raise her," she told her future son-in-law smiling, her tone kindly. "And she cannot be there when you wed Isleen. St. Frideswide’s is home to the Order of St. Mary the Virgin. They take in young girls as a means of support. Some are there to be educated and prepared for marriage. Why, Isleen spent time there herself. Other maidens are there to be prepared for a religious life. Do you not think that would be a good choice for your little sister, Richard? Place her at St. Frideswide's, and her future is assured. She will be happy and safe there, I am certain."

"And," Baron Hugh said, "they will take but half the dowry you would have to expend on a husband for her. It’s a practical solution, my boy, as well as a good one. What say you?"

"I loved St. Frideswide's," Isleen chimed in with a tinkling laugh. "We maids had such fun, and the nuns there are really quite kindly, Richard…
m'amour.”
Her voice seemed to purr at him. She put her elegant hand upon his sleeve. "Your sister will be as happy there, Richard, as I will be as your wife,
if, of course, all the terms can be settled between you and Papa."
Her little pearl teeth gleamed as she smiled at him, her dark gold lashes brushed her pale cheeks, even as her fingers tightened a moment upon his arm.
"Please, Richard,"
she murmured low.

He had agreed because, of course, he had to have her. Having seen Isleen, he could not be happy with any other woman. He had not, however, as his future father-in-law suggested, offered the convent only half of Elf’s dower portion. His father had set aside a specific sum for Elf when she had been born, and Richard de Montfort would have felt his parents' disapproval from the grave had he cheapened his sister’s worth. As neither Isleen nor her family knew the amount, there would be no quarrel over the matter.

Elf had turned five on the first of May, and now a month later as he rode home alone, Richard de Montfort felt a deep sadness at having left her at St. Frideswide's. Old Ida had wept when he had told her his decision. She had gone down on her knees and begged him not to send Elf away, demanding to know what kind of creature the lord was wedding, that she would send a baby from her home. At first he had been comforting to the elderly woman who had nursed his father, and had nursed him and his sister as well. But Ida would not be pacified, and he had finally, in anger, reminded her of her status as a serf. The old lady had pulled herself to her feet, ignoring his hand, and with a fierce look at him, had stalked away. She had not spoken to him since, and while he felt sorrow about it, he would allow no one to criticize his Isleen. When his bride-to-be gave him a son, old Ida would recover and be happy to care for his child. She would soon forget her anger over Elf. She had no choice. None of them did. Isleen must be happy at Ashlin, and Richard de Montfort would do all in his power to assure his future wife’s contentment.

THE NOVICE

ENGLAND 1152

S
t. Frideswide’s Convent sat atop a hillock with a fine view of the surrounding countryside of Hereford, and across the hills into Wales. Its high stone walls enclosed themselves about a quadrangle on the south side of which was a church. From the church four sheltered walks went around the quadrangle connecting with the refectory, where the nuns and their female guests ate, the chapter house, where they met guests or did the business of the house, and the dormitories. There were special places for the students and nuns to study, and a kitchen, a bakery, a brewery. St. Frideswide's, though small, had a storehouse, a barn for its farm animals, a henhouse and dovecote, not to mention an infirmary to treat the sick, several workshops for metalwork and illuminating manuscripts, and an herbarium.

Within the convent each day was carefully ordered. At midnight, Matins, the first holy office of the day was said, followed shortly thereafter by Lauds. The nuns would then go to their sleeping quarters. Prime was said at six during the summer months, and seven in the dark months of winter. It was then that the young girls in the convent’s charge joined the nuns for the first Mass, which was followed by a breakfast of oat porridge, a slice of buttered bread, and a small cup of cider, or ale for the nuns. The children then returned to their dormitory to make their beds and sweep the rooms. They emptied the common night jar, and opened the windows to air the space.

It was during this time the nuns met together in the chapter house. Convent business was discussed, announcements, if any, were made, letters read, and finally discipline was dispensed to those miscreants who had earned it. Terce was the next office said at nine o'clock of the morning. A High Mass was sung. It was then the nuns went to their daily tasks, which might involve personal study, teaching, household duties, the workshops where skilled illuminations and simple, beautiful metalwork were done. Some of the nuns did heavy farmwork, caring for the convent’s flock of sheep, its smaller herd of cattle, or its milk cows, pigs, or poultry. At noon the office of Sext, at three, Nones, and at four, Vespers, were conducted, and attended by those nuns whose other duties did not prevent it.

From midmorning until five in the afternoon, the young girls in the convent’s care were taught. All of them learned how to read and write and keep simple accounts. They learned Latin, French, and English, for both of the latter languages were spoken in England, but not all the convent’s students could speak them when they came to St. Frideswide's. The girls who were eventually to become nuns were taught to do needlework and fine tapestry work. Those who showed a talent for it were taught the art of illumination and scribing. When a girl showed her competence in administration, she was taught the work of supervising the convent and its lands so that should Mother Eunice, the convent’s abbess, be away, or too ill to do her duty, there would be someone able to pick up her burden. Maidens prepared for the church were also taught the arts of healing.

The young girls destined for marriage took a slightly different path, learning how to play on some instrument, do pretty needlework, oversee the kitchens; which meant they must learn to cook, make conserves, and salt foods to be stored for a time. They must know how to make soap for bathing, and soaps for cleaning. They learned how to manage an estate in the event their husbands should be away, how to manage their own households, care for the sick, and tend the wounded.

Frightened and lonely as she was, Elf quickly adjusted to life at St. Frideswide's. Sister Cuthbert, the nun who had carried her away from her brother and into the convent, was enormously kind. It was she who was in charge of the six young girls currently boarding in the cloister. She was plump beneath her robes, and had a round face with rosy cheeks and warm brown eyes that twinkled more often than not. She was sympathetic over her newest charge’s sadness, but she would not allow the child to wallow in her misery. Bustling into the girl’s dormitory, she set Elf down upon the floor.

"This is where you will live with your new companions," she said brightly. "Come now, maidens, and meet Eleanore de Montfort, who is called Elf. She is five."

"She doesn't look five," the biggest of the girls said. "She is very petite. Matilda FitzWilliam is five, and she’s far bigger."

"I am bigger than Isabeaux St. Simon, and she’s six," Matilda said, glaring at the older girl, who was ten and an earl’s daughter. "Nature makes each of us differently." She held out her hand to Elf. "You may call me Matti, for we are going to be friends, little Elf." She had round blue eyes and yellow braids.

Elf looked shyly at the other girl from the safety of Sister Cuthbert’s robes. "I was five on Mary’s Day," she said as if to reinforce the fact. "I am called Elf because I am so small. My brother named me."

"I have six brothers," Matti said, "which is why I was sent here to St. Frideswide’s to be a nun. There wasn't enough monies to dower me into marriage. I came when I was three, and my mother died birthing the last of my brothers. You'll like it here. Are you going to be a nun, too?"

"I don't know," Elf said.

"Yes, she is," Sister Cuthbert said. "Now, Matti, you will have someone to go to your special studies with, my child."

"She’s going to be way behind us," the earl’s daughter said.

"Of course she is," Sister Cuthbert said with a cheery smile. "She is the youngest and the newest of you, but I believe Elf will like her studies, and quickly catch on. You cannot expect her to know as much as you do, Irmagarde. After all, you have been with us four years now. As I recall you had no knowledge at all when you were six, and Elf is just five."

What the good sister didn't say was that she believed Elf would far outstrip Irmagarde.

***

Irmagarde Bouvier had departed St. Frideswide’s three years after Elf’s arrival to be prepared for her marriage to a knight some years her senior. She was to be his third wife, and he had children older than she. By that time Elf had indeed surpassed the earl’s daughter in her abilities.

"She was not the brightest of girls," Sister Cuthbert noted shortly after Irmagarde had departed in pubescent triumph for her wedding.

Outside the convent’s walls, the war raged on. In 1139 the Empress Matilda had landed in England. King Stephen was captured by her forces in 1141, and the daughter of Henry I, the granddaughter of William the Conqueror, entered London. But the empress was arrogant, and immediately imposed exorbitant taxes on the populace. Stephen’s wife, another Matilda, drove the empress from London. Finally in 1147 Henry’s daughter departed England forever. Her cause was taken up by her son, Henry Plantagenet, Lord of Anjou and Poitou in his own right, and Lord of Acquitane by virtue of his marriage to Alienor, its heiress.

In 1152 Elf was fourteen, and a novice at St. Frideswide's. It was planned she would take her final vows on the twenty-second day of June that year. This was the feast day of England’s first martyr, and Elf had decided to take his name for her own. She would be known as Sister Alban. Her best friend, Matti, would also take her vows that day and become Sister Columba. As for Isabeaux St. Simon, their other friend, she would be married in the autumn and would leave St. Frideswide’s in late summer for her own home near Worcester.

On a late spring afternoon the three girls sat out on a hillside watching over the convent’s sheep. Two were dressed alike in the gray gown all the convent novices wore. Isa, however, wore a red tunic over her deep blue skirts.

"I can't believe," she said, "that they're going to cut your hair, Elf. Mary’s blood, I've always envied it." She stroked Elf’s long pale red-gold hair. "What a sin!"

"Vanity has no place in a bride of Christ," Elf said softly.

"But you're not vain!" Isa protested. "It is a great pity you cannot be wed, Elf. I'll wager there would be men of rank who would take you even with your small dowry. You are far more beautiful than either Matti or me." She sighed. "I hate it that we're being separated in a few months. I know I grumble a lot about the convent, but the truth is it has been a lot of fun for us over the years, hasn't it?"

Matti giggled mischievously. "We've had a few small adventures."

"Misadventures is more like it," Elf said with a smile. "Keeping you two out of difficulties has been a full-time occupation. You are really going to have to change your ways, Matti."

"Reverend Mother knows how impossible that will be for me," Matti replied. "That is why I am going to remain with Sister Cuthbert, taking care of the little girls. Reverend Mother says that will help me to use up all my energies until I am too old to have any. She says we all serve God in our own way. Sister Agnes says if my voice continues to improve, I shall be a head cantrix one day. I would like that, for you both know how I love music!"

"But once Matilda FitzWilliam becomes Sister Columba," Isa said wickedly, "there can be no more visits to the dairy barn to see Father Anselm swiving the dairymaid with his big poker."

Matti chuckled. "It’s a shame you would never come with us, Elf. You can't possibly know what you're going to miss unless you can see it. I think I am making a big sacrifice now that I have seen a man and a woman together in the throes of passion. I am filled with regret that my family has not the means to marry me off to a big healthy fellow. Still, I have accepted my fate, and am the better for knowing the forfeit I make for our good Lord’s sake."

"I can't wait until Sir Martin and I can be joined in the marriage bed," Isa said. "They say it hurts to lose your virginity, but afterward it doesn't hurt at all. When Father Anselm puts his big, thick manhood into Hilda, the dairymaid, how she squeals with delight!"

"And waves her legs about until she wraps them tight about our good priest," Matti noted with relish. "Then they bump up and down until the crisis comes. I like it when he pillows himself on her nice big breasts, and sometimes, Elf, he even suckles on her like a babe at its mother’s breast. It’s very exciting to watch."

Elf put her hands over her ears. "Matti! Matti! You know I don't want to hear such things. You are very, very wicked to gossip so salaciously. If you do not cease, I shall have to tell Reverend Mother, and I don't want to tell. How I fear for your soul, Matti."

Matti reached out and patted her friend with a plump hand. "Do not fret yourself about me, Elf. Once I have taken my vows, there will be no more visits to the dairy barn, alas. One cannot serve two masters, and my master is our good Lord, not the lord of lust and darkness."

"I am relieved to hear you say it, Matti," Elf replied, mollified. She loved both these girls with whom she had been raised. It did not matter that Isabeaux St. Simon was worldly, for she would be a wife soon; but Matilda FitzWilliam was another matter, particularly as she was to help Sister Cuthbert with the little girls in the convent’s care. She had uneasily broached the subject with the nun who had raised them just a few months ago; however, Sister Cuthbert did not seem to take the matter very seriously. "But some of the girls sneak into the dairy barn to hide and watch Hilda when she sports with a lover," Elf told the nun, a worried look upon her face.
"Even girls who are to take holy orders,"
she finished in an unhappy and shocked whisper.

Sister Cuthbert had said almost what Matti said. "But they are not nuns yet, little Elf, and they are curious as to what they will miss, if anything. Having seen the carnal act, they will either find it unpleasant and be glad to be free of such things, or they will finally understand the loss they must forgo if they are to serve God properly. There is no harm in
seeing
as long as they remain chaste. Most of the girls in our care go to the dairy barn at one time or another. Even I did when I was very young," she told the surprised Elf. "Do not worry, my child. Matilda FitzWilliam will be a good nun."

"But I didn't say-" Elf began.

"No," Sister Cuthbert said,
"you didn't."
Then she smiled. "Perhaps you should go to the dairy barn one day, Elf, before you take your final vows."

But Elf shook her head violently.
"Never!"
she told the nun. "I want to be as pure an offering as I can be, a totally innocent bride of Christ. That is the only way for me."

"Each of us knows the best way for herself," Sister Cuthbert said soothingly. Then she turned the conversation. "Sister Winifred tells me you are the best student she has ever had. She has asked Reverend Mother if she may have you for her assistant in the herbarium. She is not young anymore, my child, and you may one day take her place, but do not say I told you until Reverend Mother tells you it is so."

Elf had learned of her appointment to the herbarium a few days later, and was very pleased. She liked the old nun whom she would assist, and who had taught her all manner of healing, physicking, and tending of wounds. She liked the herbarium because it was quiet and peaceful. In the summer they had a garden in bloom all around the little building housing the herbarium. Elf was content knowing her place in the orderliness of the convent.

"Look!" Isa, pointing, broke into her thoughts. "A mounted rider is approaching the convent. I wonder what news he brings. Mary’s blood! Look how the sun shines on his hair! It’s like beaten gold, I vow."

"My hair is gold," Matti said.

"Your hair is yellow like straw, and when it’s all cut off that’s just what it will look like." Isa giggled. "It’s a good thing your head will be covered by your wimple, Matti. Still, you have a very pretty face. No one will miss your hair."

"I hope you'll send your first daughter here to St. Frideswide’s in a few years so I can tell her what a troublesome wench her mother was as a girl," Matti said sweetly.

"You are terrible, the pair of you," Elf chided them, but then she joined in their shared laughter. "Oh, Isa! I shall miss your honesty and your wickedly sharp tongue. I will pray God that Sir Martin appreciates what a wonderful wife he has been blessed with, even if she is a bit of a naughty baggage."